A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4)

by Meara Platt

  “Say you’ll marry me, Laurel.”

  “What?” She drew back from him with a scowl. “I’ll say no such thing. I’m sorry, Devlin, but I won’t. I will never marry you. My decision won’t change, no matter what happens between me and Lord Moray.”

  She strode away from him before she gave in to the urge to do him bodily harm. After taking a moment to calm down, she meant to join Daisy. Where did she go? Her sister was no longer standing by the stairs.

  Before Laurel had the chance to look for her, Hortensia clamped a hand on her elbow and drew her forward to greet more close friends and family. “We weren’t supposed to have any callers until tomorrow, but seems people are stopping by anyway. I’m going to check on Mrs. Mayhew and her staff. They’re scrambling to put out refreshments. You need to stay by your mother’s side. The poor dear, she’s exhausted and stretched to the end of her patience.”

  “Of course.” She’d find Daisy later.

  Laurel hurried into the parlor and groaned softly. Her mother was attempting to pour tea for their guests, but her hands were shaking so badly that Laurel feared she’d drop the teapot. “Let me help.”

  She settled beside her mother and began chattering to distract everyone as she took over the hostess duties.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” her mother whispered, now seemingly back in her usual good form.

  Laurel turned her attention to Julia, who hadn’t eaten since yesterday and appeared so gaunt and pale that Laurel feared she would faint in front of everyone. And not one of her usual theatrical fainting spells, where she happened to land gently upon the soft sofa pillows with balletic grace.

  A few hours later, her fears were realized. Julia’s face turned ashen and her eyeballs rolled upward so that only the whites were showing. She dropped like a stone, her head aimed straight for the marble edge of a small table, and would have done serious damage to herself had Laurel not caught her in time.

  But Julia’s limp body was too much for her to handle on her own and she began to fall backward, her own head about to hit the marble edge. Thankfully, Uncle Rupert caught both of them in time. “Bloody hell, she wasn’t faking this time,” Rupert muttered. “Laurel, are you all right?”

  She nodded and managed to mumble a sincere thanks.

  Rupert shook his head and sighed. “Hortensia will tend to her. You had better go back to helping your mother. She’s nibbling her lip. Something is amiss.”

  The unexpected bit of excitement now over, Laurel saw that her uncle was correct. Her mother was fretting again. “Where are the twins?”

  Laurel went in search of them. They couldn’t have slipped out of the parlor very long ago. She ran upstairs and looked in their room. Not there. She checked all the bedrooms and then searched throughout the house. “Crumpets,” she muttered under her breath. They weren’t hiding in their favorite tree or anywhere in the garden either.

  Had they sought refuge with Eloise? She hurried next door. “Good afternoon, Watling.” She cast Eloise’s stoic butler a hesitant smile. “I do hate to be a nuisance, but we seem to have misplaced the twins. Are they here by any chance? Mother’s quite worried about them.”

  “Good evening, Miss Laurel,” he corrected, for it was almost eight o’clock in the evening. She’d been so busy that she hadn’t realized it was so late because the days were longer near Midsummer. Their endless stream of guests, none of whom were expected to visit until tomorrow, had kept her distracted. But Uncle Harrison was beloved, not only by his family but by the many whose lives he had touched. They would not be kept away from paying their respects. “The girls are here. You are never a nuisance. Do come in.”

  She released the breath she had been holding. “Thank goodness. We aren’t afraid for them, so much as for others who accidentally get in the way of their mischief.”

  A gleam of amusement shone in Watling’s eyes. “I completely understand.”

  He led her through the parlor and into the rear garden, where the twins were seated with Eloise and Graelem. Lemonade and ginger cakes had been set out for them. The twins smiled at her, obviously unaware they’d thrown the household into an uproar.

  Graelem rose to offer his chair, but she politely declined. “I can’t stay.”

  “The ginger cakes are delicious,” Dillie said. “You must have one.”

