Heat arose from her middle to her face, which she tried to ignore. Instead she flicked at invisible lint on her skirt. “I am not championing him, merely setting the record straight.”
“In addition to the picnic, I understand the two of you went riding in Hyde Park yesterday.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Without your maid.”
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. “There was a carriage full of people. You remember Jeanette Belkin? She invited me to go riding. Redgrave just happened to be part of the group.”
“Not according to Claremont.”
She gasped and her mouth dried up. “What?” The word barely came out through her stiffened lips.
“I saw Claremont at my club last night. He congratulated me on being so forgiving to allow Redgrave to court you, in view of what he did to Abigail.”
Mary jumped from her seat as if it had exploded. “How dare him!” She pushed the chair back and fisted her hands at her side. “Redgrave is not ‘courting’ me, and the last person you should believe is Claremont.”
She collapsed in the seat. If Drake had discovered what had happened between them he would have killed the man. Thank God it had not come to that.
Drake moved back around the desk and settled in his chair. “Never the less, you are not to see Redgrave again. I understand you share an interest in the orphans’ home, but aside from that, you are to stay away from him.”
“Excuse me?” She was three and twenty, and old enough to decide with whom she would associate. Perhaps not with light-skirts and rakes, but Redgrave was neither.
Drake picked up his pen to continue writing. “I am sure you understand what I said. ’Tis very simple. The cad ran out on Abigail. Now it appears he is toying with you. I won’t have another sister ruined by the man.”
She quelled the desire to throw in his face that the man who had carried tales to him had nearly raped her. Biting down on her tongue, lest she make the situation worse, and still confused about her feelings toward Redgrave, anyway, she turned on her heel and flounced from the room, closing the door with more enthusiasm than necessary.
With a great deal of satisfaction, she stormed up to her room and slammed that door as well. How dare he demand she not see someone? She was not a child to be ordered about.
And Claremont! The snake had told her brother she’d been with Redgrave. His nerve was beyond compare. If she told her brother what Claremont had done to her two years ago, the man would be missing vital parts by morning. The Duke of Manchester was nothing if not protective of his women.
Which brought her right back to where she’d started. Drake obviously felt it was in her best interests not to see Redgrave. Why she still believed in the man was peculiar.
If he had a good reason, why won’t he share it? It would certainly clear his name.
What she hated more than anything was thinking back on the succession of men she’d met since the disaster with Claremont. The scoundrels and blackguards interested not in her, but in her family’s connections and money. Although they’d tried, not one among them had produced the reaction in her body that Redgrave had. All they had evoked were feelings of fear and panic, not the warm rush of excitement that accompanied her time with Redgrave. When the two of them were in the same room, it was as if there were a connection so strong, it was almost visible.
She seemed to know where he was at all times, to whom he was speaking, and what he was doing. Had he found it to be the same with her? Was he as aware of her as she was of him? She sighed and picked up her needlepoint to work on until it was time to attend to her afternoon calls.
Tonight they would meet again at the Ashbourne ball. Her stomach clenched when she realized Jeanette and Claremont would be there as well. Although, now that she’d told Redgrave what had happened, she’d lost some of her fear of seeing the man.
As long as Redgrave was nearby.
…
Redgrave descended the steps after being announced at Lord and Lady Ashbourne’s ball. Their youngest daughter, Miranda, was being showcased at her coming-out. The girl had already been named a diamond of the first water by those who cared about such things. Not that Redgrave had his eye on her. Much too young, too sweet, too innocent.
His attentions these days were taken up by a smart, witty, albeit fragile woman, whom he had no right to consider in any way. Yet here he was scanning the room for Lady Mary, hoping to catch her before her dance card was full.
He was still rattled by his body’s reaction when he’d held her close as she’d cried in his arms. Even through their clothing, her softness next to his hardness had made him stiffen in places over which he seemed to have very little control. She’d been warm, and surrounded by the scent of something floral and fresh. Something that he could spend the rest of his life breathing in.
