by Jenna Jaxon
“You are fashionably late, Miss Covington.”
Marianne whirled toward the familiar voice behind her. “William! Don’t ever sneak up on me like that.” She darted her hand out to smack his arm then froze and jerked it back. He could continue to be as impossible and outrageous as ever, while she couldn’t berate him as she’d often done or these gentlemen would think her a harpy. Returning to her broad smile, she laughed and said, “You gave me such a fright.” Seizing his arm in a death grip, she continued in her sweetest voice, “Do take me to see that lovely view from the bow window. I’m so excited to be here at last.”
“Of course, Marianne. I would be delighted.” He bowed and whispered through gritted teeth, “If you will cease to grip my arm as though you were a crocodile from the wilds of Africa.”
“What do you know of the ‘wilds of Africa?’” She eased her hold a little as they arrived at the window panes and she pretended to be fascinated with the mostly dead garden.
“I do read on occasion, Marianne. You should try it as well. A good book can expand the mind marvelously.” He loosened her fingers and shot her an evil grin. “You do read, don’t you?”
“Wretch,” she breathed, and laughed in spite of herself. “You always make me laugh.” Will could ever be counted on for that. “Tell me, which one is the marquess?”
“The one standing by the fireplace, in buff and blue, speaking with Sir Michael Garland.”
“With the handsome face?” The marquess had turned slightly toward her so she now received the full effect of his straight nose, full lips, strong chin and jaw, and amazingly dark chestnut brown hair and brows. “You must introduce me this moment, William.” How had she never met this gentleman before? She’d certainly have remembered him. “Have you known him long?”
“We met several years ago at White’s. Good man. Plays cards well, rides like a demon, and dresses with exquisite taste, as you can see.” William nodded slightly toward the man in question, attired in an extremely well-cut, blue superfine coat with black velvet collar, buckskins, boots, and a blue striped waistcoat that set him apart from everyone else in the room.
“Why have I never seen him before?” Now she could scarcely take her gaze off the man.
“He’s intentionally not been on the marriage mart, he told me.”
Marianne stopped her perusal of the marquess and jerked her gaze back to William. “Then why for God’s sake—”
“He told me, however,” William raised an admonishing finger at her, “that he wished to change that status, especially after I mentioned you.”
“You mentioned me?” The hair on the back of her neck bristled, though she wasn’t quite sure if Will mentioning her name to the gentleman was necessarily a bad thing.
“Lord Tamworth asked if any of my sisters might be matrimonially inclined. I suppose I could’ve lied and said Eliza was still available.” His innocent tone and gaze didn’t fool her one iota. “But I daresay she’d be angry to hear that, as would her betrothed, Lord Fairmont.”
“Oh, be quiet, wretch. Come introduce me to him before I make a cake of myself by planting you a facer.” Marianne resumed her grip on his arm. “I told Mama there were several prospective gentlemen here I could consider. She was thrilled.”
“Far be it for me to deny you anything, Mari.” He tucked her arm in his and moved toward Lord Tamworth. “Besides, this introduction will put me that much farther from the mince pie.”
Marianne suppressed a giggle—Will abhorred the dish almost as much as she did cherry tarts. She shuddered and kept her mind on Lord Tamworth, who’d spotted them heading toward him and was gazing at her with avid interest. His dark brown eyes took her in from head to toe, a smile touching his lips. Heart beating a tattoo in her chest, she tried to remain calm. She’d been introduced to gentlemen for the past two years. Why should this time be any different?
“Well met, my lord.” William bowed, grinning like a fool. “Miss Covington, may I make the Marquess of Tamworth known to you? Lord Tamworth, this is my dearest friend, Miss Covington, who’s just joined the party with her parents, Lord and Lady Dalkey.”
“How do you do, my lord?” Despite the fluttering in her stomach, Marianne curtsied and smiled into the handsome face.
“I am much the better for making your acquaintance, Miss Covington.”
