A Kiss for Lady Mary (17 page)

Not more than two hours later, they reached the outskirts of the market town where they were stopping, and she was more than happy to pause for a while. Mary pulled up beside a footman in Huntley’s livery who had waved at them. “My lady, Mr. Maufe said to tell you we are at the Red Lion, which has the advantage over the Black Bull.”

“Thank you.” She started the horses again. They too would be pleased to rest for a while.

“I’d be interested to know,” Kit said, “what the difference is.”

She might like to know as well, but not right now. “As long as I can walk for a while and have something to eat and drink, I do not think I care.”

“There on the left.” He pointed.

Kit’s groom was ready to take charge of the horses, while Kit lifted her down from the curricle, keeping his large hands on her waist until she got her feet back under her again. For several moments, she stared at his nicely tied cravat, which was a little silly. Mary raised her gaze to his. A smile hovered on his lips, and his eyes were as warm as his hands had been. Butterflies took up residence in her heart. “Thank you. I think I can manage now.”

“If you’re sure?” he said, not removing his hands.

“Mr. Maufe’s waiting, my lady,” Dent said, interrupting the moment.

“Positive.” Yet she did not want Kit to move.

As they strolled to the door, she placed her hand on his arm. Once inside, Mathers was there to take Mary to a clean but sparsely decorated chamber. A long mirror filled one corner of the room. “Oh dear. I didn’t realize how much dust I’d have on my gown.”

“Thought that might be the case. I’ll brush it off a bit now. I’ve got your pelisse for when you leave again.” Mary stood still while her maid cleaned the worst of the dirt off. “How was your drive?”

“It was delightful.” And it truly was. She’d had fun handling the pair, and Kit had been entertaining.

Mathers cut Mary a cryptic look.

“No, I am quite serious. I’ve never driven for such a long distance, but the fresh air and views made it a wonderful experience.” Not to mention Mr. Featherton had been a perfect companion. After she’d stopped taking umbrage at everything and had given him a chance, that was. “I believe I’ll see some of the town until the others arrive and have refreshed themselves.”

Kit was waiting for Mary when she strolled out of the inn. He’d been pleasantly surprised they’d spent so much time together without him getting on her bad side. That was the first time that had happened. “I’d planned on exploring the town. Would you like to come with me?”

She placed her hand very properly on the top of his arm. “I had the same idea.”

Damn if he’d allow her to keep putting distance between them. Considering he was wooing her, he tucked her hand securely in the crook of his arm as they turned right onto the busy main street and began snoodling toward the church. “The landlord tells me the town burnt down and was re-built about a hundred years ago.”

“That would explain why it looks so modern, even the church. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a newer one.”

They continued up a flagstone path lined with bushes just beginning to bud. He opened the door to the church and a wave of cool air rushed out. The interior was whitewashed plaster, detailed in the local stone. “Very pretty and peaceful.”

“Yes, it is.” She smiled softly, glancing at him. “The windows let in a great deal of light.”

He could envision them standing at the altar, pledging their vows. “It makes me wonder if this plain and simple interior is the way of the future.”

She raised a brow, but her eyes twinkled with wickedness. “Not if Prinny has anything to say about it.”

This was the first time she’d made a joke around him. He laughed. “Have you seen the Brighton Pavilion?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve heard about it. Grandmamma was not at all impressed. She also accused him of quacking himself.”

He agreed with the dowager duchess. If Prinny didn’t eat so many rooster stones, he probably wouldn’t be so fat. “His physician should put him on a reducing diet. He would be in better health if he lost some weight.”

“According to Grandmamma, he used to be quite handsome.”

“So I’ve heard.” He gave a shudder. “I will only advise you that unless you wish to hear the subject discussed ad nauseam, do not mention it around any older ladies.”

Mary laughed, and the sound filled his soul. Kit wished she’d do it more often.

They strolled to the other end of the high street. By the time they returned to the inn, Kit was congratulating himself for remaining on her good side thus far.

He was glad the rest of their coterie had arrived so that they could eat. “I hope nuncheon is ready. I’m starving.”

Mary nodded. “I’m feeling a bit peckish myself, and it is not even noon yet.”

“We broke our fast much earlier to-day.”

Caro and Huntley sat on the window seat of the large private parlor situated on the inn’s first floor.

Huntley rose. “Good, you’re here. Now we can eat.”