  She didn’t frown or admonish her sisters, for her own behavior this past month had been much worse… well, except for the commotion surrounding Lily’s fertility god. But Lily hadn’t almost killed anybody or caused a brawl in the middle of an elegant party. “Mother was worried about you. She didn’t know where you were.”

  The twins lowered their heads in contrition.

  Lily spoke up first. “We didn’t think anyone would notice. Everyone was so busy and…”

  “We only meant to stay a few minutes.” Dillie glanced longingly at the platter of cakes. “Then Watling brought these out. We couldn’t be rude and refuse Eloise’s generosity.”

  “Indeed not,” Eloise added with a chuckle. “But run along now and let your mother know you’re safe. Laurel, are you certain you can’t stay? You look tired, my dear. Rest here a moment and I’ll follow the girls to make certain they head straight home.”

  Laurel wasn’t tired so much as overwrought. She offered little protest and collapsed into one of the chairs vacated by her sisters, glad for a moment alone with Graelem. “It’s all spun out of control. You would have been proud of me. I was the responsible one for a change. Patient, amiable. Tolerant.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Blessed Scottish saints. What have you done with the hellion I’ve come to know?”

  She grinned at him. “You mustn’t fret, she’s still here. Just subdued for the moment.”

  He shook his head and reached for her hand. “Lass, I should have gone home with you earlier. I was worried about you. Is Devlin still there?”

  “No, he and his parents left about an hour ago. His parents are quite nice, but I was glad to see them go. They were hoping for a marriage between the families and are terribly disappointed that it won’t happen. Anne stopped by earlier as well.”

  He glanced upward at the sky. “Heaven protect us from bored debutantes who create mischief for their own amusement.”

  She laced her fingers between his, liking the gentle strength of his touch. “In that moment I wished I were a twin so that I could keep watch on both of them. They were prowling like predators around the edges of the parlor and then splitting up to walk into the dining room, or entry hall, or who knows where else, then returning to the parlor. A little chill ran up my spine each time I caught them staring at me. They’re plotting something.”

  He sat up in his chair and frowned. “Damnation, that settles it. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

  “You’ll find no argument from me. They have me worried.” She released his hand and clasped her own hands together as they suddenly grew cold. “I think I know what Devlin’s planning. He means to harm Brutus. It would explain why Brutus has been so skittish lately.”

  Graelem held her back when she rose to leave. “Laurel, where are you going?”

  “To the mews, of course.”

  “Not without me. In fact, let me go instead of you. If he’s nasty enough to hurt Brutus, he won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

  She regarded him with astonishment. “Devlin wouldn’t dare. He wants to marry me, or rather, he needs to marry me to fund his gaming habit.”

  “He’s foolish and desperate. He’d dare anything, though I doubt he plans to harm Brutus. There’s nothing to be gained by it. He could have been scouting out the stable though.”

  “To what purpose? Oh, dear! He wanted to elope with me at midnight tomorrow night. I was supposed to meet him at the mews… er, not that I ever agreed to his plan. I didn’t. Not even in the beginning when I didn’t like you. Do you think he’s still hopeful?”

  “The idiot. I hope not, but he may be determined to carry out the elopement with or with
out your consent.”

  Laurel shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Are you suggesting that he plans to abduct me?”

  “It’s a possibility.” His gaze turned cold and hard, and his expression lethal. “He won’t succeed. I’ll kill him first.”

  “No, it’s too ridiculous.” She shifted uncomfortably, not liking the direction of their conversation. She’d known Devlin all her life. He might be petty and spoiled, but he wasn’t evil.

  Graelem gathered his crutches and rose. “I hope I’m wrong.”

  So did she. “What a mess. I still don’t understand why you want to marry me. I seem to be nothing but trouble for you. We may as well walk to the mews together. It’ll be safe enough with Abner and a dozen other coachmen hanging about there. Only a fool would try anything now. If Devlin has a plan, he’ll wait until nightfall when all our visitors are gone and Abner has retired for the evening. How would his plan work? Even if he lured me out, I still wouldn’t go with him.”

