The Bedding Proposal

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Turning, he allowed his valet to assist him into his black evening coat. The servant had just picked up a brush to remove any lingering specks of lint when a knock came at the door.

  One of the footmen stood on the threshold. “Pardon me, my lord, but this was just delivered for you.”

  Leo eyed the small lidded box, recognizing it instantly by its familiar gold bow. “Was there a note?”

  “No, my lord,” the servant told him. “Just the package.”

  “Set it over there,” he said, gesturing toward a small table.

  The servant did as instructed, then withdrew.

  Leo waited until his valet left before he opened the box and peered inside.

  Well, damn, so she sent it back.

  Here he’d hoped his offering would please her, since she’d clearly wanted the little porcelain piece. Her expression had been one of acute disappointment after she’d lost the bidding to him. So despite his original plan to give the trinket box with its kitten duo to Esme, he had known he would offer it as a token to Lady Thalia instead.

  But apparently she was having none of it, her attitude toward him as remote and unyielding as ever. At least her rebuff hadn’t been cold and wet and from a champagne flute this time.

  Well, he hadn’t expected that his pursuit of Lady Thalia would be easy. After all, any prize worth attaining demanded an extra measure of effort—and she was most definitely a worthy prize.

  Reaching into the box, he withdrew the Meissen piece. He would keep it for now and be patient. The day would come when Lady Thalia wanted both him and his gifts.

  Chapter 4

  “Here we are, milady,” the coachman said a week later as he held open the carriage door.

  Thalia gazed out at the immense Jacobean mansion that was located in the still countrified west side of London. The great house gleamed like a beacon of stone and glass in the waning autumn light. Even at this time of year, its exceptionally well-tended grounds, with their prized dahlia bushes, were a sight to behold.

  She had never been to Holland House before but knew of its stellar reputation as a gathering place of Whig politicians, intellectuals and artists. Many agreed that it even rivaled the celebrated salons of Continental Europe for its influence and gracious style.

  She’d been surprised when she’d received the invitation to attend this weekend’s gathering. Once, many years before, she had received another such invitation to join Lord and Lady Holland at their estate, but she had refused. At the time, she’d been sunk too deep in scandal and despair to wish for company. Her pride had also stopped her from accepting what she’d seen then as an act of pity.

  Now she realized that she might have been foolish to assume that to have been the Hollands’ only motivation, particularly given the social disgrace they themselves had endured. After all, she and Lady Holland shared something unique. They both had the dubious distinction of knowing what it was like to be divorced and cut off from polite society. Unlike Thalia, however, Lady Holland had been fortunate enough to escape a bad marriage in exchange for a happy one. The Hollands might be outcasts from the high sticklers of the Ton, but no one could dispute that theirs was a love match.

  I wonder if I might have found a sympathetic ear all those years ago? Maybe I still might.

  But it was curiosity, rather than a need for kindred spirits, that had led her to accept their present invitation.

  That and her old nemesis—boredom.

  She could spend only so much time writing letters to absent friends or curled up on the sofa with her cat and a book from Hookham’s lending library before madness began to set in.

  Then there was the loneliness—the other pitchforked devil on her shoulder.

  A weekend in the country, among interesting people, had seemed an excellent restorative. And maybe if she was very lucky, she would make some new friends. She could use someone new in her life.

  For reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, thoughts of Lord Leopold Byron popped into her head. She’d heard no more from him since she had returned the trinket box. She’d thought he might attempt to contact her, try to persuade her to reconsider her refusal to accept his gift. But there had been nothing—no notes, no visits, no further tokens of his supposed admiration. Apparently he’d given up his pursuit.

  Which was just as she wished it, of course.

  So why was he still on her mind?

  Aware that her coachman was still waiting for her to alight from the carriage, she allowed him to help her down. At the same moment, the Hollands’ butler and a pair of liveried footmen emerged from the house and hurried forward.

  “Welcome to Holland House,” the black-clad butler said with a genial smile. “If you will come inside, the housekeeper will show you to your room. Lord and Lady Holland will be receiving guests in the drawing room at seven.”

  “Thank you.”

  Taking one last look at the beautiful grounds, Thalia followed the servant into the house.

  * * *

  Three hours later, Thalia stood inside the luxuriously appointed drawing room.

  She had met Lord and Lady Holland on her entrance. The middle-aged couple was all gracious smiles and kind words. They had put her immediately at her ease, despite Lady Holland’s reputation for having a blunt tongue and rapier wit.

  “You know, Lady Thalia,” Lord Holland remarked while they chatted, “I believe you and I are distant cousins through the Lennox side of the family. Considering the connection, we ought to have done this far sooner.”

  Thalia smiled. “You are right. I wish that we had. The fault, I fear, is my own.”

  “Not a bit. You are here now, so that is all that counts.”

  Knowing there would be plenty of time to become better acquainted over the next couple of days, Lord and Lady Holland had moved on to greet their other guests. Thalia recognized a few of the numerous attendees, including the former prime minister and several lauded artists and writers.

  “Champagne?” a footman inquired.