“We were just saying something of the sort,” Kit responded. He helped Mary to a chair next to Caro’s at one end of the long table laden with meats, cheeses, bread, and two savory pies. He filled a plate for Mary, and Huntley did the same for his wife.

Mary poured glasses of lemonade for herself and Caro. She held out the jug. “Would you like lemonade or ale?”

“I’ll take ale, thank you,” Kit responded, pushing a mug across to her.

“I will as well,” Huntley added. Once his mug was filled, Huntley took a long pull. “The others should be here shortly. They are giving the nursemaids time to eat and stretch their legs.”

Caro grinned. “And letting the boys run off some of their energy in a nearby field.”

Huntley reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “It won’t be long before ours is doing the same.”

While they gazed at one another, Kit glanced at Mary. If he hadn’t been listening, he would have missed her small sigh. That was what he and Mary both wanted, and it was up to him to get them there. The only question was how.

At that moment, the door opened to a cacophony of high-pitched laughter. Phoebe and Anna strolled in, with Marcus and Rutherford following, bouncing the boys on their shoulders. Soon all that was left of the meal were crumbs.

“By the by,” Kit asked Huntley as they watched Arthur and Ben finally succumb to Morpheus, “why
did
Maufe select this inn over the other?”

“The innkeeper here did not argue with Maufe when he explained what he wanted. The other one did.”

Caro giggled. “I’ve always said Maufe adds to our consequence.”

“Did I not hear that he and your lady’s maid married?” Kit asked.

“They did indeed.” Huntley grinned. “An unusual step, but one Caro and I supported wholeheartedly.”

Forty minutes or so later, the group re-boarded their carriages. Kit half expected Mary to make her excuses to him and ride with the other ladies, but when she entered the yard, she gave him a small smile and made her way to his curricle. Before he could get there to hand her in, Dent had done it. Kit stifled a growl. He’d have to speak with his groom about being so efficient when it came to Mary. Disgruntled, he climbed up. At least he had her attention for the next two hours.

She gave him the ribbons. “It is your turn.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence while he maneuvered the carriage through the busy street and out of town. The landscape once again turned into gently rolling hills. Mary pulled a piece of paper from her pelisse pocket. “I purchased this from the landlord. It lists the towns and villages along the way. I thought it might be interesting.”

He glanced over. She held a thick, brightly colored rectangular paper. He doubted it would be much help. “It might at that.”

They passed the time commenting about the countryside, and when they entered a village, Mary brought out the map. “This is Akeld.”

In a blink of an eye they were surrounded by fields again.

She frowned. “I must say, the map made it seem larger. I didn’t even see the inn mentioned.”

Kit had, and it was not more than a crofter’s cottage. “We shall have to see what the next village brings.”

But the next village was only slightly more prosperous than the first.

Mary shook the map. “And all this time I thought I was missing things when my family traveled so quickly.”

Unable to help himself, he let out a bark of laughter.

Her head snapped around to him. “What is so funny?”

“I imagine”—Kit struggled to bring himself under control—“you were on large post roads, not smaller ones such as this, and passing through significantly larger towns and villages.”

She gave a rueful smile. “You might have a point. Will it be like this until we reach Edinburgh?”

If he said it would be, she might abandon him for the ladies’ carriage. His laughter died. “Not having traveled this way before, I can’t say, but we shall find out.”

They passed a signpost to Flodden, and agreed they did not need to stop at the famous battlefield.

Finally they were hailed by the same Huntley footman as before. “My lady, sir, you’re to go to the Collingswood Arms on the main street through Cornhill. Mr. Maufe says we’re stayin’ there.”

It was on the tip of Kit’s tongue to ask why they were not finishing their trip to Coldstream, but he’d no doubt discover the reason later. He flipped the footman a coin. “Thank you.”

They were almost through the picturesque village when he saw the hotel set back from the road. Now he knew the answer.

The Collingswood Arms, built of stone the color of sand, stood in its own park. Perfect for the children and their two-day stay, as they would not travel on Sunday. Liveried footmen were with Maufe as they came to a stop in front of the hotel.

Mary clasped her hands together. “How lovely. Maufe is truly a gem.”

Kit grimaced. “If there was any way to hire him away from Huntley, I would.”

“Perhaps a better idea is to allow him to train your Piggott.”

When Kit turned to Mary, her eyes were full of mirth. A look he’d seen more to-day than in the past week they’d been together. “I might just do that.”