The rich baritone of his voice did nothing to dispel her tremblings, so she gripped William’s arm tighter and cast about for something of consequence to say. “Mr. Stanley has told me you enjoy the hunt exceedingly. I’m always disappointed when ladies are not able to participate, but I understand Lord Hawkenberry is rather adamant that they not join the gentlemen.”
Lord Tamworth’s smile widened as he raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? You would join us if you could? I’ve found few young ladies so disposed. Most of my acquaintance think it terribly boring.”
“I think you’ll find Miss Covington is made of sterner stuff, Tamworth.” Will gazed fondly at her. “She’s a spirited lady who never backs down from a challenge.”
Somehow, Will’s warm praise brought heat to her cheeks. He’d never spoken so of her before. They’d always teased one another terribly, so she’d come to think he found her more of a nuisance than anything else.
“Will you be riding out to the start of the hunt at least?”
“I would not miss it, my lord.” Marianne raised her chin. “Would that I could do more.”
His lordship shot William a searching look then turned back to her. “Perhaps I know of another way to challenge you, Miss Covington. I’m assured by Lady Hawkenberry that we are to have dancing tonight. Therefore, I insist on being the first to stand up with you.” Lord Tamworth’s deep voice and frank gaze sent a new thrill down her back.
“I would be delighted, my lord.” Delight did not begin to describe her happiness at this auspicious beginning. She beamed up at her friend, gratitude in her heart. Will apparently had a talent for matchmaking she’d never have suspected.
“Splendid.” Lord Tamworth’s dark eyes snapped with excitement. “This hunt may be the most rewarding one I’ve attended in some time.”
It would certainly be rewarding if Marianne had anything to do with it.
“I believe you are correct, my lord.” William beamed at them both, apparently convinced he would not be eating mince pie this Christmas.
CHAPTER 3
“You are a splendid partner, Miss Covington.” Lord Tamworth bowed and Marianne curtsied as they finished the Scotch reel that had begun the dancing after dinner.
“Thank you, my lord. Although I had a time of it trying to keep up with you.” Marianne laughed gently. His lordship had danced quite spritely, if not quite following all the steps correctly. Still, he’d made an excellent partner. Perhaps they could stand up again later in the evening.
“Are you engaged for the next dance?”
Marianne shook out her fan and plied it frantically to cool her cheeks. If they danced twice together in a row, it would certainly make eyebrows rise among the company, not the least of which would be her mother’s. Although it might indicate Lord Tamworth’s interest in her, she did not want to become an object of gossip. However, neither did she wish to lie to the gentleman. “No, I do not have a partner for the second set, however that was by design.”
“Design?” He peered at her, a slight twitch in his left eye.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath and improvised wildly. “When I discovered the first set included a reel, I decided not to engage in the second set in order to have time to catch my breath. Such lively dances always leave me breathless.” That was true enough. She was panting now, though more from the intense stare of her partner than from the dance. “Do please forgive my little subterfuge.”
A smile split his face as he tucked her arm in his and led her from the floor. “Of course, my dear. Perhaps we can partner later in the evening. Would you like some air instead to cool your cheeks? Although they may be a lovely shade of pink at
the moment, I suspect it indicates you are a trifle too warm.”
Before she could protest, he’d steered her through the crowd to the French windows that overlooked a dark garden. He pushed one door open, and the crisp December air bit her face. An uncontrollable shiver raced down her body and not just from the cold. She was alone with a man she knew not at all and, thrilling though it was, she didn’t want him to compromise her. At least not until she got to know him better.
“Much better,” he said, his arm relaxing beneath her fingers. “However, we shouldn’t tarry too long. I mustn’t make an on-dit of us until we wish it.”
That sounded both encouraging and alarming. Had Lord Tamworth made up his mind already to speak to Papa? Upon such short acquaintance? Of course, such things were done all the time, but still, she needed to make certain he was the gentleman for whom she’d been waiting. “I daresay you are correct.” She tried to smile, but a chill had settled into her, and she rubbed a hand down her arm to warm it. “Perhaps we had better return now before anyone marks our absence.”
