The earl had kissed her! Indeed, he'd kissed her quite soundly and she'd done nothing to stop him. In fact, she was quite certain she'd made his work easier for him, pressing herself up against him and holding on, letting her lips explore his as if she were eager for whatever more he might offer. Good heavens, but if Mr. Skrewd and Bess had not come along she could only imagine what she might have let herself get up to.
The man was a sorcerer. All her life she'd taken great care never to let herself be swayed by such things. She'd never even dreamed that she might actually enjoy it! Now here it was dinner time already and she still could hardly think of anything else.
Something was different inside her, something deep in her core was humming now and the more she thought of the earl's flashing smile, his penetrating gaze, or the masterful way his lips caressed hers and sent her mind soaring off in a hundred new directions... well, the humming grew louder. How on earth was she going to sit at table with him tonight and not give herself away?
But the dinner hour was on them and there was no avoiding it. She'd dressed in one of her nicer gowns—simply because it was handy and the maid had suggested it, not because she knew it flattered her figure just so—and made sure her hair looked especially tidy. One of Ella's ribbons matched the gown perfectly so it only made sense to have it woven into her curls. Nothing special. Her last furtive glance in the mirror assured her she looked more than presentable.
Coming down the main staircase, she was just in time for the arrival of Mr. Skrewd. He'd been invited to join them tonight and Mariah was exceedingly glad for it. They'd have a large party and that would certainly help keep focus off of her. She smiled as the footman ushered Mr. Skrewd inside and collected his things.
"How nice to have you join us tonight," she greeted, allowing him to take her hand and bow over it politely.
"Thank you so much for inviting me. I hope I am on time," he replied. "I know you have guests and I would hate to make anyone wait on me."
"You are directly on time. Here, come into the drawing room and we'll see who else is gathering now."
She led him in through the nearby doorway and was slightly surprised to find the room empty. Apparently all her agitation had prodded her to be quick in her preparations and she was the first of their household to come down. No matter. This would give her an excellent opportunity to cover an important matter with Mr. Skrewd.
"I see we are the first. Perhaps, then, we can discuss that little item we've been working on. How are things going for it?"
"Oh, you mean Bess's pups?" he said, not comprehending her careful use of hushed tones and subtlety. "They are quite well! The one with the white spot on its nose that you selected for your sister is very much the little clown, actually."
"Shh! It is to be a surprise, remember? I haven't mentioned anything about it to Ella, so please do not give me away. I do so want her to be surprised."
"Ah yes, of course." He dropped his voice and took a step closer to her to preserve their privacy. "I'm so sorry. You are kindness indeed to think of her that way."
"She has long wanted a pet. Mamma was very easy to convince when I told her the sad story of how you rescued poor Bess when she was abandoned. You are quite kind yourself, I daresay. But now you have all these fat little pups who need homes. Have you had any luck with that?"
"I have, thankfully. Your farmer, Mr. Turner, will take one, and Mrs. Smith out on the Southhampton road will take another. Soon they will all be spoken for, I believe."
"I'm so happy to hear it."
"They ought to be ready to go in just a few days."
"Really? Do you think even by the day of our ball? I should love to surprise Ella after the ball."
"Yes, they will be ready by then. She will never suspect a puppy and a ball on the same day, will she?"
They huddled together to plot their surprise. Mariah asked what sort of food she ought to have on hand, and Mr. Skrewd told her of the antics she would need to expect. Shoes, apparently, would become prime targets if she did not keep them carefully up, and there would need to be frequent trips out of doors—even at night!—until the pup learned to control itself better.
So deep in discussion were they that she did not even notice someone had come into the room with them. Lord Dovington's loud ahem caught her attention and made her jump as if caught in some childish mischief. Heat reared up in her cheeks and she prayed he might not notice.
"Pardon me," he said. "Am I interrupting?"
She smiled politely in his general direction. He looked so elegant in his tidy dinner attire that she didn't dare meet his eyes. He might detect just how pleased she was to see him.
