by Nicole Byrd
They must have gotten ahead of them while she and the earl had gone to check the warehouse, Lauryn thought. Oh, damn, damn. And the hunting box did not have that many bedchambers. Where would they put them all? And it was a dark, moonless night—the carriage could not even travel this late, so the earl could not very well throw them out at this time of night, even if he wished it. They were stuck with them.
On this uncharitable thought, she took the earl’s offered arm and they went into the sitting room.
Sure enough, Carter was leaning over the side of the pianoforte as the contessa ran her bejeweled fingers along the keys, producing a merry tune.
“Hello, brother,” Carter said breezily. “We thought you might be in need of company.”
“Did you?” the earl said, his tone dry. “How considerate of you.”
The footman appeared in the doorway. “Shall we put off dinner, my lord?”
Raising his brows, Sutton turned to Lauryn.
She looked at the two unwelcome guests, who at least were already changed for dinner. “I can be ready in fifteen minutes,” she promised the earl, hoping it were true.
“Very well.” He turned back to the servant. “Tell the cook fifteen minutes, if you will.”
“Very good, my lord.”
“We shall see you shortly,” he told his brother. “Contessa, your servant.” With a short bow to the newcomers, he offered Lauryn his arm again, and they left the room and headed for the stairwell.
“I do apologize, Mrs. Smith,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “But I will not be able to send them away tonight. And I fear I will have to give them your room, just for tonight.”
Having already worked this out, she nodded. “I understand.”
There was no time to discuss the arrangements further, and anyhow, they had no choice. She hurried down to her bedchamber, which already had the contessa’s baggage inside. At least a maid was waiting to help Lauryn change out of her riding outfit and into a dinner gown, which she did in record time.
She didn’t have enough leisure to comb out her hair. All she could do was have the maid brush out the worst of the tangles and pin up the tendrils that had escaped her braided coil.
She only went over her estimated time by five minutes or so, Lauryn figured. She pulled a clean handkerchief out of her bag to slip into her sleeve. Then she headed back down the stairs, to find the earl at the bottom, waiting to escort her into the dining room.
Carter and the contessa were still in the sitting room, but the footman announced dinner, and they came to join them. Lauryn was privately pleased to see that she still held the hostess’s seat at the small table.
The food was as well prepared as ever, although the cook could not have had much notice that the number of diners for tonight had doubled. But then, they usually had such an abundance of dishes that it was simple enough to think that all would be easily fed.
As they ate, the contessa kept up a flow of small talk and anecdotes, mostly about acquaintances of the earl that Lauryn, of course, did not know. Lauryn simply smiled and gave no indication how annoying she found this. Carter, on her side, seemed rather quiet.
“Did the house party at the earl’s estate come to an end?” she asked him politely when it seemed that he had nothing that he wished to contribute to the conversation.
“Since he ordered me to end it, yes,” he told her.
“Oh, I see,” she said, thinking it a good time to dip her fork into the broiled asparagus and change the topic of conversation. “The cook is very skillful, don’t you think?”
“Yes, all my brother’s cooks are good; he will not put up with anything less. As you may have noted, he doesn’t settle for anyone except the best.”
Lauryn wasn’t sure if this was a veiled comment on her own skills or not, but she decided not to remark on it. She took another bite from her plate, not sure if Carter were antagonistic towards her—why?—but deciding to be cautious.
“I don’t know why he’s so all fired up about this missing ship,” Carter said now, his voice lowered as he threw a searching glance toward his brother at the end of the table. “I mean, I thought he’d be happy about getting back such valuable cargo. But he seems put out about it. Doesn’t make sense, does it?”
She murmured something indistinguishable, not about to tell Carter anything that his brother had said. If the earl wanted to share any facts or even opinions about the Brave Lassie or its cargo, he would tell his sibling himself. She would certainly not pass on any comments the earl had shared with her.
Carter gave her a shrewd look now, as if she might have said her thought aloud. “Not very forthcoming, are you?”
“What makes you think I should know anything?” she asked, keeping her tone pleasant.
He shrugged. “He’s certainly not talking to me. He must have shared his thoughts with someone…”
She took another bite of her roasted potatoes and didn’t answer.
Carter rolled his eyes and cut his roast beef with a bit too much vigor, almost overturning his glass of wine.
The contessa was laughing at a jest of her own, to which the earl gave a token smile. He seemed to be only in the barest good humor, which Lauryn was sorry to admit made her mood lighten. Despite the good food, the dinner seemed longer tonight than usual. At last, the courses ended, and she could finally catch the contessa’s eye, even though she would have sworn the other woman tried to evade her glance as long as possible. But tonight the ladies would leave the table to the menfolk and retire to the sitting room as protocol demanded.
Marcus watched them go, glad to get the contessa out of his hair for a few minutes. God, how that woman could chatter on—he had almost forgotten. When the door was safely shut behind them, and the servants had cleared away the dishes and poured them more port, he turned to regard his brother.
“Now then, Carter,” he said, his voice deep with annoyance. “What the bloody hell are you playing at?”
