For the Love of the Baron (The Noble Hearts Series Book 3)

by Callie Hutton

  “I am taking Lady Marigold on a ride in Hyde Park in my phaeton. Only room for two, you see, plus it is an open carriage. I do hope you approve?”

  Papa waved his hand, giving Marigold a look that told her there would be a conversation about this ride once she returned. She hid a sigh as she took her parasol from Macon’s hand. She enjoyed Jonathan’s company, they had much in common, but she didn’t want Papa pushing her toward the altar.

  A few years ago, he had sat his three daughters down and told them he would not accept marriage offers for his two youngest daughters, Juliet and Marigold, until his eldest, Elise was married. Since Elise had been a very happy spinster, it had thrown the entire family into a whirl. Elise eventually fell in love with Lord St. George, Juliet with Lord Hertford. They both had children and were happily settled.

  While she had expected Papa to begin his campaign to get her married as soon as Juliet had walked down the aisle toward Lord Hertford, he had been somewhat derelict in his duty there. She and her sisters had discussed the matter and concluded that his lack of interest in marrying Marigold off was because of Lady Crampton.

  Everyone knew Papa had feelings for the governess, and she for him. But no one mentioned it. Having Marigold still at home gave Papa a reason to keep Lady Crampton right there under his nose without making the major decision to marry her.

  Shrugging off her thoughts about Papa and Lady Crampton, Marigold breathed in the warm spring air as they made their way to the phaeton. It was truly a lovely day to be riding in the park.

  Jonathan helped her into the phaeton, then took his place next to her, picked up the ribbons and they started off.

  “I want to have a serious discussion with you once we are on our way.” Jonathan’s words and demeanor brought Marigold to full attention.

  Chapter Nine

  The park was more crowded than Jonathan would have liked, but then he was not a huge fan of riding in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour where a good many of the Beau Monde were out in their finery, seeing and being seen. If a gentleman was escorting a lady on an afternoon ride gossip started, tongues wagged, heads turned, and mumbling behind fans began.

  Nevertheless, he was happy to have Marigold by his side despite the number of vehicles to be maneuvered around, and the looks cast in their direction. Once he got them on a steady pace, he turned to her. “Since the police believe St. Clair died accidentally, and we know that to be untrue, we must do something about that. As well as find the journal.”

  “Perhaps we should go to the police and tell them our findings.”

  He leaned back and regarded her with raised brows. “And tell them what? That we broke into the morgue one night and examined the body?”

  “Um, yes, I see your point. That would never do.”

  “No, it would not.”

  “Lady Marigold, how lovely to see you here today!” Mr. Dawson tipped his hat from where he sat atop his mount. The man had good taste in horseflesh, that was certain, although it was obvious his Akhal-Teke, with its golden gleam that caught the eye of everyone in the park, was more for attention. It stood at least fifteen hands, and tossed its beautiful head, anxious to be on its way.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Dawson,” Marigold said. Jonathan merely nodded at the man, who returned his nod with a curt “Stanley.”

  Marigold blushed prettily and twirled her parasol. What the devil was that all about? She was flirting with the cur? Didn’t she know that devil owed everyone in London? Rumor had it he hadn’t even made good on his latest vowels, which no gentlemen neglected.

  “We really need to move along, Lady Marigold. We are holding up the line.” Jonathan snapped the ribbons and his horse moved forward.

  “You know, perhaps I should ride more in the afternoon. I’d forgotten how pleasant it could be.” Marigold looked around and smiled.

  Jonathan scowled.

  “My goodness, look who managed to get the lovely Lady Marigold into the park.” Lord Lambert and Lord Hardy were next to annoy them.

  “I’ve asked her ladyship to ride with me several times. What magic did you work, Stanley?” Hardy grinned at Marigold from his perch on his horse. Jonathan gave Marigold a quick glance, disliking how far down her bodice the man’s position on his horse allowed him to view.

  “No magic, maybe the lady is merely discerning in her selection of company.”

  Both men guffawed, bringing attention to them, which brought more men on horses over to their carriage. Jonathan shook his head in disgust. “We will never get around the park if this mob continues to grow, Marigold.”

  His riding partner ignored him as she bantered, flirted and teased one gentleman after another.

  “Yoo-hoo, Lord Stanley.” Jonathan turned to see Lady Humphries with her three unmarried daughters pull up alongside them in their landau. “It is so nice to see you out and about. We don’t see you very often in the park.”

  Bloody hell, was he now going to be subjected to the marriage minded mamas and their silly, giggling daughters? This had not been the best of ideas. He wanted Marigold alone, so they could discuss their next move regarding the journal. As the crowds grew around them, it appeared it would be good fortune if they even circled the park one time.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. It is a pleasure to see all of you as well.” Jonathan bowed to the woman and her daughters, hoping they would move along.

  “Lord Stanley, I am planning a lovely garden party next week. I know you received your invitation. I do hope you will join us. Lady Florence, my eldest, would love to have you attend.”

  Jonathan glanced in the direction of the said Lady Florence who scowled in his direction. Her mother took notice and gave her a sharp command. The girl immediately dipped her head and smiled. “I would love for you to join us, my lord.”

