“How did you know?”
“Don’t you remember? Twice in Dublin, we were crossing the street together in a crowd, and you went around the back of a horse-and-carriage instead of the front, like the rest of us.”
“You’re right,” she conceded, amazed that he’d noticed and remembered.
“So why didn’t you go with him, after all? Was it the horses?” He paused in their walk.
“No. I got hit in the nose by a ball my brothers were throwing in the garden.”
“You did?” He peered closer, his eyes lit with concern.
“It was enough that Mama thought I should stay behind, but I’m perfectly fine, so please don’t be concerned.”
He raised her hand and kissed it. “I wish I’d been there to help.”
She refused to be touched by this new evidence of his solicitous attention, but her body betrayed her. She blushed, and for a moment, she felt light-headed just looking at him.
“I’m sure Finn was devastated,” he said.
“What?” she said, feeling breathless.
“I said, I’m sure Finn was devastated.” He spoke loudly but kindly.
She bit her lip. “Oh, yes. Not too terribly, I hope. He still took Janice to Astley’s but wound up with Robert and Cynthia in tow, as well.”
Lord Chadwick looked vaguely amused. “However did you get hit by that fateful ball? Because of it, you’re here with me, after all.”
“I was thinking about something … and wasn’t paying attention.”
“What was it?”
“The Duke of Beauchamp.” And you, the imaginary you, kissing my shoulder when I was in an imaginary shift. She shook off that thought. “I’ve terrible news. Another school has found out about his granddaughter’s return to England. And it’s an excellent school. Greenwood.”
His dark brown eyes clouded. “That’s not good. I’ve heard of them.”
“Yes. And Daddy’s not happy about helping me get a letter of introduction to the duke. He’s dragging his feet. I really do need your assistance. If you don’t mind.”
“I’ve already ventured forth,” the earl said. “I’d not planned to, but I saw the duke’s carriage go by and decided to follow. I had a brief visit with the duke’s secretary.”
She stopped. “You did?”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t get an audience with His Grace. I failed miserably, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
“Don’t despair. In the end, the duke’s secretary did consent to giving us both an appointment to see him.”
She gasped. “He did?”
“Yes. But only because…”
“Because why?”
Lord Chadwick’s face took on a guarded expression. “Because”—he hesitated—“Joe ran into the bowels of the house seeking the duke.”
Marcia put her hand to her mouth. “What happened?”
Lord Chadwick chuckled. “He found His Grace in his library. But by the time I got to my little explorer”—she couldn’t help grinning at that—“a footman had already dragged him out by the elbow. He was practically dangling off the floor.”
“Poor boy.”
The earl shook his head. “You would think so, but he was quite excited. He said the duke was jolly good at playing with invisible swords, although Joe defeated him soundly, which had been his intention.”
“Oh, my goodness.”
“Joe had had a difficult day up to that point. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he ran off. He needed to fight. To feel strong.”
“Really.” She was fascinated by this talk of Joe. And she enjoyed seeing how Lord Chadwick’s face became so expressive and warm when he spoke of him.
“The upside is,” the earl went on, “the duke told the footman to tell his secretary that Joe’s permitted to return and play swords once more—so the duke can defeat him. Same time next week.”
“That’s wonderful! So we’ll both go with him?”
“Yes, but it was a close call. The secretary, appalled, raced to the library, no doubt to inform His Grace that Joe’s returning under my escort wasn’t a good idea. But he was overruled. The duke said Joe could come on the visit with whomever he’d like.”
Marcia grabbed his hands. “How marvelous!”
“At least it’s an opportunity. But don’t get too excited. That secretary might be turning the duke against us right now. His Grace is already supposed to be a great curmudgeon.”
“I don’t care. I’m excited.” She grinned at him.
Then belatedly remembered she shouldn’t.
They started walking again.
He kept his eyes straight ahead. “So is Finn exciting to you?”
She paused, feeling that awareness building between them again. “Isn’t he to everyone?”
“I suppose so. Whereas I’m that very ordinary earl.” He flashed a droll smile. “But I do have an exciting curricle, which someday you might ride in.”
She felt sheepish. “I’m sorry.” And suddenly, she really felt so. He might not be a man she approved of, but she hadn’t enjoyed deceiving him. She’d felt … not her best self.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I survived the disappointment.”
Which only made her feel more guilty.
And then she was annoyed because she could swear she saw the corners of his mouth go up. Maybe he’d not been disappointed in the least. There he’d been, after all, playing bawdy songs on the pianoforte when she’d knocked on his door. And before that, visiting a duke.
He flustered her, this enigmatic earl.
“Well, you’re not ordinary,” she found herself saying, and was horrified she was being somewhat complimentary. “You have a lovely voice. As well as spectacular skill at the pianoforte.”
“I won’t deny it.” He pulled her hand tighter in the crook of his arm.
She suddenly felt shy. “I look forward to meeting Joe. I want to … to thank him.”
“Yes, well, don’t thank me,” Lord Chadwick said wryly, a glimmer of self-rebuke in his eyes. “I made a hash of it.”