Carter shrugged. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me! I left my own home to get away from a crowd of people I had no desire to see, and here you are again—”
“Take care, Brother! You will have me thinking that I am one of the crowd you are trying to escape,” Carter said, his tone dry.
“God forbid,” Marcus shot back, his voice just as acerbic. “But leaving that aside, you must have gathered that I wished some privacy. So why the hell did you follow me?”
“Since you didn’t bother to tell me where you were going, I didn’t know that I was following you,” Carter pointed out, his tone injured. “If you would honor me with more of your confidence, tell me what you were about, I wouldn’t blunder into your private love nest! I simply thought that this would be a good place to come without incurring large hotel bills.”
Marcus bit back a groan. “Don’t tell me you’re already overdrawn on your allowance?”
Carter looked slightly aggrieved. “I didn’t say that.”
“But it’s true, nonetheless?” Marcus took a long swallow of the deep-colored wine in his goblet.
“No, but if I have to frank the contessa for very long—she’s an expensive lady to entertain, let me tell you—”
“Not necessary, I have had the pleasure,” Marcus said.
“So you know I speak the truth,” Carter appealed to his brother. “So you might give me a little benefit of the doubt here.”
Marcus’s expression did soften just a little. “She is a costly bon amie, that is true. How did you end up entertaining such an elegant lady?”
“I didn’t exactly plan it,” Carter said, his tone plaintive now. “Honestly, I thought I was doing you a favor when I invited her to come—that’s what she hinted, at least. She wants you back, I would swear, but since you’re not falling into step with her plans, I think I’m her second-best choice.”
“I’m not sure whether to congratulate you or commiserate with you.” Marcus grinned reluctantly.
; “I know.” This time Carter took a long drink of his wine.
“I mean, she does have her–her appeal. She is handsome, intelligent, very charming.”
“So far, I wouldn’t know.”
“Ah, in that case, I can’t put you two in the same room, which means you’re going to have to make do in the study. I’ll have the footman put you up a camp bed.”
When his half brother grimaced, he added, “You know there are only two bedrooms, Carter; do you expect Mrs. Smith and me to sleep on the floor? If you don’t care for the cot, you can go out to the stables and sleep above the horses with the grooms.”
Carter made another face and reached for the bottle to replenish his glass. “In that case, I definitely need more wine.”
In the sitting room, the contessa had fixed Lauryn with her steely charm. “I zee that I am taking your bedchamber tonight, alaz. Have you quarreled with the earl that you are zeeping apart? C’est dommage.”
“Of course not,” Lauryn said, her voice tranquil. She had expected this. “I simply enjoy ample space when I dress. But you are welcome to use the room.”
“Ah, I zee. You are very kind, I think.” The other woman fanned herself delicately. “If you are zure…Because if all is not well with the earl, if he begins to tire of you, or you of him, we could always make the exchange—”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Lauryn said, her tone polite. “Exchange what?”
“I could zeep with the earl, à la the old times, and you could spend the night with his brother, Carter. He is an amiable gentleman; I am sure you would find him congenial.”
Lauryn stared at the other woman, her lips falling open for a long moment, then she closed her mouth with an effort. “Are you mad? I don’t bounce about among men like a rubber ball.”
“It is always best to be zensible, I think,” the contessa said. “And you are the professional, are you not? Zo you would not have a hard time taking on a new lover. I’m sure you do it all the time.”
“No,” Lauryn snapped, “You mistake yourself; I am not! And I do not!” Then belatedly, she realized that was exactly what she was supposed to be. Too late, and too bad. If the contessa thought she could jump into bed with just anyone, she refused to keep up that pretense. “Are you?” she asked, keeping her voice calm with great effort.
The contessa laughed, a tinkling sound that sounded quite natural. “Alaz, no, ma cherie. I am only an enthusiastic amateur. But l’amour is a game we all play whenever we can, mais oui? And if you decide to tozz the earl back into the pond, I will be ’appy to try my ’and at catching ’im again.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Lauryn agreed, wondering if the earl would be as pleased. “But I think the earl has a mind of his own, and tossing him anywhere he does not wish to be tossed might be a bit hard to do.”
The contessa sighed gustily. “Ah, but for the pleasure to try.”
Lauryn really couldn’t blame her for the sentiment. She thought of the earl’s intense sensuality, and how she herself felt when he touched her, and something inside her melted a little just at the reflection. And tonight they would be sharing a room—surely he would not ignore her again, would he?
She thought of asking the contessa how long she and the earl had been together—and she also wondered why had they parted. It didn’t seem to be because the contessa had wanted them to separate. But it seemed undignified to ask, so she held her tongue. And anyhow, the men would reappear at any moment. She hardly wished to be caught gossiping about him—that would be enormously bad mannered.
So she let the other woman chatter on, commenting on the decor and every detail of the small but finely decorated hunting lodge. “But it could have been larger, mais non?” the contessa said. “What is the point of having all this lovely money if one does not make use of it?”
“I suppose,” Lauryn said, hardly listening.
Now she heard male voices as the earl and his brother appeared in the doorway.
“Shall we have some cards, Sutton?” Carter suggested as they came into the room.
“If you like,” the earl agreed without much enthusiasm.
“I am not much of a card player,” Lauryn warned them.
