A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4)

by Meara Platt

  He grinned at his grandmother, wanting to reach over and plant a kiss on her lightly wrinkled cheek. The woman was subtly brilliant and understood precisely the effect that his rejection would have on Laurel. The girl, her protective hackles raised liked a mother bear protecting her cubs, was now seated beside him and glowering at everyone else.

  “Did you expect these young lambs to flock to me, Laurel?” he said quietly so that only she would hear.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re handsome as sin and you’ll be a wealthy baron if one of them marries you by Midsummer.”

  “They don’t see me as you do.” He nodded to George as he joined their private conversation. “I was just telling your niece that these families can aim higher for their daughters. They don’t need to waste their efforts on a Scottish baron with a broken leg when their daughters have already attracted the attention of English dukes, earls, and viscounts.”

  George readily agreed. “Perhaps Laurel can introduce you to some of her own friends when you join us for supper tomorrow night. I must warn you, the twins will be entertaining us with their musical talents. Dillie’s quite talented, actually. She plays the pianoforte and sings beautifully. Lily butchers the harp, evoking sounds out of that instrument that should not exist on this earth.”

  Laurel grinned. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  Graelem emitted a genial laugh. “I look forward to it. I’ll bring cotton to stuff in my ears.”

  Laurel joined in with a merry chuckle. “Oh, you needn’t go to the bother. We provide it to all our guests.”

  The party ended by late afternoon, none too soon for Graelem. His leg was throbbing and painful, and although he’d enjoyed having Laurel and her indignantly heaving breasts by his side, he was eager to remove his waistcoat and cravat and elevate his leg.

  He escorted his grandmother to the front door to say their farewells to their departing guests, eager to be rid of them. However, the young ladies who had looked down their noses at him throughout the dull affair were not quite finished with him yet. Lady Jane brushed her breasts—unsavory, wrinkled plums compared to Laurel’s—against his arm and whispered in his ear. “Lady Ansell’s ball.”

  Blessed Scottish saints.

  She was seeking an assignation. He wasn’t good enough to marry her, just run his hands up her thighs, push up her gown and—

  Miss Dora approached him. She angled herself to hide her actions from the others while she brazenly stroked his manhood. “Lady Ansell’s ball.”

  Hellfire!

  The touch of Dora’s hand sliding up his member ought to have excited him, but he felt nothing for the girl other than mild disgust.

  Lady Katherine, to his relief, snubbed him. Or so he thought, but as he bent over her hand to convey insincere pleasantries, she whispered in his ear. “Lady Ansell’s ball.”

  Bloody hell, her too?

  When George joined them on the front stairs and began a conversation with his grandmother, Graelem took the opportunity to step back into the parlor. He ran a hand roughly across the nape of his neck and was about to let loose with a string of curses when he felt someone standing behind him. He turned to face the intruder and noticed Laurel staring at him. She looked stricken. “I saw them all.”

  Damnation, she’d witnessed everything. “What did you expect? I’m not husband material, but apparently I’m prime stud.”

  “But they snubbed you throughout the visit.”

  “So? Do you find their behavior offensive and hypocritical?” He laughed bitterly. “They aren’t interested in talking to me. What did you expect, Laurel?”

  She shook her head and lowered her gaze. “I don’t know,” she said in a ragged whisper, “just not this. Are you angry with me? This was my idea.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin. “No, lass. Even I was surprised by their actions. Seems none of them are quite the sweet innocents their families believe them to be. The sooner they’re married off, the better. There are men who’ll gladly shackle themselves to the daughters of these good families, and other men who’ll gladly, er… service them after they provide their husbands an heir and spare. I doubt any of those lovelies will be faithful to their spouses.”

  “Will you go to Lady Ansell’s ball?”

