She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak.
“I see.” He pressed her hand and then her wrist. “Skin moist. Pulse is skippy. Perhaps you should sit back down.”
“I’m all right.” Marcia forced herself to feel hearty, like Daddy. “Really, I am. And it’s merely my hem—that needs fixing.” She pointed over her shoulder. “In the retiring room.”
The doctor shook his head. “If you really think you can … fix your hem, go do it. But no fainting, please.”
“All right.”
“Wait.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, adding whatever golden liquid was in it to a glass of lemonade. “Drink this first.”
Marcia drank it. Something warm and fiery went down her throat, and she coughed, as delicately as she possibly could at a card party. She was thankful most of the elderly people here were hard of hearing.
“What was it?” she gasped softly.
“A bit of Scottish whisky. Enough to help you … with your hem.” He winked. “I wish I could go with you,” he added wistfully, “but I’ve the sisters to look after.” He glanced over at his card companions, who’d returned to the table and were happily eating their second helpings of trifle.
“It’s all right,” Marcia told him. “Some things a woman has to fix alone. So that she may be herself entirely. Without interference. Because certain matters are that important.”
“Hems are,” he said in a teasing manner.
“Exactly.”
They smiled at each other.
“Good luck,” he told her. “If you were seventeen or eighteen and this were your first Season, I’d force you to stay here … with your torn hem. But you’re a bit older now, eh? Headmistress of a school. No doubt you’ve faced many a trial looking after your charges.”
“That’s right.” She drew herself up. “I think I’ll leave a note with the butler telling my parents I slipped out to go home. In case they become worried. About my hem.”
“Excellent idea. And one more thing. It hasn’t made the papers yet, but the Duke of Beauchamp has a twelve-year-old granddaughter who despises her Swiss boarding school.”
“Really? The Swiss schools are excellent. My own sister attended one. I wonder why the girl’s unhappy?”
“I don’t know.” Dr. Trimp threw her an exasperated look. “That wasn’t my point. My point is that Ella McCloud doesn’t even know. Only I do. The duke is my patient, and he was grumbling about the situation just yesterday.”
“Ohhh,” Marcia said. “Oh, I see.” She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” The doctor chuckled. “Let me know how the hem situation resolves itself.”
“I will.”
Marcia wrote a brief note in the library and gave it to the butler to hold for her parents. “I really must go,” she told him, “and I don’t want to disturb the party. Could you tell me the nearest spot to flag down a hackney, please?”
He told her. “But a young lady shouldn’t—”
“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted him gently. “I promise. It’s rather an emergency.” She pulled a poker from behind her back. “I’m only going to borrow this,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll return it tomorrow behind the bushes out front.” She waggled her brows.
“If you insist, my lady,” he said, not moving a muscle in his face.
“Don’t fret.” She winked. “At least something happened at this card party, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes,” he returned smoothly. “But I can only hope nothing happens anywhere else you travel tonight.”
“Oh, it won’t. This is the most exciting it will get.” She accepted help with her cloak from him and thanked him for his assistance.
And then, throwing caution to the wind, she slipped out the front door.
Chapter Nine
After dumping his brother unceremoniously onto a street in Mayfair, Duncan had only one desire: to see Lady Marcia Sherwood. To that end, he directed his driver to the Davises’ home. On the way, he couldn’t help brooding. What would he do when he saw her? He wasn’t sure. But something.
Yes, he’d do something. He couldn’t simply stand by while—Zeus take it, while she lived her life, the victim of his brother’s perfidy.
And now, to add insult to injury, she’d been dismissed from her school. Surely there was something odd about that. She was damned clever and competent. Who would ever let her go?
But the time for frustration over past injuries done her was past. Now he must use every skill of diplomacy he had to—
To what?
To win her over, that was what.
I’m going to marry her, Duncan determined.
He didn’t fool himself into thinking it would be an easy task convincing her to have him. But if she did, she’d never have to worry about her reputation again. She’d be safe, and he’d have put things right.
But he found he’d gone to the wrong Davises,’ who were not at home. It took him but a moment to realize his mistake but an entire half hour to get to the correct Davises’ house.
He was a block away and nearly boiling over with frustration again when he saw a young lady in a cloak walking toward him on the street as if she were on a mission of great importance, something at the level of national security, at least.
There was only one woman he knew who walked like that.
Lady Marcia Sherwood.
His frustration turned to fury. He thumped his cane on the ceiling of the carriage and leaned out the window. “What the devil are you doing alone on the street?” he called to her.
Who cared that he was in Mayfair and respectable people were at home, hoping for a peaceful night? Thugs abounded in London.
Lady Marcia looked up, her eyes wide and unguarded, and despite his agitation, his heart twisted. In that moment, he saw that whatever Finn had carelessly taken from her, she hadn’t lost a sense of vulnerability. She hid it well beneath her capable exterior, but it was there, a brief glimpse of softness.
The carriage stopped beside her.
