Bedding Lord Ned

by Sally MacKenzie

  “Ned was growling,” Jack said.

  Ned snapped his head back to glare at Jack again. “For the last time, I was not growling.”

  “I know what I heard. You were glowering at Cox, flexing your fingers, and growling.”

  “If we weren’t in Mama’s music room, I’d show you growling.”

  Father, sitting in front of them, twisted around and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you are hissing about, but you will have to settle it later. Miss Wharton is about to begin.”

  Mama had coerced Percy into playing the pianoforte for Miss Wharton, so at least the accompaniment would be tolerable. For all Percy’s faults, he was an excellent musician. He struck the opening chords. Father turned forward, and Ned, after giving Jack one last pointed look, sat back in his seat.

  He wished he had a copious supply of earwax. If Miss Wharton’s singing was anything like her speaking voice, he would need it. He cringed—surreptitiously, he hoped—as she opened her mouth.

  A surprisingly sweet sound emerged.

  His was not the only sigh of relief, all quickly muffled or turned into discreet coughs. Miss Wharton appeared not to notice. She sang without faltering in a pure soprano, seemingly caught up in the music, and she blushed very prettily at the enthusiastic applause when she finished.

  “At least you’ll have some entertainment if the girl succeeds in marrying you,” he murmured to Jack.

  “Very amusing. I am not that fond of music, as well you know.”

  “She is looking for a seat,” Ash said. “Should I give her mine?”

  Jack raised his brows, though his eyes looked slightly desperate. “So you can sit next to the Widow Heldon?”

  It was Ash’s turn to look hunted. “Ah, yes, perhaps I’ll stay where I am.”

  “I don’t know why you’re concerned about the woman, Ash,” Ned said. “She can’t trap you into anything. You’re already married.”

  Ash picked an invisible bit of lint off his pantaloons. “My life is complicated enough; I don’t need any more entanglements.”

  The only entanglement Ash had was Jess, who lived a two-day ride from Greycliffe and whom he hadn’t seen or communicated with directly for eight years. As far as Ned knew, Ash lived like a monk. Not that it was any of his business. Ash was welcome to do as he pleased—assuming Father and Mama would tolerate it.

  Not for the first time Ned thanked God he wasn’t the heir. People said Father was far more understanding than most dukes, which was probably true. He’d inherited the title by accident when his uncle and cousins were killed in a fire. But he’d been Greycliffe for almost forty years now and had put a lot of effort into the duchy—the older tenants often said how much things had improved since Father became duke. He could not like Ash’s odd marital situation throwing the succession into doubt.

  And speaking of succession, he would like to have a son to succeed him at Linden Hall. He should be wooing Lady Juliet, not squabbling with Jack.

  He turned to her. In profile, she didn’t look so much like Cicely, especially at the moment. She was clapping halfheartedly, her mouth turned down, her jaw hard while she stared at ... he followed her gaze. Cox.

  Why the hell was she looking at that fellow again?

  “I think Miss Wharton acquitted herself quite well, don’t you?” Ned asked.

  Lady Juliet dragged her eyes back to him. “I’m sorry—what did you say?” She blushed slightly. “I’m afraid I wasn’t attending.”

  “I said I thought Miss Wharton sang well.”

  “Oh, yes.” Her eyes drifted back to Cox. “She has a very nice voice.”

  “Indeed she does.” He addressed her profile again. “I wonder whom my mother will coerce into performing next.”

  “Hmm?”

  Clearly Lady Juliet’s attention was not going to be easily pried away from Cox. She was frowning again. Was she afraid the fellow would do her some insult? He’d damn well better not try. “Has Cox been annoying you, Lady Juliet?”

  “What?” She snapped her gaze back to him. Her color fluctuated from pale to flushed; her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “No, of course not. I’ve hardly spoken to him.”

  “But he’s distressed you in some way.”

  She shook her head and looked down at her hands; her fingers were twisting her skirt into pleats. She stopped them and smoothed out the cloth. “No. How could he have? I said I’d hardly spoken to him.”

  She was lying. “Here, yes, but what about before? Did he trouble you in London?”

  “No.” Her mouth flattened into a tight, thin line. “Why are you so persistent, Lord Edward?”

