Counterfeit Countess: Brazen Brides, Book 1

by Cheryl Bolen

  Chapter 28

  After carrying her valise down the stairs without any assistance, Maggie threw open the front door and greeted Edward and Randolph when they returned from their morning ride.

  Edward’s unhappy gaze raked over her traveling costume and valise. “It would seem, madam, that you’ve made up your mind.”

  She nodded. “How long before you gentlemen can be ready to leave?”

  “Only a minute to throw our clothing into a bag,” Randolph said.

  A few minutes later they were back in the Agar coach where Mr. Hollingsworth had once more insisted on sitting beside her. She chastised herself for being in such a hurry. This morning would have provided the perfect opportunity to single out Mr. Hollingsworth and tell him she favored his suit. So why hadn’t she?

  Because of Edward. Despite that he would marry Fiona, despite that Maggie liked Fiona very much, despite that Maggie’s chances of engaging Edward’s affections were next to nil, she loved him. She could not dispel the memory of him saying It was my last hope. Perhaps he did care for her, at least a little. To accept any man other than Edward would be to slam the door on her overflowing heart. She would have to close that door, but she was not ready just yet to condemn herself to a life without love.

  As their carriage rattled along the bumpy country lane, she watched Edward as he stared out the window. He was so utterly masculine. It wasn’t just the saber at his side or the riding boots and buff-colored breeches that stretched across muscled thighs that made him look so rugged. His virility went so much deeper than those things. The dark line of stubble on his jaw, the high cheekbones flaring to darkly somber eyes, the rigid clamp to his lips, the confident set of his shoulders, all these things melded to create the most desirable man she had ever known.

  “I see, my lord,” she said to him, “that you’ve begun to manage competently without your valet.”

  A grin pinched at a single cheek as he faced her with laughing eyes. “I’m a bit less lethal, but I’ll still be as happy to see Cummings as you’ll be to see Tubby.”

  Just thinking of her cat sent her giggling. “I cannot wait to see my little fluff muffin.”

  A quizzing look on his face, Randolph asked, “Tubby? Fluff muffin? I take it you’re referring to your cat.”

  “She is,” Edward said flatly.

  When they rode into Mayfair a few hours later, Mr. Hollingsworth and Edward drew their swords. And when the coach turned onto Curzon Street, Edward guarded the right side of the carriage, Randolph the left.

  “I see nothing suspicious,” Randolph said.

  Edward’s eyes swept from one end of the block to the other. “Nor do I.”

  A few minutes later they were safely inside Warwick House, and Tubby was effecting a bored look as Maggie made a great fuss over him. She and Tubby climbed the stairs to Sarah’s third floor chamber, but did not find her there.

  “Ye’ll find Miss Sarah taking tea with Mr. Wiggins,” one of the upstairs maids informed Maggie. “They’ve become quite chummy during your ladyship’s absence.”

  How kind the butler was!

  But as soon as Maggie found them below stairs, sitting around a pine table adjacent to the kitchen, she knew Wiggins was not just being kind. The way the elderly butler adoringly gazed across the table at Sarah convinced Maggie he was attracted to her! “A fine lady’s maid like yourself," he said to her, "should not feel guilty that she’s not helping with the cooking and cleaning. It wouldn’t do at all to spoil those lovely hands of yours.”

  Unnoticed, Maggie paused to observe Sarah. Her loyal servant looked a decade younger. The toll from the ocean voyage must have been greater than Maggie thought because now that Sarah had rested for several weeks, pink colored her cheeks again and her blue eyes glittered as she looked at Mr. Wiggins. She had not been as healthy looking in years.

  Wiggins saw Maggie first. He sprang to his feet and began to apologize for not personally greeting them.

  “It’s perfectly all right, Wiggins,” Maggie said. “Besides, his lordship’s already gone to the Foreign Office. Please, resume your tea. I merely wished to let Sarah know I’ve returned.”

  Sarah pushed away from the table. “I’ll just come right up and unpack yours and Miss Becky’s things.”