  “You’re assuming he’ll be alone. Gentlemen don’t like to get their hands dirty. He’ll hire some dockside ruffians to do the deed, while he’s off making certain that he’s seen elsewhere.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “No doubt he’ll have my cousin’s help. They both gain in preventing our marriage from taking place.”

  She frowned. “Let them try. I’ll make them regret the day they were ever born. I love you, Graelem. There isn’t a force on earth strong enough to keep us apart… except you. If you don’t wish—”

  “That’s what I like about you,” he said with a grin. “One always knows where one stands with you. There’s no hiding when you’re angry or when you’re hot and wanton.”

  She gasped and poked his shoulder. “Don’t look at me with that gleam in your eyes. I’m feeling neither hot nor wanton toward you right now, and that will not change once we reach the stables. If you think I’ll allow you to seduce me there again, you’d be wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Care to wager on it?”

  She poked him again. “No.” She’d lose the bet because she was never able to resist him or his kisses. “You’re an oaf for forcing me to admit it.”

  “Lass—”

  “We’ve gotten off the topic.”

  Graelem folded his arms over his chest and straightened to his full imposing height. “No, we haven’t,” he said, towering over her and looking impossibly handsome. “I’ll assign one of my Bow Street runners to watch the mews tomorrow night. We’ll walk over there now, you and I. But you’re not to go near there tomorrow. I mean it, Laurel. You’re not to get in the way. If there is a plot afoot, I want you safe.”

  She understood the danger and would do as he asked, but he must have noticed her bridling under the restraint, for he continued his warning. “I have years of battle experience and can judge how a man handles adversity. I know Devlin’s type. He’ll back down and run away from superior strength. But he’s also a sneak, and not above putting you in danger if he thinks it will serve his purpose.”

  She wanted to disagree, but in her heart she knew he was right.

  “If he dares to put a hand on you, I’ll kill him. No jest, Laurel. That’s how we’ve been trained to eliminate any threat. If he draws a weapon, I’ll kill him. If he so much as reaches for you, I’ll kill him.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “You’ve made your point.”

  “Good.”

  “How many men have you killed?”

  He turned away and started for the stable, purposely ignoring the question. “Are you coming with me?”

  She hurried to keep up with him. “You wouldn’t really kill Devlin or your cousin, would you?”

  “To protect you?” His gaze turned cold and hard once more. “Without hesitation.”

  Chapter 20

  IN A REMARKABLE SHOW of good behavior, Laurel stayed home the following day and several days after that. Time sped by in a blur, her hours filled with helping her mother and Julia as friends continued to visit to pay their condolences. She’d seen little of Graelem other than their daily walks to the mews to check on Brutus, but Graelem hadn’t come by today and she already missed him terribly.

  Tomorrow is Midsummer’s Day.

  Graelem had been busy working with the Moray estate manager to ensure an easy transition of ownership of the unentailed properties to his cousin, Jordan Drummond.

  If Graelem was despondent over the situation, he didn’t show it. Quite the opposite, he seemed calm and confident of earning back all that was about to be lost. “I’ll have to finance most of the purchases, but I have backers, and I know which Moray properties make sense for me to acquire. I built up much of Uncle Silas’ wealth and can do it again for us.”

  However, she had no chance to think about it. Today would be their busiest day yet, for Uncle Harrison’s funeral had taken place this morning and most of the mourners had followed them back to the house from the churchyard.

  Hundreds more were expected to stop in throughout the day. She and her sisters would have their hands full looking after all of them in addition to worrying about Julia and their mother, who had been up before dawn organizing the household for today. Her father and uncles were exhausted as well, the toll of losing their youngest brother weighing heavily on their hearts.

  Daisy had been quiet again this morning, stealing glances at her as they readied themselves. When those odd looks persisted into the afternoon, Laurel had finally had enough and caught up to her sister in the entry hall, taking her aside beside the staircase. “What’s wrong now, Daisy? Please don’t turn away. I know you’re worried about something and it has to do with me.”