Now, Lady Mary stood with a group of gentlemen and ladies. Although she appeared to be enjoying herself, he sensed her tension as she licked her lips and kept glancing toward the stairs, as if expecting someone. The lavender with cream trim gown she wore accentuated her pale skin and rosy lips. Her golden brown hair caught the light from the hundreds of candles glowing around the room and reflected in the numerous mirrors placed strategically in the space. Just her presence was a siren’s call to him.
He made his way through the crowd and was pleased to see her eyes light up as she spotted him. Had he imagined it, or did she appear to relax? One day they would need to have a serious talk about where this attraction between them was headed. He knew where he wanted it to go, but there seemed to be too many obstacles in his way. The major one, of course, being the Duke of Manchester.
He also seemed to have forgotten his original purpose in finding a bride. Someone he could respect and for whom he could feel a certain amount of fondness. He hadn’t wanted, or expected, love. In fact, he didn’t feel he deserved it, due to what he’d done to Abigail. He merely needed an heir.
Why was being around Mary making that so difficult to remember?
“Good evening, my lady.” Redgrave bowed to Lady Mary before addressing the other ladies. He nodded at Danvers, Milltown, and Appleby, who made up the rest of the group.
“Where is the dowager duchess this evening? She is not ill, I hope.” Although Lady Mary’s mother had been, if not friendly, at least not unpleasant when they’d met, he would have a better chance of spending time with Lady Mary if her mother was not about.
“She is fine. In the card room once again.” He could get lost in her smoky eyes dancing with mirth. “She has had some luck recently and wants to continue.”
One obstacle out of the way. “Dare I hope there is space on your dance card for one more entry?”
Lady Mary smiled and held her card out. “Yes. I believe there are one or two left.”
He was pleased to see the supper waltz free. Could he believe that absence was on purpose? Or just the kind of luck the dowager duchess was enjoying?
Redgrave added his name to the slot and turned to the other ladies, requesting dances with them, as well. Within minutes, Dumont arrived to escort Lady Mary to the dance floor for a cotillion, and Redgrave turned to Lady Catherine and extended his arm for their dance.
He was aware of Mary through the entire dance. Something had changed between them since she had cried out her story. Once he’d dropped her off, it had taken all his control to not rout out Claremont and pound the man senseless. Although with the amount of sense the man had it wouldn’t be much of a beating.
He tried his best to concentrate on Lady Catherine, but constantly found himself looking down the row to where Mary danced with Dumont. He scowled when Mary smiled at her partner, and glared at Dumont when he smiled back.
“Is something wrong, my lord?” Lady Catherine viewed him with furrowed brows as they came together, joined hands, and turned.
“No. Not at all.” He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile and vowed to keep his attention away from the end of the line. It would be a long night until the supper dance.
An hour later Redgrave stood with a group of friends who had attended Tattersalls auction earlier in the week and were regaling him with tales of all the wonderful horseflesh he’d missed. Dumont was particularly thrilled with the gelding he’d purchased.
“The Right Honorable, the Earl of Claremont.”
“Miss Jeanette Belkin.”
The announcement ringing in his ears, Redgrave immediately searched out Lady Mary, who apparently had not heard the butler, busy laughing with her friends. He excused himself, and anger causing his blood to pound in his head, he moved through the crowd until he reached the newly arrived couple.
“Miss Belkin,” he said, bowing to her. “I believe Lady Mary is with a group of ladies across from the musicians.”
The young girl offered him a bright smile. “Good evening, Lord Redgrave. It is so nice to see you once again. I hope Mary is feeling better.”
“I believe she is.” He turned to Claremont. “A word, Claremont?”
Claremont’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? I have just arrived.”
Already annoyed with the smirk Claremont cast in his direction, Redgrave growled, “On the terrace.” He turned and headed across the ballroom to the terrace doors. He had to get the man away from the crowd lest he pummel him right in the middle of the ballroom. Perhaps this was not his battle to fight, but he would still have his say.
