Mary was a threat to his heart, and she was certainly not for the likes of him. He’d managed to avoid love for years after his parents had been abruptly removed from his life. Then he had loved Abigail—or thought he would eventually, then lost her. No longer did he want to suffer the pain of losing someone he’d grown to love. If his feelings for Mary grew into that euphoric state, he would be crushed when Manchester whisked her away from him.
He had really lost control in her bedchamber at Billingsley’s manor, and shuddered to think of what might have happened had her lady’s maid not arrived. Although he’d joked about them being forced to rectify a scandal, the reality would be more along the lines of “choose your second.”
There was no stopping the twitch in his lips at the memory of her forcing him into her dress. She would certainly give a husband a lifetime of challenges.
Not his lifetime—not his challenges. He sighed and pushed away the ledger. Leaning his elbows on the desk, he rested his head in his hands. No matter how hard he pressed his palms together, he couldn’t squeeze the image of Mary from his mind.
He glanced out the window at the dreary day. The sound of the rain sweeping against the glass only added to his malaise. If he didn’t get out of the house and find some distractions from his constant thoughts, he would drive himself crazy.
“Mathers!” Striding to the front hall he asked the butler to have his carriage brought around. Hopefully, an afternoon at one of his clubs would be just the diversion he needed.
The brightly lit chandeliers and the floor-to-ceiling windows in Brook’s made for a much more welcoming and cheerful place than the office he’d just left. A very serious game of hazard was taking place in one corner, and several men gathered around the betting book, shouting wagers.
Redgrave took a comfortable chair in front of the fireplace and picked up a newspaper from the table alongside him. He waved at one of the footmen to bring him a Scotch. He was feeling better already. Perhaps he could put Mary out of his mind. Tomorrow he would begin a search for a bride in earnest and have a betrothal by the end of the Season.
A sweet girl. A biddable one, who would see to his comfort, run a smooth household, and raise charming, lovely children. Little boys with his hair and eyes, little girls with Mary’s golden brown tresses and sweet smile.
Bloody hell!
He was supposed to be thinking of women other than her. He downed a large gulp of Scotch and paid the price by coughing until he caught the attention of the footman.
“Are you all right, my lord? Shall I bring you a glass of water?”
“Yes, please,” he choked out.
He picked up the newspaper and perused the financial page. His investments were doing well. He would have to send a note to his man of business, commending him on doing such a stupendous job with his money. Flipping the paper over, he caught the gossip column.
Dear Reader, Your humble correspondent has been taken by surprise. Yes, my dear ones, completely by surprise. Rumors have surfaced surrounding a couple attending Lord and Lady B.’s house party for their daughter’s betrothal last week. It seems Lord R. and Lady M. were seen together quite a bit. Moonlight strolls and waltzes? All of London is talking about the strange pairing of those two. Has all been forgiven? One wonders…
Redgrave slammed his glass down, drawing the looks of two men huddled over a chess game.
The devil take it!
Who had fed this trash to the newspaper? He was suddenly brought abrupt. Had Manchester seen it? Of course, if he had, there was no doubt in his mind he would receive a summons from the man momentarily.
He closed the newspaper and signaled for another Scotch.
“Made the newspaper, eh?” Lord Danby slapped Redgrave on his back and settled into the chair across from him. The man had a silly grin on his face that made Redgrave’s fingers itch to wipe it off with a good solid punch. That would assuage some of his tension right now.
Redgrave shrugged. “Gossip. I never give it any credence.”
“Ho! So you and Lady Mary weren’t taking moonlight strolls at the Billingsley party?” Maybe instead of a solid punch, tightening Danby’s starched cravat until the man turned blue would work better.
“A gentleman never discusses a lady. Whether we did or did not is of no concern to anyone.” He took a swallow of Scotch and signaled for another one. At this rate he would need his driver to fetch him from the room lest he fall flat on his face.
“An admittance of guilt, if I ever heard one.” A second grinning idiot by the name of Lord Penrose decided to join them. He took a seat and leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him, crossing well-polished Hessians at the ankle.
“’Tis a pity we have so little to amuse us that we must scour the gossip columns for entertainment.” Redgrave set the new glass of Scotch down and pushed it to the side. It somehow didn’t look as appealing as the first few had.
“Perhaps there is something else we can discuss.” Penrose sat up straight and leaned forward and signaled both men to move closer.
“Hopefully, this grave secret announcement is not about your former mistress, Penrose,” Danby said. “We all know she threw you over in favor of Lord Condiff last week.”
Penrose scowled at Danby and moved in closer. “Rumbold is setting up a group of men to invest in a diamond mine in Africa.”
Danby leaned in closer. “Yes. I know. He approached me about it as well. Seems he has fifteen or twenty investors ready to pony up the money.”
Redgrave ran his hand down his face and groaned inwardly. Rumbold must be a lunatic to think he could get away with this. If just one other person decided to investigate as Redgrave had, Rumbold’s plan would collapse, and he would be run out of London in disgrace. The man was obviously desperate. And desperate men tended to make mistakes.
“What about you, are you part of it?” Danby took a sip of brandy and nodded at Redgrave.