  He let out a groaning laugh. “No, unless you’ll promise to stay by my side all evening to protect me.” He ran his thumb along her jaw. “It wouldn’t be much fun for you. I can’t dance in my present condition. Never was much of a dancer anyway. Thank you for your concern, lass. It was misguided and unnecessary, but I enjoyed having you near me, caring for me.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “I seem to dig myself into a deeper hole every day.”

  “No, your heart is guiding you to me, but you’re resisting. I know that I haven’t made it easy for you to like me. Nor did I wish to like you, but I find that you grow more beautiful to me with each passing day. We started off badly. Do you think we can start afresh and try to make a go of it? What do you say, love?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips formed a perfect O as she considered his words. “You just complimented me. And why did you call me that?”

  “Love?” Hell. It had just slipped out. In truth, after her tender treatment of him during this interminable tea party, the endearment felt right. “I don’t know. You were wonderful to me, and although I’m an arrogant and stubborn wretch, I appreciated all that you did for me.”

  And I’m falling in love with you.

  “Well, you kept to your part of the bargain. I owe you my cooperation now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shrugged her shoulders and cast him a weak smile. “I’ve never been courted before.”

  His hand was still upon her cheek. “Then I had better make it memorable for you.”

  Chapter 10

  GRAELEM WASHED AND DRESSED, and then spent the morning hours dealing with the usual Moray affairs in the privacy of his bedchamber. As afternoon approached, he grabbed his crutches and was about to make his way downstairs to meet Laurel in the parlor, when she burst into his chamber without so much as an acknowledgment and rushed straight to his window. “Aha!” she cried, leaning precariously out of it. “I knew the twins were up to mischief!”

  “Lass, be careful!” Graelem limped after her and then set aside his crutches to grab her by the waist. “What in blazes are you doing?”

  “It’s what my sisters are doing that worries me.” He followed her gaze and saw the twins climbing up an oak tree in the Farthingale garden.

  Obviously, they were attempting to sneak into an upper bedchamber in the townhouse, using that tree as their arboreal ladder. He watched with amusement as they crawled along the sturdy branches in their prim gowns, gangly stockinged legs exposed up to their knees. One branch touched against the house and was within reach of an open window. “What are they carrying? It looks like a large, carved head of some sort.”

  He recognized Lily since she was wearing spectacles. Dillie, her partner in crime, clambered in through the window and then leaned out to help drag the enormous head inside. Laurel groaned. “Oh, dear. Lily read about an African fertility god discovered in the Upper Nile Valley. It’s presently on display at the Royal Society… rather, it was on display. Oh, dear,” she said again. “I’m not certain she has permission to take it.”

  “She must have.” Graelem laughed. “She couldn’t have smuggled it out, could she? That fertility god is too big to sneak out under her pelisse or in her reticule.”

  “Never underestimate Lily. She’s quite clever.”

  He and Laurel watched the twins a moment longer. Graelem ran a hand through his hair. “How did they get the blasted thing home without anyone noticing? Did they take a carriage? I didn’t hear one stopping in front of your townhouse. They couldn’t have dragged the statue through the streets of London. Or could they?”

  Laurel was still leaning precariously out the window, and he was still holding her by the waist to make ce
rtain she wouldn’t fall. She was soft and slender, and it took little effort on his part to keep her in his arms. No effort at all. Indeed, he already regretted the moment he would have to let her go.

  She turned in his arms to glance at him. “Lily knows just how to manage these things. No doubt Dillie created a diversion while she carried that hideous thing out. Perhaps in a wheelbarrow. Is it important? They’ve stolen it and will be forever branded as thieves if they’re caught. I had better go help them… I mean hide it for them… I mean, you know what I mean…”

  He didn’t. No matter. “I’ll help, too.”

  “You will?” Laurel’s eyes rounded in surprise. “And what will you do if we’re caught and have to make a run for it?” she asked with a gentle laugh.

  “I don’t know. I’ll count on Lily to think of something.”

  She eased back inside so that he no longer had reason to keep his hands on her. He cleared his throat and quickly reclaimed his crutches. Laurel was now studying him, looking confused. “You’d help my sisters?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Why? They’re obviously petty thieves.”

