by Darcy Burke
“From the former Lord Lincolnshire’s solicitor. Addressed to ‘The Marquess of Cainewood.’ And then inside it says, ‘My Lord Marquess and Lady Corinna Chase.’”
“What does the solicitor want?” Not that Corinna really cared.
“You’re requested to attend the reading of the late earl’s will at Mr. Lawless’s Queen Street offices on Monday at noon.”
Corinna shrugged. “Lord Lincolnshire probably left us a trinket. One of his four hundred Ming vases or some such. For being kind through his last few days.”
“I don’t think he’d leave you and Griffin one vase. Two, maybe.” Juliana smiled, a transparent effort to raise Corinna’s spirits. “I’m famished. The reception at Lincolnshire House is winding down, so I walked over here to ask the staff to serve a family dinner before the rest of us go home. Will you come down and join us? And where’s Griffin?”
“How should I know?” Corinna paused. “And how did you come to read a letter addressed to Griffin if you haven’t seen him?”
“Well, obviously,” Juliana said airily, “I opened it.”
FIFTY-THREE
Griffin had kissed Rachael in his study. He’d kissed her across his study. He’d kissed her as he’d maneuvered her down to the long leather sofa, and now, a good thirty minutes later, he was lying half on top of her, still kissing her.
She’d been kissed before, but not by anyone who kissed anything like Griffin. He seemed to put his entire heart and soul into a kiss. When Griffin was kissing her, she was wholly convinced his mind was on nothing but that. On nothing but her. Which made it difficult to think about anything but him, either.
In fact, he made it difficult to think at all.
His kisses went from sweet to warm to burning and back again. From gentle to deep, from rushed to unhurried to frantic. Her senses were reeling, swirling with the heat of his mouth and the scent of his skin and the taste of brandy. Her blood coursed through her veins, beating an electrifying rhythm in her ears.
When it was over, when he finally lifted his head, looking utterly disoriented, when he struggled to his elbows and gazed down at her, she still found it hard to think. His eyes were so very intense, his mouth—the same mouth that had just been kissing her senseless—curved into that slightly crooked smile. Hooking a hand behind his neck, she pulled him back down and kissed him some more.
A long while later he lifted his head back up again, and her own head finally cleared.
A little.
“You’re not my cousin,” she murmured, looking up at him, feeling a little smile tug at her own mouth.
“I know.”
“That means we can marry.”
He was off of her like a shot. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, no?” She raised herself to a sitting position. She’d probably shocked herself as much as him by saying that. But it was true.
She wanted to marry Griffin.
She loved him.
She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen in love, because she’d never admitted that to herself before—she hadn’t been able to, having never overcome thinking of him as a cousin. But she knew she could lean on Griffin; she knew she could depend on him. He’d always be there for her—he’d shown her that, hadn’t he? And wasn’t that the most important quality in a husband?
And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was so nice to look at. So tall and lean, so broad-shouldered and masculine. His eyes such a gorgeous green, his jaw so strong and square, that crooked smile so irresistible.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I want to marry you.”
“You don’t want to marry me,” he said at once, a hint of panic in those green eyes. “You think I’m an irresponsible scapegrace.”
“Not anymore.” Or not exactly. Yes, he said stupid things, and he did stupid things sometimes, too. He had his flaws. But who didn’t? At least she knew Griffin’s flaws—she knew what she was getting into with him.
And she’d never felt such a force of attraction with anyone but Griffin.
She loved him just as he was, flaws and all.
“I do want to marry you,” she disagreed, “and, really, how can you refuse me? You’ve been kissing me for half an hour.”
He shifted on his feet, glancing away from her. “It was only kissing, Rachael. And you invited it. You cannot expect a man to turn down an offer like that.”
He hadn’t kissed her only because she’d invited him. She might be a blazing idiot for not realizing there was no reason she couldn’t marry him, but she wasn’t so bird-witted she didn’t know when someone wanted her.
