Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord

by Sandra Sookoo

  She laughed outright at that, brayed even. “Pish posh, Felix. My mind never went there.” An unladylike snort followed. “I meant for you to invite a few of your unattached male friends. In this way, Lady Drummond will have ample attention and thus won’t have any time to spare for you, leaving you free to entertain your lady fair.”

  “And what shall I do with them then? It’s hardly the thing for an unattached man to throw a musicale with punch and dainty sandwiches. And this would be an intimate affair.”

  She winked. “Say you’ve had a hankering for a dish you favored while in Spain. Unfortunately, Cook doesn’t know how to prepare it, so for a treat you’ll do the honors yourself.”

  “Thus enlisting the aid of Clarice in the kitchens.”

  “Exactly. Plus, with you out of the room, Lady Drummond can flirt to her heart’s desire as can you.”

  He shot to his feet. “Brilliant scheme, if it works. Lady Drummond might grow suspicious, or Clarice might refuse to go along with the plan, or—”

  “Felix, stop overthinking the issue.” Charlotte came around to his side of the desk and took his hands. “Weigh the odds if you must, but in the end you need to decide what you want more—personal contentment or a fulfilled duty. Only one will keep you warm at night. Sometimes in life, we all need to make unpopular decisions for the sake of inner peace.”

  “As always, you impart wisdom beyond your time.” He lifted one of her hands to his lips. “You’re a wonderful sister, Charlotte. Thank you.”

  “And you are besotted.” She tugged her hands from his. “I can see it in your eyes, and I must say, I heartily approve. You deserve every happiness.”

  Felix put a hand over his heart. He adored his sister. “I hope when your time comes, you have an easier time of it.”

  “Oh, I don’t plan on becoming leg shackled. I may enjoy male company for conversation and flirting but do not wish to be bossed by one.” She padded to the door. “Goodnight, Felix. Dream well.”

  He stared into the space she’d occupied long after she left. Courting Clarice sounded like a capital plan. It was indeed time to put his domestic affairs in order, and for the first time, he couldn’t be more thrilled at the prospect.

  The butler cleared his throat then he said, “Lord Swandon.” The middle-aged man stood aside and let them pass into the room. “Lady Drummond and Miss Delacroix have arrived.”

  Clarice glanced around the drawing room of the Darrington townhouse. She’d been surprised when Lady Drummond had told her of the last minute invite just that morning, which resulted in her wearing the rust-colored gown she had on when she’d first met Felix. Not that it mattered. He had undoubtedly invited them for the purposes of furthering his connection with Olivia. She forced a swallow past the lump in her throat. It wasn’t her concern if he wished to continue courting her.

  Dark blue draperies and upholstery provided a sumptuous and calming color plus put the guest in mind that this was Darrington territory. Gold accents throughout provided warmth as did the Oriental rugs scattered over the gleaming floor. Groupings of settees and low sofas peppered the room, all with small tables distributed around for the guests’ ease. A handful of people laughed and talked in a group near a fireplace, but Clarice’s attention rested solely on one man—Felix.

  He was so dashing this evening. From his fawn-colored trousers to his bottle-green tailcoat and ivory-and-green striped waistcoat, every inch of him made her heart flutter and her belly quake. His collar points were not as high as some of his friends’, but his boots shone in the candlelight and his hair glinted. He was every inch a gentleman about town.

  Then her heart jumped into her throat. Cher dieu, he’s looking at me!

  At her side, Lady Drummond bumped her shoulder. “See how his eyes light with a smile when he sees me? He’ll declare himself soon, I think.”

  Clarice’s excitement tempered beneath the reality of her situation. “You’re probably right, Lady Drummond. Why would he not?” Everyone around town knew he was a marriage minded lord. Whispered rumors said that was really why he was in London. He wished to set up his nursery and put his domestic affairs in order. A part of her died at the thought of seeing Olivia on his arm as his wife. It had been a silly dream to think she would have captured his interest instead of her employer.

