What form of madness had overtaken her? Perhaps it was some sort of Yuletide fever. Such a thing was possible was it not? Perhaps that cat was infected with it, like the fleas carrying the bubonic plague. Oh, Cerian didn’t know. All she knew for certain was … she would not, could not, fall in love with a duke!
CHAPTER NINE
Oliver sprawled across the divan in Medford’s study.
“How are you holding up, old chap?” Medford asked, crossing over to the sideboard and pouring a drink. His big yellow dog, Themis, leaped up from the rug beside the fireplace and followed him. “Brandy?”
“It’s barely noon.”
“It’s Christmastide.”
“And it’s not like you to drink,” Oliver added, an eyebrow arched.
“Ah, I’ve been doing many things that aren’t like me since I married Kate.”
Oliver had to smile at that. It was true and the entire ton knew it. Lord Perfect had let down his infamous guard and strict set of rules since marrying the most scandalous widow of the season last year. Medford crossed back over the thick carpet and handed Oliver a drink, which he took with a nod of his head.
“I suppose there’s no sense allowing perfectly good brandy to go to waste,” Oliver said. “By the by, when did you get a cat?”
Medford gave him a look that clearly indicated he wondered if Oliver had gone temporarily mad. “I don’t own a cat.”
The door to the study opened just then and Kate flew in, a mass of red-gold hair and emerald green skirts. “There you two are.”
Kate dashed over to her husband’s side and kissed the cheek he lowered for her. “Darling, I’ve just approved the final menus and Lady Selina insists upon another game after dinner.” Kate rolled her eyes.
Medford lovingly trailed his fingers down his wife’s arm. “I was just asking Townsende here how he’s holding up.”
Oliver raised both brows. “Here now. What’s Lady Selina’s game got to do with me?”
“Oh, give over, Oliver,” Kate said. “You know Lady Selina is doing all this in an effort to catch your attention.”
Oliver wrinkled his nose. Cerian had taught him that.
“And?” Kate asked, a sideways smile on her lips. “Has she succeeded?”
“Lady Selina?” Oliver snorted. “Hardly.”
Kate plunked her hands on her hips and gave him a matter-of-fact look. “She seems to be quite smitten with you.”
Oliver groaned. “I was forced to take refuge from that chit in the silver closet my first day here.”
Kate’s eyes went wide. “You did not!”
“Upon my honor, I did. Was in there nearly a quarter hour,” Oliver added. And met the most lovely young lady as a result.
Medford let out a bark of laughter. “Now that’s a first. A duke hiding in the silver closet.”
“Next time, I’ll most likely be hiding under the carpet in the foyer.”
“Oh, come now, Oliver, she’s not that bad is she?” Kate asked.
“Let’s just say, I’m not interested in any more of her games,” Oliver replied.
Kate lowered herself into the rosewood chair that sat at odd angles across from Oliver. “Very well, if Lady Selina hasn’t caught your fancy, tell me, has anyone here done so? There is a score of lovely young ladies here. I was quite hoping you’d meet someone you got on with.”
A vision of dark hair and flashing green eyes danced in Oliver’s mind. “I … I hadn’t exactly … I don’t know,” he finished lamely.
Kate gave him a sideways smile. “What about … my cousin, Cerian?”
Oliver nearly choked on the brandy he’d just swallowed.
“The rumor is that you two are enamored of one another. Any truth to that?” Kate pushed, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Oliver scrubbed his fingers through his hair with his free hand. “Miss Blake is lovely and accomplished. She’s also quite intent upon marrying for love.”
Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she now? She said that?”
“We—ahem—have a few things in common. It seems Miss Blake is being as ruthlessly hunted as I.”
Medford nodded. “So you decided to team up, did you, and distract the suitors on both sides?”
Oliver nodded. “Precisely.”
This time Kate’s jaw dropped open. “You did not!”
Oliver stared at his glass and winced. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”
“And whose idea was that?” she asked.
“Mine,” he admitted, downing a hefty swallow of brandy this time.