Marcia hesitated. “I reneged on our meeting, so I won’t complain that you took matters into your own hands. In the end, what matters is that you tried on my behalf. And I appreciate your efforts.”
“Really?” His eyebrows lofted; his mouth was half parted. He looked genuinely surprised.
She nodded. “Of course. I was in a panic. And now I’m not as panicked. Not nearly as much.”
Next thing she knew, he’d pulled her into a tiny alley between two houses.
Before Kerry disappeared completely from view, Marcia could see her pretending to admire some flowers in a window box.
Lord Chadwick pressed Marcia up against a wall, their mouths mere inches apart. There was a beat of taut silence. “I rather like the idea of my being someone who might send you into a panic,” he said low.
Her legs got a little weak. “Why should you?” She swallowed hard.
“Because it would mean we were doing this.” He ran his hands down her arms. “And this.” With great deliberation, he bridged those couple inches of air between them and kissed her.
Oh, heavens. His mouth was better than Christmas morning. She couldn’t get enough of him.
He held her pinned between his legs.
She grabbed him around the neck and kissed him back with everything she had, reveling in the sensual clashing of their mouths and the pressure of his body against hers.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his pupils dark. “And I’m very glad you didn’t go to Astley’s with my brother. I want you for myself.”
She forced her chin up. “I’m no man’s, Lord Chadwick.”
“That may be so, but you’d do well to marry me.” His tone was matter-of-fact as he took her arm and escorted her back to the street.
“Marry you?”
“Yes. You’re not ready, however, so don’t expect me to ask.” He looked sideways at her, his mouth tilted u
p at one corner.
“Of course I’m not ready.” She made sure to look cool, even though her lips were still tingling and her breasts aching with want. “I never will be.”
Never.
Never, ever.
The pain of knowing she couldn’t have what unsullied young ladies could have—the ones who didn’t break the rules—still riled her.
His eyes gleamed with something that sent shivers of awareness through her. “I’ll leave you here.” He lingered over the kiss on her knuckles, and her fingers clutched in response to the heat of his mouth. “I’m glad you paid me a visit.”
She was appalled that she felt so reluctant to leave him. “I’m stopping by again,” she blurted out, “to meet Joe.”
There was a great silence between them.
“You can’t do that.” His voice was quiet. “For many reasons, not the least of which is protecting your good reputation.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “But I’m going to do it anyway. So don’t try to stop me.”
He lifted her chin, the gleam in his eyes becoming more pronounced. “You’re both headmistress and troublemaker. Do you know what that combination does to a man?”
“No,” she said, feeling rather breathless.
“It makes him unable to think of anyone but you. In the morning. At the noon hour. And at night.”
At night? Her face grew hot. “Lord Chadwick. You shouldn’t—”
“Go home,” he said abruptly. “Before I pull you into another alleyway.”
And so she fled. Once she was at a safe distance, she glanced over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of him walking away. But he hadn’t. He was still there in his black cape, his gaze dark and steady upon her beneath the rim of his hat.
She couldn’t help herself. She turned and faced him, walking slowly backwards a few steps, her eyes locked on his, drinking in the sight of him. The wind blew a lock of hair in her eyes, and she pulled it aside.
She saw the corner of his mouth tip up once more, and her heart surged.
She spun forward again, and somehow—when she could feel him still watching her—she was able to forget the reality of her hopeless situation.
And for a brief, shining moment, it was like walking beneath an invisible rainbow into a bigger and brighter life.
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, Duncan’s thoughts constantly shifted to Lady Marcia, especially that last image he’d had of her walking backwards away from him. His heart had beat rather hard, too hard, at that new expression he’d seen on her face. He didn’t know quite what it was, but there was softness in it—directed toward him.
She’d never shown him that before.
Walking home, he’d been lost in a happy haze. At the dinner hour, he still hadn’t quite recovered. He’d gone out with some friends to Vauxhall to forget her and come home late.
And now, a bit worse for wear, he must concentrate on the estate accounts. His secretary had left him pages of numbers to look over and several letters from the overseer of his Kent estate.
When someone knocked at the library door, he was deep into a profit report. “Come in,” he said, and looked up from the sheaf of papers spread out before him.
It was Aislinn. He’d never seen her so tense.
He stood from his desk, prepared to do something, anything. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his chest tight. “Is Joe ill or hurt?”
“Joe’s fine, my lord.” Her lilting Irish accent was noticeably dampened. She wrung her hands. “I shouldn’t have—I mean I should have expected you’d think—”
“It’s all right.” He sank back down in his seat, relief flooding through him. “But something is troubling you, Aislinn. What is it?”
She inhaled a deep breath. “This is difficult to say.” She took another breath, and a feeling of unknown dread filled him. “I’m going to have to put in my notice, Lord Chadwick. I’m so sorry.”
“Aislinn, why would you put in your notice?” He was stunned. And unable to keep the vast sadness out of his voice. He stood again and came round the desk to her.
What would Joe do without her? She was as close to a mother as he’d ever had.
She bit her lip. “It’s nothing against you, my lord. Or Joe.” Her eyes filled with tears. “In fact”—her voice cracked—“I love him like my own.”