"No, of course not," she replied. "We are just waiting for dinner to be announced. It seems we are head of the others."
"So I see. How fortunate that you've kept yourselves well entertained in everyone's absence."
She did not like what his tone implied. "It's amazing that polite conversation can be so engaging, isn't it? You ought to try it some time, my lord."
"Polite conversation? No, I much prefer actions, Miss Langley."
The knowing smirk he gave her nearly seared a hole in the wallpaper behind her. She was enormously thankful that her mother and sister appeared in the doorway behind him at that point. He was prevented from tormenting her any more, though her guilty conscience knew she certainly deserved it for that dreadful lapse in judgment just hours ago.
"I see our guest has arrived already," Mamma said, nodding to the earl as she entered the room but then fixing her smile on the curate. "How nice to have you with us again, Mr. Skrewd."
"I always enjoy my time with you, Mrs. Renford. Thank you so much for including me. I look forward to meeting the rest of the party. Miss Vandenhoff and her parents will be joining us, I assume?"
"Of course," Mamma replied. "Ah, here they are now."
Everyone shifted as the Vandenhoffs entered the room and made themselves comfortable. Introductions were made and Mr. Vandenhoff asked how the picnic had gone, giving everyone opportunity to rave about the excellent views and even more excellent weather. Thankfully, nothing was said about the fact that Mariah was lured off alone with a certain glowering gentleman.
She would not look at him and give him the satisfaction of knowing that every word spoken about the picnic today served only to make her relive over and over again those foolish moments in his arms. He would never know how it affected her, and she would certainly never allow it to happen again. No matter how much she might want to.
"But where is Mr. Chadburne?" Ella asked after a few casual minutes.
"I believe he went into the village," the earl replied. "He said something about posting some letters. I expect he'll be back any minute now. I know he would never want to keep any of us waiting."
He turned a generous smile on Miss Vandenhoff and Mariah was most disappointed in herself when she detected the slightest hint of jealously. How aggravating that the heiress should get such a pleasant expression from the man while she herself merited only a lecherous smirk. Not that she wanted anything at all from him, smiling or smirking or otherwise. No indeed.
All she was after where the earl was concerned was to have him out of her house. She'd do well to keep herself firmly reminded of this. Dinner tonight would provide a well needed opportunity to progress toward that goal and with Miss Vandenhoff seeming less anxious and ill-tempered than usual, things were looking up.
If Mariah could only stop looking up at the earl. Every time she caught sight of him across the room her heart toppled over sideways inside her chest. The dreadful man had no right to do this to her. Even though he likely had no idea of it, she vowed hold it against him. Forever.
"I'm so sorry I'm late!"
It was Mr. Chadburne bursting in, hat in hand and a boyish grin on his face. Mamma assured him he was right on time and, sure enough, the housekeeper announced dinner just at that very moment. In the most orderly, genial fashion the earl led them in to dinner and ever
ything seemed—for these few moments, at least—right with the world.
Chapter 13
Miss Langley seemed very pleased with herself, sitting there beside her curate, dressed in a rather revealing sage-colored gown that showed off her milky complexion and made the green of her eyes sparkle like emeralds. Her smiles were sparkling, too, as she tossed her fair curls and laughed at every inane little thing Mr. Skrewd mumbled at her. Dovington could have choked the young man, if he wasn't certain lightning would come out of the sky and smite him for such a thing. Hell, he likely deserved smiting simply for the things he was thinking right now.
He wanted to wipe those dazzling smiles right off Miss Langley's face, to haul her off into some dark, distant recess of this house and make her forget all about her fresh-faced, doting cleric. What sort of vixen was she, anyway, that she could kiss Dovington with such willful abandon in one moment, then instantly turn and throw herself at the reverend in the next? And why, in God's name, if she must throw herself at someone, would she choose Mr. Skrewd?