  Thalia accepted a glass from a silver tray. As the servant moved away, she wondered how much longer dinner would be. She’d had nothing but a cup of tea and a small sandwich since breakfast and she was starved. She laid a hand on the waist of her blue velvet evening gown and hoped her stomach wouldn’t disgrace her by rumbling.

  “If I stop to offer my felicitations, will you promise not to throw that drink on me?” a silvery male voice said from behind her.

  Thalia turned and met the bold green-gold eyes of Lord Leopold Byron.

  “I forgot to pack extra neckclothes,” he continued, “and have enough only to get me through the next three days.”

  Her heart thumped. Lord, what is he doing here! So much for not seeing him again.

  Yet there he stood, looking tall and elegant in formal black and white. His gold embroidered waistcoat made a perfect foil for the dark golden brown of his hair. He smiled a moment later, the movement lighting up his entire face.

  Seeing that smile hit her, as it always did, like a quick poke to the solar plexus.

  My, but he’s handsome. And what a simpleton I am for noticing.

  She sent him an arch look, suddenly out of sorts with him and herself. “You may offer your felicitations if you wish, Lord Leopold, since I cannot prevent you. As for the drink, I never make promises I’m not certain I can keep.”

  Rather than take offense, much as he had at their last encounter, he laughed, his deep-set eyes alight with humor. “Then I shall take care to be on my guard, ready to stand clear at a moment’s notice.”

  “Have a lot of experience with that, do you?”

  “Only with you, curiously enough.” He smiled with roguish amusement. “I never did get that neckcloth you promised me. Perhaps I shall have to demand another sort of recompense while we are here together. A dance perhaps?”

  “Will there be dancing? In that case, I shall have to make sure my card is completely filled.”

  He grinned. “Come now, I thou
ght we’d laid down arms last week. I like to consider us a good way along the path to being friends.”

  “Then you must have a much shorter path in mind than I do.”

  “I did give the Meissen box to you, if you’ll recall. You are the one who decided to refuse it.”

  “Because it was vastly improper of you to give it to me in the first place.”

  He gave her another slow, wicked smile. “Have you not yet realized, dear Lady Thalia, how vastly improper I am? Just say the word and we can be vastly improper together.”

  She stared for a long moment, unable to decide whether to toss another flute of champagne in his face or just laugh.

  Humor won the day.

  She gave a wry laugh. “What an amazing optimist you are, Lord Leopold.”

  “I’m a fatalist as well. Only see how providence keeps setting us in each other’s path?”

  “Providence has nothing to do with it.”

  “Are you sure?” he insisted. “How else do you account for us finding ourselves here together?”

  “Invitations from Lord and Lady Holland perhaps?”

  “Touché,” he said, awarding the point to her. “Still, this party does give us another opportunity to further our acquaintance.”

  “And what makes you think I have any wish to know you better? Find another woman on whom you can work your wiles. One who will be dazzled to receive your attentions.”

  He gazed into her eyes. “Ah, but therein lies the rub.” His voice deepened, pitched for her ears alone. “I don’t want anyone else. I have my sights set squarely on you.”

  Her heart beat faster, unwanted tingles racing over her skin, though she was careful to let none of her reactions show on her face.

  “As for my attentions,” he went on, “I think you are far more receptive to them than you care to admit.”

  “Then you are delusional as well as overly optimistic.”

  He leaned closer, his height causing her to tip back her head. “Agree to spend time with me and we will see which one of us is deluded,” he said. “Why do we not begin now? Let me take you in to dinner, where we can continue this highly illuminating conversation.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll grant you one thing, Lord Leopold: you do not lack for confidence. What a pity for you that I am promised to accompany someone else to the dining room tonight.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Tell me who it is and I shall make certain he relinquishes his seat to me.”

  She shook her head again. “Lady Holland wouldn’t allow it. Now, shh, the gentleman approaches.”

  Thank heavens for her hostess, Thalia thought, Lady Holland having already chosen a gentleman to accompany her in to dinner. In addition to the usual protocol concerning such things, she was attending the party alone and had need of a reliable escort. Having a prearranged partner made everything so much easier, particularly now that she knew Lord Leopold was one of the guests.

  “Mr. Hetford,” she said, putting far more enthusiasm into her greeting than she would normally have done. “His lordship and I were just talking about you and here you are.”

  Hetford sent her a mildly surprised look, his rounded features and bushy brown eyebrows putting her in mind of a grouse. “Good things, I hope?”

  “Only the best.” Thalia gave Hetford another fulsome smile that caused him to blink repeatedly as if he’d looked directly into the sun. She slipped her arm through his. “I see that Lady Holland is leading the procession into dinner. Shall we follow?”

  “With pleasure.” Hetford smiled widely.

  Perhaps rather too widely.

  She resisted the urge to sigh, aware she would have to be careful not to encourage him further during the meal. She certainly didn’t need Hetford chasing after her too.

  Looking up, she met Lord Leopold’s eyes.

  Rather than glowering, however, he looked amused, as if he was fully aware of what she was doing. Somehow the knowledge disturbed her more than if he’d simply been jealous.