  “Because you love them and wish to protect them.” He returned her direct stare, not certain why protecting Laurel’s sisters suddenly seemed so important to him. But seeing her grief over her uncle’s probable capture made him realize that she felt things deeply. There was nothing halfway about Laurel.

  “Oh, that was well said.” Her heartfelt smile reached into her eyes, those sparkling blue-green orbs gleaming like soft, aquamarine starlight.

  She was making him realize how empty his life had been until now. Being tolerated by one’s relatives was not at all the same as being loved or accepted. Eloise was wonderful, of course, but he’d only spent a summer in his youth with her and his uncle, the Earl of Trent.

  At the time, he’d been too young to understand what made for a rewarding family life or a happy marriage. He was learning fast in the little time he’d spent with Laurel. “And I like the twins. They’re clever and lively, never boring. I’ve never cared for empty-headed geese.”

  “They like you, too.”

  He chuckled. “As I said, they’re brilliant and obviously have excellent taste… except for that monstrosity they just smuggled into your house. I also like their sister,” he teased, referring to her, “although she delights in pouring water over my head.”

  The delicate blush on Laurel’s cheeks turned into a crimson stain. “I’m sorry about that. You were defenseless and I allowed my frustration to get the better of me.”

  “Lass, I’m never defenseless.”

  “I suppose.” She smiled at him again, casually propping her shoulder against the window and crossing her arms over her chest. She wore a dove gray day gown that covered her up to her neck, but there was no hiding her splendid curves or the lushness of her breasts. “My parents will be furious when they realize what Lily has done.”

  “We’ll find a way to get that statue back to the Royal Society without anyone finding out. Eloise holds sway with the Duke of Lotheil. He’s the chairman of their board, and though he’s a dangerous man to cross, he has great respect for my grandmother. She’ll make certain the twins aren’t clapped in irons.”

  Laurel leaned her head back and let out a merry laugh, the first truly unrestrained moment of joy he’d seen in her. “Oh, my goodness! Can you imagine them locked away in the Tower? I’m sure it would take Lily all of five minutes to wriggle out of her chains, free Dillie, and then proceed to dismantle stone by stone this monument that’s stood for almost a thousand years.”

  He laughed along with her, feeling a contentment he’d never experienced before. In this moment, he realized Laurel meant so much more to him than securing the Moray inheritance. She was someone with whom he wanted to share his life. All of it. The joys and tears. The good times and bad.

  ‘Til death do us part.

  He knew what her sisters had advised. They’d told him to let her go, to release her from the betrothal. They’d assured him that she would come to him of her own accord. If only he could trust that she would. Even if she didn’t run straight to Devlin, she was smart and beautiful enough to catch the attention of a marquis or duke, and an English one at that.

  She had no need to settle on a cripple with little to offer but a Scottish title, so why would she ever choose him?

  No, he couldn’t let her go, not yet. He’d given her too many reasons to dislike him, but she was softening toward him, of that he was certain. Could she ever love him? Perhaps, in time. But Midsummer was looming and there remained one problem he couldn’t overcome in a few, short weeks.

  She still had too strong a bond with Devlin.

  * * *

  Laurel heard her mother’s shriek, and she knew that Lily’s fertility god had just been discovered by the poor woman who had a houseful of unruly relatives in residence for the season and a hundred guests about to descend on her for the Farthingale party in less than an hour.

  Since Laurel was already dressed and her hair was done up for their party, she hurried next door to the room shared by the twins. Her mother was fanning herself with the pair of evening gloves held in her hand and backing toward the door as though that scowling head were alive and threatening to eat her. “What is that thing? Never mind. Dear heaven, I don’t want to know! Just get it out of here now.”

