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Authors: Barbara Pierce

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance

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BOOK: Courting the Countess
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Carisa would tell the entire sordid tale if he did not surrender. “Enough! You want something from me, Mrs. Le Maye. What?”
Triumphant in her easy victory, she caressed the balustrade. “Nothing naughty
, amoureux.
I am merely the messenger. An old friend desires your company in the library.”
“Who?”
She touched her tongue to her upper lip. “I think I shall not tell you. You always did love my surprises.”
“Countess,” he said, his hard gaze fixed on his ex-mistress, “my sister must have arrived by now. See if you cannot find
her before my mother does.” He pinched Carissa hard on the chin. Instead of wincing, she purred. “Lady A’Court is off-limits for your games. Defy me and I will introduce you to another tale that you will make you weep in remembrance of it.”
 
“Avoid Carissa Le Maye,” Mallory warned as they entered the ballroom again. His demeanor had changed. Grimness had replaced the lighthearted tenderness he had shown her after Ham’s casual threat of taking Loughwydde from her.
Brook was getting weary of everyone bullying her. “That might be difficult. Mrs. Le Maye does not seem like the kind of woman who allows anyone to ignore her.”
His jaw tightened at her observation. “That is the truth,” he muttered. “Hell, Countess, the fault is mine. Carissa has not forgiven me for breaking with her first.”
“She wants you back,” she starkly said.
Mallory’s uninviting expression softened. He took her hand before she could stop him and reverently kissed it. “Well, she will survive the disappointment.” He released her hand as they came up to his sister. “I should have known Bedegrayne could not keep you home where you belong.”
The silver sequins on Amara’s fan winked under the candlelight as she fanned herself in agitation. “Thank you for your concern, Brother. However, Brock has already lectured me about tiring myself.” She appealed to Brook. “I believe I can endure the strain of standing.”
“Have a little tolerance, puss.” Without thought to appearances, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek. “This is Bedegrayne’s firstborn, and my first niece. We are bound to get excitable about your welfare.”
“Brook, I had hoped you would attend. Your gown is magnificent!” Amara also looked incredible in her cream and amber ball gown.
“I need a favor, Sis. Could you look after the countess for
me?” He sent Brook a meaningful glance reminding her that he wanted Amara protected from any hurtful confrontations with her mother. “Carissa Le Maye has sharpened her claws and is of the mind to use them on Brook.”
“Oh, that horrid creature!” Amara said with uncharacteristic vehemence. “I do not understand how you could have ever involved yourself with that woman.”
Mallory contrived to look repentant. “A regretful lapse, I must admit. Just watch over your friend until I return for her.” He rudely pointed at Brook. “Stay.” He left before either one of them could argue.
Her friend cocked her brow in a mischievous fashion that reminded Brook of Mallory. “My brother appears overly concerned about you these days. Tell me, what is going on between you?”
Brook noticed Mrs. Le Maye had entered the ballroom. She was chatting flirtatiously with a gentleman. The woman never seemed to lack for companions. Still, it did not prevent her from bestowing Brook with a malevolent glare.
Recalling that Amara was awaiting a reply, she said distantly, “I believe your brother has reasoned out that I might make him a less vexing mistress than some of my recent predecessors.”
“My brother goes too far,” her friend said, outraged on Brook’s behalf. “Someone needs to teach him that not every lady he encounters is merely another potential mistress!”
 
The library was empty. Mallory stood in the middle of the room and wondered at Carissa’s game. Had this merely been a ruse to separate him from Brook?
“So you did get my message, Mr. Claeg. I despaired that I had not made the right impression on your mistress.”
“My former mistress,” Mallory corrected. He pursued the disembodied voice up three steps and through the open doors
to a private balcony. “There seems to be much confusion about this. I am almost persuaded to post the news in all the papers.”
The gentleman stood with his back to him as he watched the activities below. There was nothing about the man from his walking stick to his somber attire that hinted to the stranger’s identity. “Arrogant and reckless. It was my first and lasting opinion of you. That, and the certainty you stole my betrothed from me.”
“Lord De Lanoy.” Mallory inclined his head. The marquis’ encounter with Brook at the hotel had troubled him since he had learned of it. “Oh, I have relished meeting up with you again.”
 
