A Kiss for Lady Mary (6 page)

He was furious, but her heart was thudding so hard that she could not even respond. After the first few weeks at Rose Hill, she’d not thought about what would occur if the rightful owner appeared. She’d felt safe for the first time in years. Oh Lord. They were properly in the suds now.

“The property looks to be in much better skin than when last I saw it.” His voice was hard, but at least he wasn’t shouting. “I understand I have you to thank for the improvement.”

Hardly surprising, considering it had been years since he’d visited. She opened her mouth, intending to tell him just that, but he continued.

“No need to speak now. My arrival must be quite a shock. Once tea is served, we’ll discuss why you are here.”

Fortunately Simons arrived quickly. He placed the tea tray on the low table in front of the sofa and gave Mr. Featherton a look, then turned to Mary. “My lady, please call out or ring if you require anything else.”

“Thank you, Simons, I shall.” Her voice resembled a croak, but at least she had produced words.

Once Simons left and closed the door behind him, Mary started to pick up the pot, but her hands shook so badly that she sloshed tea from the spout. She stopped and took a breath.

“Here”—Mr. Featherton took the pot from her hands—“allow me.”

He was being surprisingly kind, considering how angry he was.

“Milk or cream?” he asked.

“Simons will have brought milk.”

The corners of Mr. Featherton’s well-shaped lips rose. “Sugar?”

“Yes. Two, please.”

Now that she was sure he wasn’t about to rail at her—at least not immediately—she allowed herself to study his features. His wavy hair was cut in the latest style, reminding her a bit of Byron, though his shoulders were much broader than the poet’s. Mr. Featherton dressed in the mode of a country gentleman, though it was clear no tailor less talented than the famous Weston had made his clothing. Beneath a fine layer of dust, she could see her reflection in the high gloss on his boots.

“There now.” He glanced up. His blue eyes caught her gaze. “Here is your tea, my lady.”

“Thank you.” Her hands still quivered a little, but the tension had begun to ease. She took a sip. She had to get control of this conversation. “I assure you I have said nothing about you to either the townspeople or the servants. I—I would not have slandered you. In fact, I did not truly know it was your property.”

“Indeed?”

Unable to look at Mr. Featherton, Mary smoothed her skirts. “You must wish to know how this deception came about.”

“That
is
what brought me here,” he said in a dry tone.

She flinched. “Yes, of course.”

Really, she told herself, she was acting like a fool. “This was my worst fear. Grandmamma and Aunt Eunice said it wouldn’t happen, but it did, and I knew it would.” Mary straightened her shoulders. “I am sorry. My aunt and I shall leave in the morning, or as soon after as may be.”

He took a sip of tea, then placed his cup on the table. “I do not think that is the best strategy. Your immediate removal would cause unwanted talk. I would like to know how you came to be living here. After all, you do not resemble the typical adventuress.”

He was taking it all so coolly that Mary relaxed even more. She surprised herself when a gurgle of laughter escaped. “Is there such a thing?”

He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “A good question. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting such a woman.”

Given his straitlaced reputation, that wasn’t startling. She took another sip of tea. “I said they should have leased a property, but my aunt said that would leave a trail.”

He went still and stared at her, and there was an almost dangerous edge in his voice as he asked, “And just who are you so afraid of that your safest option was to masquerade as my wife?”

M
ary knew that Mr. Featherton deserved to know the truth, and there was no point in hiding it now that she’d been discovered.

“My cousin, Gawain Tolliver.” She took a breath. “Since my mourning for my father ended, I have been moving from family member to family member hiding from him. His father, my uncle, is my trustee.” Mr. Perfect—if she kept thinking of him by that name, she was going to slip and end up blurting it out—Mr. Featherton listened patiently while she tried to tell the story in a logical fashion. “That is how I ended up at Rose Hill.”

He was quiet for several moments, his brows drawn together in thought. “Your cousin has not found you here, has he?”

