In a lower tone, Kent said to Lucy, “It’s the least I can do for him. Think of it as a wedding gift.” Kent sounded as though he were asking her permission as much for her understanding.
“Can you handle a party?” she asked sincerely. Covertly, she slipped her hand on his arm. “As the earl, they’ll expect you to host.” Which meant she’d be expected to be a hostess as well.
Kent sighed. “They’d be there for Lady Teresa and Colby, so I plan to spend as little time with the guests as possible.” He smirked. “I’m sure you can come up with ways to keep me occupied.”
Her face stung and she bit her lip to hold back a smile. She’d keep George away as well. He’d have Miriam to play with.
Lucy looked up, ready to tell Colby how much she looked forward to the event when her gaze caught the dowager’s, and there was no other way to explain what was written on the woman’s face. Distress, disbelief, and disgust.
But then the woman blinked, and it was gone. Her smile was nearly hostile after that. “So, what do you think of the party, my lady?”
∫ ∫ ∫
4 3
* * *
Kent noticed the change in Lucy and looked at his mother. It was hard to be in her presence and not be certain if she’d had a hand in his kidnapping. There was a great possibility that his own mother would have been relieved if he were dead.
“A party sounds wonderful.” Lucy said in answer to the dowager’s question. Then the hand that had been holding Kent’s moved away…but only so she could wrap her entire arm around his.
Is she claiming me in some way?
Lucy’s other hand claimed him as well, and she even leaned into him. And then the stroking began, her hand running up and down the inside of his arm, nearly driving him mad. He had to fight to concentrate on her words. “Kent is the most generous man I know.” Lucy said in a voice that reminded him of dripping honey. “You are very lucky to have him as a son.”
If Kent hadn’t been sure that something was going on between his mother and Lucy, he was certain of it now.
His mother narrowed her gaze. She looked like a vicious cat. She kept her voice low. “Well, let us hope he stays that way. Men have been known to change once they have a child…their own children, I should say. Little George better enjoy what he has while he can. I’m sure if your sister were still with us today, she could tell you what it is like when younger siblings arrive.” She laughed lightly. “They’re all but forgotten.”
Lucy gasped.
Kent shouldn’t been surprised to see his real mother emerge since he saw this side of her often. But never did she dare in front of Colby.
Kent looked over to see if Colby and Lady Teresa were paying any attention, but they weren’t. Or at least, Colby wasn’t. Teresa was coaxing him to focus on her…and doing a very good job at it. Batting her eyes and whispering in a way that forced him to lean close to her.
Was Teresa aware of his mother’s true nature?
Kent was used to it, but he would not allow his mother to disrespect his wife.
“There is no need—” Kent began.
“Was that how your husband reacted when Colby was born?” Lucy asked the woman in a voice that was far too sweet, even for her. “Surely, you speak from experience? Surely, you speak of a situation nearly exactly as this one? Surely, George reminds you of someone? And Jessica?”
The next sounds in the room were only those of Lady Teresa’s whispers.
Kent was confused. He was certain that Lucy was comparing George to himself but didn’t understand why that would render his mother speechless. And not only had the dowager grown silent, but she’d paled and then nearly turned green. Kent had never seen this reaction in his life.
What magic had Lucy worked to tame the dragon?
Lucy looked up at him and smiled. “We promised to take George to the park. We should go.”
Kent agreed and helped his wife to her feet.
“I’m thinking two dozen guests then.” Colby said as he came to his feet. He was so happy, and his mother was so silent, that Kent settled somewhat. “Or three dozen.” Colby went on. “We wouldn’t want to leave anyone out. We’ve not had a party there since Father passed.”
That was because Kent had forbid it and admitted it had felt good telling his mother no when she’d asked. He was surprised no parties had taken place while he’d been locked away at Mr. Goody’s home.
Ganden Hall would hold more than three dozen, but still Kent said, “Don’t get carried away.”
Colby’s arm went around his fiancée as she also stood and turned to him. Colby chuckled. “It’s only twenty-four people…so far.”
“And their children,” Kent reminded him “and—”
“Ganden!” His mother’s shout seemed to come from nowhere. “Your brother is getting married. Why can’t you be happy for him?”
Kent straightened and slowly turned to the dowager. His felt his skin begin to prickle. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I am happy for—”
“You’re not!” The woman frowned and then stood. “You’re jealous. It’s the only reason you won’t allow Colby to have as many guests as he wishes.”
Kent glared and slipped Lucy’s arms from around him. His blood began to rush, pounding in his head. “My lady—”
“If you can’t be happy for him, then perhaps you should just leave.” His mother looked directly into his eyes. The expression was stern, yet he could see that her body trembled.
“Mother.” Colby called in confusion. “Really, I don’t believe—”
“Go.” their mother said, her gaze stuck on Kent with both fear and anger. “Get out.” The anger was old. The fear new. “Go. We don’t need you here.”
Kent’s rage rose and curled around his bones. Words trembled on his lips, but he couldn’t get them out.
Lucy tried to speak to him, but he couldn’t hear over the pounding and his mother’s voice. New words. Old words. Accusations.
