A Kiss for Lady Mary (7 page)

“Why Mr. Featherton?”

“His grandmother, one of my mother’s bosom friends, was sure he’d had an interest in Mary, and Mama thought that during Mary’s first Season she had noticed him more than the other gentlemen. To hear Mama and the Dowager Lady Featherton talk, it is past time he was wed. Even his father, who has been very tolerant about his unmarried state, has begun pushing for him to find a wife. That was when his grandmother, Mama, and Lady Bellamny hatched their plan.” Eunice glanced at Mr. Doust, but his countenance showed nothing but polite interest. “I must admit, I agreed with them. Mr. Featherton is a much better choice than Mr. Tolliver, who is a fish-faced cur who only wants Mary’s money. Mama is a dab hand at arranging matches. Still, after being here, I do wish there had been another way. I did not appreciate how close to courting scandal this would be.”

“How did you become so involved?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I generally travel to visit my children and grandchildren, and cannot be pinned to one place. As I was the least likely to be missed, I agreed to remain with Mary.”

Mr. Doust grinned, shaking his head slowly. “A conspiracy of old ladies—other than you, of course. I’ve often thought women should be given more to occupy their time. We gentlemen ignore a great deal of talent by not recognizing their skills.”

Eunice couldn’t believe he wasn’t upset; in fact, she was stunned. “How can you think this situation is funny?”

He sobered immediately. “I don’t. I do, however, admire you ladies. And if the young man is so inclined, this could all work out quite well.”

She pressed her lips together. “You are as bad as Mama and her friends.”

“Oh no.” Then he did laugh. “Just an old war horse. I’ve seen far stranger things than this.”

What did he mean by war . . . “You were in the military?”

He smiled. “Yes, as a chaplain. I was army mad, but my father insisted I go into the church. In the end, I managed to satisfy both his requirements and my desires. Once Napoleon was exiled at Elba in ’14, I was offered a position with the Bishop of London, but I was not only sick of war but of politics. I asked for someplace quiet and was sent here. Despite being a market town, the living here is a pittance. They were having trouble filling the position. I accepted it as the money didn’t matter to me. I have a comfortable independence.”

Eunice had wondered at his seeming freedom to act in all matters. This explained quite a lot. “How nice it must be not to have to answer to anyone.”

“It is, rather.”

Rising, she placed her hand on Mr. Doust’s arm. She felt good about telling him the truth and was ecstatic he had taken it so well. “Despite my mother’s machinations, Mary has been insisting she’ll have a full Season and be allowed to fall in love. That will create a problem.”

“I don’t see any way around a marriage with Mr. Featherton,” Mr. Doust said, then was quiet for a moment, frowning. “Surely she’ll see she’s been outmaneuvered?”

“So one would think; however, Mary can be stubborn, inventive and, in many ways, naïve. Quite frankly, I do not expect her to simply fall in with Mama’s scheme.” Eunice glanced at the sky. She had been away longer than she had planned. “It is time for me to check on her and Mr. Featherton, and change for dinner.”

Mr. Doust twined her arm with his, drawing her close. “Invite me, and I’ll try to discover his intent.”

She gazed up at him. “You would assist in this conspiracy?”

His eyes warmed. “My lady, I would have thought that by now you’d have realized there is very little I would not do for you and those who matter to you.”

“Oh my.” Warmth rose in her face. How long had it been since she’d blushed? “You have me acting like a girl again, and I must tell you, my salad days are long past.”

He raised her fingers to his lips, kissing them one by one. “I think you are the perfect age. I would be honored if you will call me Brian, and may I call you Eunice?”

This was more than she had expected and everything she had wished for. Pulling his head down to her, she pressed her lips to his. He moved slowly, gently at first; then she touched her tongue to the seam of his lips and he opened his mouth to receive her. Frissons of pleasure shot through her as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. She threw her arms around him, pressing her breasts to his chest. Who would have thought a rector could kiss like this?