“Will you lower your voice, Amara?” Brook pleaded, regretting her confession. “It is my family’s fondest wish that we put to rest any lingering scandal about my husband’s death. Sending your husband after Mallory on my behalf will only link further speculation to my name.”
“While having Brock pound some manners into Mallory has merit, I was thinking about murdering my brother myself!”
Amara was showing no signs of calming. Her brother and husband were likely to throttle her for it, albeit for slightly different reasons.
“What wicked tales have you both been whispering behind your fans?” Wynne Milroy asked. Her sudden presence had them parting guiltily. “Come now, Brook, we have been friends too long for me not to know when you are keeping secrets. Should I fathom a guess on what you were discussing before my arrival?” The emerald gown she wore enhanced the pale green hue of her eyes.
“Do not bother. You would be wrong,” Amara said dismally. “It was not as we had assumed. It is
worse.
”
Good grief, her own friends had been speculating about her. “You have been talking about me?”
“Nothing grievous. We simply noticed a certain gentleman’s interest and it aroused our curiosity,” Wynne said reassuringly. “Is that not right, Amara?”
Amara was no longer listening to either one of them. She was staring past Brook’s shoulder at the woman determined to ignore her.
“Good evening, Mama.”
 
“I wondered if you would remember me.” The light from the open doors of the library revealed De Lanoy’s austere hawk-like features. “I had assumed my name and face had been lost amongst the multitude of victims resulting from your selfish pursuits.”
“You speak as if I have spilt more English blood than Napoleon,” Mallory marveled, pitying the man for obsessing about a lady who was lost to both of them. “My only sin was loving Mirabella Tantony enough to marry her.”
“You seduced her.”
“Come now, sir. Let us be blunt. Mirabella was fourteen when she sold herself to her first protector for food and a warm bed. How many gentlemen had known and discarded her before you took notice? If I had not bruised your pride by running off with her, how long would it have been until you tired of her and cast her aside for a less demanding creature, or a wife?”
The silver handle grip gleamed between the man’s fingers as De Lanoy thumped the walking stick down against the ground in agitation. “She was content with our arrangement.”
“Actually, she was bored with rural life. Mistresses rarely are content with home and hearth, De Lanoy. Mirabella had traveled very little and lusted for adventure. Even if I had not met her, you would have eventually lost her.”
The man scoffed, “Is that how you condone your actions, Claeg?”
“I apologize for nothing. Mirabella was mine,” Mallory said in a clipped tone. “If you cared for her, be content that she was happy.”
“I only have your word, do I not?”
“It is all rather moot since the lady is dead. You surprise me, De Lanoy. I had hoped the years had extinguished your bitterness about the affair. Let her go, sir. I can promise you, Mirabella had set her feelings for you aside when she agreed to run off with me.”
“You lie!”
The marquis swung his walking stick at him wildly. Mallory leapt backward into the library, and felt the breeze of the violent arc. The stick struck the wooden frame of the door. Several of the glass panes cracked from the impact.
“She never uttered your name in my presence. Your vengeance is misplaced.” Stumbling down the three steps, Mallory avoided another blow. “My regret is that she is not here to tell you herself.”
The man howled and charged him. Mallory grabbed the walking stick with both hands as they collided. In tandem, they tumbled over one of the chairs. Having the slight advantage of youth, he recovered first and straddled the furious marquis. Breathing heavily, he pressed the length of the man’s own walking stick to his throat.
“Now that we have revisited our old business, let us address the new. For the sake of your health, keep a respectful distance from Lady A’Court.”
The marquis glared defiantly at him. “Why would I want to keep away from such a charming creature? We enjoyed a pleasant hour together at one of the hotels, but then, you know all about it. What do you fear, Claeg? Are you afraid I might seduce the lady?”
Mallory increased the pressure against the man’s throat. De Lanoy choked. As he turned an unflattering red, he clawed frantically at the unyielding stick. “I have nothing to fear
from you. You cannot say the same. Do not annoy me again.” Mallory stood and watched impassively as the man desperately filled his lungs with precious air. “Otherwise, I may do more than wrinkle your cravat.”
 