  He should leave it, but he couldn’t. “I don’t wish you to be uncomfortable. If—”

  “I’m not uncomfortable.”

  He still didn’t believe her. “There are other women here who might be at risk if the man poses some threat.” Damn it, Cox was leaning too close to Ellie again. “Miss Bowman, for example. She’s a childhood friend; I would hate for any harm to come to her.”

  Lady Juliet’s brows arched. “I’d have thought Miss Bowman old enough to choose her own”—she smiled, though not very pleasantly—“acquaintances. She certainly looks as if she is well past the first blush of youth.”

  “Well, of course Miss Bowman knows her own mind, but she’s led a rather sheltered life.” Ned frowned. Was Lady Juliet criticizing Ellie? He didn’t care for that—nor did it speak well of the girl that she had so little concern for a fellow female. However, she was young—he’d have to ask Mama just how young—and sometimes young women, especially beautiful young women, needed a few years more experience to sympathize with the less fortunate. Cicely had ... well, he’d been young, too, so he could hardly criticize Cicely. “Miss Bowman’s not used to dealing with men of Cox’s stamp.”

  Lady Juliet’s beautiful little chin tilted up. “Your mother—the Duchess of Love—invited Mr. Cox, so I hardly think you need worry. And what harm can he do in your father’s house, under your mother’s nose?” The slight edge in her voice indicated she knew the answer quite well. Cox could steal Ellie’s good sense and break her heart.

  Well, if Lady Juliet wouldn’t tell him about Cox, he’d ask Jack. In fact, he should have thought about that at once—likely would have if they hadn’t been arguing. Jack would have heard if Cox was a bounder. He started to turn to his brother, but stopped when Mama spoke.

  “That was splendid, Miss Wharton. You have such a lovely voice.”

  Miss Wharton blushed. “Thank you, your grace.” She smiled, looked around the room, and focused on Jack.

  Jack smiled back at her and muttered, “If either of you offer her your seat, I swear I will fill your boots with snow or, better, toss them into the deepest drift I can find.”

  “Take my seat, Miss Wharton,” Mr. Cox said, standing.

  Miss Wharton, looking a little deflated, bobbed her head and sat.

  Ned felt a twinge of conscience. He’d just been mentally taking Lady Juliet to task for a lack of sympathy. “Are you sure—”

  “Yes,” Jack hissed. “It’s better not to encourage false hope, believe me.”

  “Your grace.” Cox smiled at Mama. “May only women sing at this gathering?”

  Mama laughed. “Of course not, sir. My husband and sons cannot carry a tune among them, so I forget to ask our male guests to favor us with a song. Would you care to perform?”

  “I’d be happy to, if Sir Percy can be persuaded to remain at the pianoforte.”

  “Percy?” Mama asked.

  Percy nodded. “Of course, if I know the music.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Cox said. “I’m going to sing ‘Some Rival Has Stolen My True Love Away.’”

  Lady Juliet sucked her breath in sharply, causing Ned to glance down at her. If looks could kill, Cox would be breathing his last on the music room floor.

  Cox extended his hand to Ellie. “And I hope Miss Bowman will join me.”

  If looks could kill, Cox would
be twice dead. Couldn’t the man sing the damn ditty by himself? Ellie blushed and protested a little, but she got up to stand next to the rogue.

  The song was the usual sentimental pap about true love. Ellie had a pretty voice, but Cox’s baritone was extraordinary, much as Ned hated to admit it. Still, the man was a bit too theatrical for Ned’s taste—he held Ellie’s hand and gazed down at her through the whole damn thing. And Ellie, blast it, appeared to be falling under his spell. She blushed from first note to last.

  Ned would have to keep a very close eye on her indeed.

  Mama sighed and clapped enthusiastically when they were done. “Oh, that was very nice, Mr. Cox. And you sang well, too, of course, Ellie.” She smiled at her guests. “Who would like to go next? Don’t be shy.”

