Odd, that. Why wouldn’t he have answered the simple question? It hadn’t been an outlandish thing about which to inquire, after all. He continued across the hall until he entered the parlor. It was massive. It made his look like a closet. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase occupied one wall. A quick perusal of the titles confirmed a large number of classics, as well as several Conrad had never heard of.
Portraits lined the opposite wall, some of horses and dogs, others of people. Judging by several women with red hair, Conrad guessed them to be ancestors of Miss Talbot.
Would she do more than wish him a good evening? At other parties, that was usually the extent of others’ conversation with him. A deep sigh forced through his lips. Would things ever change? Could he ever change?
“Lord Lofton, so pleased you could attend.”
Conrad turned. The vision before him stood in an emerald green dress, which matched her eyes. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head with a few curly tendrils hanging down her neck and around her ears, invitingly. Of its own volition, his gaze lowered to her décolletage. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen quite that much exposed cleavage before.
He started to speak, changed his mind, and swallowed at the wrong instant. A tickle, deep and persistent, raced down his throat. The resulting cough hacked its way up and, unfortunately, out.
Miss Talbot rushed toward him. “Oh dear. Are you unwell, Lord Lofton?”
Another cough sputtered out. “I…” With the third cough he feared losing a vital organ.
Miss Talbot grabbed his arm and tugged him across the room. “Here, let me help you to sit down.”
He plopped on the soft settee and covered his mouth. Why now? Why of all times, in front of a beautiful woman did he have to look like a cow vomiting its cud? Footfalls padded across the rug to the other side of the room and back.
“Here, my lord.” She held a cup. Water. Saints be praised.
He eyed her briefly and blinked. Speaking was still out of the question. When she held the cup to his lips, he took a sip. Miss Talbot leaned in. Everything in him told him not to look down.
Too late. All of that cleavage was impossible to ignore. Smooth, pale skin beckoned for more than a look. Oh how he long to reach out and—
“Did that help?”
Seeing the tops of her breasts? Oh my, yes. A smile lit his lips as he continued to stare. When she took a breath, the objects of his fascination rose, temptingly higher. Surely they wouldn’t break free of her gown?
“Lord Lofton?”
He gasped, which brought on another cough.
She patted his back. “I was hoping the water would help.”
Conrad’s gaze met hers. Ah, she’d been asking if the water had helped, not her — Heat rose from his cravat and traveled up his neck, face and straight to his hairline. Surely he must have resembled a ripe strawberry.
One corner of her pink lips lifted. Was she amused by his reaction? Having sport with him at his expense? He glanced around the room and to the open doorway. At least none of the other guests had been witness to any of that. It was bad enough that she—
“You’ve regained some color, Lord Lofton.” She leaned away but did not move over on the settee. Was she this friendly with all of her male visitors?
His cravat suddenly tight, he gave it a good tug. “Y-yes. Uh, thank you…” His gaze flicked down her dress and back to her eyes. “For the water.”
“Certainly.” Her long fingers smoothed the fabric of the green gown over her impossibly long legs.
What an excruciatingly awful visit they were having. Yes, a few pleasantries had been exchanged in the past, but this was the first time it was more. More conversation, if he included the hacking fit. Actual physical contact when her fingers had grazed his chin as she held the water to his lips. And the heat emanating from her closeness nearly had him tied in knots.
Tied in knots? A vision of him tied to the settee and Miss Talbot raining kisses all over his face and neck… Oh my.
She clasped her hands together on her lap. “I’m so very pleased you agreed to my invitation this evening.”
“Yes. T-thank you… for the…for the… invitation.” What was wrong with him? He sounded like an imbecile.
Miss Talbot smiled and wrapped her finger around one long curl of her red hair. The scent of lavender floated toward Conrad.
“Ah…” The same as from the note she’d sent him. His eyes drifted half closed and he inhaled deeply.
With one eyebrow raised, Miss Talbot angled her head. “Do you like lavender, Lord Lofton?”
Conrad widened his eyes. I uttered that out loud? This evening was quickly sliding downhill. He swallowed, praying it wouldn’t induce further coughing. “Quite. Lovely. Nice. Uh… yes.”
“I used it especially for you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You see, Lord Lofton, I’ve often thought you and I should become better acquainted.”
“You have?”
“Oh certainly. I think we would find that we have much in common.”
“You do?”
She nodded. Dim light from a nearby candle reflected from shiny gold combs, which held her hair away from her face.
Steps sounded in the hallway. Someone cleared their throat. “Pardon me, Miss Talbot.”
Conrad whipped his gaze from her and turned toward the voice. A maid stood, staring. At him. He opened his eyes even further. Oh good heavens! He’d been sitting there with Miss Talbot on the settee. Without a chaperone. His haste in moving away from her nearly planted him on the floor.
“Yes, Annie?” Miss Talbot frowned. Was she annoyed at the interruption? She certainly didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught in the current situation.
“The refreshments are ready, miss. Shall I have them served in the dining area, or…” She limply waved her hand about the room. Her face colored up.
“In here, Annie.”
With a quick curtsey, Annie nodded. “As you wish, miss.”
