Hot Historicals Bundle with An Invitation to Sin, The Naked Baron, When His Kiss Is Wicked, & Mastering the Marquess

by Jo Beverley

  “Annabel is fine,” she said. “She is quite herself today, thank God.” Meredith inhaled a shaky breath and looked him directly in the eyes.

  “Lord Silverton, I wanted to tell you how very sorry I am that I embarrassed you and your mother last night. There was no excuse…” Her voice faltered and she stumbled to a halt, obviously too humiliated to continue.

  Shame clouded the burnished silver of her beautiful eyes. It nearly broke his heart.

  “Miss Burnley,” he exclaimed, “you must not fret so. I should apologize to you. You are innocent of any wrong, while I behaved very stupidly indeed. If you remain in this room, you will be sure to hear my aunt give me a thorough and well-deserved trimming.”

  At his words, the strained expression around her eyes began to ease.

  “Do not refine too much on what was a distasteful but insignificant event,” he assured her. “All will be well, I promise.”

  He silently vowed to do whatever he must to keep his promise.

  “Meredith, my dear,” Lady Stanton’s voice gently intruded. “You may go down now and join your sister and the general.”

  “Yes, my lady,” she replied quickly. “My lord.”

  She sketched a quick curtsy and fled.

  He sighed as he watched her hurry from the room. It was indicative of her discomfort that she responded with such alacrity to Lady Stanton’s command. Normally, Meredith would do almost anything to avoid the general’s company.

  He turned back to his aunt, noting the cold expression that had returned to her face.

  “I won’t ask you to explain yourself,” she said. “There is no justification for what you did. It was selfish and irresponsible—conduct most unbecoming in the head of the family.”

  He didn’t bother to defend himself.

  “Yes, I know you regret it now,” she said, waving her hand impatiently. “That is little consolation, however. Meredith and Annabel are both much too vulnerable. It is your duty to protect them, not injure them.”

  As far as reprimands went, he had heard much worse from her over the years. But his aunt needn’t say any more, and she knew it. Silverton felt exactly as he did when he was seven years old and had pushed his sister into the lake at Belfield Abbey. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she had almost drowned. It had taken him weeks to recover from the shame and guilt.

  “My dear.” His aunt’s voice had softened. “You know what is best for your own life. But I must remind you that Annabel needs you.”

  He shook his head in exasperation.

  “Aunt Georgina, has it ever occurred to you that Annabel might not want to marry me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “You overestimate my charms,” he replied dryly.

  “I certainly do not. The girl has a great deal of admiration for you. A little more attention on your part, and I’m sure she would happily fall in love with you.”

  “And I’m sure she would not.”

  Although Silverton felt relatively certain Annabel had given her affections to Robert, he wasn’t ready to reveal that to his aunt. He wasn’t sure how she would react, and he suspected that the budding romance might not survive if Lady Stanton raised objections to it.

  “Stephen.” His aunt regarded him severely. “You can no longer afford to indulge in meaningless flirtations. This is not a game.”

  Silverton jerked his head up as if he had been slapped. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I am aware of that, Aunt Georgina. I assure you, I do not take my responsibilities lightly.” In spite of himself, he could not keep the chill out of his voice.

  One of her eyebrows shot up as if to express disbelief. A faintly disdainful smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  “I am relieved to hear it,” she said in what he privately called her queen-of-the-ruling-classes tone of voice.

  He raised a mocking eyebrow in return, imitating her expression so exactly that she finally had to laugh.

  “You are a dreadful boy,” she exclaimed. “Now, if you are finished teasing your elders, perhaps you could turn your mind to finding a solution to this problem.”

  “I should be happy to do whatever you think best, Aunt Georgina. But I suspect you have already arrived at the solution yourself.”

  “You are correct. I believe that Lady Cowper can be of assistance. I will send her a note immediately and call on her in the next day or so.”

  Silverton nodded his approval and slowly began to pace the room.