  “Hush now. He’s coming over.” Lady Drummond sailed ahead and met him as he left his cronies and crossed the room. “Felix, darling, how nice of you to invite me this evening. Parliament takes too much of your commitment. I hardly see you anymore and we really should spend more time together.”

  “Yes, well duty doesn’t wait for a social schedule, does it?” He took her hand but glanced past her at Clarice. “I’m honored you both were able to attend from such a quick request.”

  Butterflies took flight in Clarice’s stomach. The mischief dancing in his eyes and the smile curving his lips played havoc with her insides. He hadn’t showed a reaction like that when he’d greeted Olivia. What was he about? She stepped forward, and when Felix briefly took her hand, the flutters increased. “We didn’t have other engagements for tonight so it was not a problem, Lord Swandon.”

  Lady Drummond narrowed her eyes. “It wasn’t an issue for me, as I have plenty of gowns. Poor Clarice. She wore this gown two weeks ago. The fate of the working masses I suppose.”

  Felix let his gaze flicker over her form. Heat followed in its wake. “Lucky me, since I enjoyed seeing her in it then as I do now.”

  Embarrassment stuck in Clarice’s throat even as pleasure from his compliment cascaded down her spine. She wanted to put Olivia in her place, and Felix’s obvious approval of her gave wings to her confidence. “Yes, well, at least I go to bed each night with a guilt-free conscience. I rather doubt you can say the same, Lady Drummond.” She gasped as Olivia’s cheeks reddened.

  “At least I go to bed with a man beside me most nights.” Olivia narrowed her eyes. “That is more than I can say for you. I rather doubt any man would be willing to bed you, what with your history and the fact you are more than likely used goods.”

  Clarice’s stomach cramped. She glanced at Felix. He frowned, his expression speculative, and her face blazed at the scrutiny. Would he perceive her as sullied because of Olivia’s hint when that was so far from the truth? “Actually, I think you’d be surprised at my history.”

  Finally, Felix cleared his throat. He held out a hand to Lady Drummond. “Now, now, no sour attitudes tonight. It will ruin the mood. Allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends, and Miss Delacroix, if you’ll do me the honor of going ahead to the kitchens, I’d enjoy your expertise in helping with a dish I intend to make.”

  “You cannot be serious, Felix,” Lady Drummond scoffed. “You’ll spend the evening with the servants?”

  “Only part of it. Cook doesn’t know how to prepare this particular dish I want to share with all of you so I thought it would be enjoyable to do it myself. Quite the honor, actually, cooking for my friends, don’t you think?”

  “Well, I suppose, but I had really wanted to converse with you.” The whine in her voice was teeth gritting.

  “You’re welcome to spend time with me in the kitchens. Perhaps I could teach you how to cook this dish,” Felix offered with a touch of annoyance clinging to the words.

  “I’d rather not, thank you.” Lady Drummond’s grimace spoke volumes.

  He nodded. “Very well. Now, Olivia, allow me to introduce you to…”

  Clarice left the room before she could hear the names of his friends. It was easy enough to locate the kitchen, and no one was about. Spice packets rested on a table, along with an onion, a garlic bulb, a few small bowls of chopped, raw chicken meat as well cooked white beans and a few root vegetables. She went immediately to the table and lifted a packet of thin, red threads. Saffron. What did he plan to concoct that would use such ingredients, and expensive spices? A glass dish with rice sat nearby.

  “Did you know saffron is one of the most expensive spices, b
ut imparts such a unique flavor that rulers throughout the world would pay almost any price for it?”

  She whirled around at the sound of Felix’s voice. “I did know it, but it’s a rare treat to be able to taste it.” She lowered her gaze under his intense one. “Lady Drummond doesn’t usually care for dishes of exquisite or complicated tastes. Bland, boiled English food is more to the palate of her household.”

  “Well, she’ll be most disappointed in dinner tonight.” He strode around the work table then lifted a wide, round pan from a hook above his head. “Tonight, I am treating you to a dish called paella.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing, my lord.” She eyed the shallow pan as he set it on the cook stove then put a dollop of lard into it.

  “Felix,” he corrected. “I want you to call me by my given name any time we are together.”