“I do have a question before we go.”
A little gasp escaped Marianne’s lips. If he was going to propose now, she would have to say no. The thrill of it, however, made every hair on her neck stand up. “You do, my lord?”
“Yes, about the hunt tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Disappointed, though not sure why, Marianne smiled up at him nevertheless. “What about the hunt?”
“You do plan to ride out to the starting point?” He released her arm and grasped her hands.
“Why, yes. I’ve always ridden out when I cannot actually join in.” Bitterness had crept into her voice, as it always did when speaking of the missed opportunities to hunt.
“Excellent, for I have a notion that the hunt will not be nearly as interesting as riding with you would be.” The eagerness on his face made her heartbeat quicken.
“You wish to forego the hunt and instead ride with me?” How absolutely flattering. She beamed up at Lord Tamworth, new interest growing.
“I am afraid of offending Lord Hawkenberry if I eschew the hunt completely.” He gripped her hands harder. “However, I propose to break off from the other hunters about halfway through the course. I’ve hunted here several times before and I know a particular field we should reach mid-morning where I can leave without being remarked upon. Then I’ll circle back and meet you and we can enjoy a splendid ride on a brilliant day.”
“What a marvelous idea.” It really did seem as though Lord Tamworth was a fair way to being smitten with her. She gazed into the handsome face and a rush of warmth filled her chest. “I do love to ride in the morning, but thought I’d be prevented because of the hunt.”
“The path you would take is in quite the opposite direction the gentlemen will ride. You likely won’t see a soul.”
“That sounds absolutely perfect.” She squeezed his hands in return. “Which way should I ride after the hunters are away?”
“Follow the pack down the avenue between the trees until you get to a fork then strike out onto the path on your right. This will take you to a fallow field. Ride straight across it and wait for me at the tree line. Then we can continue together.” A shaft of moonlight lit up his face, revealing the eagerness in his eyes.
A like eagerness filled her as well. “I’ll be there. I won’t disappoint you.”
He offered his arm and they’d started for the doorway when he murmured, “I’m sure you won’t.”
* * * *
William leaned over in his saddle and grasped a stirrup cup from a passing footman. The sweet sherry brightened the overcast day, though there was definitely a feeling of snow in the air. His usual excitement for the hunt was tempered by his restlessness over Marianne’s almost instant attraction to Lord Tamworth. They’d slipped out of the drawing room last night and when they’d returned, her cheeks had been pinker than usual, and she’d smiled and laughed much more gaily than before. Of course, that attraction had been his aim in introducing them, so why it should instill an unease in him was puzzling. He drained the cup and handed it back. This whole affair would have him mad before he could see it through.
A peal of high-pitched laughter to his left snapped his attention in that direction. Marianne, in a bold, deep red riding habit, sat atop her horse, chatting and shamelessly flirting with Lord Tamworth.
The hairs on the nape of his neck rose. What did she think she was doing? He should jog over there and put a stop to such brazen behavior. About to tap his heel into the horse’s flank, Will paused and sighed. Marianne was doing exactly what she needed to do to bring Tamworth up to scratch. Obviously, his choice had been a sound one and she was pursuing the marquess with all her might. He must stop clucking over her like a mother hen with one chick.
Now impatient to be on the move, he urged his horse, Mars, toward his place behind the Master of the Hounds. He needed to fix his attention on this hunt, not on his friend and her prey.
The hounds were milling about, eager to be off as signaled by the growing yips and yaps that rose from the pack. Suddenly, at what signal Will couldn’t tell, the huntsman blew a blast from the hunting horn and the pack moved forward at a fast trot. As the other riders followed suit, William found himself slowing instead of keeping up with the hunt, peering about for Marianne. Of course, she might’ve already headed back to the house, in which case he could heave a relieved sigh and enjoy the hunt. The field moved quickly down the wide avenue between towering trees—gaunt spires at this time of the year. As the gentlemen reached the turning at the end of the avenue, a lone rider turned right instead.
