A Kiss for Lady Mary (8 page)

Doust’s eyes widened a bit. “You surprise me, sir. I have heard your address is excellent. You are the prize every hostess wants at her entertainments.”

“Ah, yes”—Kit saluted the rector with his glass—“but I have also been, shall we say, marriage shy.”

“And Lady Mary was too much temptation.”

He clung to as much dignity as he could under the man’s scrutiny and inclined his head. “In my defense, I was barely eight and twenty, but you have the right idea.”

“And now?”

He took another drink. “Now I am commanded to marry, and the only woman who has ever inspired me with the least desire to join my wedded brethren is Lady Mary. She has been on my mind a great deal of late. Though, I must admit, I did not expect to meet her here.”

That was either a blessing or a curse. He just wished he knew which.

Doust drained the glass then set it down. “Fencing with you is entertaining, but may I be blunt?”

Kit tossed off his sherry, then poured two more. “I wish you would. It would help to finish this conversation before the ladies are down.”

“I wish to marry Lady Eunice, and she will not do so until Lady Mary is settled. Do you know who the grandmother is?”

That was what he should be applying his mind to, rather than Lady Mary’s charms. “Lady Mary’s surname is Tolliver. I cannot remember if her paternal grandmother is still living, but her maternal grandmother is the Dowager Duchess of Bridgewater”—he slammed the glass down on the small side table, sloshing the liquid.
Damnation!
—“one of my Grandmother Featherton’s oldest friends, and Lady Bellamny with them! I have been played for a fool.”

“You’re not the only one. While Lady Eunice and I strolled in the gardens to-day, she finally took me into her confidence.” Doust leaned back in his chair. “Lady Mary has no idea of the scheme either.”

Being in hiding as she had been, she most likely didn’t even know of their grandmothers’ friendship. Kit was not looking forward to her finding out, and he certainly was not going to be the one to tell her. She would have to figure that out for herself.

K
it took out his handkerchief and wiped the wine off his hand. “No, I could see that when I spoke with her. What I don’t understand is how she thinks to get out of this without a scandal unless we wed.”

“Though I agree with you that your marriage was the purpose all along. She has great faith in her grandmother, and it might not occur to her a match had been planned without her knowledge and consent. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t tell her. According to Lady Eunice, Mary wants a Season and to be able to choose her own husband.”

Kit had never known his grandmother to act stupidly. Hadn’t she and the dowager duchess even considered Lady Mary might very well balk? “That will make things more difficult than they already are. With that goddaughter of Lady Bellamny’s in London, I cannot take Lady Mary there and court her. Still and all, I have no intention of enlightening her as to the scheme.” He almost growled. “The only thing that would accomplish is to set her against me. I had a friend who tried to force a marriage, and it did not go well for him.” At least not at the beginning. Robert did finally end up wed to his Serena. Kit rose, careful to put his glass down lest he smash it against the fireplace. “This will require a much finer hand than I expected when I spoke to Lady Mary earlier.”

The door opened. Doust stood and bowed. Kit moved toward Lady Mary. “My ladies, we’ve been waiting impatiently for you to join us.”

Mary had never appeared so beautiful. The turquoise of her gown brought out the golden hues of her hair. He fought to keep his eyes on her face when all they wanted to do was rove over her shapely form.

When he kissed her hand, she blushed. If anything, she was as innocent as Serena Beaumont had been when she first came to Town, but in a different way. Mary would have been educated in the ways of Polite Society, yet had not had much of an opportunity to wield the knowledge. He wondered how much time he had before their grandmothers appeared. Then the devil would have to be paid. Mary would not appreciate having her choice taken away from her. He needed to secure her hand before she understood how limited her selection of husbands was.

 

As Mary strolled down to the drawing room with her aunt, she’d decided her only option while they were at Rose Hill was to play the dutiful wife, to a point. There was no reason to raise the suspicions of the servants. She wanted to speak with her aunt about what her alternatives were, yet each time she brought the subject up, Eunice seemed determined to change the conversation. The growing unease Mary felt that she might be forced to wed Mr. Featherton to avoid a scandal was not comforting. There must be an alternative.

Not that she didn’t like him. He was Mr. Perfect, after all, and he’d been very kind, except when he’d been so angry at first. Still, she did not wish to be forced into marriage and did not want him to feel trapped either. She could not imagine a worse way to begin a wedded life. Yet it had worked for her friend, Caro Huntley. But her situation wasn’t the same. She had been in danger. Mary was not, at least physically. What a bumble-broth. If there was a way out of this mess, she vowed she would find it. Until then, she would stick to her purpose.