The two of them passed through the doors and down the steps leading to the rose garden. A few couples strolled the area, but Redgrave led them to the darkened part of the garden. The fewer people who heard what he had to say, the better for Mary’s reputation.
“What is so important, Redgrave, that I need be dragged out here the minute I arrived?” Claremont brushed the front of his jacket, his face a picture of boredom.
Redgrave lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Henceforth, you are to leave Lady Mary alone. You are not to talk to her, nor even look in her direction.”
Smiling as though he’d anticipated Redgrave’s edict, he said, “Is that so? And what gives you the right to demand such a thing?”
“I give myself the right.”
He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Oh yes, you are Lady Mary’s friend,” Claremont drawled.
“That’s right, and as her friend, I intend to protect her from the likes of you.”
“How very gallant of you, Redgrave. And do you go around threatening all the gentlemen of the ton who you feel are dishonoring the women?”
The arrogant jackanapes was getting close to having his arse meet the ground under him. He had planned to keep this exchange civil, but the more Claremont smirked, the harder it became not to flatten him.
“Since I didn’t mention dishonoring Lady Mary, I assume you know why I insist you leave her alone.”
“Ah, yes. I seem to recall something about that. I had anticipated she would be a sweet little piece. But, alas, a cock-teasing bitch, if I remember correctly.”
All the blood in his body raced to his head, and Redgrave exploded, swinging at Claremont’s jaw, the cad’s body leaving the ground and landing a good three feet from where he’d stood. Redgrave reached down and pulled Claremont up by his cravat, punched him in his middle, then clipped him on the chin again.
The man went down like a sack of flour.
Breathing heavily, Redgrave tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and glared at Claremont, the man doubled over and blood seeping from his nose. “Come near her again and I will do even more damage.”
He turned his back on the man and headed to the house. That little bit of a fight hadn’t driven the anger from him that Claremont had given rise to. Redgrave was tempted to go back and drag the man up once again and make sure he really understood he was to leave Mary alone.
His breathing under control, he slipped through the doors to the ballroom just in time for the supper waltz. He moved through the crowd until he saw Miss Belkin and Lady Mary, who was scanning the crowd. Her eyes lit up and she smiled when she spotted him.
“My lady,” he bowed to Miss Belkin. “I believe Claremont was called away and asked me to pass along that information. I will be happy to escort you home when the time comes.”
Lady Mary looked at him strangely. “No, I will see that Miss Belkin goes home with Mother and me.”
He held out his hands to Mary. “Are you ready, my lady?”
“I was beginning to wonder where you got off to.”
“Just taking a leisurely walk in the garden. Lovely evening tonight.”
She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor, then gathered her in his arms. Probably a little too close for propriety, but he was feeling a bit possessive at the moment.
Mine.
Chapter Eleven
A week after the Ashbourne’s ball, Mary and her mother headed to a house party at the country estate of the Marquess of Billingsley and his marchioness. The couple was hosting two dozen people to celebrate the betrothal of their youngest daughter, Prudence, to Lord Stephenson. Since they had an elder, unmarried daughter, Mary couldn’t help but think part of the reason for the house party was to hold captive a few bachelors in the hopes one of them would smile kindly on Genevieve.
Genevieve was of an age with Mary, both of them having had their come-outs the same year. While Mary had resigned herself to remaining an unmarried lady, and grew closer to being “on the shelf” every year, Genevieve had bemoaned her lack of a spouse on many occasions.
Mary had always thought one of the reasons the girl had not received any offers was because of her blatant eagerness to attract a husband. Now with her younger sister betrothed, Mary was certain Genevieve’s eagerness might well turn into desperation. She felt sorry for the men who had been invited.
“Mary!” Her arms extended, Genevieve hurried up to her as Mary descended from her carriage. “And Your Grace,” Genevieve curtsied to the dowager. “I am happy to see you.”
