Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord (10 page)

Fear tightened Clarice’s stomach.
Does she know what transpired?

“Yes, well, these things happen, Lady Drummond.
Imagine me enjoying chocolate or a pastry every now and again, the same as Clarice.” Felix rose, careful to hold his napkin close. “And yes, I was a gentleman, more’s the pity. Who can say what would have happened had we remained alone?”

Clarice gaped at him. He’d used her given name in front of Lady Drummond plus he regretted her interruption. Did he wish to land her in the soup even more?

“Indeed. I’ll be sure to discuss this little visit with Clarice later.”

Cold fingers of fear wrapped around Clarice’s insides. Dear God, would she use the crop again? She wanted to blurt out the truth of Lady Drummond’s temper, the secret of her fortune, everything she knew of the woman
, but feared Felix would offer to protect her for all the wrong reasons.
I can take care of myself, can I not?

Lines appeared around Olivia’s mouth as she pursed her lips
and darted her gaze between them. “Good news, Clarice. Pierre knows the whereabouts of Mr. Fournier. As luck would have it, he’ll be at the party we’re attending on Saturday as he is in Lord Landry’s employ. I shall endeavor to make certain you renew your association with him.”

Felix cleared his throat. Surprise lit his expression. “You are spoken for?”

“No.” Clarice shook her head. She hated how the light faded from his eyes. “He is an acquaintance—”

“An old beau, actually,” Olivia rejoined. She linked her arm with Felix’s. “
I know you wanted her for a plaything, dear boy, but she really needs to stick with men of her own station. Shall we walk a bit? It seems an age since I had you all to myself. I’m anxious to spend time with you.”

He looked at Clarice, and the crestfallen expression on his face tugged at her heart.
“Perhaps that would be best, though I am on my way to Parliament. My free time is limited.” Felix threw his napkin onto the table and left the room with Olivia.

Clarice stared after them. The knot in her belly grew. She didn’t like the shrewd light in Lady Drummond’s eye.
“How could I have been so stupid?” She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, still tasting the pastry cream. The warmth of Felix’s kiss lingered as well. A sigh escaped her as she remembered the remainder of her mother’s conversation from that long ago day.

Love is cold, Clarice, but lust keeps you warm. Men will do anything for it. They will offer you the world to remain wrapped in it.
And only a skilled courtesan can command it. Never fall in love, for it will make you weak and powerless. It is fleeting. Love gives you nothing in return except heartache. Men don’t want love and will do anything to avoid it, so always give them enough pleasure that they’ll remain devoted.

She wished her mother had taught her how to tell the difference between what lust and love felt like. Another sigh escaped.
How had life become so complicated?

Chapter Five

Felix paced the length of his study. He’d been blue-deviled all morning knowing time ticked down until he’d need to escort his mother and sister to the same Saturday event Lady Drummond and Clarice were attending. Not only that, but now it appeared Clarice had a love interest she hadn’t revealed before.

Why would she? He’d only met her a few times and for less than an hour each. They were barely acquaintances.
She owed him nothing, yet after she’d shared intimate details of her father’s identity, he had expected she’d mentioned this little sticking point as well. He snickered, changed course, and headed toward the credenza behind his desk. Bah. Perhaps they were merely acquaintances who’d shared a kiss. Two, as a matter of fact, but both had been very brief and not as satisfying as he would have liked. That kiss from yesterday had such potential. It was outside of enough Lady Drummond had come along when she had. Grumbling about the annoyances of being interrupted, he poured a measure of brandy and drank it down straightaway.

All week long, when he should have been concentrating on Parliament business, he’d caught himself more than once
day dreaming about Clarice and how soft and supple her lips had been or how nice she’d felt during the brief instant he’d embraced her at the confectionary. He’d missed a speech by Lord Wynesford on the importance of maintaining trade relations because he’d been remembering the look of surprise and pleasure in her expression when he’d licked the pastry cream from her finger, but there had also been traces of fear in her eyes. Why? He’d watched an elderly member give a speech but couldn’t recall the nature or topic since he’d been scheming for a way to be in Clarice’s company again. By mid-week, he’d taken himself firmly in hand and managed to ignore the fascinating Frenchwoman in order to tend to business. He had a duty to his country, and he’d damn well do it if it killed him.

The problem hadn’t gone away, for here he was on yet another Saturday, on the cusp of leaving for an afternoon of entertainment where Clarice would be, but there would be no opportunity or even a reason for him to go near her—especially if she were well and truly spoken for.
Damn and blast!
It was inconceivable he’d landed in such a coil.

Felix shoved a hand through his hair, upsetting the carefully-styled locks his valet had spent a quarter of an hour fashioning. He heaved a sigh, poured another measure of brandy
, then brought the snifter to his lips just as his sister swept into the room. Her pink gown, embroidered with rosebuds and green leaves around the bodice and sleeves, set off her hair and eyes to perfection. In the right circumstances and with the right gentleman, she would be a force of nature.

“Drinking, Felix?” Charlotte eyed his glass askance. “You’ll be foxed before we ever arrive at the Landry’s house.” She trained her gaze on him and the Darrington-blue hue caught the midday sunlight that streamed through the window. “Are you quite well? You’ve seemed at sixes and sevens for a week.”