Though she did rather wish Mr. Featherton would like to court her. If not, there were other gentlemen who would wish to marry her, of that she was certain. All she needed was sufficient time for them to find her.

He came forward when she and her aunt entered the room, and bowed over their hands, kissing hers. She tried to fight the image of his naked chest and failed. Opening her fan, she applied it vigorously. “My, it is a bit warm in here.”

If he had any idea she was still affected by him, he did not show it; instead, he cupped her elbow in his hand. “Is it? Come nearer the windows. I’m sure the air will be cooler.” He escorted her to the window seat she frequently sat in. “Would you like a sherry or wine?”

It had been hours since she’d eaten, and with the two glasses of sherry she’d already had, Mary was becoming a bit tipsy. “Nothing, thank you. I believe Simons will soon announce dinner.”

“As you wish.” Mr. Featherton leaned elegantly against the window embrasure.

His dark blue coat fitted so well there was not even a crease. He wore an elegant buff waistcoat with gold and rose embroidery. His breeches were the same color as his coat. His evening pumps were so shiny the candle light was reflected in them. He made poor Mr. Doust appear a bit shabby in comparison, although he had looked fine enough before. Was it only Mr. Featherton’s clothing, or was there something more catching her attention?

“I apologize,” Mr. Featherton continued, “for not having your maid notified about my bath. It will not happen in the future.”

Mary fanned herself again. It wasn’t any cooler here. If anything, the room had become increasingly warmer. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Fortunately, before this embarrassing conversation could go any further, Simons announced dinner.

“Please allow me to escort you, my lady,” Mr. Featherton said in a low voice.

Mary took his hand and rose. “Thank you.”

He leaned his head close to hers. “You must show me where the dining room is. I do not remember.”

She gave him a small smile. “Since Eunice and I have never entertained, other than the tenants, we use the family dining room. There is no reason to use the formal one.”

“Very wise and doubtless easier to heat.”

“Yes, although all the windows are in good repair, as are the chimneys,” she responded, unable to hide the pride in her accomplishments.

“And the accounts are in excellent shape. I could not have done better myself.”

This time when she colored, it was from pleasure and not embarrassment. She hadn’t expected his approbation and was glad he had appreciated her efforts. “Since I am the only daughter in my family, I was taught alongside my brothers.”

“Did they learn music and deportment as well?”

She slid a quick glance at him, but he wasn’t laughing at her. “Not when it came to music, they had no talent, but they did take lessons in deportment from my governess. She left when I was nineteen to marry my brothers’ tutor. They started a school in the Midlands.” Of course her family had thought Mary would soon be wed. “Here we are.”

The room was one of her favorites. Long windows lined two walls facing south and east, providing light for most of the day. She had chosen a cream-colored silk wall covering with a loose pattern of roses and vines. Glancing at the table, she made a mental note to speak with Cook regarding changes in the menu now that Mr. Featherton was here. “You must tell me your favorite dishes or if you have any dislikes. I am afraid I have arranged the meals to please myself. Aunt Eunice will eat almost anything.”

He dismissed the butler, instead holding out her chair at the foot of the table himself. “I will think on it and let you know. I’m fairly easily pleased. Like your aunt, there is not much I dislike.” After she was seated he sniffed the air. “Asparagus soup? I thought the season wasn’t until May.”

“We have some planted in the succession houses.”

He bowed. “I commend you on your housekeeping, my lady.” Then he whispered, “If you will play along, I have an explanation for my absence.” Her brows came together slightly. What could he be planning? “It is entirely self-serving.” He gave a boyish grin that appealed to her immediately. “I would wish to be at least tolerated by my servants and the town.”

This was a slippery slope. Would it not be better to feign coldness? No, that wouldn’t help. It would only make everyone even more uncomfortable. “I shall do my best.”

When he smiled his whole face lit up. He’d always appeared a bit remote, but he really was quite nice.

“Thank you.”

Once Mr. Featherton took his place, she signaled for the meal to begin. After the soup was removed, he raised his wine glass. “To you, my lady.”

Aunt Eunice and the rector raised their glasses as well. Mr. Doust said, “To reunions.”

Mary tried not to choke. “Yes, indeed.”

As plates of roasted lamb, French beans, sole in lemon sauce, and a salad of early greens and cucumbers were being served, Mr. Featherton glanced down the short table at Mary. “Please forgive me for not giving you notice of my arrival, my lady. Once the ship arrived I went straight to London, then came here. I hope you’ve forgiven me for leaving so soon after the wedding, but it did turn out to be necessary, and you would not have enjoyed the journey.”