Before Dent could reach the curricle, Kit hopped down and lifted Mary from the carriage. Even though he held her so that no part of her touched him, his blood heated. The moment her feet touched the ground she gazed up at him, her startled eyes deepening in color to pewter. What he wouldn’t give to know what she felt at that moment.

“My lady,” Maufe said. “Your dresser is waiting for you just inside the door. A bath is being prepared.”

Mary gave an imperceptible shake of her head as if to clear it. “Yes, of course. I’ll come directly.” She turned back to Kit. “Shall I see you before dinner?”

“Yes.” He took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Perhaps another stroll?”

She stilled, like a deer uncertain of her surroundings. “I—I would like that.”

Slowly, he let go of her fingers. “Send word when you are ready.”

“I shall.” She made her way into the hotel.

Though she hadn’t looked back—and he really had not expected her to, she was too much of a lady—he’d made progress. Almost as much, if not more, than the day he’d first suggested a courtship. Now if only he could convince her to marry him.

“T
he weather is being particularly fine for this time of year, don’t you agree?”

Mary grinned at Eunice, who had been pacing the floor of Mary’s chamber for the past twenty minutes at least.

“What in heaven’s name could be taking so long?”

Eunice was as jumpy as a cat. Mary had never seen her aunt so nervous before. “You did say Mr. Doust had to track down the rector in Coldstream.”

“Yes, but how hard can that be?” Eunice’s arms flew up, then dropped again. “The town is not that big.”

“Have some tea.” Mary handed a cup to her aunt. “I’m sure he’ll return soon.”

Finally, Eunice sank onto the chair facing the fireplace. “Thank you. It is probably only nerves.”

“What is there to be anxious about? You two have been smelling of April and May for the better part of a year, and you’ve been married before. It’s not as if you do not know what to expect.”

“Yes, but I was younger then, and my betrothed had the blessing of my family.” Eunice screwed up her face. “This decision feels so much more important for some reason.”

Well, she had a point. Mary took her aunt’s hand. It must have been much easier to have had an arranged marriage with a man one already loved. “Perhaps because you are the one making the decision.”

“You may be right.” Eunice gave a tight smile. “If it goes wrong, I’ll have only myself to blame.”

“Come now.” Mary used her most bracing tone. “That is quite enough of that sort of talk. At this rate, you’ll convince yourself not to marry him at all.” The sounds of horses and men rose from the front of the hotel. “That may be him now.”

A few moments later, a knock sounded on the door. “Come.”

The door swung open. Mr. Doust clutched his hat in his hands and fixed his gaze on Eunice. “If we’re to be wed by a clergyman before next Wednesday, we must go immediately.”

Her eyes widened as she rose. “Now? But why?”

“The rector won’t marry us on Sunday. He has to be out of the area on Monday and won’t be back until late Tuesday. The only other option is to wed over the anvil.” He swallowed. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

The worry in Eunice’s face disappeared and she smiled. “Yes, it is. Let me get my things, and I’ll be right down.”

Eunice rushed off, and Mary dashed to the wardrobe where Mathers had put her jewel box. Her aunt may have been married before, but some traditions had to be maintained. She drew out an old pearl necklace with a sapphire pendant. Old, blue, and borrowed. Now to find something new.

Caro, Anna, and Phoebe entered one after the other, wearing traveling cloaks and bonnets.

“I take it we’re all going to a wedding,” Caro said.

“Yes.” Mary rolled the necklace up in linen, then placed it in her reticule. “I need something new.”

“New?” Anna’s brows puckered for a moment before clearing. “Oh my. Yes indeed. Will a handkerchief do? I brought several new ones I’d just completed.”

Mary gave her friend a hug. “Perfect. Bring them all. We’ll probably need them.” She donned her hat and pelisse. “Let’s be off.”

When they arrived in the hotel’s yard, the carriages were waiting. No curricles this time. They couldn’t afford to become dirty before the wedding. The ladies took the largest one, and in no time at all they were on their way, and crossing the bridge into Coldstream. The coaches pulled up at the western entrance of an old, gray stone church.

Mary took out the necklace, fastening it around her aunt’s neck. “This is for you for to-day. Old, borrowed, and blue.”

“And this”—Anna handed Eunice a handkerchief of fine white work—“is something new.”

Eunice swallowed and blinked her eyes. “Thank you so very much.”

The carriage opened, and Mr. Doust held out his bare hand. “My lady.”

She removed her gloves, sticking them in her reticule before placing her much smaller hand in his. “Sir.”