“Please get in.” He felt a great desire to jump out, pick her up, and put her in the carriage himself. “You shouldn’t be alone. I’ll turn around and take you to your destination.”
“I most certainly shall not. You might boss your brother about with that tone of voice, but not me. Besides, we’d be unchaperoned.”
She kept walking. Rupert was forced to maneuver the carriage in the opposite direction to go after her.
“I’ll take my chances,” Duncan said when he’d caught up with her again.
She made an audible gasp, and her mouth became a beautifully round O. “As if I would—” She clamped her mouth shut. “Never mind. You’re insufferable.”
And then she began walking again.
He jumped out.
“You’re not going to follow me again, are you?” she said, looking straight ahead.
He grabbed her elbow, and pulled her to a stop. “You’re not going anywhere alone,” he said in his starchiest earl’s accent.
“I’ve a poker in my cloak, and I’m not afraid to use it,” she said softly.
“And I’m not afraid to pick you up and carry you over my shoulder to my carriage and fling you inside,” he said back, “poker be damned.”
She sighed. “I’m just going to the gas lamp on the corner. The Davises’ butler assures me he knows of no one who’s been set upon there. I can flag down a hackney.”
“That’s absurd. This is London. No place is safe, especially for a young lady, even one with a stolen poker. Either walk with me now to my carriage, or I’ll follow through on my threat.”
“Oh, all right.” Her shoulders drooped, but then she straightened them and cast him an accusatory glance. “You’re ridiculously stubborn.”
She didn’t make it easy for him, of course, staying as far apart from him as she could, her fingertips barely touching him, her gait slow and reluctant.
“This works out very well.” He flung open
the door to his carriage. “I was coming to see you anyway.”
“Why?” she pleaded. “I told you, Lord Chadwick, I don’t care if I ever see you again.”
“You don’t?” He held out a hand to help her up.
Her fiery blue gaze locked onto his. Reluctantly, she took his hand, and something warm and vital passed between them, palm to palm, leaving his chest tight and his body aching with a need to prolong the touch.
“No, I don’t,” she said in a thin voice.
“I believe you’re not as indifferent to me as you say you are,” he said on a low note.
She wouldn’t answer. Her lips were pinched and white when he helped her up.
“Stick to Mayfair,” he called up to Rupert, “until I get further directions.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Duncan got in after his quarry and sat across from her. The carriage began to roll. She dropped the hood of her cloak and placed the poker on the floor. The flowery scent of her tantalized his nostrils.
God, she was beautiful.
“Mr. Lattimore said he might come to the card party,” she said, making it very clear that she’d have preferred his company over Duncan’s.
Did she have a lingering tendre for his brother? It would be a shame if so. “Finn encountered a distraction that prevented his seeking an invitation. I decided to come in his place.”
He wouldn’t tell her that the distraction was his fist.
“But why”—she didn’t bother to hide her irritation—“did you want to see me, my lord?”
“Because I like you,” he replied. And it was true. Let her make of it what she would.
She lifted her chin and looked out the window. “You hardly know me well enough to like me,” she said carefully.
“Certainly I do. I might have ignored you all those years ago, as you so aptly reminded me yesterday, but you can’t travel with someone and not get to know them a little. I’m aware, for example, that you prefer bacon over sausage.”
“You remember that?”
“Yes, I do.” And now that he thought about it, he remembered a great deal more about her, too. “It could be the reason I like you. I prefer bacon, as well.”
She glanced darkly at him, doing her best not to be even remotely amused.
But surely she was. She could pretend all she wanted to be a stick-in-the-mud, but he knew she wasn’t.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked nonchalantly.
“The Livingstons’ ball.” She laced her hands in her lap.
“Very well.” He passed the instructions on to Rupert, then leaned back on the squabs and watched her ignoring him, her pensive gaze directed once more to the window. “Was the Davises’ card party so dull you felt compelled to walk out?”
She cast a glance at him. “No. Not really.” She returned her gaze to the window.
“Why did you leave?” He hoped it wasn’t because Finn hadn’t made an appearance.
“I have urgent business at the Livingstons’ ball,” she said, still looking outside.
“Is this urgent business something I could help you with?”
She turned to him again. “No, thank you.”
“Does your urgent business have anything to do with … my brother?”
Her eyes flew wide. “Of course not.”
“You said you were expecting him at the card party.”
“Not expecting, just wondering. And I most certainly wouldn’t go off in pursuit of a man, my lord.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re not that sort of woman.”
She sat up higher. “You seem to take a great interest in affairs that don’t concern you. What sort of woman am I, perchance? I’d love to know.”
He scratched his head. “The headmistress sort—sometimes. And other times…”
“Yes?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“You’re the sort I’d like to kiss, if you must know.”
“Lord Chadwick.” Even in the dark, he saw red flags on her cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I know about the poker.”
“That’s right,” she said in high dudgeon, and scooted farther back in her corner.