Griffin had been wanting her for two years, at the very least. A gentleman didn’t look at a lady the way he looked at her—or kiss her the way he just had—unless he wanted her. And he loved her, too. She was sure of it. Look at all the trouble he’d gone to in order to find her family. A fellow didn’t go to such trouble for a girl he didn’t love.
And she couldn’t let him get away with saying it had been only kissing. “Are you telling me all that kissing meant nothing?”
He looked back to her. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
Oh, that had come too easily. She’d asked the wrong question. “You didn’t enjoy it, then? Not at all?”
He hadn’t an answer for that, which didn’t surprise her. He’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t enjoyed himself.
“Tell me, Griffin,” she drawled, rather amused by his increasing discomfort, “would you approve of a gentleman kissing Corinna for half an hour if he had no intention of marrying her?”
He couldn’t say that without lying, either, of course. To his credit, he didn’t. “No, I wouldn’t approve. But she’s my sister.”
“Well, I think I deserve the same respect as your sister.” Rising from the sofa, she reached for her reticule. “So unless you change your mind and declare your intentions, I trust you won’t ever kiss me again.”
She wanted him to kiss her again, of course. But she wasn’t worried she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Another of Griffin’s flaws was resisting change, but he’d come around eventually.
She’d lay odds he’d be kissing her inside of a week.
He jumped out of her way as she headed for the door. Reaching it, she placed her hand on the knob and glanced over her shoulder. “Will you be attending Lady Hammersmithe’s ball tomorrow night?”
“I’m planning to bring Corinna.”
She licked her lips, suppressing a smile when his eyes widened. “I’ll see you there, then,” she practically purred as she opened the door and waltzed out.
FIFTY-FOUR
The atmosphere in Hampstead was very thick that Friday evening. So thick it seemed an effort to breathe. Just drawing air in and out of his lungs seemed to take everything Sean had.
Sitting opposite Deirdre in his dining room, he set down his knife and fork with a sigh. “I’m not hungry.” He’d scarcely eaten in three days, but he wasn’t hungry.
His sister knew what he’d lost. When he’d asked her where he could find the claddagh necklace, she hadn’t asked why. “It’s sorry I am for you, Sean,” she said quietly, her eyes full of sympathy.
He didn’t want sympathy—he wanted the calendar flipped back to April, to before he’d received that blasted letter from Hamilton. Shifting his gaze away, he stared at a blue wall. “I’m not the one who has to go back to a husband I despise.”
“At least the man I love isn’t forbidden to me forever, as Corinna is to you. I’ll give John a son and then I’ll move in with Daniel.”
Skeptical, he looked back to her. “You’d leave your child?”
Her chin in the air was so familiar. “Rather than stay with John, yes.”
“If you say so,” he murmured. But he knew she wouldn’t. Once she had a son or a daughter, she’d change her mind. Hamilton would banish Deirdre and their offspring to the countryside, and she’d live there, bored out of her mind, for the rest of her life.
And even should she find the will to leave her ch
ild, would Daniel Raleigh wait a year or two or more while she made a son with Hamilton?
He doubted that as well.
“Two letters, sir.” A footman walked in, holding them out. “One for you and one for the lady.”
With its large red seal, Sean’s letter looked important. As the servant left, he cracked the wax and unfolded the paper.
“Who is it from?” Deirdre asked.
“A solicitor on Queen Street in Cheapside. A Mr. Peregrine Peabody. He’s wishing to meet with me Monday at noon.”
“Regarding what?”
“He doesn’t say.” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “I assume I will finally learn who’s been poking around in my business, and what he’s managed to trump up to ruin me or put me in prison. And what it’s going to take to prove him wrong.” He glanced at the folded paper Deirdre held, recognizing the scrawl on the outside as the same on the blasted letter he’d received back in April. “What does your husband want now? His uncle isn’t in the grave even a full day. Is the weasel forcing you back to his house already?”