He sat back and shook his head. “No.”
Two sets of raised eyebrows greeted him. How he cursed Rumbold at this moment. Honor dictated he tell these men it was all pretend, there was no mine for sale, and his father-in-law was stealing money from his friends.
Tell them.
“I…didn’t have the funds readily available. I’m afraid my man of business has most of my money tied up in other investments.”
“From what I hear, you will be sorry to pass this one up, old man.” Penrose slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “But now I must be off to prepare for the theater. A new opera singer. From what I hear she is very talented.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “And is searching for a new protector.”
Redgrave watched Penrose saunter through the room, stopping to chat for a minute with two men entering the club.
“Truth be known, I was a bit reluctant to join in Rumbold’s idea since I know the man to be in a bit of dun territory.” Danby tossed the rest of his drink down and placed the glass on the table next to Redgrave’s still full one. “But once I heard Manchester had joined the group, I figured it was safe enough.”
“Manchester?” Redgrave felt a large, very uncomfortable rock settle in his stomach. “The Duke of Manchester?”
“That’s right. Rumbold brought him in only yesterday.”
Redgrave reached for the glass of Scotch he’d shoved aside and swallowed it all in one large gulp.
Chapter Fifteen
“The carriage is ready, Your Grace.”
Mary joined her mother at the front door, accepting her wrap from the butler. She glanced quickly into the mirror by the door and adjusted her bonnet. The yellow silk gown she’d chosen was another of her favorites. It always perked up her spirits.
They were off to Jeanette and Lord Claremont’s wedding. Mary still suffered from poor nerves over the event. She should have tried harder to convince Jeanette that, given a Season in London, she would attract a much more acceptable husband. She could only hope Claremont’s time on the Continent had changed him f
or the better.
Unlikely.
If pleasant weather on one’s wedding day was a harbinger of a happy marriage, Jeanette might have a chance. The early summer air was rife with the scent of flowers, the unusually bright sun casting the entire area in a warm glow.
“I wish Penelope had been feeling better so Drake could have joined us. I so worry about the poor girl. Three babies in four years is a strain. Perhaps it is time for them to have separate bedchambers.”
“Mother!” Mary gasped. “I cannot believe you just said that. Have you forgotten I am an unmarried woman?”
The dowager waved her hand. “No matter. You are the youngest of six. I am sure you know much more than I ever knew at your age.”
They settled into the carriage, and the vehicle rolled forward. They rode along as Mary drifted into deep thought on the upcoming nuptials. The rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hoofs on the cobblestones should have been soothing, but her thoughts were still in a whirl about the wedding. It was to be held in a small church outside of London, followed by a wedding breakfast in the Clarendon Hotel, well known for its famous French chef, Jacquiers.
What would poor Jeanette’s wedding night be like? Would Claremont take care with her? Would he force himself on her and call her names if she rebuked his uncaring and forceful ways? She sighed, wishing she could have found a way to tell Jeanette what he’d done.
“You appear a little distraught this morning,” her mother said. “Is it all weddings, or this particular one that has you all aflutter?”
Deep in thought, Mary jumped at her mother’s words. “I am fine.” She waved at the window. “Just enjoying the scenery.”
“Hmm. I never thought this part of town was particularly inviting.”
Mary was appalled to see they were passing through the worst part of London. Children ran barefoot, wiping their dripping noses on ragged sleeves. Despite the early hour, men stumbled from taverns, and women plied their trade openly on the street corners.
She winced. “Very well. You caught me. I was merely woolgathering.”
“Even though this was an arranged match, I am sure Jeanette will be fine.” Her mother grabbed onto the strap alongside her head as the ride became bumpy. “Most ton marriages start off this way and turn into something, if not wonderful, at least cordial.”
“Yet you and Father eschewed such a match for yourselves.”
Warmth infused the dowager’s face, and her body relaxed as a small smile graced her lips. “Yes. We did.”
As had her sisters and brother, as well. Like them, Mary had always expected to find love in her marriage. Their parents had set such a great example of true marital bliss that their children had anticipated no less. So far, every one of her siblings had achieved that standard. They hadn’t all started out that way, but eventually, they’d all succumbed to love’s clutches. Her family was filled with besotted husbands and adoring wives.
’Twas enough to turn one’s stomach when one wasn’t part of the bliss.
After about twenty minutes and innumerable stops due to traffic, the carriage came to a rolling halt near the front door of the church. They joined the queue behind several vehicles discharging their passengers. Mary drew in a deep breath, telling herself she could get through this for the sake of her friend. Arm in arm, she and her mother strolled toward the building, the scent of dozens of roses permeating the air as they entered the rear of the church.
They were escorted down the lengthy aisle and led to the pew where Lady Spencer and Jeanette’s father sat. A place of honor, no doubt due to her mother’s friendship with Jeanette’s godmother and Mary’s friendship with the bride.
Shortly after they had settled in their seats, the music started and the wedding began. The service itself was lovely and quick. The bride and groom spoke their vows to love, honor, and cherish each other. Mary offered up a prayer for her friend’s happiness as she watched Jeanette stare starry-eyed at her new husband as they left the church and climbed into Claremont’s carriage.