Medford slapped his knee. “By God, I wish I’d have thought of that back when I was eligible.”
Kate shot her husband a disbelieving look. “James, you cannot be serious.”
Medford patted his dog on the head. “Why not? It’s brilliant if you ask me.”
Oliver hid his smile behind his glass when Kate turned back to face him.
“Is that why you and Miss Blake were in the library with the mistletoe? It was all an act?” Kate asked.
Oliver hesitated. No, he wouldn’t call it an act. Especially his body’s instant reaction to Cerian’s kiss. There had been nothing false about that. But he wasn’t about to admit that to Kate. “Sorry to disappoint you, but Miss Blake and I have formed a partnership of sorts.”
Kate shook her head. “And here I thought you’d find someone to marry at this house party. You’re only the new hope of the Markingham name. God knows George and I weren’t going to have children.”
“And don’t I feel every bit of my obligation?” Oliver replied with a sigh. “Starting with restoring the family name.”
Kate winced. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I know how trapped you must feel. Still, I did so hope you’d find someone here at the party. It’s part of the reason I planned it. I’m trying to help.”
Oliver lifted his glass to her. “I appreciate it, Kate, I truly do, but I’m not certain you can help.”
“Very well. But, please have a care for Cerian’s reputation, Oliver. She is my cousin, after all.”
“I know. The incident with the mistletoe earlier was unfortunate, I’m afraid, but Lady Selina’s antics left us little choice.” That was his story and he refused to change it.
“Don’t despair, my darling,” Medford said, crossing over to where she sat and kissing his wife on the forehead. “There are still two more days of the house party remaining. Who knows what these young people will get up to?”
Oliver gave him a skeptical glance. “Young people? I’m merely two years your junior, Medford.”
“Not the point, Townsende. Besides.” Medford turned back to face his wife. “What’s this I hear about Lady Selina coming up with more games?”
Oliver groaned.
CHAPTER TEN
Oliver nearly ran into her. He’d followed that blasted Christmas cat into the conservatory and practically fallen into Cerian’s lap. She sat on a stone bench at the back of the room, alone. The same stone bench he’d been heading toward to seek his own solitude. It was one of his favorite places in Medford’s house, and Oliver had wanted to come here to clear his head, be alone, breathe in the soft scent of orchids that grew nearby, and think about everything for a moment. He’d never expected the bench to be occupied. It was never occupied. And where had that blasted cat got to?
Cerian glanced up a bit frightful, perhaps because a six-foot man had come barreling toward her. Her features relaxed when she recognized Oliver, and she smiled.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, ready to turn on his heel and afford her the privacy she no doubt wanted. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to turn away. Why was he so reluctant?
Cerian moved over and patted the bench. “There’s room enough for both of us.”
Oliver eyed the bench. There was room, wasn’t there? That’s what drinking brandy in the early afternoon did to you. It made you believe very, very bad ideas were very, very good ones. Had Miss Blake been drinking brandy too?
He took two steps forwa
rd and slid onto the cold stone next to her, bracing his palms against the bench. “You enjoy the conservatory?”
“Very much. This spot especially. The orchids are my particular favorite.” She reached out and plucked one of the exotic purple flowers from the nearby vine. She twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.
“I like it here too.” Good Lord had his voice just caught? When was the last time that had happened? He must have been a lad of fourteen. He was sitting close enough to her now to smell her light perfume, even more captivating than the orchids.
“Are you hiding again?” she asked, gesturing back toward the main part of the house with her chin. “From the others?”
He cracked a smile. “No. This time I was purely in pursuit of a bit of solitude. I reserve my hiding posts for the silver closet.” He looked at her from the corners of his eyes.
She laughed at that. “Well, I’m hiding,” she admitted. “Though I’m happy to go elsewhere to allow you your privacy if you’d prefer.” She moved to stand and Oliver’s hand shot out to stop her. He clutched her wrist and pulled her back down next to him.
“Don’t go,” he murmured.