He’d made his point. So he liked her and wanted to kiss her. Let her ruminate on those two notions for a while. With Lady Marcia, one had to strategize, and he knew that she’d not forget his blunt words.
For now, he’d change the subject. “Could your urgent business have to do with your new circumstances? That awful business with Lady Ennis?”
“I suppose you know, too?” She let out a grievous sigh. “Apparently, all of London does.”
His mouth tipped up at the corners. “I’d offer you my sympathy, but I believe your school requires it more.”
“Thank you.” She gave a delicate arch to one brow. “The truth is, I want to speak to Lady Ennis, Oak Hall’s benefactress. I understand she’s at the Livingstons’ ball. I’ve heard she may be planning to close the school, and I must know if she is.”
“Let me go with you.”
“Lord Chadwick, really. You’re forcing me to be rude. I don’t want your company.”
“But I think I could help.” He had no idea how, yet he craved helping her. She drew him, like the open page of a book, the unread words beckoning him into the story.
“I don’t need your help.” Her voice was testy. “I suppose I should thank you for offering.”
She frustrated him, but did he expect any less from her than a good fight? “At the very least, tell me your plan. I’m giving you safe escort to the ball, after all.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “If the viscountess is indeed closing the school, I’ll offer her an arrangement.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I believe in diplomacy before war.”
“I like that you’re willing to go to war if you have to. But I especially like that you’re keeping your head. We need you in Parliament, Lady Marcia.”
“I think I’d do well there myself,” she said, the merest gleam of amusement in her eye.
But then she seemed to recognize her mistake, and she was back to being … uncooperative, ensuring that her toes or knees didn’t touch his and that her gaze didn’t meet his own.
“What exactly is the arrangement you’ll offer Lady Ennis?” he dared to ask.
Reluctantly, she turned to him. “You’re not going to leave me in peace until we get there, are you?”
“Peace?” He leaned back himself, allowing his face to become shadowed. “Is that really what you want from me, my lady?”
There was a tense silence.
He leaned forward. “Would you actually like me to disappear from your life forever?”
A delicate furrow appeared on her brow.
“Never to speak to you?” The carriage rolled and rocked, lending rhythm to his words. “Never to touch you?” He reached out a hand and grasped a tendril of hair by her ear. “Ever again?”
She remained silent, but he could see her eyes flare with something other than anger—a reluctant warmth.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his mouth lingering on her knuckles.
When he turned her hand over and kissed her palm, her fingers curled, but she didn’t pull back.
Oh, no. She didn’t.
Her skin was an enticing elixir, but he forced himself to release her. For a long moment, nothing was said. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“Don’t think for a moment that you can win me over with—with seduction,” she said shakily.
“You’re much too stalwart to succumb to my charms, I’m sure,” he replied. “Perhaps you should simply tell me more about your plan—it can occupy the remainder of our carriage ride.”
Her gaze was wary. “I plan to bring Lady Ennis a very important student. The Duke of Beauchamp’s granddaughter, to start with. And then perhaps I could move on to some other celebrated young ladies, such
as daughters and granddaughters of diplomats and foreign royalty. She’ll love the attention such a move will bring the school and will want to keep it open, I hope.”
“Ah. Good plan.” He tried not to notice that her cloak had slipped off her shoulders, revealing a lovely gown and a delicious, deep cleft between her breasts. “How will you acquire this duke’s granddaughter?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I haven’t gotten that far. We must be in accord first.”
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “If you have any worries about the details, I’d consider it an honor to serve as consultant. My father knew the Duke of Beauchamp.”
“Really?” Her interest was unmistakable.
“He took us to his Kensington property once when I was a boy. I have no idea how I could help at this point, but I’m willing to try.”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “It could be that my stepfather knows him, too. I’d rather not get anyone outside the family involved—”
“Especially me,” he interrupted her.
“Yes, quite frankly, unless it’s strictly necessary.”
“Lady Marcia”—he reached across and laid a hand over both of hers, still clenched in her lap—“I know how close you are to your family. But remember what you told me yesterday: You said I’ve ignored you all these years and the truth is, I have. I’d like to make it up to you now.”
He squeezed and let go of her hand.
“That’s not necessary,” she said in dismissive tones. “I’ll fix this problem as soon as possible myself, not only so the school will go on but so I can get back to work. Surely I’ll get my job back if I do all that I’m offering to do.”
“You want to go back?” God, he didn’t want to help with that. He wanted her to stay here. In London.
“Of course I want to return,” she said stoutly, “and to a thriving school with a secure future. Sorry, but I’ve more important things to do than satisfy an earl’s guilty conscience.”
“That’s the best put-down I’ve received in years.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
He could swear he saw the glimmer of a smile on her lips when she resumed her watch out the window.
They finished the ride to the ball in silence.
* * *
When they arrived amid the pomp and general mayhem of a street lined with too many resplendent carriages and stamping horses, the crowning touch a house with windows blazing with light, Lady Marcia’s face turned rather white. “I hope she’s here,” she said.
Loving Lady Marcia Page 9