  “The entire family must be seen with the girls in public,” he mused. “One must never show weakness to the enemy.”

  Lady Stanton laughed again. “I’m sure the general would say the same. In fact, I have plans for him as well. He has agreed to take the girls driving in Hyde Park this afternoon. You know this is a remarkable concession on his part, since he despises the entire nonsense of the afternoon parade.”

  Silverton’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

  “He did?” He shook his head. “That is extraordinary.”

  “Yes, I know,” she agreed. “But he seems to have developed a grudging respect for Meredith. He remarked the other day that at least she wasn’t a lily-livered miss.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “High praise, indeed!”

  “Yes, thank God.” She smiled in return. “One does get tired of the constant wrangling between the two of them. They really are too much alike.”

  He grinned at the image of Meredith and the general suffering each other’s company as they were trotted out on display for examination by the ton. How he wished he could be there just to see the look on her expressive face.

  Silverton glanced at his aunt. She seemed to be studying him very carefully, with a look that set off warning bells in his head. He swiftly composed his features into a bland expression.

  “Is there anything you wish to discuss with me, Stephen? Anything of a personal nature?” Her faded but shrewd eyes probed him.

  The directness of her question startled him, but he recovered quickly.

  “No, Aunt. Except, of course, to discuss where you wish to present the girls in public.”

  Lady Stanton gave a thoroughly ladylike and dissatisfied snort.

  “Have it your own way, my dear, but I would advise you to watch your step. The situation is complicated enough as it is.”

  He smiled blandly, refusing to take the bait. His aunt rolled her eyes at him, then stood and hurried over to her cream and gilt-edged writing desk.

  “Now, as to other places to take the girls,” she said, “I have been thinking on that as well. It occurs to me that an evening at the theater might be an excellent place to start.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lady Stanton’s plan worked perfectly.

  Two days ago, the general had driven Annabel and Meredith through Hyde Park in the family’s elegant landau. According to his granddaughter, he had nodded and waved regally in response to the slack-jawed reactions of those who assembled every afternoon to gossip, flirt, and, in the general’s opinion, act like a flock of bird-witted nincompoops.

  Annabel had doubled over with laughter when describing to Silverton the pained expression on Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s face when the Stanton carriage drew up next to hers. The general had genially inquired after the proud lady’s health and then made a point of introducing Meredith and Annabel to her as if the events at Lady Framingham’s ball had never occurred.

  Mrs. Drummond-Burrell had returned a brief but icily correct acknowledgment. As Lady Stanton had predicted, she could not bring herself to publicly cut one of her oldest friends, a distinguished military man who also happened to be descended from one of the most respected families in the kingdom. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell might be high in the instep, but the general was higher.

  Silverton was now charged with executing the next part of the plan. Annabel and Meredith were to be seen at a variety of social events, and the more public those events, the better. When the ton realized that both General
Stanton and Silverton stood behind the Burnley sisters, the gossipmongers would grow bored and begin to seek more interesting game.

  Lady Stanton had decided that she and Silverton should take Annabel and Meredith to an evening of theater at Drury Lane. No venue was more suited to a public display of familial unity and to illustrate to the fashionable world a casual disregard for mean-spirited gossip.

  “You see, girls,” Lady Stanton explained as they rode to Drury Lane in Silverton’s town coach, “we must be above such pretension and petty jealousies. There is no family in the ton with a lineage as ancient and proud as the Stantons. If the general is willing to acknowledge Meredith, then that should be an end to the matter. Those who slight either of you shall no longer be welcome at Stanton House.”

  Silverton handed the ladies down from the carriage and escorted them through the melee in the brilliantly lit lobby to the comparative quiet of his box.

  The play that evening was Shakespeare, although Silverton doubted anyone could hear a word over the din of the crowd. The theater was a riot of activity as fruit sellers hawked their wares, footmen carried notes back and forth between genteel matrons, and dandies in the pit flirted with high flyers renting boxes near the stage in the hopes of attracting business.