“This is my home!” Kent shouted. “I paid for every last thing in here.”
In the next second, he grabbed a nearby chair and flung it across the room. It splintered into pieces, with part of one leg embedded into the wall. But that wasn’t enough. He picked up a vase next. It hit the ground and shattered. There were screams. Likely, from the future Mrs. Harris.
“Look what you’ve done!” his mother shouted. “Why can’t you do anything right?” She looked at Lucy. “You see what I mean? The boy could never control his temper. He’s wild.” She looked at Colby. “We can’t have a party with him around. I’m sorry, but it’s best to move it elsewhere. Your brother is uncivilized.”
Colby was trying to comfort Lady Teresa, who was shaking with great fright.
Something pressed against Kent, and he snarled before he realized it was Lucy. Her eyes were wide, but not with fear. With pain. “Kent, let’s go.”
“Yes.” Colby said as he put a protective arm around his weeping fiancée. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’ll…visit you all later.”
Lucy touched Kent’s arm and urged him out of the room and then the house.
“Say nothing.” he warned Lucy as the carriage got underway.
* * *
This was all her fault. Lucy knew it. She’d provoked the dowager by comparing her to Jessica. How hypocritical of the woman to try and call George a bastard when Kent hadn’t been born of the Earl of Ganden. Had the woman no pity for the sins of another? Clearly not. The woman was likely so self-righteous in her own eyes that everyone else was far beneath her.
She’d provoked the dowager and the woman had fought back in the only way she knew.
She’d gotten Kent angry enough to act out, until he appeared to be the person of poor character in the room, shifting the disapproval from the dowager to Lucy’s husband.
She hated that woman. She hated what she’d done to what had started out as a good day for Kent. She never wanted to see the dowager again and while she was saddened that Kent w
ould no longer be allowed to give his brother the party he so desired, she would not have to be around that woman for any extended length of time. A country party could last for months and Lucy was likely to do something quite uncivilized herself if given the chance.
She closed her eyes as the carriage continued down the road and tried to get the rocking to calm her but found it hard to do.
She was slightly ashamed of her actions as well. She’d used what she knew about Kent’s birth, which had delivered little good. She didn’t think any less of Kent for the circumstances of his birth. She’d just…wanted the dowager to open her eyes and see that no one was perfect.
“Were you scared of me at all?” Kent asked in the silence.
Lucy opened her eyes. “What?”
“I wasn’t paying attention when I tossed the chair.” He leaned forward. “I could have hit you. I’m sorry.”
She leaned forward and covered his hands with her own. “You threw it in the opposite direction of me. I think you were aware of me even if you don’t realize it.”
He flipped his hands and took her fingers in his. “So, you weren’t scared?”
She shook her head. “I was disappointed with your mother but mostly with myself. I provoked her.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I noticed, though I don’t understand how.”
She sighed over her raising heart. “She treated you poorly, likely before Colby was born and I accused her as much.” She’d accused the dowager of much more than that but only in the dowager’s mind, for Lucy forgave Jessica for falling in love with Lord Maltby and sharing her body with him. Could the dowager forgive herself? Or was the sin too great for her to bear and that was why she took it out on Kent?
“You’re angry.” he said, watching her. “I hadn’t expected that reaction from you. I’m used to being the only angry person in the room.”
“Well, you’re not.” She tried for a smile. “So, perhaps we should try and do something to calm ourselves down.”
“Like destroy something.” His eyes brightened at the idea.
She chuckled and frowned. “No, Kent. I don’t wish to break anything.” At least, she didn’t think she did.
He looked mildly disappointed. “I would have loved to see you do it.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Surely, we can come up with a better way.”
His look became lecherous. “We can do something here in the carriage.”
Lucy laughed and blushed. “I didn’t mean that. I meant…let’s make something.”
The disappointment came again. His face was just as pouty as his words, “Like what?” It was as though she’d taken his favorite toy away.
She laughed and moved to his side of the bench. “I don’t know, but you said you’re good at building things and I enjoy painting. Let us make something together.”
“Mmm.” he said in a tone that neither agreed or disagreed with her suggestion. “Sex would be better.”
Lucy’s face burned, and she buried it in his arm to hide her smile. She was a lady. She was not supposed to find such lewd conversations amusing. Calm enough, she looked up again. “But whatever we build would be lasting.”
Her husband’s gaze became more libidinous by the second. “I could make it last.”
“Oh, all right. We’ll do it your way.”
His gaze shone as though she’d promised him a pudding after dinner.
“But not here,” he said as he took her hand “in my bed. The proper way. Since you’re a proper lady.” He smirked before pressing her fingers to his lips.
“How very considerate of you.” she whispered and then looked away to hide her smile.
∫ ∫ ∫
4 4
* * *
Kent found himself in the keeper’s chambers two days later. Lady Jessica’s book rested in his hand. Lucy had trusted him not to read it, and he wouldn’t. He didn’t even want to, because he didn’t believe there to be any good inside of Lord Maltsby. He didn’t know what Lucy’s sister had possibly seen in the man but doubted that he’d shown the woman his true self.