“I know you do. And I’m so grateful to you.” Duncan took her gently by the shoulders. “What could possibly inspire you to leave us? You’re—you’re family.”
She sniffed. “Thank you, my lord. I feel as if you and Joe and everyone here are family, too. But I have to go. I—I have to.”
He could feel her trembling, so he escorted her to a chair. “Please. Sit down.”
She did, on the very edge, her feet flat on the floor, her hands folded in her lap.
Duncan pulled up another chair and sat directly in front of her. “Tell me what’s happened,” he said as kindly as he could.
The maid looked at the carpet, then at him, then back at the carpet. “My sister is very ill,” she said quietly. “I need to go to her.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said. “Please take as much time as you need with her.”
There was a long, bleak pause. She managed to meet his eyes. “I won’t be coming back,” she whispered. Tears began to pour down her cheeks.
Duncan leaned forward and took her hands. “My dear girl, why not?”
She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t think she’ll live,” she said through her fingers. “I’ll have to take care of her children.”
“Of course you will.” Duncan pressed her hand. He understood. But Joe would lose someone vastly important to him.
Aislinn looked up, her eyes wide with worry. “I’m so sorry about Joe. You must hate me.” She wiped a tear from her eye.
“I would never hate you.” But how was he going to tell Joe? “Are you sure you can’t come back?” he asked her gently.
She shook her head.
He put his palms on his thighs and sighed aloud. “Very well. I understand. And we will all miss you, especially Joe”—his chest constricted—“quite dearly.”
“As I will him. And all of you.” Her voice wavered with emotion, and she stood.
He stood with her. “I’ll write you an outstanding letter of reference. And I also intend to give you enough of a parting gift to see to it that you and your sister’s family will have at least four years in which you won’t have any financial worries whatsoever.”
“My lord! That’s very generous of you, but you needn’t.”
“You deserve this, Aislinn. You’ve given me four years of peace of mind, which is something I can never repay. It’s the least I can do for all the love you’ve shown Joe, all the support you’ve given me.”
She managed a smile back. “Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She sniffed.
He escorted her to the door. “How soon before you go?”
She looked up at him. “It would be best that I leave early in the morning.”
“So soon?” He wished he hadn’t committed to attending the opera with the Sherwood family. He’d be disappointed not to see Lady Marcia, but his spirit was heavy. He felt the need to be with Joe. His whole world was about to shift tomorrow morning. Should he tell him tonight? Or should he let the parting be swift?
Perhaps he’d cry off from the opera.
Yes, that’s what he’d do.
Aislinn’s eyes filled with tears again. “It will be torture seeing Joe. I’m afraid all I’ll do is cry until I go.” She took a breath. “If I have to, I’ll stay, my lord. Another few days, if needs be. I—I’ll manage somehow.”
“No,” he said slowly, “you have your sister to worry about. She’s in Ireland?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip. “I was born outside of Dublin, a village called Drumree. She’s there still.”
“Well, you have a long journey ahead of you. We have the other girls, so you should go when i
t’s best for you. It looks like tomorrow morning is the time.”
“Aye,” she whispered. “And Lord Chadwick?”
“Yes?”
Her expression was taut. “I’d rather not say good-bye to the other servants when I depart. And tonight, I’ll stay in my room. Someone else will have to take over caring for Joe. I’ve no need to lie about being ill, to be sure—my temples are throbbing with a headache. After I arrive in Drumree, I’ll write the household a note. I’ll need all my strength to say good-bye to Joe.”
“Understood. I’ll tell everyone it was imperative you leave immediately due to a family member’s illness and that you were too distracted and overwrought to speak to them before you left.”
“You’re too good, my lord.” She threw her arms around him.
He hugged her back, his heart aching.
“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to say good-bye to you two.” She cried some more into his shirt.
“I’ll be there to take care of Joe when you tell him,” he told her in confident tones to comfort her. “He’ll be sad, but we’ll pull him through. You go pack. And don’t worry about us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You need to be strong for yourself. Joe will be fine. Believe me, he will. I’ll make certain he will. And I will, too. We’ll soldier through.”
“Yes, my lord.” She pulled away and wiped her face with her apron. “You’re a good father, you are.”
“Thank you.” He put an arm around her shoulder again. “Tomorrow morning, come get me when you’re ready to say good-bye. I’ll not leave your side through the whole ordeal.”
Even through her obvious misery, her face brightened a tad. “Thank you, Lord Chadwick.”
He opened the door for her, and she walked abruptly out. He could hear her feet thumping on the carpeted stairs to the next floor, and then a clatter of heels on hardwood as she ascended another set of stairs to the servants’ quarters.
After a moment, the house was quiet and peaceful. It would be the opposite in less than twenty-four hours.
Well, he’d wanted a distraction from Lady Marcia, hadn’t he? He’d certainly gotten himself one.
He went to check on Joe. Looking at his sleeping face, he wondered what would happen when the other maids left someday. As they would, surely, for one reason or another.
Loving Lady Marcia Page 16