  Maggie put firm hands to her shoulders and smiled. “You’ll do no such thing! Rebecca stayed in Yorkshire, and I’m in no hurry to unpack. Please, finish your tea.”

  * * *

  “Good lord!” Harry Lyle said to Edward. “Where in the hell have you been?” The relief in his voice and the smile tweaking at his mouth convinced Edward his friend was genuinely happy to see him.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” Edward answered.

  “Were you or were you not attacked the night we all went to the theatre?”

  “We were. Fortunately, we were able to escape.”

  “Then you went into hiding?”

  “We did.”

  Harry sighed. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have sent me word you were unhurt. You don’t know how deuced worried I’ve been.”

  Worried about Maggie. Edward set a firm hand on his shoulders. “Sorry, old fellow.”

  Harry scowled. “I had planned to ask for the countess’s hand the day you went missing.”

  Edward’s chest tightened.

  “She is well?” Lyle asked.

  “She is.”

  “Did she return to London with you?”

  “She’s at Warwick House. I’ve come to demand she be protected.”

  “Lord Carrington's pledged to assign Horse Guards to protect the countess.”

  “I want them this afternoon.”

  “You’ll need to take it up with Carrington.”

  “He’s in?”

  Harry shrugged.

  A moment later Edward strode into his superior’s office. “My dear man, it is so very good to see you!” Lord Carrington exclaimed. Though his demeanor was as friendly as Harry’s, he seemed less surprised. “We have searched for you high and low. It wasn’t until yesterday I learned of the men who threatened you, and you can be assured they’re being severely dealt with.”

  “You’ve spoken with them?”

  “One of them. They're being held at Newgate. Though the man assured me you had fled, I wasn’t confident he told the truth. You cannot believe men like that, you know. Is Henshaw’s widow safe?”

  Edward nodded. “She’s in London. I wish you to detail Horse Guards to protect her immediately.”

  Lord Carrington gave a faint smile. “So you’ve already spoken with Lyle?”

  “Briefly. I was anxious to see you, to secure protection for the widow.”

  “Of course, I’ll be happy to accommodate your request even though her would-be abductors are in prison.”

  “The man who employed them isn’t!” Edward growled.

  “You’ve got a valid point there. I have spoken with the Duke of York, who assured me I could have a small contingent of Guards.”

  “Good.”

  “Now sit down and tell me everything.”

  * * *

  When Lord Carrington came to call that afternoon, two uniformed Horse Guards stood at the rear of Warwick House while four of their fellow officers protected the front entrance.

  “Lord Warwick is in the library,” Wiggins informed him.

  “Oh, it’s not Lord Warwick I wished to see. Please advise Lady Warwick that Lord Carrington is calling upon her.”

  Wiggins showed him into the saloon, then went to fetch Maggie, who entered the room a few minutes later.

  Lord Carrington stood up and crossed the room, sweeping into a bow before Maggie, taking firm possession of her offered hand, and pressing his lips to it. “I cannot tell you how worried I have been about you, my lady.”

  “I cannot tell you how worried I’ve been about me!” she said with a little laugh, moving to the pair of settees. “Won’t you sit down, my lord?”

  As they sat on the matched sofas she sai
d, "I'm very much in your debt, my lord, for posting the Horse Guards outside.”

  “I wish to God I’d thought to do it earlier, but I can’t cry over spilled milk. I vow that from now on there won’t be a repeat of what happened the night those men tried to abduct you. Now you shall have protection around the clock.”

  “I’m very grateful.” She found herself wondering what Lord Carrington had looked like as a younger man. Not that he was that old. She pegged him to be over fifty and under sixty, though he was probably the best looking man of that age she had ever seen. He was thin and perfectly dressed and neat and urbane.

  And he was staring at her in a way that made her exceedingly uncomfortable.

  "Tell me, my lady, have you uncovered anything since our last meeting?"

  She only now remembered that he wished her to spy on Edward. "Nothing, your lordship. Nothing about my late husband. Nothing to discredit Lord Warwick."