  Daisy’s chin began to wobble, a sign that she was fighting to hold back tears, so Laurel knew this was serious. She took Daisy’s hand in hers. “I won’t stop asking until I have my answer. What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

  Daisy let out a ragged sigh. “Why did you go to the mews again last night?”

  “I told you, Brutus has been skittish again. We can’t figure out what’s wrong with him. I didn’t go alone, Graelem went with me. I’ve seen so little of him lately.” She tipped her head in confusion. “Daisy? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I’m just sorry that Graelem’s about to lose everything and you don’t seem to be doing anything to help him.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “First of all, he won’t let me do anything to help. He’s even more stubborn than I am, if you can believe it. Second, we’ve all been busy taking care of laying Uncle Harrison to rest.” She sighed and shook her head, then released a long, deep breath as the spirit seemed to drain from her. “I know what this is about. Devlin’s come around every day this week and you think he and I are planning something. You were reading a note by the stairs the other day, no doubt some more mischief concocted by Devlin. I can assure you that we’re not eloping, no matter what this latest note suggested. I love Graelem and will marry him… eventually. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “I want to, it’s just that—”

  “Daisy, there you are! Your mother is waiting for you.” Hortensia swooped between them on a lavender-perfumed breeze and drew Daisy away, leaving Laurel to stand alone, now worried and frustrated. Why didn’t her sister believe her?

  And where was Graelem? He ought to have stopped in by now. Eloise had arrived almost half an hour ago. She started toward Eloise, but Pruitt intercepted her as she made her way through the gathering crowd. “Miss Laurel, it seems we have a situation in the kitchen. Mrs. Mayhew needs your assistance.”

  “Of course.” She hurried to the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt. “What’s this?” There was a line of forty or fifty men standing outside the kitchen door.

  “These men served under your uncle and have come to pay their respects,” said Mrs. Mayhew, wringing her hands. “Where am I to put them? There’s no room in the kitchen and they’re not… they don’t belong upstairs. They’ll startle your guests. Yet, yo
ur parents would be appalled if we turned them away.”

  “Do we have food enough for everyone?” She glanced around and saw that every table was laden with pies and cakes, and every nook and cranny taken up with assorted savories ready to be delivered upstairs.

  Mrs. Mayhew wiped her brow. “As you can see, there’s food enough to feed all of London. That isn’t the problem. Miss Laurel, I don’t have the heart to turn these soldiers away.”

  Laurel agreed. “We’ll set out tables in the garden. I do hope the weather holds up. I’ll grab some fresh linens. Pruitt can spare a few footmen to help me. I’ll enlist my sisters. My family should be able to move easily between the parlor and the garden to greet everyone.”

  It didn’t take long to put her plan into effect with everyone pitching in. Laurel was still in the garden talking to the soldiers and some of their well-heeled guests who had come outside to greet them as well when Graelem arrived. He came to her side. “Lass, you did all this?”

  “Everyone helped. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? A fitting tribute to Uncle Harrison.”

  “Indeed,” he said in a gentle murmur. “Nice work. I see that some of your finer guests have wandered outside.”

  Laurel nodded. “Almost all of them have. But Julia won’t come out. I hope these soldiers understand she means no disrespect. Her loss is a raw, open wound, and she can’t cope with Uncle Harrison’s death yet. She can’t abide anything remotely military at the moment. It isn’t the fault of these men, it’s the dreadful toll this war has taken.”

  Graelem put a hand to the small of her back, his touch a comforting warmth. “They understand.”

  “I hope so. My parents came out to greet them all, but my mother had to return to Julia’s side. Father and Uncle Rupert are still out here somewhere talking to a few soldiers. Uncle George can’t stop being a healer, so he’s taken some of the men aside to look at their wounds. Lily’s over there.” She pointed to the corner of the garden where her sister stood surrounded by a dozen soldiers. “She’s explaining ancient Roman battle tactics to them.”