She broke the seal and scanned it. “He isn’t, no. Not yet. He says I’m to attend the reading of the late Lord Lincolnshire’s will on Monday. He’s sending a carriage to fetch me at eleven o’clock.”
“Where is the reading being held?”
“John doesn’t say. Just that the carriage will come in the morning.” She glanced up from the paper, looking nervous. “Remember that ball Lord Lincolnshire took us to? What if someone who was there recognizes me as the woman introduced as your wife?”
Sean reached to lay his hand over hers on the table. “I don’t expect the Billingsgates’ guests will be at the reading, Deirdre. It will likely be just you and Hamilton and that lawyer named Lawless.”
“I’m not sure that lawyer ever got a good look at me. We were never formally introduced.”
“You’ve nothing to worry yourself about, then.” He patted her hand. “Even if Lawless recalls seeing you at Lincolnshire House, you are Hamilton’s wife. Lincolnshire’s niece by marriage. It’s not unbelievable you’d be at the man’s deathbed.”
“That’s right.” He saw her relax a little. “I wish you could come with me, though.”
“I wish I could, too,” he said dryly. “I also wasn’t formally introduced, but I’ve no doubt Lawless saw me. And if he doesn’t remember me, I’m certain Hamilton would be happy to remind him. And in any case, I cannot go with you because I’ll be busy Monday at that time.”
Feeling yet more incapable of breathing than earlier, he heaved another sigh. The atmosphere seemed to be getting even thicker.
“The way my luck has been going lately,” he added grimly, “I’ll probably be busy getting arrested.”
When Rachael and her siblings returned home from the reception at Lincolnshire House, their butler handed a folded paper to her brother. “A letter, my lord.”
With its large red seal, it looked important. “What does it say?” Rachael asked as the butler closed the door.
Pausing in the foyer, Noah raised the letter to his forehead. “Hmm. I’m getting a vision. I think it says—”
“Noah.” She whacked him with her reticule, feeling giddy. She was in love, and she was going to get married. Griffin was going to be kissing her inside of a week. Maybe tomorrow night. “Open it, you fool.”
“If you insist.” He broke the seal and scanned down the page. “It’s from a solicitor in Cheapside, Mr. Lawrence Lawless. He wants us to attend the reading of Lord Lincolnshire’s will Monday at noon.”
“Us?” Elizabeth slid off her pelisse. “What do you mean by us?”
“All of us.” Shrugging, Noah looked up. “It’s addressed to all four of us.”
FIFTY-FIVE
“You’re late,” Juliana said when Griffin arrived at Lady Hammersmithe’s ball Saturday night.
“Fashionably late,” he corrected, spotting Rachael talking to her sisters. She was wearing another clingy dress, a sapphire blue one with tiny sleeves that left most of her arms bare.
“Where’s Corinna?”
“Still in the doldrums.” He looked back to Juliana. “You can blame her for making me fashionable. She refused to leave the house.”
“Yet you came anyway,” she said, appearing speculative. “Why is that?”
He wasn’t about to tell her he’d come to see Rachael. Juliana meddled enough without his encouragement. “Am I not allowed to socialize without an agenda?” Since she looked even more speculative, he changed the subject. “I expect tonight’s buzz is still all about yesterday’s revelations?”
“Mr. Delaney, you mean? Actually, no. The gossip tonight is about how everyone’s been invited to the reading of Lord Lincolnshire’s will on Monday.”
“Everyone?”
“When James and I arrived home last night, there was a letter waiting. Alexandra and Tristan got one, too. As did every other household in Mayfair, if one can believe the talk.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“The reading is going to be a shocking squeeze.” Juliana sounded thrilled at the prospect. “Lord Lincolnshire cannot have left bequests to everyone, so I wonder what could be the reason.”
“You’ll know soon enough.” He looked over toward Rachael, only to find she was gone. “Have you seen Noah or any of his sisters?”