One by one, the gentlemen helped their ladies down from the carriage. When it was Mary’s turn, Kit executed a short bow. “Shall we?”

She watched as his fingers closed around her hand, swallowing it. When she looked up, he was smiling. She bit the inside of her cheek. How long would it be before she married? “It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a wedding.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “In that case you should have your handkerchief ready. It’s my experience ladies express their joy with tears at such events.”

Her brothers would be in a panic at the proposition of a lady crying, even with happiness, yet Kit appeared sanguine. She stepped down to the dirt road. “That doesn’t horrify you?”

“No indeed.” He tucked her hand firmly in the crook of his arm. “Not when they are happy.” He pulled a face. “Now tears of distress are a very different matter. I don’t know a man alive who doesn’t dread them.”

They followed the others through the main door, making their way up the nave to where a sandy-haired gentleman busied himself in front of the sanctuary.

The man straightened as they approached. “Mr. Doust, my lady, welcome.”

“My dear, ladies, gentlemen,” Mr. Doust said, “allow me to introduce Mr. Creelman, who you have probably surmised is the rector.”

Once the remaining introductions were completed, Mr. Creelman asked Doust and Lady Eunice, “Who will be your witnesses?”

Doust glanced at Kit. He nodded. “Lady Mary Tolliver and Mr. Featherton.”

Mary started. She and Eunice hadn’t discussed who’d attend her and her betrothed, but Mary should have expected she would. Still, she’d never acted as a witness and was a little unsure of what to do. Hopefully, the rector would tell her. “I’m happy to.”

“If everyone else will take their seats,” Mr. Creelman said, “we shall begin.”

Although the service was straight out of the Book of Common Prayer, and the newlyweds took communion, the service seemed rather short to Kit. He supposed his marriage to Mary would be much the same. He found himself looking forward to calling her his wife and hoped she’d soon feel the same.

During the wedding dinner at the hotel, he remained by her side, filling her plate from the numerous offerings at the table, and fetching her drinks. She had not exaggerated when she’d told him she was not a picky eater, and it pleased him to see her eat what he’d brought. Once Doust and Lady Eunice retired, the talk turned to Edinburgh.

While they’d been in Coldstream, the messenger, waylaid by one of their footmen, had arrived with Lady Theo’s letter. Huntley handed Caro his penknife, and she slid it under the seal; spreading the single page out, she quickly perused it and grinned. “We are all welcome. She is getting the nursery ready as well. She already has a list of entertainments we might be interested in and will make up another list of suitable gentlemen for Mary.”

Kit forced back a growl of frustration. He did not need Lady Theo finding another man for Mary. Thankfully she’d only blushed and not agreed with the suggestion. Now though, her eyes sparkled with excitement as Caro recited some of the outings and parties to which Lady Theo had accepted invitations on their behalf.

Kit had thought he’d understood Mary’s desire for a Season; he did have sisters. But looking at her now, he realized he hadn’t fully appreciated how much she looked forward to it. Had he become so jaded with the Season that he’d applied his feelings to her?

For years now, his role was to be the perfect gentleman and guest. After the first few years, he never even flirted with ladies. How had he fooled himself into thinking he could convince her to marry him with a picnic or two and compliments on her garden? Perhaps he needed to make his own compilation of what a lady being courted might wish to do, and, if Lady Theo was playing matchmaker, he’d better secure dances and appointments for other entertainments before he and Mary arrived in Edinburgh. Come what may, he’d ensure Mary had the best Season of her life.

He wondered if any of the ladies had brought a guidebook of the sights a visitor shouldn’t miss in the area. If not, he’d procure one as soon as they arrived. It was a brilliant idea, even if he did say so himself. Whenever they were not at some event or another planned by their hostess, he would keep her busy with him. There was no way he’d allow some Scottish rogue to take Mary away from him.

Three days later, their caravan entered Edinburgh. Apparently the only one who’d visited the city before was Maufe, who sat with Huntley’s coachman in the lead carriage. After winding through streets, they finally pulled up in front of a large town house on a corner of Charlotte Square in the new city.

A footman stationed on the stairs opened the door, and an elderly man dressed in a black suit stepped out and bowed. He called over his shoulder, and almost immediately, additional footmen poured out of the lower levels of the house. Several moments later, after the ladies and children had reached the pavement, a tall, elegant, middle-aged lady dressed in the height of fashion, appeared on the step. Surely this could not be Lady Theo. The woman who tramped through the countryside with her husband, looking at rocks.