  “If you will excuse us, Lord Leopold,” she said in a deliberately lighthearted voice.

  “Indeed, Lady Thalia. You may be excused.” He angled his large body so that his mouth was near her ear. “For now.”

  A shiver trailed down her spine.

  Ignoring the reaction, she turned her back and let Mr. Hetford escort her from the room.

  * * *

  “Still winning her over, I see,” Leo heard a voice say, one that sounded remarkably like his own. “You’ve got her trotting at your heels like an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Is Lady Thalia from Yorkshire, do you think?”

  Leo swung around to face his twin. “Don’t be such an ass.”

  “I believe there is only one of those in the room tonight and I’m looking at him.”

  “If that’s the case, then find a handy mirror. You’ll be able to see him again.”

  Lawrence laughed. “When you said you had business at Holland House, I ought to have known she was involved. And here I was hoping you had decided to take an interest in politics after all.”

  “Everyone is going in to dinner,” Leo said, ignoring his brother’s last remark. “We should join them.”

  Lawrence nodded. The two of them started forward.

  “Since you aren’t making any real progress with Lady Thalia,” Lawrence said after a minute, “maybe I ought to try my luck with her. If she doesn’t care for one twin, perhaps the other will do.”

  Leo stopped and grabbed hold of Lawrence’s arm. “Don’t you dare. She’s out of bounds to you, do you understand? I am not sharing.”

  His brother’s eyes widened. “Here now, there’s no need for that. I was only joking.”

  Leo forced himself to loosen his grip. He wasn’t sure where the sudden burst of fury had come from, but without warning, the emotion had burned through him as hot and quick as a fireball. A curious sensation, really, since he wasn’t used to being jealous, especially not of his own brother.

  “Yes, well, I knew that,” he said stiffly.

  “Good.” Lawrence beat a hand over his abused coat sleeve to remove the creases. “I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.”

  “As if you could.” Leo made a disdainful noise. “Remember the black eye I gave you when we were ten?”

  “Remember the bruised ribs I gave you?”

  His side twinged for a moment with ghostly pain. Yes, he remembered, along with various other rough-and-tumble brawls they’d had over the years—most of them nothing more than good-natured horseplay.

  “Thalia wouldn’t have you anyway,” Leo said.

  “Oho, so she’s Thalia now, is she? Are you making more progress with her than I thought?”

  “Enough. These things take time.”

  “True, but how long are you prepared to wait? At the rate you’re proceeding, it may take an eternity.”

  Leo cuffed him. “I should never have told you I was going to be away for a few days. I ought to have packed my bags and departed without leaving so much as a note.”

  “That would have been most unbrotherly of you. I would have worried.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Not for a week at least,” Leo stated.

  “Four days. Even if you’re off carousing, you always manage to surface long enough to send word that you’re still among the living. After four days, I’d feel obligated to start a search.”

  “I’d do the same for you, though I wouldn’t wait more than two. You’re far too responsible not to leave a note. Must be the barrister in you.”

  Lawrence’s step slowed and he moved to one side to allow a last trickle of guests to funnel past them into the dining room. “I do have one more question, though.”

  Leo arched a brow. “Oh, only one?”

  Lawrence brushed off the sarcasm. “How many favors did you have to call in to get Lady Thalia invited to this party?”

  Leo stilled. “Why do you think I had anything to do with it? Maybe she was already on the guest list.”

  “Do give
me some credit. The Hollands have a cadre of regular guests who visit and she isn’t one of them. Which leaves your mark stamped all over the matter. Does she realize?”

  “No.” Leo’s jaw tightened. “And you aren’t going to tell her.”

  “What do I get for staying silent?”

  “Continued good health. Promise you’ll hold your tongue.”

  Lawrence shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know. Seems there ought to be something in it for me.”

  “You’re a bastard, do you know that?”

  “Guess that makes two of us, then, seeing as we once shared a womb.”

  “Fine. You can name your price later.”

  Lawrence grinned, his arms falling to his sides. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

  Leo glared at him. “Come on. If we’re any later, we’ll cause a scene.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Still chuckling, Lawrence followed Leo into the dining room.

  Chapter 5

  Over the years, both before and after the divorce, Thalia had endured the watchful gazes of a great many people—most particularly men. But never in her life had she found herself the focus of two individuals who looked exactly alike, down to the last eyelash and dimple. Even their mannerisms were the same!

  Yet there they sat opposite her, the Byron twins, one at either end of the Hollands’ long, magnificently decorated dining table. Neither man was impolite enough to stare directly at her, of course, but still she felt their unique gazes on her at all too frequent intervals.

  Clearly one brother is as impertinent as the other, she decided as she stabbed the tines of her fork into the excellent fillet of beef on her plate. Really, they ought to keep their eyes to themselves.

  But why was she letting the Byron twins bother her? It wasn’t like her to be troubled by such things—or rather such men.

  Inclining her head, she nodded at something Mr. Hetford was saying. She had discovered that maintaining a conversation with him didn’t require much work; the man never seemed to stop talking except to draw breath.