“Last I noticed, Rachael was talking to Claire and Elizabeth.” She glanced around. “Oh, Rachael’s dancing now. And Noah just walked into the refreshment room.” That speculative look came into her eyes again. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering if they received a letter, too,” he said casually. “I’ll go ask Noah.”
Leaving Juliana, he ambled toward the refreshment room—then went right past it. And around to the far side of the ballroom, where she couldn’t see him. He couldn’t care less whether his cousins had received a letter. But Rachael dancing…
Well, that was another matter altogether.
He shifted uneasily, watching the fellow Rachael was dancing with pull her closer, watching him run a hand slowly down the back of her clingy dress. When the music ended and she curtsied to the son of a gun, Griffin moved quickly to block her path off the dance floor.
“What are you doing, Rachael?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing?”
“Why are you dancing?”
“I’m at a ball, if you haven’t noticed. What else should I be doing but dancing?”
“I don’t remember you dancing at a ball in the last two seasons, except with me. You told me you didn’t like men pawing you.”
“Well, I thought I didn’t, at the time.” Watching him, she licked her lips. “But a certain experience last night changed my mind.”
“I didn’t paw you last night,” he protested, though he felt an urge to paw her now.
“Maybe I wanted you to paw me,” she suggested. “Maybe it crossed my mind that might have been enjoyable.”
Clenching his jaw, he looked away. Blast it, she’d accused him of disrespecting her and all he’d done was kiss her for half an hour. After she’d asked. Now he wasn’t allowed to kiss her again unless he proposed first, but it was all right if another man pawed her?
In the distance, Juliana caught his eye. Standing in a clutch of jabbering chatterboxes, she glanced between him and Rachael and raised a speculative eyebrow.
“Instead of dancing,” he gritted out, “why don’t you just gossip like every other girl?”
Rachael followed his gaze. “I’m not Juliana, if you haven’t noticed.”
Now, that he’d noticed. He’d never once been tempted to kiss his sister for half an hour.
“I prefer dancing to gossiping,” Rachael informed him archly. “Especially now, since I’m looking for a husband.”
“You’re doing what?”
“You heard me. Since you don’t want to marry me, I’ve decided to find someone who’s ready to make me his wife.” The lips he’d kissed last ni
ght curved into a satisfied smile. “Stop gaping, Griffin. You look better with your mouth closed. Not that I care what you look like anymore,” she added, and sailed off.
Three minutes later Griffin was still standing there, and Rachael was dancing with another man. Another son of a gun. This one seemed to be whispering secrets in her ear.
Ten minutes later, another son of a gun was holding her too close.
Ten minutes after that, another another son of a gun was making her laugh. Had Griffin ever made her laugh? With him, that was, not at him?
When she came off the dance floor for the third time, he pulled her aside again. “Why all of a sudden do you want to get married?”
“I’m twenty-one years old, Griffin, and I wasted two seasons chasing down my father. I’ll be on the shelf if I don’t marry soon. That’s what decided me.”
“You don’t just decide to find a husband, Rachael.”
“Odd statement, coming from you. Is that not what you’ve decided for Corinna?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m thinking it would be better to wait until she falls in love. I’d suggest you do the same yourself.”
“I have fallen in love,” she informed him. “But since it took twenty-one years to happen, I don’t think I can afford to wait for it to happen another time. Your mouth is open again,” she added before she turned in a swish of clingy skirts and walked away.
Not a minute later, she was dancing once more.
Griffin’s mouth remained open for quite a while.
She loved him? Hardly a word passed her lips that didn’t disparage him. And if she loved him, why the deuce was she dancing with yet another son of a gun? One with the gall to put a hand where it didn’t belong, no less? Just for a split second, but Griffin had seen it. He wanted to strangle the man.
Juliana sauntered by. “Close your mouth, Griffin,” she said as she passed, her voice filled with speculation. She turned to walk backward, a smug smile emerging as she studied him. “You look jealous,” she said before turning again and walking away.