Holding out her hands, she grinned broadly. “Huntley, I’m so happy to welcome you to Edinburgh.” She glanced next to him. “And this must be Caro. How very pleased I am to meet you, my dear. We had quite despaired of ever finding him a wife.” Lady Theo hugged Caro, then turned to the rest of the assemblage. “Welcome to my home. Please come in and rest while your maids and valets settle you in. I have a rather large repast waiting to be served to you in the back drawing room and for the children in the nursery.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mary said quietly. “My stomach has been grumbling for the past hour.”

Kit smiled. “Mine as well.” He led her up the steps and into a large hall laid with yellow marble that matched the Georgian columns. The grand staircase, done in a medium-colored wood, gleamed with beeswax. “If I were a boy again, I’d slide down that.”

Next to him, Mary snorted. “I would have slid down it as well.”

They followed their hostess into a rectangular room off the hall. Windows lined two walls, and fireplaces anchored each end. Once the company were relieved of their outer garments, tea accompanied by large trays full of food arrived.

“Where is Uncle Titus?” Huntley asked after they’d finished eating.

Lady Theo waved her hand around, fingers fluttering. “Here and there. He is preparing to submit a paper to the Royal Society and had a meeting scheduled with some of his colleagues. Not knowing when you’d arrive, I told him to go on. He’ll join us for dinner.”

“If no one minds,” Marcus said, glancing at the rest of them, “Rutherford and I wish to take the boys out to the park.”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Lady Theo said. “In fact, you gentlemen are rather
de trop
. After the ladies have refreshed themselves, we shall discuss our entertainments.” She focused on Kit. “Mr. Featherton, your reputation precedes you. I’m quite sure we would not have received nearly so many invitations without your presence.”

He stifled a groan and rose with the rest of the men. They recognized a dismissal when they heard it. He took Mary’s hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’ll see you before dinner then.”

A lovely pink flooded her cheeks. “Of course.”

He and Mary had been getting along so well. She had not turned away from him once during their journey to Edinburgh. Finally his courting of her was going well, but in order to forestall Lady Theo’s plans, he’d have to move quickly.

A half hour later, Mary, Caro, Phoebe, and Anna joined Lady Theo in the morning room overlooking the gardens in the back of the house. As expected, more tea was served.

Mary twirled one of the curls framing her face around one finger. Ever since Lady Theo had singled Kit out, Mary had wondered exactly what the older lady had meant. Was it merely his reputation as Mr. Perfect, or was there more? Unfortunately, she could not bring herself to ask.

She almost fell upon Caro with gratitude when she did. “Kit Featherton, as you know, is extremely popular in London, but I’m surprised he is known here.”

Lady Theo raised a brow. “You’d be surprised how far and fast news travels. The ladies here have heard how he’s not only the perfect gentleman, but has, so far, avoided marriage. I know several young ladies who are already planning their weddings.” She raised her brow, an amused expression on her countenance. “They have reasoned that as the missish English ladies did not appeal to him, the bolder Scottish lasses might.”

Mary’s hand curled into a fist, crushing part of her skirt. She didn’t care at all if another lady was interested in Kit. Although he’d been very pleasant during their journey, perhaps more than pleasant, she’d had a truly wonderful time. That did not excuse the fact that Kit had not made any advances showing her he truly wished to marry her. He hadn’t kissed her. The ugly specter of him kissing another woman raised its head, and Mary bit her lip. She was not and would not be jealous. They didn’t even have an understanding. Stifling a sigh, she schooled her mien into a pleasant mask and hoped no one had noticed her initial reaction. Unfortunately, her fist still crushed her gown.
Drat.
She’d never hear the end of it from Mathers if she ruined it.

“To-morrow I shall take you on some morning calls.” Lady Theo recited the entertainments she thought most appropriate for the rest of the week. A Venetian breakfast, a ball at the assembly rooms, dinner and cards, and a ball in three days’ time. “We are not as busy as London, but I’m proud of our Season.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” Caro smiled at Lady Theo. “I must say, I am glad for something a little less hectic than London, and I’ve always wanted to visit Edinburgh. Thank you so very much for allowing us all to invade your home.”

“Not at all. I am rarely around ladies, and you’ve given me the perfect excuse to host my own ball. Now”—Lady Theo turned her sharp gaze on Mary—“I understand we must find you a husband.”