Conrad waited for the maid to do Miss Talbot’s bidding and fetch a cart. Instead, she stayed planted where she stood in the doorway and waved her arm at someone who must have been out in the hallway. She nodded to the person and back toward them.
Miss Talbot sighed. “Thank you, Annie.”
“Certainly, miss.”
A mutter came from just under Miss Talbot’s breath but not quite low enough to cover all the words. Conrad was certain he’d heard something about her parents’ maid being a spy.
“Shall we?” Miss Talbot inclined her head toward a butler who pushed said cart into the room.
Weren’t they going to wait for the other guests? Conrad stood when she did. Something was off. The invitation had read eight o’clock. Conrad peered around the room until he located a clock sitting against a far wall. It was now eight-fifteen. Had he been the only guest to arrive on time?
How gauche that the others were late. His gaze trailed to the butler uncovering plates of strawberries and cheese on a tray. Why wasn’t Miss Talbot instructing him to wait until the other guests arrived?
She fixed a plate filled with huge, ripe strawberries, large chunks of yellow cheese, and… Conrad squinted as he watched her scoop a spoonful of something white from a bowl. With a plop, it landed on the plate. Was that… cream?
Something tugged at his arm. “Come along, Lord Lofton.”
She’d only fixed one plate. “But aren’t you going to…?”
Another tugged caused him to stumble.
She glanced up at him, although not very far. For a woman she was quite tall. “Oh please forgive me. I didn’t intend for you to lose your balance.”
Something strange was going on. But as to what, he hadn’t a clue. Belatedly, he nodded.
A few more steps across the room and they were back where they’d started, at the settee. She placed the plate on a table to her left and seated herself. As she once again smoothed her skirts over her knees, he found that he simply couldn’t look away. When
she tugged on the neckline of her dress, down, not up, it was nearly his undoing.
“Have a seat.” She patted the cushion next to her.
As if in a trance, Conrad sat. This by far had to be the strangest evening he’d ever encountered. A glance at the corner assured him that the maid hadn’t left them alone again. Good. Perhaps he could relax a little. If Miss Talbot would only stop fussing with her clothing.
He moved away from her a few inches, for propriety’s sake. “Miss Talbot?”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps we should wait for the other guests to arrive.”
A smile lifted both corners of her plump lips. “There aren’t any other guests, silly.”
“There aren’t? But your invitation said—”
“It said a small gathering, did it not?”
“Well, I…”
“Two is small, I believe, my lord.”
He opened his mouth then quickly snapped it shut. She had a point there. “May I ask—?”
“You, my dear, may ask me anything.”
My dear? His throat tickled again. Not now. No more coughing, please. “Uh… why am I the only guest?”
“I wanted us to become better acquainted.”
“Please don’t think me rude, Miss Talbot, but may I ask why?”
She sighed. “I thought I was making that perfectly clear.”
“I’m afraid not.”
She leaned closer. So close that her minty breath warmed his cheek. “I am in need of a husband.”
Conrad shot up from his seat. “A husband? I… That is… we… can’t…”
“Of course we can.” She yanked on his hand until he sat down again.
“No, Miss Talbot. I’m not sure why you have an idea that I am in the market for a wife, but—”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Isn’t every man?”
“Not this man. I cannot… afford… I couldn’t support…”
“Don’t be silly, Lord Lofton. Everyone knows how wealthy you are. And that you only desire the best of everything.”
He stood again. “Listen, I really must be going. Apparently there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. Are you fond of the drink, perhaps? In the future, maybe it would be best not to imbibe prior to entertaining guests. Or guest, as it were.”
She reached out and grabbed his arm. This time he did stumble. Nearly landed in her lap. Indignation coursed through him. How dare she? He was an earl.
Miss Talbot edged very close and grasped his chin in her fingers. He tried to pull away as she turned his head to the side. What was the woman doing? Was she mad?
Her warm breath tickled his ear as she whispered, her voice so low he had to strain to hear. “I know something about you which you would want no one else to learn.”
Conrad’s heart pounded. What did she mean? Surely she couldn’t know about—
“Let’s just say I’ve come upon the knowledge that you are not who you claim to be.”
No… it can’t be…
She shook her head. “I tried to do this the easy way. I really did. Why couldn’t you have succumbed to a woman’s charms like any other man? I have no desire to resort to unpleasantness.”
He struggled against her, but she tightened her grasp. Why? Why is she doing this?
“You are not really Lord Lofton. You are an illegitimate imposter. I’m sure you’d do almost anything to keep that information a secret.” She turned his face toward her and stared into his eyes. “And that, my good man, is why you’re going to marry me.”
Conrad had a faint awareness of the maid gasping as Miss Talbot firmly planted her lips on his.
Chapter Five
Conrad stood on the Shipley’s doorstep. Perspiration dotted his upper lip even though the day was cool. If only his stomach would calm. Surely a flock of flighty birds couldn’t be any more active.
He closed his eyes and swallowed. Birds. Why did I have to think of those?
The doorknob turned, which grabbed Conrad’s attention. All right, take a fortifying breath. And pray very hard that Oliver is in a generous, forgiving spirit today.