There were many wives who went into their marriages believing their gentlemen when they were promised fidelity and gentleness, only to be shown days later that they’d made a horrible mistake.
And on occasion, it was the same for many men.
Holding Jessica’s book reminded Kent of the trust Lucy had placed in him, not with simply this journal but with George and their future.
The door opened and Lord Maltsby came in, looking as though he’d just finished a meeting with the king. After hearing that the man had a painting of his old lover hanging in his ceil, he was not at all surprised by Maltsby’s appearance.
And Maltsby was not surprised to see him either. “My son has told me all about you and Lucy’s match. Congratulations.”
Kent brought up the memory of punching the man in the face, recalling how he’d been unrecognizable. It helped settle him.
Kent stood as another man entered the room, holding a painting that was far larger than he’d suspected it to be. It had been wrapped in paper so Kent couldn’t see what rested underneath except for a glimpse of a golden frame.
“How is Lady Lucy?” Maltsby asked. “Well? And the boy? I hear he’s taking riding lessons. Is he excelling at the activity?”
Kent cut his eyes from the painting to the man. “This will go better for you if you avoid speaking about my family. As a matter of fact, we don’t need to speak at all.”
Kent’s footman moved forward and took the painting, and Kent walked over to Maltsby and held out the book.
“Very well.” Maltsby stared down at the book and there was no mistaking the quick breath that the man took before grabbing for it. He stared at it for a moment and ran a hand over the cover before looking up at Kent. “Give my thanks to…your wife.”
Kent nodded and started for the door. He needed to get out. Every moment with Maltsby was a reminder that the man wasn’t dead, and not only was he alive, but he seemed to be in perfect health, which should have been impossible.
“Aren’t you curious at all?” Maltsby asked at Kent’s back. “Don’t you wonder how it is that I stand here before you as I am? A gentleman through and through?”
Kent turned and looked Maltsby over. “I don’t see a gentleman. I see a thief in fine clothes.”
Maltsby laughed and pressed the book to his chin before crossing his arms. “Perhaps you’re right, but you and I are not so different in the end. You use your fists, and I use my head.” He tapped the book against his temple.
Kent narrowed his eyes. “You must be pressed for conversation. I can’t imagine many gentlemen visit you, aside from those who stand to inherit.”
“Oh, you have no idea who my friends are.” Lord Maltsby said.
“Would you like to enlighten me?” Perhaps, if he kept the man talking, he’d eventually reveal something.
Maltsby shrugged and looked away. “I was only making conversation. When your wife visited, we spoke at length. Did she mention anything we spoke of?”
“You have one more time to mention my wife,” Kent said “and the hangman will find himself cut short since you’ll be absent a head for his noose.”
Maltsby chuckled. “I’m only teasing. No harm in that, is there?”
Was the man truly bored enough to think Kent good sport for entertainment? Or perhaps Lord Maltsby was looking for his death after all. Perhaps, he wanted Kent to kill him so he wouldn’t have to go through the humiliation of a crowd watching him swing from a rope.
For the first time ever, Kent was glad he hadn’t killed Maltsby. He wanted the man humiliated. Brought down in the public eye.
Lord Maltsby looked him over and narrowed his gaze. “So, you’ve truly only come to inquire after the painting?”
What else would he have come for?
Maltsby sighed and tilted his head. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll give you some marital advice. I was marri
ed myself once, after all. Lady Maltsby had done her duty, but she was no Jessica.” His gaze went away before he blinked and looked at Kent again. “Sometimes, the people who love you do things out of love that hurt.”
Was he speaking about his treatment of Jessica?
Kent wasn’t sure and didn’t entirely care. “Good day, Lord Maltsby.”
“Keep an open mind.” Lord Maltsby called after him. “I’ll see you soon.” He chuckled.
Kent ignored him, or at least tried to, but by the time he reached home, Lord Maltsby was still on his mind.
Lucy met him in the foyer, which was already starting to breathe with new life. The house was completely transformed. Lucy had decided to not only furnish the house but change its very colors and patterns. All that existed from the past were the floors, and he was thankful for that.
The footman brought in the painting.
“Where do you want it?” Kent asked.
“Upstairs.” She led the way into the drawing room, yet part of the space had been cleared. The furniture, a couch and two wingback chairs, were positioned close to the fireplace in an intimate setting while the other side of the space was nearly bare except for another table that had been pushed to the side that held some wood and various building supplies. He wondered what Lucy would need with them.
“Over there by the window.” Lucy told the footman.
The man settled the frame, and Lucy moved forward to pull the paper away. What was revealed was a woman who looked much like Lucy, if only more refined in her features, and very much in love. Unlike most portraits, Jessica wore a subtle yet noticeable smile that touched her eyes.
Kent dismissed the servant and moved to stand behind Lucy. He placed his hands on her shoulders and when she began to lean into his embrace, he moved his arms and wrapped them around her belly. Her breath caught, and he didn’t need to look at her to know she was weeping.
She placed her hands on his arms and whispered, “I don’t have memories of my childhood that don’t include Jessica. I…never thought I’d be without her.”
“She’d be proud of how you’ve watched over George.”
Dread of The Earl (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 21