Their tongues tangled and caressed. He tightened his arms around her. Oh, God. How could she have lived so long alone?

W
hen Brian finally lifted his head, breaking the kiss, their breathing was ragged. He’d waited months to do that. He pushed a loose strand of hair away from Eunice’s lovely face. She and her niece looked very much alike, with their golden hair and gray eyes. Eunice’s complexion was still clear, but small lines had appeared around her eyes. Her figure wasn’t that of a younger woman. It was mature and soft in all the right places, which suited him just fine. As soon as she was free of her responsibilities to her niece, he’d ask her to marry him. “Eunice, I have enough wealth to command some of the elegancies of life, including residing in Town for the Season, if that is important to you. Please tell me I may court you.”

“I thought that is what we
were
doing,” she replied in a slightly breathy tone.

She linked her arm with his. “I would like that extremely, Brian.”

He had cleared that hurdle easily enough. Now he needed to know what Featherton was thinking. The sooner Lady Mary was settled, the sooner Eunice and he could be married. “I’ll escort you back to the house before I return to the rectory to change.”

As they retraced their way, Brian saw the young couple, though he supposed they wouldn’t appreciate being called that, in another section of the garden. “They appear to be getting along fairly well.”

“No doubt she told Mr. Featherton everything.”

Brian lifted a brow.

“That is Mary’s way. She is honest to a fault.” Eunice smiled. “She wouldn’t lie even to avoid a thrashing.”

“She must have been very uncomfortable here, forced to deceive everyone around her.”

Eunice nodded. “At first, yes. Then, because the steward was so ill, she took over the estate management and has been much happier for being employed.”

“And what about you? Do you have a house? Do you want one?”

She had a contemplative look on her face. “I have the dower house, but rarely reside there. As I said, most of the time I travel to visit my family and friends. At first it was an adventure, being able to go where I wished, whenever I wished it, yet since I’ve been here, I have realized how nice it is to wake up and always know where I am.”

They reached the shallow stairs to the stone terrace at the back of the house. He said, “I’ve had my eye on a place on the outskirts of Rosebury. The home is an easy walk to the church. It does not compare to Rose Hill, but neither is it a small cottage.”

She gazed up, studying his face. “Perhaps we should take a look one day.”

“I’d like that.” He raised her hands to his lips. “I shall be back in time for dinner.”

Brian’s horse was quickly saddled, and he was on his way back to the small rectory. Now that he knew she had feelings for him, he was surprised at his eagerness to see Eunice again.

 

Mary left Mr. Featherton in the study where she kept the estate books. He had asked to see them, and there was no reason why he shouldn’t. They were his, after all. She could not believe how well he had behaved. Would he remain here after she left? There was still a possible problem with Diana Brownly, but Mary would take Diana into her confidence and ask her to swear never to reveal the secret. The girl would probably think it was romantic. As for Gawain, Mary would hire armed footmen and never go anywhere alone.

She opened the door to her chamber and found Mathers frowning. “What is wrong?”

Mathers pointed to the door leading to the next room. “They are staying in there.”

Mary shook her head. “Who?”

“Mr. Featherton and his man.”

Mary stared at the solid carved oak door separating her room from the next. She had completely forgotten that the master’s chamber was next to hers. Why had she not realized that the servants would of course put him next to his “wife”? She needed to come up with a reason to put him in the other wing or any place other than adjacent to her? “He must move.”

Mathers shook her head. “Not unless you want to cause talk.”

“But . . . but I cannot.” A roar started in Mary’s ears. “We are not married.”

Nor would they be. Not unless he went back to London and paid court to her. Despite how pleasant he’d been this afternoon, after he’d slighted her that Season, she was not inclined to simply fall into his arms.

Her maid crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a shame Her Grace, your grandmother, is never around when her plans go to Hades.”

Especially this time. “Are you sure the door goes directly into his bedchamber?”

Mathers shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t looked. The only time I saw the room I went in through the door to the corridor, but your dressing room is on the other side, so I assume his is, as well.”