  “Why?” She had to know what game he tried to play; otherwise, she wouldn’t enjoy the evening.

  “Because I admire you and wish to know you better. We cannot accomplish such a thing by sticking to formality.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Do you have any more questions?”

  “Yes.” She worried her bottom lip. “Did you invite me into the kitchen tonight to help you cook or for some other purpose?” Her palms sweated, but she resisted the urge to wipe them on her skirts.

  “It was a ploy for I intend to spend more time in your company, and I’d rather not do that with Olivia in tow.”

  Clarice sucked in a breath. “That’s why the other men are here.” At his nod, she indulged in a small grin. A host of tickles moved through her insides. He’d planned ahead, knowing he’d need to keep Olivia busy. “Very smart… Felix.” Knowing he’d done so for the express purpose of spending time with her—Clarice—gave new hope to her heart.

  “I thought so.” He returned to the work table and began to chop the onion and other vegetables. “Regarding the paella, I acquired a taste for this dish while serving in Spain. Oftentimes, on the days when we’d stopped near the Spanish regiments, the men would make big pans of it over campfires. They’d use whatever meats they had available. The great thing was everyone gathered around and ate out of the communal pan.”

  “That sounds very much like the stories my mother used to tell of the villages when she grew up in France.” Fascinated by him and his seeming ease in the kitchen, Clarice slipped onto a stool and watched. “Sharing food has a way of bringing people together, no matter the generation, class division or nationality. Food is the common bond we all share.”

  “Yes, this is true.” He glanced at her. “I wanted to do something to impress you, and what better way to do that than be here in the kitchen.”

  “I beg your pardon?” No one ever did anything to single her out.

  His grin brimmed with self-consciousness. “You are comfortable here. I want to show you I can leave the lord and master veneer behind and indulge in other pursuits, and I did just tell you I wished to spend more time with you.”

  Her pulse accelerated as if she’d run all the way from France. “Why?”

  Felix scooped up the vegetables and dumped them all into the pan with the melted lard. Immediately, the sizzle filled the silence and the savory scent of the aromatics wafted to her nose. “I haven’t connected well with you over the past weeks, and I fear I’ve given you the wrong impression of me and my intentions. Perhaps with food we’ll meet on common ground. And with a full belly I can plead my case better.” He peered at her, and this time his gaze held an intensity that had nothing to do with the zeal of cooking. “I want to be more to you than an acquaintance.”

  “I… I would like that.” In spite of her reservations, she lost a piece of her heart to him. “But what of Lady Drummond?” If she knew Felix’s intentions, she’d surely put a stop to it. Or worse yet, who knew what she’d do to Clarice.

  “Let me worry about her. You enjoy the evening as it’s specifically planned for you.”

  Warmth slid through her insides at his thoughtfulness. “But what about—”

  “Clarice, stop.” He dropped the chunks of chicken meat into the pan and moved everything about with a wooden spoon until they were in a single layer. “You are my guest. The others in the drawing room are being well taken care of by Samuel and the parlor maids. Olivia doesn’t want for male attention.” He turned and held her gaze. “Tonight, I dance attendance upon you in accordance to your station.”

  “My station?” The man had to be mad. Why else would he do this?

  “Yes, as the granddaughter of a French count. It’s just one of the many ways I plan to show you my affection.”

  The heat invading her body stole into her cheeks. “Thank you.” The respect and regard he showed nearly undid her. Yet cold fingers of fear clutched at her heart. It was merely lust and desire, and it was dangerous. No good could come from such things. Oh, but it made her feel so wonderful. She sucked in a shuddering breath and decided not to worry about it. For once in her life she’d let someone cater to her whims. “I appreciate the kindness.” She vowed to enjoy every second of it.

  The scents of cooking meat and vegetables assailed her and caused her stomach to rumble, but it wasn’t until Felix added the other vegetables, rice, spices and a measure of water and white wine that she began to look forward to dinner. The liquid in the pan turned a bright yellow from the saffron. “I cannot wait to taste it.”