  Mr. Humphrey cleared his throat. “I would be happy to oblige everyone with a song, your grace, as I must tell you I am accounted quite the virtuoso at home, always being begged to give everyone another tune until it is almost embarrassing, though I must warn you I did have a bit of a cold a few weeks ago that left me with a nasty cough; however, I believe I am sufficiently recovered to—”

  Father rose to save them. “Thank you, Mr. Humphrey, but I’m afraid we must let your voice rest another night.” He looked at Mama. “I think our guests are tired from traveling all day, dear duchess. We should let them seek their beds.”

  Ned watched Cox smile. Bloody hell. The bastard had better not be considering seeking Ellie’s bed.

  Mama nodded. “I suppose you are right.” She smiled brightly at the group. “Off to your rooms, then, and we’ll see you bright and early in the morning. I’ve got many pleasant activities planned.”

  Mama had barely stopped speaking before Jack shot out of his chair with Ash at his heels; they made their escape, leaving Miss Wharton and Lady Heldon to find their way upstairs on their own. Percy and Ophelia had their heads together by the pianoforte, likely planning an assignation; and Humphrey was standing with Mama, Father, and Miss Mosely, talking their ears off. Father yawned rather obviously, but Mr. Humphrey rattled on.

  Ned looked for Ellie; he’d like to have a word with her before she went to bed. He should advise her to be on her guard. He might have encouraged her to entertain Mama’s matches, but he’d never intended for her to throw herself into the lion’s den. Not that she would ever enter a man’s room, of course, but this man ... perhaps he should also suggest she lock her door.

  She was already walking out of the room with Cox, damn it.

  “May I have your escort upstairs, Lord Edward?” Lady Juliet had also been watching Cox and Ellie, but now she smiled up at Ned.

  “Of course.” He offered her his arm.

  She put her hand on his sleeve—and dragged him briskly out of the room to the foot of the stairs. Cox and Ellie had just started up.

  “I am so looking forward to tomorrow, Lord Edward,” she said rather loudly. “Do you have any idea what your dear mother has planned?”

  Had Cox’s back stiffened? “No,” Ned said quietly. “My mother is completely unpredictable.”

  For some reason that sent Lady Juliet into peals of laughter.

  A few steps above them, Ellie stumbled slightly. Cox steadied her. “You have a beautiful voice, Miss Bowman,” he said. His voice wasn’t as loud as Lady Juliet’s, but it carried very well.

  Ned strained to hear Ellie’s reply. Lady Juliet didn’t give him the opportunity.

  “Do you think we’ll take the sleighs out tomorrow?” Lady Juliet’s voice dropped lower and acquired a sultry note. “I would love to share a fur blanket with you, Lord Edward.”

  Cox’s back definitely stiffened at that, and he paused as if he were going to turn around. What the hell was going on?

  At least it was clear Lady Juliet was not afraid of Cox.

  “We will have to wait for the snow to stop,” Ned said. “O’Leary, the head groom, will not want the horses out if the conditions aren’t safe for them.”

  “Oh, pooh.” Lady Juliet stuck her lower lip out in what she must think was a fetching pout, but her eyes slid back up to Cox. “Well, then I suppose I shall have to be patient, shan’t I?”

  “As shall we all.” Ned glanced down to see if this odd little drama was being observed. Lady Heldon smirked at him from the bottom of the steps. Damn.

  Cox and Ellie finally reached the bedroom floor and turned down the corridor. Fortunately, Mama had put Ellie in a room close to Ned’s; he’d deposit Lady Juliet and then be certain Cox made his way promptly to his own bedchamber before he retired himself.

  He stopped at Lady Juliet’s door to bid her good night while trying to watch Ellie and Cox unobtrusively. Lady Juliet was not so cautious. She simply stood and stared, so Ned joined her. The show was better than a damn farce.

  “You have such a lovely voice, Miss Bowman,” Cox said rather passionately. The man knew he had an audience. “I thoroughly enjoyed singing with you.”

  “Thank you.” Ellie glanced at Ned and Lady Juliet and then pushed open her door. “Good ni—”

  Cox captured her hand, lifting it to his lips. “I felt such a connection with you when our voices joined.”

  Lady Juliet hissed.

  Ned agreed with her. The urge to punch Cox in the nose returned tenfold. How could the man spout such ridiculous drivel with a straight face? Ellie must have more sense than to be taken in by it.