“Find out to-morrow.” Mary couldn’t keep her eyes off the door. It was almost as if she expected him to walk through it at any moment. “I’ll keep it locked.”

“Only at night. I’ll make sure it’s unlocked by the time the maids get up here.”

She’d completely forgotten about that part of Mr. Featherton’s being here. Who would believe she was still chaste? Everyone would . . . will think they were acting as a married couple. Well, perhaps not. After all, she’d not spoken one word about him since she arrived. Still, his visit was going to cause a goodly amount of speculation, not only here but in Rosebury and the surrounding area.

She removed her hat and threw it on the bed. Oh, why couldn’t Lady Bellamny have waited another week or so to tell his father? Then Mary would have been gone, and where was Grandmamma? The Season had already begun. She should have been here by now.

Mary refused to have all her dreams destroyed. She would not be forced to marry anyone. What was she to do?

“Here, my lady. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed for dinner. There’s nothing we can do about him being so close now.”

“You’re right.” She looked away from the door.
Except leave as soon as possible.

After she had washed, she donned a turquoise silk evening gown trimmed with ivory lace. A year old, but it was still in good condition. She wondered if her London modiste had completed her order for this year yet. Mathers threaded ribbon in the same color blue as the gown through her hair.

Mary clasped a single strand of pearls around her neck, then added the matching earrings. “The salmon and ivory shawl, I think.” She stood as her maid draped the shawl over her shoulders. “Perfect. I’m going to my aunt so that we can walk down together.”

Eunice would be able to help her figure out the problem with Mr. Featherton.

Mary had taken no more than five steps down the corridor to her aunt’s room when the door to the bathing chamber opened, and out stepped Mr. Featherton. Though he wore a colorful silk banyan, he’d not fastened it all the way up, and a goodly portion of his chest stared her in the face. Dark curly hair dusted the part of him on display. He must not have been completely dry, as the fabric clung to his broad shoulders and hugged the rest of his body.

Mary’s mouth dried.
Oh my!
She’d never seen a man’s neck and chest before. Dragging her gaze up, she encountered his newly shaven chin and his mouth. For a moment, the corners of his well-shaped lips curved. Above his straight nose, his blue eyes darkened.

Oh dear.
That
was what was sleeping mere feet away from her. It wasn’t only his manners that were perfect. Flames shot up her neck into her face, and she tore her gaze away. Her words came out more as a croak. “You should give a signal, or be dressed more properly.”

Then, to her chagrin, she darted away.

Without knocking, she burst into her aunt’s room, closing the door as quickly as she could and leaning back against it.

“Good heavens, Mary, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Eunice rose from the dressing table. “What is the matter?”

Mary’s heart raced. “M-Mr. Featherton.”

Eunice scowled. “If he touched you . . .”

“No no. He’d been bathing, and when I saw him . . .” Mary began to feel a little foolish. After all, she’d seen the Elgin Marbles. Granted, they’d not been damp, and dark curls hadn’t adorned their bodies, making her want to reach out . . . “It was just that part of his chest”—her face burned—“was—was naked.”

Her aunt covered her mouth with a hand. Laughter lurked in her voice. “Only a part?”

She nodded. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

Eunice put her arm around Mary’s shoulders, leading her to a small sofa against one wall. “Maybe just a little. Though you’ve been kept very close and have not been exposed to many men. I’m sure it must have been a shock. Sit for a moment, and I’ll pour you a sherry.”

The astonishing part was how much she’d wished to touch him. She wanted to know what his chest felt like. Would it be hard or soft? Would the curls be silky or springy?

She raised the glass of sherry, taking a sip. How was she to go on with him at Rose Hill? His simple presence in the corridor seemed to have robbed all the surrounding air. “I’ll be fine in a few moments. I never expected to see him there.”

“Well, Mary, it is his house.”

“Yes, but it’s been my home!” And her safe haven. She blinked back the tears blurring her vision. She was the one who’d cared for it, and improved the property, and—and now none of that mattered. “Why isn’t Grandmamma here yet?”