  Mrs. Stanton, with Robert and Sophia, joined them at the first interval. The ladies engaged in a flurry of greetings and soft kisses before organizing themselves in the luxurious but confined space.

  “Do forgive us for being late, Grandmamma,” Robert apologized. “Sophia kept us waiting forever while she finished reading some blasted book! Can you imagine preferring some moldy old history to an evening at the theater?”

  “But Robert,” Sophia replied with an innocent look, “it was a history of the fall of the Roman Empire, and I was just getting to the good part.”

  Robert grimaced at Sophia, Annabel giggled, and Mrs. Stanton gently tut-tutted her son for teasing his sister so unmercifully.

  Silverton smiled indulgently at his young cousins. After an uncomfortable few days, he felt remarkably content as he watched his family settle in around him. Mrs. Stanton chattered amicably to Lady Stanton, who listened with her usual quiet dignity. Robert tried his best to be charming and sophisticated in his ongoing attempt to impress Annabel, and Sophia, as always, was ready to be interested in whatever transpired around her.

  Most importantly, he was sitting next to Meredith. It had taken some masterful arranging on his part to seat the group to his satisfaction. Now that all was composed to his liking, he prepared to focus his undivided attention on her.

  Silverton had spent an inordinate amount of time these last few days thinking about her. His desire for Meredith’s company had become a compulsion, and he knew that ought to worry him. It went far beyond physical attraction, although that was fierce enough.

  The problem—as he saw it—was that he genuinely liked her.

  Liked her! He mocked himself for using such an insipid term. Obsessed with her was a good deal more accurate. He shook his head, wondering how he had gotten himself into this state.

  The state of matrimony.

  The words seemed to pop into his head out of nowhere. He glanced uneasily around the box, almost afraid that he had spoken the words out loud.

  If he were honest, though, he would have to admit the thought had been lurking just beneath the surface for several days. Now that he no longer needed to worry about Annabel—careful observation had convinced him that she and Robert were smitten with each other—he could afford to ponder the very pleasing idea of Meredith as his wife.

  The thought of his family’s reaction, however, was not so pleasing. His mother would go into hysterics, and the general, despite his grudging respect for Meredith, most certainly would not approve of her as the next Marchioness of Silverton.

  Aunt Georgina, however, was another matter entirely. She had made it very apparent the other day she suspected him of flirting with Meredith, and had obviously felt protective toward her. Silverton suspected that as long as Annabel was safely bestowed in a suitable marriage, his aunt would not object to his taking Meredith as a bride. In fact, Lady Stanton could be a formidable bulwark against the censorious reactions of the ton if he did decide to pursue what his social equals would surely consider a misalliance.

  He gave himself a mental shake, acknowledging that he was leaping much too quickly into an uncertain future. Nothing could happen until Annabel and Robert were married, so he needed to do everything in his power to encourage their budding courtship.

  For now, though, he would push all thoughts of the future to one side and enjoy the evening’s entertainment. Shifting slightly in his seat, Silverton angled his body so that he could more easily observe the beautiful young woman sitting next to him.

  Meredith looked good enough to eat in the lacy, peach-colored confection that draped her luscious figure. The neckline of her gown gently curved to reveal the swell of her generous breasts, and the tiny, lace-trimmed sleeves accentuated the creamy slopes of her white shoulders and slender arms.

  He admired those breasts for a few moments until he noticed they were rising and falling much too quickly, as if she were breathing in a shallow and rapid manner. Surprised, Silverton examined her face, which was very pale. Her right hand gripped the railing of the box so tightly her glove looked like it might tear along the seam.

  Glancing around the box, he made sure the others were occupied with their own conversations. He covered her slender hand with his and addressed her in a low voice.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Burnley?”