  "I see." He continued to stare at her.

  “Allow me to order tea.”

  “No, thank you. I shan’t be long. I must confess, my lady, I was in a great haste to come see you before your suitors learn of your return. I should like to make an offer for your hand in marriage.”

  Surely she had not heard him correctly! The marquess had never shown any partiality to her before, nor had he ever struck her as a man who would ever wish to marry. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I suppose my offer strikes you as being completely unexpected.”

  “Then I did hear you correctly!”

  He laughed. “I surprised myself with the depth of my feelings for you, my lady. It wasn’t until you went missing and I feared the worst that I came to realize how greatly I valued you.”

  “But, your lordship, we’ve only been together a few times! You can’t possibly know enough of me to wish to make me your wife.”

  “To be perfectly honest, I never thought I’d ever want to make any woman my wife, but I am fifty-five years old and suddenly utterly remorseful that I’ve no heir. It’s only in the past few months I’ve decided to seek a young bride of good family. When I met you, I began to think that perhaps you were the woman I’ve been waiting a lifetime for.”

  She was completely stunned. His desire for an heir must be far stronger than his desire for her. Which was actually a strong argument in his favor!

  Though she had been prepared to accept Mr. Hollingsworth and Mr. Lyle (had he offered), she had felt wretchedly guilty for using men who thought themselves in love with her when she would never be able to return their affection.

  But no such problem existed with Lord Carrington for she did not believe he was in love with her. She could not hurt him.

  It was really rather like a business offer he was making. He wished for an heir and a wife to be a lovely ornament; she wished for security.

  “I’m greatly flattered, my lord, but you must know your declaration has been a shock. I shall need time to consider it.”

  “Of course, my dear. Though I had hoped for affirmation today, I did not expect it.”

  “Affirmation of what?” asked Edward as he strode into the saloon.

  Maggie’s heart thumped.

  Lord Carrington got to his feet and faced Edward. “A private matter.”

  Chips of ice in his eyes, Edward gazed from the marquess to Maggie.

  “I was just leaving,” Lord Carrington said. His head inclined. “Your servant, Warwick.” Then Lord Carrington rounded the tea table and came to stand before Maggie, who offered her hand. He pressed it tightly as his mouth touched her glove. “Allow me to say how happy I am that you’ve returned, my lady.”

  “Allow me to say how much I appreciate the Horse Guards,” she said with a smile.

  Once he was gone Edward’s icy glare met hers. “Have you bewitched Carrington now?”

  Her pulse thundered. “What do you mean?”

  “Did Carrington ask for your hand?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did."

  Chapter 29

  Unleashed rage pounded through his veins. The gall of Carrington to coerce Maggie with his title and vast fortune! And damn Maggie with her sensuous ways! Edward scowled at her. Why did she have to look so deuced pretty in that blue-green dress that barely covered the ivory globes of her lovely breasts? What man could be immune to such beauty? He turned his fury on her. "It would seem you've done well for yourself by waiting, madam."

  She met his gaze with defiance. "What makes you think I'll accept his offer?"

  "What woman would not wish to be a marchioness?"

  Her jet black eyes locked with his and he perceived an intensification of her own anger. "Not only that," she said in a cold voice, "did you not tell me Lord Carrington is enormously wealthy?"

  It was all he could do not to slam his fist into the wall. "As I said, madam, you've done well for yourself." He stormed to the decanter, poured himself a glass of Madeira, and drained the glass.

  "I would have thought you'd be happy for me to turn down Mr. Hollingsworth so you won't have to suffer my presence at Lady Fiona's family gatherings."

  He swiftly poured another glass and drank it, then turned to face her, his eyes glittering with rage. "I shall not be attending Hollingsworth family gatherings. Lady Fiona has exercised her better judgment and decided not to marry me."

  Maggie's face went white. She started to tremble, then sank back onto the silken sofa. "How long have you known this?" she asked in a shaky voice.

  "Since yesterday's post."