  “But Mama, it has historical signifi—”

  “Lily, it’s hideous!” The bejeweled pins in her dark hair glistened as she shook her head in vehement dismay. Her usually rosy complexion now was as pale as the ash gray of her elegant silk gown. Laurel felt a pang of remorse. It was a wonder that she and her sisters hadn’t turned their mother’s hair completely white by now.

  “I don’t know how Dillie hasn’t had nightmares over it,” she continued, obviously distressed. “That thing belongs in the dustbin, not in your bedchamber.”

  Laurel placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder to calm her down. “Actually… it’s quite valuable. The Duke of Lotheil won’t be pleased to learn that it has been tossed out with the table scraps.”

  “What has he to do with any of this?” Her mother’s startled gaze moved from the twins to Laurel and back to settle on Lily.

  Lily cleared her throat. “Well, it could be that he owns this relic. It could be that he loaned it to the Royal Society for a featured display.” She cleared her throat again. “And it could be that it was shoved into the back of the display so that no one would notice when it suddenly disappeared.”

  “Oh, dear heavens!”

  Laurel thought her mother’s face couldn’t turn paler. She was wrong. Her cheeks were now as white as alabaster.

  “And it could be,” Dillie chimed in to defend her twin, unaware that the woman who had carried them in her womb and shown them nothing but love from the moment they’d entered this world was about to faint, “that it has legendary properties that are worth exploring, only those fossils at the Royal Society have no appreciation for its importance, and so it was up to us to—”

  “Don’t tell me you were involved in the theft?”

  Dillie glanced down at her toes. “Very well, I won’t tell you that… but I was.”

  Their mother began to shake, and Laurel suspected it was out of a mix of horror, frustration, and fear that her youngest daughters had turned into hardened criminals. “You needn’t worry.” Laurel tried to assure her by giving her still-shaking shoulders a light squeeze. “Lord Moray has agreed to help the girls. He’ll return it to its proper place without mention of their involvement.”

  “But how—” Dillie’s thought was interrupted by a nudge and an imperceptible shake of the head from her twin. “But how… kind of him to put himself out for us,” she said in a rush instead of asking her real question, how did he know they’d stolen the statue?

  To reveal the answer also meant revealing their escape route along the sturdy tree that stood just outside their bedchamber. That tree would b
e cut down by their father’s own hands this very evening in front of their hundred guests if he ever suspected.

  “You can thank Lord Moray when you see him shortly,” Laurel prompted, steering her mother out of the bedchamber and down the hall. “He’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is welcome our company and enjoy the party. You’ve outdone yourself this evening,” she continued as they walked downstairs and Laurel inspected the beautiful transformation of their home. “The house looks magical.”

  She meant it. The house was filled with flowers, shining crystal, and softest amber candlelight. A professional orchestra had been hired to provide music for those who wished to dance, and the tables in the dining room were bowing under the weight of the fish, game fowl, and ice carvings on display.

  The opulence and elegance was nothing to the feeling of warmth and welcome one immediately felt upon entering their home. Laurel was proud of her mother. No one threw a better party than Sophie Farthingale.

  Were it not for the fact that both Devlin and Graelem were expected to be in attendance, she would have looked forward to this soiree. She needed to speak to Devlin as soon as possible. Of course, they would have no privacy here. But they only needed a moment to confirm when and where they next would meet.

  If her father ever chopped down that tree outside the twins’ bedchamber, she’d have to find another escape route, but she couldn’t worry about that now.

  She had no more time to think about Devlin or Lily’s fertility god as their guests began to arrive and she was caught up in conversation with friends and acquaintances. One of her best friends, Lady Anne Hollings, an auburn-haired beauty also in her debut season, approached. “Is he here?”

  “Do you mean Dev?”

  Anne rolled her eyes. “No, silly. I mean Lord Moray. Isn’t he the man you wrote about in your letter to me? Will you introduce us tonight? If he’s half as good-looking as you indicate, I’ll be happy to take him off your hands. Unlike you, I don’t give a fig about marrying for love.”