  She gasped in surprise and jerked her hand out from under his. “No, no, I’m fine,” she blurted out, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

  “Come now, Miss Burnley,” he chided with gentle amusement, “you look as unhappy as Robert does when he is forced to spend the entire day with his grandfather. I know very well that something is wrong.”

  She cast him a troubled glance before turning her eyes to stare into the pit. He leaned slightly forward, draping his arm casually along the back of her chair. She stiffened and blushed an enchanting shade of pink, obviously disconcerted by the feel of his arm so close to her bare shoulders and neck.

  “You know you can count me as one of your most devoted friends,” he said softly. “Can’t you tell me what bothers you? Perhaps I may be able to correct it.”

  He was riveted by the way she gently chewed on her lower lip as she pondered his words. Her full, cherry-ripe mouth tempted him almost beyond reason. He waited patiently, however, knowing that if he said or did anything more she would withdraw behind her cool, proper façade.

  Meredith finally let out a small sigh and met his gaze.

  “You will think I’m foolish, sir, but I’m generally not fond of crowds,” she admitted, making a small gesture to indicate all the people who filled the theater to bursting. “And all the noise they make, it’s, well, very…noisy.”

  Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes briefly, as if to block out the pandemonium swirling about them.

  Silverton felt jolted by an awareness of his surroundings and how they must appear to her, a young woman whose entire life had been spent in near seclusion in the country. He became acutely aware of the heat, and how thick the air was with competing and almost overwhelming odors. The scent of heavy perfume, snuff, and wax candles barely masked the strong smells of sweat and alcohol that emanated from the galleries and pit. The theater shimmered, brightly lit by hundreds of dripping candles casting so much light that the patrons were as exposed as the performers on the stage. The restless movements and excited voices of the crowd ebbed and swelled, but were never less than a dull roar.

  It was really quite appalling, he thought, surprised he had never noticed it before. No wonder Meredith looked like she wanted to bolt out the door.

  As he studied the sensitive woman sitting beside him, the noise and turmoil faded away, just as it had the night of the ball when he had swept her in
to his arms. Silverton became almost painfully aware of her, and of how much he wanted to feel her warm, sweet body against his.

  She suddenly looked at him, her eyes as beautiful and sad as a winter twilight. Those eyes seemed to capture and possess his soul, and he felt consumed with an insatiable need to possess her in return.

  A loud laugh from the adjoining box roused him from his dreamlike state, and the heat and noise flowed back in a rush. Silverton forced himself to smile as he briefly pressed her hands. Releasing her, he picked up his quizzing glass and turned a critical eye on the mob below them.

  “Well,” he drawled in a sardonic voice, “no sane person could blame you for disliking this particular crowd. A more ill-favored set of mushrooms and toadies I have never seen in my life.”

  Silverton inspected the crowd disdainfully through his glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny smile begin to form on Meredith’s lips.

  “And the din they make,” he continued in exaggerated tones of disgust, “is enough to drive a saint into a frenzy.”

  He then spent the rest of the interval identifying various members of the crowd, interspersing his commentary with pointed remarks on his subjects’ morals, manners, and dress. He managed to make her laugh twice, although she protested each time that he was encouraging her to act as rudely as everyone else.

  Diverted by his observations, Meredith gradually relaxed. When the actors returned to the stage she watched the play attentively and with, he thought, some appreciation.

  He couldn’t help noticing, though, the numerous stares and pointed gestures directed at her and Annabel from the other boxes. The gossipmongers were making no secret of their interest in them, and the carefully rigid look on Meredith’s face told him that she felt their scrutiny, too.

  At the next interval, many visitors came to their box. While all were friendly to Annabel, several ladies indicated a subtle disapproval of Meredith by barely acknowledging her presence. Silverton took note of the carefully blank expression on Meredith’s pale face as she listened politely to Mrs. Stanton’s chatter. Those who didn’t know her would think nothing amiss, but he knew how much it cost her to sit so quietly.