Shortly thereafter, the guests gathered for a wedding breakfast in the dining hall of the Clarendon Hotel. Jeanette fairly glowed. She wore a lovely blue gown shot through with silver strands, and a wreath of cornflowers on her head. Claremont stood beside her, tall and elegant in his formal clothes, greeting guests, his usual fake smile on his face.
She had passed quickly through the receiving line, grateful for her gloves when Claremont took her hand and kissed it. If it was not inappropriate to wipe her glove off on her skirts she would have done so.
Once they passed through the line, an array of rolls, toast, eggs, ham, bacon, salmon, tea, chocolate, and a lovely wedding cake greeted them. The food, along with plenty of champagne, kept the guests fed and happy.
The meal was lovely, and her mother enjoyed catching up with her dear friend, Lady Spencer, although Mary avoided the woman, lest she begin again about her lack of marital prospects.
“Mother, I have a committee meeting this afternoon, so I am afraid we will have to leave soon.” Mary stood and shook out her skirts. “I will take a short visit to the ladies’ facility and be right back.”
The walk to the ladies retiring room took her through the plush lobby of the hotel. Silk wallpaper adorned the walls of the area; a large Aubusson carpet covered the entire floor. Heavy drapes, pulled back to let in the daylight, covered the large windows.
After completing her ablutions, she wandered back to the dining room. A few steps from the entrance, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a large potted plant.
“There you are. I thought I would never get you alone.” Claremont smiled at her. The stench of champagne and something more lethal emanated from him.
Mary stiffened and glared at where his hand held her arm. “Release me, sir.”
“Surely you are not still mad at me for hieing off to the Continent? I had to. The creditors were after me.”
She yanked her arm, but he held fast. “Apparently your memory is no better than your manners. As I remember, our last encounter before you smartly removed yourself from England, you were lying on the floor in pain. England was a much better place without you, and I only wish you had stayed wherever it was you had hied off to.”
He grinned. “You are mad.”
“My lord, you are impossible, and I am flabbergasted that you would even attempt to speak with me. You are newly wed, sir. Go tend to your wife.”
Claremont’s lip curled. “And if I do not, will you send your lackey after me again to threaten me with bodily harm?”
My lackey?
“I have no idea of what you speak. Now let me go before I summon a footman.” She tried once again to free herself. Truth be told, she was becoming a bit concerned. If the only way she could be rid of the man was to make a scene, it would embarrass her and poor Jeanette.
Thinking of Jeanette gave her the strength she needed to tug her arm away. She raised her chin. “I have two things to say to you, Lord Claremont, then I shall prefer to never speak with you again. Do not ever attempt to waylay me like this again. Second, you had better treat Jeanette well. If you do not, I may very well send my ‘lackey’ after you once more.”
With that she turned on her heel and hurried to the dining room before anyone saw them. As she gathered her things and headed to the carriage with her mother in tow, she wondered who had spoken to Claremont on her behalf. There was only one other person who knew about what had happened between them.
Redgrave.
…
Redgrave strode down the corridor of the Orphan Asylum and opened the door to the room where the committee meeting was taking place. One board member attended each committee meeting, and this one was his. His attention immediately went to the women sitting around the table, resting on Mary.
How did he ever think he could put her from his mind? She looked up at him with those luminous eyes, and he was lost. Lost in her beauty and countenance. Today she wore a blue print day dress, the neckline modest, b
ut still low enough to see the very tops of her lovely breasts. Her slender hands rested on the table in front of her, the only sign of her awareness of him the slight tapping of her fingernail. She was the image of English womanhood perfection.
And he wanted her.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He bowed in their general direction and took a seat. “What is on our agenda today?”
Lady Pinkerton cleared her throat and picked up a paper in front of her. “First on our list is an accounting of the provisions left in the larder and what will be needed for the upcoming months.”
He nodded for her to continue.
As she rambled on about flour, sugar, dried fruit, and other edibles that would keep the children fed and soundly nourished, his thoughts drifted to the woman sitting across from him. Had he ruined any chance he could have had with her by ignoring her at the Billingsleys’ ball? It was hard to remember at this point exactly why he had felt they should go their separate ways.
Oh, there was the issue of the disgrace he had caused her sister, but surely there had been more than that. He thought back to that day, and the memories the fireplace had invoked. It had robbed him of all the warm feelings he’d had with Mary in his arms. He had realized it couldn’t last, and hadn’t wanted to fool himself into thinking it was possible.
His heart had been damaged when he’d been forced to abandon Abigail. To fall in love with Mary and have her brother forbid him from seeing her would be intolerable. Except, he was very much afraid he’d already fallen in love with the woman.
Love. Something he neither deserved nor wanted. If only his heart would obey his commands.
“My lord?” Miss Abernathy peered at him over the rim of her spectacles.
He grinned at her sheepishly. “I am very sorry, Miss Abernathy, I was woolgathering.”
“I wanted to know if there was anything the board wished us to know.”
Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. “No. Nothing at this time. I am here to see if there was anything with which the board can help.” He looked from face to face. “It appears not.”
The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 14