There was one good thing from it, though. With Mr. Skrewd yapping at her side she found very little time to foolishly try to fling Miss Vandenhoff at Dovington's feet. Oh, she was doing her best to keep the heiress cheerful and drawn into whatever conversation circulated in their area of the table, but due to the seating arrangement that kept her fairly limited to promoting discourse between her sister, Miss Vandenhoff, and the virtuous curate. He, of course, was fairly beaming at the attentions of so many young ladies.
Dovington was left to concentrate on facilitating pleasantries between Ned and the older members of their group. It was the perfect opportunity to see that his cousin was firmly planted in Mr. Vandenhoff's good graces. He had to credit the young man for playing his part well. Ned gave due reverence to the Vandenhoffs and was especially attentive to their hostess, Mrs. Renford. By the time the final courses were brought out, it was clear she sat firmly in his pocket. Surely Mr. Vandenhoff would admire such behavior and want no one better for his son-in-law.
All that was needed now was to give the young people some time together and victory would be won. Dovington could make whatever arrangements were required, get Ned properly married, then rid himself of Miss Langley and her distracting complexion. And other parts.
Mariah declared dinner a success. In her own mind, of course, but clearly things were going much, much better than they had last night. Mr. Skrewd proved a delightful addition to their group and Miss Vandenhoff was almost to the point of being pleasant. Perhaps her earlier discontent had been all owing to the burden of travel, after all.
The gentlemen had not kept the ladies waiting long before joining them in the drawing room after dinner and the atmosphere was still jovial and inviting. Ella was graciously keeping Miss Vandenhoff entertained as they turned pages in the large book of dogs that had been left out. Mr. Skrewd and Mr. Chadburne had at first been in conversation with the other men, but some pages of various hunting breeds attracted them and they were peering at pages over the shoulders of the ladies. Mamma and Mrs. Vandenhoff were engaged in motherly chatter until Mr. Vandenhoff was required to assist his wife in some recollections of the specific pattern for his mother's china back in New York. Mamma had a special place in her heart for such subjects, so she peppered the gentleman with question after question, keeping him occupied far longer than he clearly expected.
This left Mariah and Lord Dovington noticeably unattached. She tried not to appear nervous as he moved toward her. She was already nestled into a corner where she had gone to retrieve her mother's sewing basket so, unfortunately, there was little she could do to escape the man.
He loomed over her and she feverishly recited in her mind all her vows and grievances against him. They did little to counteract the effect of his dark, all-seeing eyes and the heat radiating from him. She tried to sit up very tall in the straight-backed chair she had chosen. No way was she going to let him see her as tiny and helpless. She should have selected a ladder, she supposed. The slow grin that spread over his face reminded her of an etching she'd seen depicting a tiger about to pounce on a helpless baby deer.
"You are not perusing the book of dogs," he noted. He voice was low and growling, as if his simple statement harbored some deeper, mysterious meaning.
"I've read it before."
"But apparently your curate has not. Pity he's left with the others to introduce him to it."
"I'm quite positive both my sister and Miss Vandenhoff are competent readers, sir."
"I'm sure they are. They appear competent at other things, as well. Aren't you concerned?"
"Concerned for what? It's not likely they'll build a fire on the book and catch the house ablaze."
"There are more destructive types of fire, Miss Langely, as I know for a fact you are well aware."
"Whatever are you talking about?"
It had probably been a bad idea to ask that. He leaned in closer to her and whispered. His words fell over her as tangibly as if he had touched her.
"Do not pretend you felt nothing in my arms today. You may deny for everyone else, but you can never deny it for me. I know the passion that burns in you, my dear. I just wonder if Mr. Skrewd knows of it, too."
Oh no! Why was he doing this? Did he fear she was not doing her best to help his cause? Or was he the tiger, indeed, toying with his pray simply for the sport of it? Either way, she refused to cower before him. They were not alone in some romantic setting where he could employ his schemes to entrap her. This was her house, her own mother was just steps away, and she was not to be bullied by this man, no matter how foolish her actions had been today.
"What Mr. Skrewd does or does not know about me is hardly any of your concern," she snipped at him. "Don't you have your own business to attend?"