Eunice sat while her maid finished dressing her hair. “She must have been held up. Until she arrives you will have to find a way to deal with Mr. Featherton.”

Mary took another sip of sherry. “If only I had more experience engaging with men rather than running from them.”

Eunice glanced at Mary from the mirror. When she spoke, her tone was as dry as dust. “It is a little difficult to do that when almost every Season you’ve had has been either interrupted or cancelled by someone’s illness, death, or harassment.”

“I suppose you have a point. I shall learn. I must if I am to have a Season.”

Eunice turned to face Mary. “You have a great deal of common sense. Do not allow yourself to be led astray by fanciful thoughts or desires, and all will be fine. When it comes to selecting a husband, my only advice is to follow your head as well as your heart.” Her aunt rose. “Let us go. Mr. Doust is joining us for dinner.”

Mary linked her arm with Eunice’s. “I’m surprised you are encouraging him.”

A sly smile graced Eunice’s lips. “I think I may have been mistaken about how easily he shocks.”

That could only mean one thing. A chill ran down Mary’s spine. Soon the whole world would know, and she’d be ruined. “You told him!”

“He realized at once that you did not recognize Mr. Featherton until I said his name. Don’t worry. He is still the rector. He’ll not tell anyone.”

This situation was untenable. Mary chewed on her bottom lip. “Entirely too many people know already.”

The more people who knew, the harder it was to keep a secret. One that would ruin her.

 

As Lady Mary fled down the corridor, Kit groaned. That was not well done of him. He should have known she might see him. His behavior had always been above reproach. Unlike some of his friends, young ladies hadn’t even attempted to trap him, simply because no one would believe he’d misbehaved.

Still, when Mary had stared at his chest, his partially bare chest, his body reacted as it never had before. He’d wanted to crow when desire lurked for a moment in her lovely silver eyes. Or had it been fear?
Damn.
This would not do. Their position was untenable enough without him lusting after her. He’d have a word with Piggott. Another post-bath chance meeting must not happen again . . . at least not until they were married; then, he hoped, she’d consent to bathe with him.

Kit stepped into the drawing room a moment before the rector was announced and shown in. He wondered if Doust dined here on a regular basis or if he had been invited because of Kit. “Good evening. I was about to pour”—he glanced at the sideboard—“a glass of sherry. Will you join me?”

The rector inclined his head. “I’d be happy to.”

He motioned the other man to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, taking the one across from it for himself. “Shall I take it you wish to discuss my presence?”

“I think I have already figured out the truth of it.” Doust grinned. “I won’t let the cat out of the bag, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Interesting.
“Pray continue.” Kit cocked a brow. “Other than knowing Lady Mary’s grandmother is involved, I am at sixes and sevens.”

The man settled back, crossing his legs. “It all seemed a bit strange to me, at first, when the ladies arrived.” Doust took a sip of sherry. “Yet for at least a month beforehand, the servants had been talking about their arrival and the new servants who were expected.”

Kit had to force himself not to interrupt with questions.

“The scheme,” Doust continued, “had apparently been well planned to appear completely natural, and, by the time the ladies reached Rose Hill, it did. Until to-day when you arrived, and I could see Lady Mary had no idea who you were at first, I believed what the rest of the area did.”

“And that was?” Kit sipped his sherry, wishing it were brandy.

“That you had married, there was a falling out of some sort, and you sent her to your northernmost property. As far away from London as possible.”

“Damn. No wonder the servants and townspeople are all suspicious of me.” Doust studied him as he took another sip of sherry. Kit took a much larger one. Did this house have no brandy? He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was next. “Continue, please.”

“Once you got a look at Lady Mary, you appeared to know her.”

“Yes. I remembered her quite well. Though she did not appear to remember me much at all.” He grimaced. That had been a blow to his pride. “But considering I spent most of my time doing the pretty with other young ladies and watching her from afar, I should not be amazed.”