A butler stood in the now open door. “Good day, sir. Who may I say is calling?”
Conrad nervously flexed his gloved hands at his sides. “Lord Lofton to see Mr. Shipley. I’m expected.”
“Very good, my lord.” The butler stepped aside for Conrad to enter. Opulence abounded from every corner. Conrad’s home was large and quite nice, but he hadn’t the money to update anything. Hadn’t in years. Compared to this, his seemed shabby and sad.
Sad. Which describes me today, unfortunately.
“May I take your hat, my lord?”
“I… no. I’m fine.”
The butler blinked. “Please follow me, Lord Lofton. Mr. Shipley is waiting in his study.”
Conrad nodded, suddenly too nervous to even speak. If I can’t say something to the butler, how will I plead my case to Oliver?
Their footsteps echoed as they took the gleaming wood-floored hallway to the last room on the left. Conrad waited until the butler opened the door and stepped aside.
“Thank you.” Thank heaven his mother wasn’t here to scold him or thwack his shoulder again. He stepped inside.
“Very good, sir.” The door closed behind him, but Conrad didn’t turn to look. No, he was riveted in place by the stare of the man who occupied the chair behind the monstrous desk.
Oliver Shipley.
Oliver stood but didn’t make a move beyond that. No nod. No hand stretched out to Conrad. No words.
Did I expect anything else? I don’t even deserve to be standing in his house. Conrad gulped. It would be up to him to make the first move. He removed his hat and stepped into the room. “Good day, Mr. Shipley. I trust you are well.”
Oliver crossed his arms. “Cut out the small talk, Lofton. Just say what you feel you need to and then leave me in peace.”
A slap to the face could not have stung more. “I deserve your ire. Every bit of it.”
“So we agree on something. At last.”
His feet felt as heavy as boulders, but Conrad forced himself to take another step. “First of all, I want to apologize for my past behavior.”
Oliver sputtered a laugh. “You? Apologize? I didn’t think you even knew the word.”
Conrad briefly closed his eyes. This was going to be even more difficult than he’d imagined. “While it’s true that in the past, I rarely — all right, I never apologized. To anyone. I didn’t see the need.”
“Pretty much as I remember.”
“Now, however, I’ve had a change of heart.”
Oliver held up a hand, palm out toward Conrad. “What do you want, Lofton? Because I know you didn’t come here simply to apologize. And at any rate, I’m not the only one who deserves your apology.”
Lucy.
Heat rose to Conrad’s face. At least now he might have some color instead of his usual pale appearance. “You’re right. I owe her an apology as well. For so many things.” Tears burned the backs of his eyes and he blinked them away.
Oliver lowered his eyebrows. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
Papers rustled on the desk as Oliver brushed against them. He rounded the desk and stopped, as if he didn’t know what to do or say next.
“I was… hoping you might have a few moments to… hear me out.” Relief swept over Conrad when Oliver indicated a grouping of chairs across the room.
“Please, Lofton, have a seat.”
A wave of gratitude washed over him. Conrad stepped toward a wooden chair with no cushion.
Oliver stepped forward as well. “Wouldn’t you rather sit on one of the more comfortable chairs?”
“I don’t deserve to even be here. I certainly don’t deserve to be comfortable.”
Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “My word, man. You really are serious about making a change, aren’t you?”
The chair was indeed uncomfortable. “Very serious. I ju
st wish I’d done it a long time ago. Or that I’d never…” Grief flowed through him. He shuddered.
“Say, are you unwell? I could get you something to—”
“No. I must speak to you about something of great importance. Then I will leave you in peace, as you requested.”
“Listen, about that, I…”
“No, you were right. I had that coming. And much more. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Oliver sat forward with his forearms on his thighs. “You seem distraught, Lofton. Something must really be off for you to come and see me.”
“Off. Yes. I’m afraid so.” Conrad glanced down at the floor.
“Then please… say what you need to.”
How did one go about asking a former enemy for help? Conrad’s gaze rose to meet Oliver’s. No malice was present. Only curiosity. And possibly… concern.
“There’s obviously something weighing on you. Perhaps if you just said it… got it out in the open, we could discuss whatever it is.”
How to begin? “Yes. That’s the only way I’ll be able to…” Time to open himself up to possible ridicule and refusal. Both of which Oliver had every right to dish out. “All right then, I’ll just say it.”
A tiny bit of confidence returned when he saw that Oliver was still there. Was still listening. “When I was trying to court Lucy, it wasn’t… exactly my idea.”
A crease formed on Oliver’s brow. “I don’t understand. You pursued her for years.”
“Yes, that’s true. But the purpose behind that pursuance came from someone else.”
“And who would that someone be?”
“Lady Lofton.”
“Your mother?”
He nodded.
“So you’re trying to tell me that your mother was the one who wanted you to marry Lucy for her inheritance?”
“Yes. That’s it exactly.”
“But why? When you’re well off in your own right.”
“Therein lies the problem, I’m afraid. My… father had a bit… no, more than a bit, of a gambling problem.”
“I see.”
“So bad, that at one point we very nearly had to vacate our home.”
“That is bad, Lofton.”
The Unwanted Earl (The Love Bird Series) Page 4