  “I will check my calendar. If I am free, it would be my pleasure to join you.”

  Lady Humphries gloated, and he had the sinking feeling she was planning the wedding breakfast. He shuddered. The three young girls in the carriage were precisely the type he’d been avoiding for years. Young, silly, nothing in their heads, and more than ready to leg shackle a man.

  “Lady Marigold we really must move on.” It was getting harder and harder to keep from pulling a few of the men practically drooling over Marigold from their horses and beating the airheads bloody.

  She waved at the gentlemen, and with calls to her for promised dances, they left her side, giving Jonathan room to finally move the carriage. “You must discontinue encouraging these men.”

  Marigold looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “What is the problem, my lord?”

  Uh, oh, they were back to ‘my lord.’ “There is no problem, it is just that we were holding up the line, and I did want to speak with you about the journal and what our course of action should be.”

  Marigold smoothed her gown. “I am sorry if there were people who wish to speak with me.”

  He guided the horse around a couple on foot, walking slowly. “Not people. Men.”

  “Oh, how horrible!” She twirled her parasol so enthusiastically, he was afraid it would hit him in the head. “What if I am popular with the men? I did nothing wrong.”

  “Only leading them on.”

  She scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He continued to stare at the horses as they moved closer to the exit from the park. “It means you’ve told me more than once you don’t find most men suitable because of their attitude toward women.”

  “Yes. These men,” she waved around the park, “are mostly idiots.”

  “Then why encourage them?”

  “Because it is fun. Because I enjoy it. Because, even though I have my more serious side, I also take pleasure in joy and laughter.” She turned her back to him and tossed over her shoulder, “Unlike others I know who think having a bit of fun is somehow improper.”

  ***

  Marigold fumed as they made their way out of the park. Where did Lord Arrogant get the
idea he could comment on her behavior? Just because he was a scowling, grumpy man didn’t mean she had to adopt his demeanor.

  Of course, she could not just continue to sit there and not have her say. Men might be able to fume in silence, but rarely women. “If we are speaking of flirting, my lord, perhaps you can delve into your memory and shake the dust off the image of the lovely Lady Frances making cow eyes at you.”

  “Cow eyes?” He snorted. “She was scowling in my direction until her mother snapped at her.”

  “Well, after that, she certainly seemed happy to chat with you. She was giggling and batting her eyes, and generally looking the fool.” She spun her parasol, almost making herself dizzy. When the houses they passed seemed to dip and sway, she stopped the twirling and grasped the edge of the phaeton.

  “Are you well, Marigold?” Jonathan regarded her with concern.

  “Yes. I am fine.” At least she was fine now that she stepped off the carousel.

  “I can assure you, I did not notice any batting of eyelashes, although I must admit there seemed to be a great deal of giggling going on. Not just from Lady Frances, but from her two sisters as well.”

  “And don’t forget Lady Humphries practically falling out of her carriage trying to get your attention when they first drove up.” Marigold clamped her mouth shut. She sounded like a shrew. A jealous shew. Which was nonsense since she had no reason whatsoever to feel jealous of any woman who paid attention to Jonathan.

  They were merely friends. Partners in business, practically. Cohorts in their study of anatomy.

  When they pulled up to her house, Jonathan turned and faced her. “Please accept my apologies for my grousing. It is just that I had hoped to speak with you privately.”

  “Well, I guess we discovered ‘privately’ does not go well with riding in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. I apologize for my grumpiness as well.”

  “Accepted.” He jumped down and walked to the other side to help her from the carriage. “Will you be attending the literary society meeting this evening?”

  “Yes, I planned on it.”

  They made their way up the stairs where Macon already had the door open.

  “Excellent. May I call for you at seven o’clock? Lady Crampton is more than welcome to ride with us.”

  “She doesn’t usually attend the meetings with me. On the nights we don’t have ton events to attend, she enjoys remaining at home in the library, doing her sewing while Papa reads. I don’t think there will be a problem with me riding with you since I attend these meetings all the time.”

  “Very well. Then we will have time to discuss all the journal situation on our way there.” He bowed over her hand as he took his leave.

  Several hours later, they were in Jonathan’s closed carriage, the familiar clopping of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones creating a soothing rhythm. The lanterns next to their heads cast a golden glow over them as the carriage made its way to the meeting. Marigold had long since lost her pique with Jonathan, as was her nature. She was never able to remain angry for long.

  “What is this plan you have come up with?” She shifted in her seat and grabbed onto the strap as the carriage rocked over uneven ground.

  “Since the list for the estate sale was presented at the meeting, I believe the person who stole the book is a member of the society. Perhaps he tried to purchase it after I left and when he found this out, broke into my home and took it.”

  “How does that figure into killing St. Clair, though? He no longer had the journal.”

  “That is true, and something to be considered, of course. I think our purpose this evening should be to speak with some of the members. Ask about their reaction to St. Clair’s death. I imagine the news is all over London now, and would be of special interest to the Society members since some of them may have attended the estate sale and met St. Clair.”

  “I agree. I know we are both anxious to find the journal—which will be held in my safekeeping from now on—but finding a murderer and turning him over to the police would be quite satisfying.”