  “Shall I share the first spoonful with you?” he asked in a whispered voice as he sat across the table from her. “There’s nothing quite like that first bite.”

  “Only time will tell.” Throwing caution to the wind, she winked. Just this once she would allow herself to flirt with him.

  Felix smiled. It lit his eyes and took years from his face. “I have a feeling you’d be quite mischievous in the right circumstances.”

  Clarice nodded. “My mother often teased me that if I forgot to be proper I’d be trouble and quite potent.” She shrugged. “No matter how hard she tried to make me into what she thought women of her class should be, I resisted.” Eventually, she’d need to tell Felix what her mother was, especially since Olivia kept hinting at it, but it wasn’t tonight.

  “Perhaps she was correct. There are times when there is no place for proper behavior no matter where we come from.”

  “Unfortunately, my temper often gets the better of me and results me in being somewhat less than proper.”

  He rested his intense gaze on her, and it heated her insides. “Clarice, what will you do if you ever meet your father? Will you tell him of your secret, mention your mother’s name? For you must know the probability is high Amherst will ignore you and deny your claim.”

  The change in subject left her reeling. “I do not know what I’ll do. Up until now, it’s only been a dream.” She shrugged. “Perhaps I merely wish to look at him and remind myself I’m not like him either. He is a Tory who cares nothing for the people around him.” Clarice forced a swallow past the lump in her throat. “Perhaps I want to see which parent I resemble most.” She caught his gaze again and fell deep into the blue depths. “It’s silly.”

  “No. Nothing you do is silly. You’re fascinating in everything.” He stirred the contents of the aromatic pan. “You have every right to see him.” When he turned back to her, his expression was serious. “Why do you not claim your French title?”

  “My grandfather went into hiding almost eighteen years ago. By the time my mother fled to England with Amherst, she’d still had no word of his whereabouts.” She traced the grain of the table with a fingertip. “Nobility and titles in my native land no longer hold the prominence they once did.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Did your mother have brothers or did your grandfather have brothers?”

  “Grandfather was an only child. The Comte de Auvergne title will pass into obscurity or to a distant cousin no doubt.” Her chest tightened. It was a sad state of affairs indeed that political fervor and class divisions had torn apart France in recent years.

  “Yo
ur mother would have been countess had your grandfather been confirmed dead, yes?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Losing the title as well as everyone I’ve cared about is trying. It was something unique to my name. When my mother told me of my paternity, I suppose I wished for roots though my claim is tenuous at best. I need a connection.”

  “Stranger things have happened. Do not discount everything right now.”

  Clarice smiled, but it was a wobbly affair. “I appreciate your kindness, Felix. You have no idea how much it means.” If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose her whole heart to him and then where would she be? In much worse straits. At least now her heartbreak wasn’t deep as the only person she’d loved was her mother. If she were to fall for Lord Swandon, no good could come from such an affliction. It would be madness indeed to think his recent actions meant he wanted to court her.

  “All of us want to belong, to mean something special to someone, to be cherished and know we matter.” His eyes darkened, and when he smiled, the slight indention in his chin grew more prominent. “This doesn’t stop regardless of birth or class. Tell the world you’re the granddaughter of a comte, Clarice. Chances are high you will be the countess soon and people will celebrate you.”

  “That secret is mine to keep, I’m afraid.” She shook her head. “A penniless countess from a country torn apart by war. At least now I earn a living and have certain freedoms. I’ve never wished to hold myself better than anyone else.”

  The faraway sound of Lady Drummond’s raucous laughter pierced the silence, yet she continued to hold his gaze. “Please respect my wishes.”

  Finally, he nodded. “You must do what makes you happy.”

  “Yes.” Am I happy now? She glanced around the kitchen and back at Felix again. Flutters tickled her insides, even more so when he didn’t stop looking at her as if he wished to say much more than he had. The need to touch him grew strong. She wet her lower lip. For so long she’d worried about doing the proper thing, the right thing, and living for those whom she considered better than her for the mere reason of title or birth. Opportunities had passed her by. She’d been taken advantage of by people who should have known better.