The earl drew up a small table and they placed four chairs around it, and Carter found a deck of cards and dealt the first hand. As they played, Lauryn found herself an even worse player than usual, as the unexpected guests had distracted her from any hope of concentration. Once or twice she pulled out her handkerchief to dab her cheek—she was sitting too near the fire. Looking down, she realized that her handkerchief had the initials LAH embroidered neatly on one edge.
Oh, dear. She crumbled the fine square of linen quickly within her palm and stuffed it back into her sleeve before anyone else could see the revealing initials. She would have to be more careful! Now, she really could not concentrate on her cards.
In the end, it was the contessa and Carter who won most of the hands. At least they broke up the game early, to Lauryn’s relief.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly to the earl. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a partner.”
“That depends entirely on the game,” he countered, giving her a mischievous grin.
Taking a deep breath, Lauryn tried not blush in front of the other couple. “Shall I call for some tea before we go up to bed?”
“That would be agreeable,” the contessa agreed.
As Lauryn crossed the floor, she felt for the dratted handkerchief again and this time could not feel it. Oh, no. Had it slipped out of her sleeve?
She turned to scan the floor, but just then, the earl noticed the crumpled linen square on the rug, and reached toward it.
“Whose is this?” he asked.
Lauryn blinked in dismay.
But the contessa was faster. “Oh, that iz mine, thank you, my dear Zutton!” And she scooped it up before her host could grasp it.
Lauryn turned her back on the others for a moment as she went to the bellpull and hoped that the earl had not noted her disorder. She did not know how spies did it; she would never make a good dissembler!
Later, when they did go upstairs, she made an excuse to go back to her bedchamber. There she found the contessa, already in a lace-trimmed nightgown, having the maid brush out her dark hair.
“You may leave us,” the other woman told the servant.
“Yes, my lady,” the girl said, throwing a curious look toward Lauryn.
When the door shut behind her, the contessa took the handerchief out of a pocket and held it out to Lauryn. “Yours, I think?”
Lauryn blushed. “Yes. It was most good of you not to give me away.”
The contessa examined her reflection in the looking glass. “I would have the earl, if I can, but I will fight fair, ma petite.”
Lauryn nodded, but she thought that she still did not understand this woman.
“What is it vith the name?” the contessa asked, her dark eyes bright with curiosity. “You do not ’ave another lover, or a ’usband still alive, coming to find you? You must not let ’im challenge the earl to a duel; I vould not have Zutton ’urt!”
“No, no, of course not,” Lauryn said. “It is nothing like that.” She was reminded that she must get back to the earl’s bedroom before he became suspicious.
The contessa stared at her. “Just recall what I zay: Marcuz iz not a good man to lie to.”
Lauryn met the other woman’s eyes for a moment, then looked away. “I will remember.”
She took a nightgown and a hairbrush out of the bureau, tried to think what to do with the handkerchief, then decided to just put it into the fire. She stood for a moment watching it blaze till it turned black, then made her way back to the bedroom on the other side of the stairwell.
The earl was already changed into his dark silk dressing gown. He sat in a chair looking out of the window, but he rose when she entered the room.
“Shall I call for a maid to unbutton you, or shall I perform the chore?” he asked, h
is tone polite.
“I–I would not wish to inconvenience you,” she said, not sure how to read his tone, nor his expression, which was veiled.
“I would hardly call that a chore,” he said.
So she turned her back to him and allowed him to undo the back of her dinner gown, feeling prickles of sensation as his strong, supple fingers—fingers that could evoke so much magic when he chose—moved along her back, leaving her gown gaping open behind him. But so far, to her disappointment, he did not take advantage of his opportunity to touch or kiss the bare skin that presented itself to him.
Instead, she was left to step out of the skirt and pull off the bodice, and then he unlaced her stays, and throwing a quick look toward him—he barely seemed to be paying attention—she turned slightly away before she pulled the thin linen shift over her head.
It must be true. He must be tiring of her already. Lauryn felt tears rise behind her lids and tried desperately not to allow them to fall. He must not see how attached she had already become to him—she would not be an object of pity! Was this how it had happened when he and the contessa had been together? Perhaps she would throw pride to the wind and ask the other woman.
Right now Lauryn reached for the nightgown to pull it quickly over her head and cover her naked body. She would sleep on the edge of the bed and she would not reach out to him—he must not be allowed to think that she was begging for his touch!
Marcus held himself back only with the greatest of efforts. The sweetly curved buttocks that he glimpsed from the corner of his eye, the slim line of her back, the breasts that he knew fitted so well into his palms—he felt a slight sheen of perspiration break out on his forehead, and his body reacted in other ways as well. He was glad he had put on his robe, to hide the betraying signs his body would give.
But he was determined not to make love to her again, not until he was sure that she was focused on him with all her heart and mind. How could he be sure—and was he a fool to be doing this, when his body craved her like a dying man craves water?
Probably, probably, Marcus told himself, becoming more irritable with every passing moment. He felt as if heat were building inside him like a blocked boiler on a steam engine; how on earth was he going to get through a whole night having her so near and having sworn that he would not pull her into his arms?