She settled back onto the bench and nodded. “Very well, but if we’re to remain here, make no mistake that I am hiding.” She grinned at him.
“As long as you’re not hiding from me.” He winked at her. “Because I hate to be indelicate but if so, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”
She pushed a curl away from her forehead. “No, not from you.”
“Excellent. Then your secret is safe with me. Who are you hiding from this time?’
“Sir Gilliam again,” she replied with a sigh, bracing one of her gloved hands on the bench beside her thigh.
“Gilliam?” Oliver whistled. “Quite a determined chap, is he not?”
“Yes. He asked me to go for a ride with him.”
“You dislike riding?”
“On the contrary, I adore riding. I dislike Sir Gilliam.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, arching a brow.
She brought the orchid up to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Oh, he’s a nice enough chap. A bit overly concerned with the health problems of his elderly relatives perhaps. He’s taken to reciting all of his family’s inherited diseases to me. Most recently he treated me to a list of his own ailments.”
Oliver winced. “It doesn’t sound very encouraging.”
“Oh, it’s not. He begged me wait while he hurried to the library so that he might look up the correct pronunciation of his cousin’s toe fungus.”
Oliver pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “No, he did not.”
“I’m afraid he did.”
“And that’s when you left?”
“Made my way to the nearest door and have been hiding in here ever since.”
Oliver couldn’t control his bark of laughter this time. “Miss Blake, do you know that you never fail to make me laugh?”
She shrugged. “I must admit, Mama always says I have a bit of a jester in me. But I’m not jesting. If Sir Gilliam offers to show you the funny patch of skin on the back of his hand, do not under any circumstances assent to it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Oliver replied, valiantly attempting to keep from snorting. “And I’d hardly say you’re a jester. You simply have a unique way of looking at the world.”
She hung her head at bit, studying the flower that dangled from her fingers. “I suppose it’s quite different from the way a duke looks at the world.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
Her head snapped up. “Whatever could you mean?”
He blew a breath from his lips and it rippled the dark hair along his forehead. “Did you know that I only just acquired my title last year?”
She nodded readily. “Yes, Mama mentioned it, but I just assumed that your father—”
“My father was the second son of a duke who had an older brother and a strong healthy nephew.”
Cerian looked hopelessly confused. “I don’t understand.”
“The fact is that Kate was married to my cousin, the former duke.”
Still clutching the orchid, Cerian’s palms flew to her cheeks. “Kate’s husband was your cousin?”
Oliver nodded. “Yes. George. He was murdered, I’m afraid. It was quite a scandal, actually. I’m surprised your mother didn’t tell you.”
Her fingers were still pressed against her cheeks and the shocked look remained in her pretty eyes. “I feel like a complete idiot. Of course I should have known it. But I don’t pay much attention to titles and all of that. I knew Kate’s husband was a duke but I didn’t put together the family connection until now.”
“Did you know George was murdered by his valet and our dear Kate was blamed for a time?”
Cerian’s hands fell away from her face. She stared glumly at the mulched floor of the conservatory. “Yes. An awful business. I so wanted to come visit Kate when she was imprisoned in the Tower but Mama forbade it. I know how horrible Kate’s husband was to her. She was…” Cerian audibly gulped. “A duchess.”
Oliver laughed softly. “You say that word as if it’s an anathema.”
“Oh, it is, to me. I cannot imagine the responsibility such a title must bring. Or the scrutiny.”
“Believe me, I didn’t know it either. And I’m under added scrutiny actually.”
She twirled the orchid between her fingers. “More scrutiny than being a duke?”
Oliver braced his hands against his knees. “Yes, because I’m a duke who is living down a scandal associated with my family name. Everything I do is watched. I cannot go anywhere, do anything, have a moment’s peace. There are bets at the gentlemen’s clubs in London about who I’m expected to marry.”
“It must be awful,” Cerian added, shaking her head again. “More awful than I could even imagine.”