Brook held her breath, praying the viscountess was not so callous as to cut her own daughter directly. The older woman paused. She was clearly torn by her loyalties. Ignoring her daughter also meant ignoring the ladies who flanked her.
As she positioned herself subtly in front of Amara, Brook said, “Good evening, madam. I trust your presence this evening is a sign Lord Keyworth is improving.”
Grateful to address someone other than the daughter she and her husband had sworn to disown, Lady Keyworth said, “You are kind to inquire, Lady A’Court. Yes, my husband has exceeded the physician’s expectations. We anticipate that one day he will make a complete recovery.”
Amara swayed slightly at the news. Wynne slipped a supportive arm around her friend. The discord in the family and her father’s illness were unrelenting burdens. “Mama, if the crisis has passed, might I visit Papa?” Amara cleared her throat and swallowed her grief when the viscountess looked away.
“Madam, how long do you intend on punishing your daughter for marrying my brother?” Wynne demanded. It took a great amount of provocation for her ire to flare, but this silent impasse with the Keyworths had exhausted her patience.
“Wynne, thank you, but leave it alone,” Amara said, her shoulders slumping in sadness. “Mallory thinks your grandchild is a girl. Will you ignore her existence, too, Mama?”
Lady Keyworth flinched at the question. She parted her lips as if to respond, and then thought better of it. The armor of her pride seemed impenetrable. She addressed Brook, who seemed the least threatening of the trio. “Your absence from friends has been long, Lady A’Court. Please extend my
regards to your family.” The viscountess stiffly nodded. “Mrs. Milroy.” She did not spare her daughter a glance as she left them, and joined the next small group of guests.
Amara sniffed and dug into her reticule for a handkerchief.
Able to sympathize with her friend too easily, Brook whispered, “Do not give her the satisfaction of seeing your pain.” She met Wynne’s cool green gaze. “Go find a quiet spot for Amara to compose herself while I send for her husband.” And Mallory. Brook was positive he would not let his mother go unchallenged for her vindictiveness.
 
Brook found Brock Bedegrayne leaning negligently against one of the walls in the front hall as he conversed with Wynne’s husband, Keanan Milroy. She was so intimidated by the pair that she almost backed away. It was concern for Amara which gave her the courage to approach and recount the brief encounter with Lady Keyworth. The gentlemen thanked her and hastened to find their wives.
Mallory Claeg, on the other hand, proved frustratingly elusive. The library was empty. Mrs. Le Maye had told Mallory his mysterious acquaintance was waiting for him in the library. Had it been a ruse? The only thing odd about the room was a chair lying on its side. Respectful of its value, Brook carefully righted the piece. In the past hour, late arrivals had filled the ballroom to crushing capacity. There was no hope of locating Mallory in that huge room unless she accidentally bumped into him. Resigned she had done her best, Brook started for the door.
The indistinct murmurs of approaching guests had her backing away from the door. She crossed the room to the other door and pulled on the latch. It was locked. Glancing around for a place to hide, she reminded herself that she had as much right to be in the library as anyone else. Still, she was feeling too vulnerable to be caught alone.
Brook escaped through the open doors of the balcony and she heard the door on the inside opening. The distinct crunch of glass under her slipper had her wincing as she stepped deeper into the shadows. It appeared she was not the only one who was avoiding the ballroom.
BOOK: Courting the Countess
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