  The heavy rise and fall of her breasts, the splintering of her voice indicated she was upset. "I'm very sorry for you, Edward. I know how much you love her."

  He gave a bitter laugh. "Then you don't know me as well as Fiona does."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  A harsh shake of his head was his only response. When he had gone to sleep the night before he had vowed to risk humiliation by declaring himself to Maggie. Wasn't the slim prospect of claiming her for his own wife worth the fear of rejection? But that slim prospect now seemed as unobtainable as securing a handful of stardust.

  He turned his back on her to pour himself another drink when he heard her deep, wrenching sobs and whirled around to face her. She made no effort to check the torrent of tears which flowed down her delicate cheeks. He had come to know her so thoroughly he knew these tears were genuine, yet he could not conceive of what would have upset her so greatly that she lost all control of her emotions. Not a tear had been shed when her room was searched, not when the cutthroats tried to abduct her, not when she had been terrified by the thunderstorm, not even when she'd viewed Andrew Bibble's dead body. But now, sitting in the saloon hazily lit by the afternoon's waning sun, she crumpled into a fragile, woeful creature.

  He wanted to rush to her, to cradle her within his arms and murmur healing words. Instead, he stiffened and lashed out at her. "Pray, what ploy is this, madam?"

  Her sobs grew louder and her graceful shoulders shuddered as she completely lost her composure.

  He could not bear it. To hell with his damned pride! He rushed to her, dropped to one knee and set his hands to her trembling shoulders. "What's the matter, Maggie?" he asked in a gentle voice.

  She collapsed against his chest. Her cries grew even more woeful as her tears soaked through his shirt.

  He drew her into his arms, breathing in her rose scent, and murmuring. "What is it, love? Why are you crying?"

  Her arms tightened around him and she cried harder. "I'm s-s-s-so wicked," she managed between sobs. "I loved you e-e-e-ven knowing you were pledged to Fiona."

  In that instant, he experienced a bliss so profound, so complete, he could have wept with joy. His eyes moistened as he held her so close he was afraid of hurting her. "My God, Maggie, how could you not have known how much I love you? Fiona knew."

  She drew away to put enough distance between them to peer into his eyes. "Truly Edward? Do you really love me?"

  Unshed tears pooled in those dark eyes of hers, and h
e thought she had never been more beautiful. He gave a false laugh. "So much that I wished to do murder to Harry Lyle, Randolph Hollingsworth and Lord Carrington."

  "Oh, Edward, dearest!" Her voice softened as her hand stroked his cheekbone. "I could not care for any of them--not when my heart ached for the love of you."

  He removed her hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss to the inner hollow at the base of her wrist. The sound of her ragged breath was an aphrodisiac. He crushed his lips into hers, plunged his tongue into her mouth as his hands greedily moved over her body.

  Without him even being aware of what was happening, Maggie slid from the sofa, her knees pressing to the floor, to the carpet so that her torso melted into his. His hand splayed over her hips, pressing her into his throbbing erection as they began to move together like a single pulse beat.

  He was able to free a breast from her stays, to cup it, to suck a rigid pink nipple into his mouth as she began to whimper.

  For that moment in time he forgot everything--forgot that it was broad daylight, that a servant could walk in on them at any minute, that his knees ground into the floor. His love for her consumed him; his need for her obliterated everything else.

  His heart caught as she began to softly weep. "What have I done to you?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion, as he eased her away so he could stare into her tear-filled eyes.

  She swatted away a racing teardrop and drew in a ragged breath. Then she set a gentle index finger to his lips. "Continue whatever it is you're doing to me," she said breathlessly. "Don't ever stop. I need to feel you against me, inside me."

  The sudden realization that he loved her too dearly to sully her with a quick mating on the floor or to possibly expose her bare body to any eyes but his own brought him to his senses. He caressed her face with cupped palms. "Will you come to my bedchamber?"

  Her eyes smoldering with passion, she nodded.

  He stood and offered her his hand, and together they left the saloon and began to mount the stairs.