“We are very glad to be here.” Her mother patted Genevieve’s arm and offered her a warm smile. The three women, trailed by Mary and her mother’s maid, Baxter, wandered up the path to Billingsley Manor.
“Your Grace,” Lady Billingsley walked toward them, both her hands extended. “We are so very pleased you have decided to join us.”
“Thank you. We always enjoy your parties.” The older women linked arms, their heads together in conversation.
“Mother has invited several young gentlemen. Perhaps we will meet our future husbands soon.” Genevieve grinned at Mary, who suppressed her sigh. It appeared her inkling was true, and poor Genevieve was even more anxious to join her sister in wedded bliss.
“Perhaps.” They entered the house, already bustling with excitement. Servants scrambled to direct guests to their rooms and see that luggage arrived to the proper bedchambers.
Lady Billingsley turned to Mary and Genevieve. “We have tea on the patio for those who wish refreshment after their trip. I think that is where the young people have gathered. Lady Mary, after you have changed from your travel clothes, you might wish to join them.”
“I would love that. Mother, will you join us?” Mary asked.
“I think I would prefer a tray in my room. I am a bit tired from the journey.”
“Of course” Lady Billingsley said. “A cup of tea and a short rest would be just the thing. One of my footmen will direct you to your bedchambers. If your maid will kindly follow along, you both should be settled in no time at all. I will need to welcome the rest of the guests, but I will see you at dinner, Your Grace.”
“Oh, please, Gertrude. We have been friends since we were girls. You should address me as Evelyn, or better yet, Eve.”
Mary studied her mother, who had always been referred to as “my dear” by her father, “Mother” by her children, and “Your Grace” by everyone else. She never really thought of her mother as Evelyn, or Eve. Is that what happened to women when they married and had a family? They no longer had their own identity? Sad, that.
Genevieve chatted with Mary the e
ntire way to the bedchamber assigned her and continued on while Mary changed into a pale pink day dress. She waxed poetic about the gentlemen expected and what her chances were with each one. The girl was definitely on the prowl for a husband. Hopefully, her search wouldn’t make things unpleasant for the guests.
Mary kept silent, waiting for Genevieve to mention Redgrave, yet didn’t want to ask about him. Her toilette completed, they left the bedchamber area arm in arm, greeting other guests arriving as they made their way to the patio.
The terrace was lively with small groups sipping tea and chatting. The betrothed couple stood along the balustrade, accepting well wishes from guests. Lady Prudence smiled as each guest approached them, but it was obvious to anyone who looked closely that the girl was not exactly thrilled. She held her body stiff, her smile strained. When her betrothed leaned down to speak with her, she regarded him with coolness. No love match there. Most likely another typical ton business arrangement marriage.
Lord Grayson and Lord Draper broke from their group and approached Mary and Genevieve. “Ladies, two more beauties to add to the party,” Grayson said as he bowed and took Mary’s hand in his. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Lady Mary.” He turned to Genevieve. “And you as well, Lady Genevieve.”
Genevieve giggled and Mary groaned inwardly. Surely they were past the age of giggling. “My lords,” Mary said and dipped her head.
“I say, Lady Genevieve, who else will be joining us?”
Genevieve cast a glance around the patio. “I still don’t see Lady Catherine, or Miss Amelia Smythe.”
“I believe Redgrave is attending also,” Draper said. “In fact, it looks as though he’s arrived.” He waved in the direction of the patio doors.
Mary’s heart took a leap, and she tried unsuccessfully to pretend his presence at the house party meant nothing to her.
It didn’t work.
“Redgrave, good to see you, man.” Grayson nodded.
She knew he stood behind her without turning around. The now familiar scent of bergamot, horses, and starched linen surrounded her. Her body tingled, and butterflies took up residence in her stomach. Her awareness of everything surrounding her increased. The air was crisper, the flowers along the edge of the patio, brighter. But all conversation on the patio receded until the only thing she heard was Redgrave’s voice.
The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 10