“No.” She heaved a sigh. “The months I’ve been here are the first time in years that I’ve felt safe from him. Being at Rose Hill has been like heaven.” She smiled, remembering all she had done. “I was able to try new ideas for the estate and refurbish the formal garden.”

Kit set down his cup. His anger rapidly drained as he considered Mary’s plight. Now that he could see
her
, the only thing he could think was that Lady Mary had a beautiful smile and he was happy to finally see it aimed in his direction. In a rueful tone, he said, “Then I had to come and ruin everything.”

Her gaze flew to him. “No, no, no, please don’t say that. Even if I have enjoyed Rose Hill, this plan was folly, and I must leave soon in any event. I need to find a husband or Gawain will still attempt to . . .” Her face turned a lovely shade of pink.

Deuced strange that her father’s brother had been chosen as trustee. If the matter had ever been taken to court there would have been no problem having the man replaced. “I thought you couldn’t marry without your uncle’s permission?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Once I am five and twenty, I will control my own fortune and may marry whomever I choose, and it will not be Gawain.” Then she frowned. “Unfortunately, that will not be for another year.”

No, but Kit was not so green that he didn’t know very well that she must wed
him
or see her reputation ruined beyond repair. Her presence at Rose Hill could not be kept a secret forever, particularly with Lady Bellamny’s goddaughter knowing. “It seems to me that if you met the right gentleman, he would not care about your money.”

She picked up her cup and drained it. “Be that as it may, I shall not give up what is mine.”

He couldn’t disagree with her, nor would he try. “What happens if you marry without permission?”

Lady Mary pressed her pretty lips together. “My fortune goes to my uncle.”

A lesser woman might have given up long ago and married as her uncle wished. Of course, this explained why he hadn’t seen her for such a long time. He had always admired her beauty, now he respected her resolve and valiant nature. How odd that the Dowager Duchess of Bridgewater had chosen his estate, though it did meet all the requirements, being far from London and the prying eyes of the
ton
. Even stranger was Lady B’s involvement. If she had not told his grandmother, Lady Mary could have left here and he’d never have known. However, the most important part of what she’d said had to do with marriage.... “Do you have a gentleman in mind?”

Her shoulders drooped. “No. I thought my grandmother would make up a list of suitable candidates, and perhaps my friends would help.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. What he should do was demand she marry him. That, after all, would settle everyone’s problems. This whole scheme would cause a scandal for them both. In fact, under the circumstances it was inevitable. And since her heart was not engaged elsewhere, he need not worry that he would be breaking it. Still, something told him that she was not in the right frame of mind for a proposal, no matter how practical. The problem was, he couldn’t think of another way out of this mess than for them to wed. It appeared fate had neatly penned them in. Not that he minded all that much, given that he had been searching for her for years. But a nagging voice kept telling him it would behoove him to spend time getting to know her first.

“I saw how well the house looked from the front; would you show me the changes you’ve made to the rest of the property? We could start with the gardens.”

A line creased her forehead. “Are you sure you would not rather rest after your long journey?”

Kit grinned and lifted her hand to his lips again. “I’m not at all tired, and I am rather interested to see what you’ve accomplished.”

“If you insist.” She allowed him to place her hand on his arm. “We can go out this way. I just replanted the garden this spring. . . .”

Lady Mary began detailing the repairs and changes she’d made. She certainly knew what she was doing, and appeared to be a sensible woman. Before long she would realize she had no choice but to marry him. It might not be a love match, yet she was not in love with anyone else, and he had not been able to get her off his mind. Kit could see them as a contented married couple. Perhaps in time they would grow to love each other. It would save him the bother of courting. The more he considered it, the better he liked the notion.

He lost himself in the music of her voice. Daffodils, hyacinths and other spring bulbs were making an appearance. Lilacs in bloom lined the garden on one side. New plants seemed to be everywhere. He took out his quizzing glass. Roses. Dozens of them, underplanted with lavender and probably other herbs. He wondered if she had added lamb’s ears, as well. As a child, they had been his favorite. If not, he would suggest it. The property was much more pleasant than he’d remembered.