Will stood up in his stirrups, peering at the figure, dressed in red. It had to be Marianne. But where was her groom? She knew better than to ride out without an escort. He shook his head. Headstrong woman. Always had been. Perhaps that was part of why he’d always enjoyed her company. Spirited to the point of recklessness, unlike his sisters, who were very conventional. And now all married or just about. But not Marianne. Had her nature worked against her finding a husband? Until now. Tamworth certainly seemed taken with her.
Will sighed. He’d done his job well and efficiently. Then why the devil did he feel so melancholy? He should be rejoicing that Marianne had found the gentleman who could make her happy. She deserved happiness, didn’t she?
Giving himself a shake, Will gazed about, and found himself quite alone. The field had moved on without him. He touched Mars’s flank and they shot forward to catch the rest of the hunters. In moments, he’d turned left and hurried the horse into the grassy field, jumped a brook, and caught up to the rest, picking their way through a thicket. He pulled his horse up behind Lord Hawkenberry, who seemed to be trailing everyone.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning, William. Grand day for the hunt, don’t you think?” Hawkenberry glanced about, a smile touching his lips.
“If we don’t get snow.” Will looked doubtfully at the sky.
“Ah, snow’s no worry. Adds a bit of edge to the proceedings is all. I’ve hunted in snow and rain, never put a foot wrong, eh, Chauncy?” He patted the arched neck of his tall bay. “We’ve hunted together in all weather. Don’t trouble your mind about it. A grand day it is indeed.”
The path widened, and William pulled up beside his host. “Have you seen Tamworth?” He needed to let go of this obsession with the man, but some niggling voice deep within told him to push on with it. “Is he at the head of the field?”
“I saw him just behind the Huntsman early on.” Hawkenberry raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Will shook his head. “I think I’m being rather tiresome about Marianne. I introduced Tamworth to her yesterday and I believe she’s set her cap for him. I’m on tenterhooks to see what comes of it.”
“Nothing can come of it, my boy.” Hawkenberry trotted forward to where the hunters were milling about, waiting for the Huntsman to resume the chase. “Tamworth’s betrothed.”
“Betrothed!” Will bell
owed the word then looked about sheepishly. Every eye had turned toward him. The Field Master glared hard at him then turned back to listen for the pack. “He never said a word to me about being betrothed. Are you certain, my lord?”
“He told me when I invited him to this hunt, over a month ago. He’d just returned from Italy, where he’s been for the past two years. After his unfortunate affair with Mrs. Reismann three years ago, and with his fortunes waning, he took himself off to the Continent to find a rich wife. A Signora di Fiorni, he told me, has filled the bill. She and her mother are due to arrive in England just after the new year so they may marry in his home parish at Tamworth.”
Dazed by this horrible news, Will gazed at his host, his thoughts spinning. Then why had Tamworth spoken as if he was still in want of a wife? Why show so much interest in Marianne? He swallowed convulsively. There was one very good reason to pretend to woo a young lady when a man was certain he could not be forced to marry her.
Abruptly standing up in his stirrups, Will searched the riders for sight of Tamworth. “Will you help me, my lord? I need to find Tamworth this instant.” And kill the wretch if he found him.
Startled, Lord Hawkenberry gave him a puzzled look, but also rose and peered at the crowd. “Dashed difficult to pick out one man when they’re all wearing either red or black.”
“I know. What horse is he on?”
“Oh, right. I believe he’s on my Thoroughbred, Hector. A reddish bay with four black stockings and one white forefoot.”
Will scanned the horses, but no such animal came into his sight. “I don’t see him. Do you, my lord?”
“No.” Lord Hawkenberry sat back on his horse. “What do you suspect?”
“The same as you, I’ll wager.” Sickened, Will sank into the saddle. “He’s with Marianne…” The image of the figure in the red riding habit breaking away to the right rose before him and his gut clenched. This was his own damned fault. “I’m riding back. I saw her turn right at the end of the avenue. Where does that path lead?”