For several moments she was struck speechless. How much bolder could he be, and how was she to respond? “I know you believe I would not have been happy, but that was for me to decide, sir. Nevertheless, I have been exceedingly well employed here and am quite content.”

Let anyone hearing that decide for themselves if she was satisfied with making her way without his interference or not.

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I see I have my work cut out for me. I do wish to be in your good graces, my lady.”

What in God’s name did he mean by that? Yet perhaps it was all playacting for the servants and, notwithstanding their loyalty, it would be all over town by to-morrow. She gave her attention to her food. At least she had given as good as she’d got and would continue to do so. Thankfully, the rector turned talk to the needs of the town.

It was not until they were in a lively discussion over how much the estate should contribute to additional repairs on the church and the local school that Mary realized she had no place at all in this conversation. Regardless of how attached she was to it, Rose Hill was not hers and probably never would be. Needed or not, she hated this pretense of being something she was not.

Through a haze of despair, she heard Mr. Featherton say, “Very well, it shall be as you wish, my dear.”

Any other woman would probably have smiled smugly, but this was all too much. The charade had been bad enough when he wasn’t here. Now that he was—and worse, was acting as if he were her husband when she didn’t know if that was what she wanted—the walls seemed to close in on her, and she couldn’t breathe.

She set her serviette by her plate and rose. “Thank you, sir. Aunt Eunice, we should leave the men to their port.”

As the final course had only been served moments before, Eunice gave Mary a startled look before rising. With a growing panic, Mary left the room, not even looking to see if her aunt followed. She strode back down the corridor, across the hall, and into the drawing room before stopping.

Eunice shut the door behind them with a snap. “Mary, I have never seen you act with such intemperance. Compose yourself this instant.”

“I cannot do this.” Mary paced back and forth across the room. She wanted to rant or run away. Why could no one understand? “Now that he’s here, I can’t pretend. I cannot even look the servants in the eye.” She had to leave before the gentlemen rejoined them. “I’m sorry.”

She fled up the stairs to her chamber, yet even there she was not alone. Her maid was laying out her nightgown. “Please undress me, then you may retire.”

Mathers began unlacing Mary’s gown. “You look as if a cup of warm milk wouldn’t be amiss.”

Her temples throbbed and her throat ached. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“No one said you were, my lady, but a bit of warm milk is good for calming the nerves. You’ve had a difficult day.”

That was one way of putting it. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Once she had donned her nightgown, she climbed between the sheets. All she wanted was to fall in love as her friends had done. Why was fate conspiring against her? With any luck she’d wake up to-morrow and this would have all been a bad dream.

 

Kit caught a glimpse of the back of Lady Mary on the stairs. Her skirts moved rapidly upward as she fled. “That didn’t go quite as I had planned.”

“Does it ever when dealing with women?” Doust said drily, shaking his head. “You didn’t really believe she’d simply fall into your arms, did you?”

She was probably one of the few ladies who wouldn’t. Kit gave a rueful smile. “I had hoped to show her that I am a reasonable man, and by marrying me she’d be fully involved in most of my decisions. I thought it would put this situation in a better light.”

The promise of a partnership had worked for Marcus and Rutherford.

The rector was silent for a few moments. “You know what Lady Mary wants. If you do wish to marry her, you need to find out how to give her at least as much of it as you are able under the circumstances.”

The devil!
It wasn’t as if she had a choice. For that matter, neither did he. Yet did she realize it, or did she think he was trying to trap her as well? Kit ran a hand over his face. Subterfuge was what was needed. He’d have Piggott talk to Mary’s lady’s maid, but first Kit would speak to her aunt. “You are correct, of course. Lady Eunice might have some ideas.”

Kit and Doust entered the drawing room. Lady Eunice was staring into the fireplace, a glass of wine held loosely in her hand. Kit took the chair on the other side of the small table from where she sat on the sofa.

Her lips pressed together, she glanced at the two of them. “I’ve never seen her behave in such a manner before.”

Doust handed Kit a brandy, a decanter of which had miraculously appeared on the sideboard, then sat on the sofa next to Lady Eunice, as she said, “It has been a trying day.”

He took a sip, savoring the burn as it traveled down his throat. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know. Mary is generally a sensible woman. She wants a husband and children. Yet I very much fear she has deluded herself into thinking she has a choice about whom she will wed.”

Kit wanted nothing more than to hit something. “If you have any ideas at all as to how I can bring her around, I’d appreciate hearing them.”

Lady Eunice shook her head. “At this point, I don’t know what to do. Perhaps sleeping on the problem will help.” She set her glass down on the table and rose. “Gentlemen, I shall see you in the morning.”