  “Um, excuse me, Lady Marigold? Did I just hear you say the journal will be—how did you phrase it?—safe in your keeping from now on?”

  She regarded him wide-eyed. “I thought we agreed on that.”

  “We did not. When you stated those preposterous words, I kissed them away.”

  His smirk and the burning in his eyes, visible from the lantern by his head, caused Marigold to suck in a deep breath. Hearing him refer to their kiss in such a casual way affected the beating of her heart until she was sure Jonathan could hear it.

  He took her hand in his large, warm one and leaned forward. “Something I would like to repeat soon.” His lowered voice and soft tone melted her insides.

  Maybe the two of them riding together in his coach without Lady Crampton had not been such a good idea after all. She inched further on her seat. Nonsense. Kissing in a dark carriage was a very fine thing to do.

  And a great idea.

  Chapter Ten

  Despite Jonathan and Marigold never having conversed a great deal during the literary society meetings in the past, no undue attention was given to them when they arrived together. Jonathan had laid out the plan to Marigold that they should gravitate toward those with whom they normally conversed, bring up the subject of the man who ran the estate sale dying unexpectedly, and carefully watch what sort of reactions they received.

  Thankfully—or not, depending on what his head said and what his lower parts screamed out—once Marigold edged toward him in the dark carriage, and he didn’t resist kissing her, the vehicle soon drew up to the meeting place. The one kiss they’d managed to get in left him reeling, and fully ready for more.

  The ride home might be quite interesting. But then again, they did need to behave themselves enough that they could move forward in their search for the journal and murderer. Also, he needed to continue to remind himself that despite the very strong attraction between them, he saw little in their future.

  Even if he were to overlook Lady Marigold’s propensity to appear flighty and her need to delve into areas no lady should be tempted toward, he had no idea what she would think of a marriage between them.

  Marriage? He broke into a sweat. Had he reached the point where he wanted her so much he was willing to step into the vicar’s noose to get her into his bed? What he should be considering was getting his journal back and letting things cool between them. Marigold had already turned down any number of men, and he had no reason to believe she would accept him.

  “Good evening, Lord Stanley. I’m anxious to hear your opinion on our latest book.” Mr. Bentley slapped him on the back, moving him several inches forward and almost knocking him off his feet. The man was built like a tree trunk. Tall, wide, and large all over. Deep voice, black as night unruly hair. His sweeping mustache covered most of his face, a total comical contrast to the tiny spectacles resting on his large, bulbous nose.

  The latest book? Jonathan startled when he realized with all the goings on since the last meeting, not only had he not read the required book for tonight’s meeting but didn’t even remember which one it was. “Er, yes. Interesting book, for sure. Quite interesting. Quite.”

  Bentley nudged him with his massive elbow, most likely bruising him in such away he would need an ice compress as he prepared for bed. “I said to my wife when I returned home from the last meeting that Lord Stanley would certainly appreciate this book.” He threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  Bloody hell. If the others were going to look to him for opinions, he would appear a dimwit. “If you will excuse me, Bentley, I have to speak with Lady Marigold about something.” With the man’s guffaws echoing in his ears, Jonathan hurried across the room and grasped Marigold’s elbow as she stood speaking with Mrs. Bentworth. “May I have a word, Lady Marigold?”

  She turned to him, her brows raised. Before she could ask him what he wanted, he nodded to Mrs. Bentworth. “A pleasure to s
ee you this evening, Mrs. Bentworth, That is a lovely hat. Very good color for you. If you will excuse us, I need to ask Lady Marigold something.”

  He dragged her off to the opposite corner of the room. Marigold pulled her elbow from him and tugged the cuffs of her sleeves. “Whatever is the matter with you? Mrs. Bentworth and I were talking about St. Clair. I believe she was about to tell me something of import.”

  “Well, you can continue that conversation later. I have a much more important question.” He whispered the words, not wanting the entire room to hear of his lapse.

  She bent her head toward him. “What is that?”

  “Did you read the book for our meeting tonight?”

  “Of course.” She narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, and then realizing Mrs. Bentworth continued to stare in their direction, he dropped his hand and smiled at Marigold as if everything was wonderful, and they were discussing no more than the next social event, and his opportunity to secure a dance. “No, I did not. With everything that’s gone on, it slipped my mind.”

  “Oh, dear. I would imagine they expect you to have quite an opinion on the book.”

  Bloody hell. “What was the book?”

  “Statement of the Question of Parliamentary Reform. Mr. George Grote’s book.”

  His jaw dropped that he could forget that book of all things. “Blast it all. I wanted to read that book, too.”

  “Language, Lord Stanley. I’m sure you did want to read it since you have such a keen interest in parliament. Furthermore, I’m sure they expect you to lead the meeting.”

  He groaned. “What am I to do?” He pulled out his watch fob. “We only have about fifteen minutes until the meeting begins.”

  She shook her head, and regarded him as if she were his governess, and he’d forgotten to do an important assignment. “Why I feel the need to take pity on a man when men have so little regard for a woman’s intelligence, is probably worth a study in itself.”