  And Cox had bloody well better not try joining anything besides his voice with Ellie.

  Ellie darted another glance at them and then tugged her fingers free. “Yes, thank you, I enjoyed singing with you, too, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, I find I’m quite tired. Good night.” She stepped into her room and shut her door firmly in Cox’s face. Ned wanted to cheer.

  Cox stared at the closed door for a moment, and then turned and started back toward them.

  Suddenly Lady Juliet was smiling up at Ned. She, too, sounded rather passionate. “Thank you so much for your kind escort, my lord. It was delightful sitting with you in the music room, and I look forward to seeing you”—she flicked her eyes at Cox and dropped her voice again—“later.”

  Cox’s face darkened so he resembled a thundercloud—or a man bent on murder, preferably Ned’s.

  Bloody hell. Ned was not going to get caught up in whatever little game these two were playing. “In the morning,” he said firmly. “I will see you in the morning, Lady Juliet.”

  He bowed and stepped aside so Cox could pass. The man glared at him, and then gave Lady Juliet a hard look before proceeding to his room. Lady Juliet smiled at Cox’s back and then closed her door.

  Ned strode down the corridor. Perhaps he should rethink his pursuit of Lady Juliet. She obviously had some feelings for Cox—and Cox had some feelings for her.

  He paused as he passed Ellie’s door. Should he warn her? He could knock—

  He heard a step behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Lady Heldon had reached the floor. He’d better keep moving. The woman wouldn’t understand that since he and Ellie were almost siblings, his talking with her in her bedchamber would be unexceptional. Not that he’d ever done such a thing, of course.

  When he got to his rooms, he found the door ajar. Damnation! He was certain he’d shut it firmly when he’d left earlier. Could ... no, this couldn’t be happening again. He stepped inside. “Reggie!”

  “Merrow!”

  Blast it all. “You’d better not be up to your thieving tricks again or I’ll toss you out the window into the snow.”

  He strode through his sitting room to his bedroom. There was Reggie, sitting on his bed, casually licking his hind leg.

  “Did one of the maids let you in?”

  Reggie paused, blinked at him, and then transferred his attention to his other hind leg.

  “You’d better hope I don’t find anything under this bed.”

  And damn it, now he was reduced to talking to a cat.

  He got down on his hands and knees and reached into the murky space. Co
nfound it, Reggie had been sneaking around the guest rooms. He dumped the plunder onto the coverlet: three white plumes, a gray kidskin glove, a small enameled snuffbox with a very naughty picture on the lid, a jeweled hairpin, and something that looked suspiciously like a false calf.

  “How the hell are we going to return all this? Reggie—oh, damn.”

  Reggie jumped off the bed, revealing he’d been lying on yet another purloined item—a pair of red silk drawers.

  Chapter 6

  Find a way to haunt a man’s thoughts.

  —Venus’s Love Notes

  “It’s still snowing. No sleigh rides today.” The Duke of Greycliffe let the curtain fall over the window and padded back to the ducal bed. “How do you propose to keep your guests out of trouble, my dear duchess?”

  “They’re your guests, too, Drew,” Venus said, “and—ack!” She scooted away from him. “Kindly keep your feet to yourself. They are blocks of ice.”

  Drew grinned as he reached for her again. “But isn’t that why I have a lovely wife in my bed—to warm my feet when they are cold?”

  “No. Definitely not. I—umm.”

  Drew was nuzzling her neck, just where she most liked it. She shivered—and not from the cold. Even after thirty years of marriage, she still craved her husband’s touch.

  But she must remember she had a house full of guests. “I thought I’d send them hunting in the dungeon. They—ohh.” Drew’s fingers tweaked one of her nipples.

  “Whatever for? They’ll just find a lot of cobwebs—and perhaps a mouse or two.” His lips feathered over her throat while his clever fingers moved to her other nipple.

  “Not if we hide things for them to discover.” That felt so good. “And I’ll send Reggie along to take care of the m-mice.” But it would feel better naked. She tugged on his nightshirt. “Take this off.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll catch a chill?”

  She heard the laughter in his voice. “No.” She tugged again. The damn man was not helping. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “But you complained so vociferously about my cold feet.”