“It is. And I must make a decision quickly,” he said. “The sooner the better. The less scrutiny I’ll be under and the less conjecture. But it’s been nice, this week. You’ve helped me take the pressure off with our game. Thank you for that.”
Still seated, Cerian made a mock bow at the waist. “My pleasure, your grace. And … and I’m quite sorry that your cousin died.”
“Thank you. Though the truth is, while I certainly didn’t wish death on him, George and I weren’t exactly close, and you’re right, he was absolutely abominable to Kate.”
Cerian weaved her fingers together in her lap and looked at them. “So, you’re not a duke? That is to say … you were not raised to be a duke?”
“Not any more than you were.” He cracked a smile. “I had a comfortable life and a modest town house in London and now I’m not only heir to one of the oldest and most prestigious titles in England, I’m expected to marry posthaste and produce the next heir.”
“Did you … did you not intend to marry? Before you inherited the dukedom, that is?
He let out his breath. “I suppose I did. I’ve always been fond of children.” He glanced at her and Cerian blushed. “But I intended to marry a nice young lady who wanted me for me, not a power hungry young woman with visions of a duchy in her eyes.”
Cerian wrinkled her nose. “Like Lady Selina?”
“Exactly like Lady Selina.” He nodded.
Cerian sighed. “I know just what you mean. I’ve always wanted to marry too but all anyone sees is my dowry. And all Mama cares about is a title.”
“You don’t sound as if you relish Society one bit.”
“Oh, I don’t. It makes me so nervous. The minute I get around anyone with a title I feel completely awkward and awful and out of my element.”
He grinned. “I must say you seem to be doing fine here with me.”
She blushed. “That’s … you’re different.”
“How so?” He watched her intently.
“I don’t know.” She seemed to contemplate the matter for a moment. “I certainly hope you don’t take this as an insult, your
grace, but you don’t seem a bit as if you have a title. Not to me, at least.”
He laughed so loudly he had to clap his hand over his mouth and hope no one undesirable heard him and came running. “Miss Blake, I actually take that as one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received. And please, call me Oliver.”
“Now you’re making fun of me,” she said with a small smile. “And you may call me Cerian.”
“Not at all. I’m entirely serious. Society has always been a part of my life but the title, well, the title is quite new.”
“You must think I’m the biggest ninny you ever met, but Society frightens me horribly. It’s just so rigid and unforgiving, and Mama puts so much stake in it. If I’m not accepted, she’ll be devastated and I will be too. I hate myself for feeling that way, especially with people like Lady Selina skulking about, but I do.”
Oliver placed a hand over hers and squeezed. “You’re just being honest. And believe me you wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. It’s not an easy group to join. And you should feel doubly sorry for me; I’m the one who will be forced to marry someone like Lady Selina. Imagine my horror.”
Cerian was able to crack a smile at that and Oliver felt as if he’d won a great victory. Making her smile and laugh the same way she made him do so was important to him for some reason.
“I just wish it weren’t so imperative to Mama for me to marry someone with a title.”
“Ah, Miss Blake, it’s imperative to all mamas, I’m afraid. Mine included.”
Her smile turned wistful. “I just cannot imagine myself marrying someone like Sir Gilliam. I’d rather return to Wales and marry a farmer, or a tradesman, someone who actually loves me.”
Oliver moved his hand over hers and squeezed it. She turned her head slightly, looked up at him with those wide green eyes.
His head moved toward hers, an inch, two. He didn’t know why. His mouth met hers slowly, tentatively. Her chin tilted up to make room. The kiss was soft, exploratory. She sighed a little and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. At first, he wondered if she’d push him away but she didn’t. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Then his lips moved with more urgency. She tasted like apple-spiced cider and the soft sounds she made in the back of her throat made Oliver shudder. His lips moved to her cheek, her neck, her ear. Her eyes closed and her head was thrown back. Her body bucked when his tongue touched the sensitive spot in her ear. And then his lips were back on hers, his tongue moved inside this time. She grabbed the lapels of his coat, holding onto him, braced against him. He kissed her again and again and again.
It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella Page 5