"You mean Miss Vandenhoff? You worry that I am not fawning over her or making cows eyes like some mutton-headed dolt?"
"I worry you are ignoring her and not attending her as a gentleman ought to attend a young lady who has captured his affections."
"Well, there's an easy answer for that, Miss Langley. You see, I have no affection at all for Miss Vandenhoff and I don't care that she knows it. I hate to tell you, but if you think I am here to snag her for myself, you are entirely mistaken."
"What? You don't intend to... but why then? Why have you brought them here?"
"For my cousin, of course. Look at him, he's doing his duty and making a fuss over the ladies, making nice that Miss Vandenhoff cannot possibly dismiss. He is the future of the Dovington title, Miss Langley. Not me."
"But you are the earl. Why would Miss Vandenhoff wish to marry your cousin if you have the title?"
She was more than confused now and it was quite a struggle to keep her voice low. No one seemed to have noticed them yet, and the earl reached to examine the embroidery she'd laid out on her lap. She knew he couldn't care less for her needle work, but it was good that he seemed to have some innocuous reason for his nearness to her just now.
"I intend never to marry," he said in a harsh whisper. "If you'd ever once met my father, you'd understand. I've nothing to give to my family tree but bitterness and failing, but I'm man enough to admit it. My father's line ends with me, and my cousin will be the one to carry it on. I'll do what I can to correct my father's mistakes, but once I'm gone it will be Ned to continue the name."
It took a few moments of silence for his words to sink into her brain and make sense. What on earth could she say after this revelation? It was stunning, to say the least. To think that this man should give up any hopes of a future just because of the hateful things his father had done... incomprehensible. She wished it did not sound so very gallant and noble to her.
"You should have told me whom I was supposed to be matching up, my lord."
"All I asked of you was to be a good hostess and to help Miss Vandenhoff appear at her best. You should not have presumed to know what I planned."
She couldn't resist forcing a smug grin for him
. "But I did presume, sir, and it was exactly what you had planned, wasn't it? I simply guessed the wrong partner."
"So you did. And do you supposed you've guessed any better for yourself?"
"Excuse me?" She kept the smile on her face just in case someone might glance up from their current entertainments and wonder what they could possibly be discussing in such low, furtive tones.
"Your curate there. Are you so convinced that he'll marry you?"
Of all the nerve! Her heart thudded in her chest and her emotions warred. She didn't know if she felt fury that he would suggest she might not be good enough for Mr. Skrewd, or shame that what he suggested was true. She wasn't suitable for any decent gentleman's wife, not even the penniless curate. She was a bastard, and she'd proven today that the same wanton passion that had led to her unintentional existence ran unchecked in her blood.
The earl was correct. She could never marry anyone. It was a truth she had always known, always accepted. Why today it should suddenly hurt her so very badly she had no idea. Her eyes burned, but she glared at him all the same.
"What I do with Mr. Skrewd is my business and none of yours," she hissed out at him, still keeping that smile firmly in place. "Your business is to hire your nephew out for stud and then get yourself out of my house. All of you."
His eyes were fixed firmly on hers and he gave no indication at all that her words shocked or insulted him.
"It's my house, Miss Langley. I'll make myself at home here as long as I like."
"Then I suppose once things are settled with Miss Vandenhoff, I'll have to make sure you don't like."
He leaned even closer and his voice was barely audible now, but she heard him. She recognized the challenge.
"Don't play this game with me, Miss Langley. You showed your hand today, if you recall. There's very little you can do to me that I won't like, and very much I can do that you will."
His hand brushed over her cheek just enough to cause the temperature in the room to suddenly elevate. She knew he was right. Her threats were empty and there was very little she could do that might provide enough pressure or guilt or even discomfort to cause him to give up Renford Hall. She doubted any more positive form of influence would have any effect, either. A hundred secret kisses would never persuade him to leave them in peace, but it certainly would shatter hers forever. For all intents and purposes, her battle was already lost.
The Earl's Passionate Plot Page 9