“I should have planted in autumn, but the design hadn’t come to me then.” She furrowed her brow, as if rethinking her decision. “Daniels assures me they’ll be fine.”

Kit remembered the name from the list of servants. Though there appeared to be many more than he was paying for. “Where did the footmen come from?”

“Grandmamma arranged for them. I hired more maids. Eunice and I share the cost.”

He appreciated her frugality on his behalf, but it was not as though he couldn’t easily bear the expense himself. “I think the estate can afford them.”

Lady Mary shook her head firmly. “No, it would not be right. You should only have to pay for the staff necessary to keep Rose Hill running, not for the cost of my aunt and me being here.” She paced along beside him, then stopped. “In fact, as soon as I come into my inheritance, I shall pay the past rent on the house. It is only fair.”

Damn it all. He didn’t want payment for her being here. “In that case, I shall pay you for the improvements you’ve made and for acting as steward, which will, no doubt, equal the rent, or”—he paused—“possibly more.”

Placing her hands on her hips, she faced him squarely. “Now you are being silly.”

He met her gaze and raised his brows. “No sillier than you. After having only servants living in it for so many years, I cannot imagine the estate was in the excellent condition I find it in now.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, and Kit had trouble tearing his gaze from her mouth. “Very well, we’ll call it an even trade.”

“I agree.” He took her hand, returning it to his arm as they strolled through the rest of the tour. He listened with part of his mind as she prattled engagingly about the garden and the changes to the estate, while with the rest he applied himself to the problem of her masquerade.

Kit was quite sure Lady Mary had been truthful with him, yet there was something else going on. Something of which she might not be aware, and there were the cousin and uncle to deal with as well. Her grandmother seemed to be the lynchpin of everything that had happened. Once he had all the pieces of the puzzle he would solve it, of that he had no doubt. He grinned. Even if they had to come up with a story regarding when they had married and why they had been so private, at least the problem of whom he would wed was resolved. All that was left was to convince Lady Mary that he was a good bargain as a husband.

 

 

 

“Are you sure it was him, Your Grace?” Constance’s dresser, Anderson, asked as she stood beside a window in the first floor parlor, hidden from view by the drapes.

“Almost positive. A shame there are so many people in Berkeley Square. It makes it easier for blackguards to hide.” Constance stared at the window from a safe distance. She did not dare look out again herself. If Gawain Tolliver saw her, he would realize that she knew he was watching the house. “Get that young maid. Athey, isn’t it? She can recognize the scoundrel. By the way, how is she doing?”

“Picking up her duties quite well.” Anderson pulled the braided bell pull three times. “I have her cleaning one of your carriage gowns. She’ll be a skilled dresser in no time.”

Not long afterward Miss Athey entered the room and curtseyed. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Find something to do around the window facing onto the square and tell me if you see Mr. Tolliver.”

Miss Athey took a cloth from her pocket and pretended to clean the window. “Yes, Your Grace. That’s him, all right. I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“Well, drat the man. I can’t lead him to Lady Mary.” Despite Lucinda’s faith in her grandson, it wouldn’t do to have Gawain ruining any courting that may be going on. “I’ll have to think of something else.”

A knock at the door interrupted her.

When Miss Athey opened the door, the Bridgewater butler was there. “Your Grace, the Dowager Viscountess Featherton is waiting for you in the morning room.”

“Just in time. Perhaps she will have an idea.” Constance rose and picked up her cane. Getting old was the very devil. “You may help me down the stairs.”

He held out his arm. “Yes, Your Grace.”

When she entered the morning room, Lucinda was standing at the door to the garden. She turned. “Lovely this time of year.”

“I agree. My granddaughter did an excellent job when she was here a couple of years ago. Come sit. We have a problem.”

After Constance told her friend about Tolliver’s presence, Lucinda asked, “Isn’t Mary in correspondence with Lady Evesham and Lady Huntley?”

“She is. They have been friends for years.”

“In that case,” Lucinda said, grinning, “I have just the thing, and Kit won’t even know he’s been tricked. I am quite sure the ladies would be happy to help. I was at Catherine Beaumont’s house the other day when her grandson and his wife brought the baby to visit. Such a beautiful little girl. They will be leaving Town in the next day or so. As I understand it, the Eveshams and Huntleys plan to accompany them. I believe there is some talk of going to Edinburgh. One of Huntley’s aunts lives there.”

There was no doubt both couples were discreet enough, and the gentlemen were friends of Kit’s. In addition, in the event Mary balked, Lady Evesham and Lady Huntley were more than capable of convincing her that she must wed Kit. Constance walked to the writing table. “I’ll ask the ladies to attend me immediately. Not only will they be able to help ensure that everything goes well, they can stay to witness Kit and Mary’s marriage vows.”

 

Eunice ambled toward the wood, her hand tucked in the crook of Mr. Doust’s arm. Once she’d seen the look of recognition on Mr. Featherton’s face when he saw her niece, she had been fairly certain all would be well. Mama and old Lady Featherton had been right when they said he had a tendre for Mary. Be that as it may, it wouldn’t hurt to keep the rector near in the event of a problem. Besides, Eunice wanted to spend more time with him. Soon he’d be nothing more than a pleasant memory. Well, perhaps more than merely pleasant, but a memory nonetheless.

She’d not been as drawn to a man since Roger, and she didn’t know why Mr. Doust interested her so. He was not much above average height, nowhere near as tall as her husband had been, or as flamboyant. On the other hand, she herself was short, so a man need not be tall to appeal to her. His eyes were a clear brown. Much like a horse’s. He was stocky but had not run to fat, and he moved with a grace she would not have expected. At the local assembly in January, they had danced, and if he had tried to kiss her, she would have let him. If not for Mary and the May game they were playing . . . Eunice sighed. If, if, if. None of it mattered. She recited the story she had decided to tell him. “We will leave for Town as soon as my mother arrives.”

His brow furrowed. “When will that be?”

“I’m not sure. Next week or soon thereafter. Before my niece’s birthday.”

“And what of Mr. Featherton?”

Drat
. She kicked a stone. This was what came of allowing her mind to wander.

Before she could think of an answer, Mr. Doust said, “It is clear Lady Mary was not expecting Mr. Featherton, nor was she . . . best pleased to see him.” The rector stopped, turning her toward him. “Lady Eunice, I hope we have become friends. If you tell me what is going on, I might be able to help.”

Eunice repressed a groan. Should she reveal the secret and watch as Mr. Doust lost all respect for her? Yet when he gazed at her with those steady brown eyes, she felt herself wanting to confide in him.

“You do realize,” he said quietly, “that even if I were prone to gossip, my vows prohibit me from doing so.”

A smile tugged one corner of her mouth. She could not imagine anyone less disposed to tittle-tattle than the rector. She took a breath. “Very well, but you must promise not to say a word until I’m finished.”

He led her to a wooden bench and waited for her to sit before he did, then he took her hand and held it. “I promise.”

A light shiver ran through her. Why did it feel as if he were offering more than concern for a friend? “After Mary’s father died, only a year after her mother, and the mourning period was up, her brother Barham and his wife removed to Town for the Season. Mary resided with them. Mama and I thought nothing of their cousin Gawain Tolliver being around, until he began pressing his attentions on Mary. Barham warned him off, but that just made Tolliver more devious about following her. Then one evening, during some entertainment or other, as she was returning from the ladies’ retiring room, he tried to trap her. Fortunately she was able to get away, but he didn’t stop his attempts to compromise her. Barham wrote to his uncle, Tolliver’s father, and complained, but he received no reply. Soon it got to the point where Tolliver was popping up wherever Mary went, and . . .” Once she’d finished the story, Eunice waited as Mr. Doust sat quietly for a few moments.