Oh, the irony of that question. Sixes and sevens over a woman he barely knew but kissed twice.

Felix sipped his brandy. “I fear I am not quite well. I’ve been preoccupied since coming to town, and I find I miss the quiet of Kent.” If he’d never left Kent for London, he would have never met Clarice and life would have continued on as he’d been accustomed. Once again his mind dwelled on the Frenchwoman. How could life ever be the same now that she’d entered his life? If he returned to Kent now, she’d still haunt him.
He rubbed a hand along his jaw.

“If you miss i
t so badly, you could always go back for Christmas. Take a holiday of sorts.” Charlotte crossed the room and closed the distance. She removed the glass from his hand and sipped, swallowing the liquor without even a wince. “However, I doubt missing the country is the crux of your discontent.”

“Be that as it may, I’m not at liberty to discuss it right now.” He lifted an eyebrow as she finished the contents of the glass. Did she often steal nips when no one was looking? “Mother would frown if she found out you’ve developed a penchant for drinking.” Felix took the glass from her and replaced it on the tray.

“What Mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, I learned to appreciate spirits from Father years ago. It was our little joke.” A smile parted her lips. “What is bedeviling you? It’s not Mother, is it? She can be overbearing and managing, but she means well.”

“Right at this moment, no, it’s not Mother.” Although, part of his current
ennui
could be laid on her doorstep. If she hadn’t demanded he put his domestic house in order… Although, she’d get her comeuppance if he offered for Clarice. Some marriages had been built on much less than what they shared. Mother would most definitely not approve of Clarice in general or her pedigree in particular, but would Clarice’s claim to a French
comte
make a difference? “Devil take it, my duty and my family will be the death of me.” He should announce his intention of courting Clarice and damn the consequences. Never had a woman gotten under his skin as completely and quickly as she did, so what harm could it do?

Charlotte’s soft laugh tempered his annoyance. “Why do you think none of us have done her bidding yet? We’re all quite adept at shirking duty.”

Felix returned her grin. “Except mine weighs more heavily than yours, I’ll wager.” Bloody title. Bloody need to continue the Darrington line. Bloody people around all the time.

“There is that.”

“When do I get to live for me, do something that makes me happy?”

“That’s a hard question to answer since you’re the eldest.
Only you can decide where you want your life to go.” She drifted across the room and paused at the doorway, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Although, you could marry and impregnate your wife to satisfy Mother then take a lover to satisfy your need for companionship, or dare I say love. No one would think less of you for it. It’s almost expected in this day and age.”

“I’d think less of me.” He let his shoulders slump while he studied his desk top. “Despite Mother’s zeal for grandchildren, I’m of a mind that when I marry, I want to do it right.
I want to love my wife and hope that she returns the sentiment.”

Charlotte
gasped. “Well, that mindset is a change. May I ask why?”

“Let’s just say I’ve met someone interesting who I’d like to convince she’s worth such attention.”
He raised his gaze and met his sister’s across the room. “What if that woman isn’t the best fit for my title, Charlotte? Should that play in to my decision?”

“Why indeed.
” She grinned and it set him slightly at ease. “Only you can solve that riddle.”

Felix glared. He knew he did; he felt his eyes straining and his jaw clenching. Plus, he truly wished the Frenchman ill in his heart of hearts. He
prayed for a portion of the ceiling would dislodge and fall directly on the man’s head.

He
had escorted his mother and sister to the Landry’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square as he’d promised. After being introduced to the hosts, everyone assembled in a large drawing room where they’d been for the last hour, mingling, talking, and generally wasting time after luncheon while plans for the rest of the day were made. During that hour, Lady Drummond made the rounds with Clarice trailing in her wake. Then the bottom had fallen out of his day when a dashing blond Frenchman beckoned and detained her. He’d kissed Clarice’s hands and cheeks, embraced her and looked, for all the world, like a long lost lover being reunited with his lady. With his longish hair tied at his nape and the bold black-and-white diamond pattern on his waistcoat, it was no wonder he’d turn a woman’s head.

They’d been quietly talking off to one side ever since. Felix ground his teeth. He didn’t like it by half. The man was too flighty and much too… blond for her. He narrowed his eyes. Something must be done to break them apart.

“Felix, darling, you’re positively grotesque,” his mother complained as she sat on a delicate chair to his left. Her skirts of silver-shot blue flowed over one of his legs. “None of the young ladies want to approach you.”

“I care nothing for any of the young women
here.” He kept his gaze on Clarice. When she touched the blond man’s hand and smiled, Felix’s chest tightened.
Bloody hell. I refuse to sit here and let that man charm her.

“There is always Lady Drummond. She is keeping quite a close eye on you,” his mother continued. She tapped her folded fan to his shoulder. “Despite the rumors swirling about her, she’s a respected member of the
Ton
and would serve your title and career well. She and her father know powerful people who could influence your path.”

Felix threw a glance at Olivia. At the last second, he stifled a shudder. “Chances are high she’ll use me to further her own ambitions.” Two weeks ago he would have nodded permission for the machinations of the
Ton
and how they conducted themselves up the social ladder. Today, he was done with his duty. “What of love, Mother?”

“What of it? Your father and I weren’t in love when we married.”

“Yet you were happy.” He’d heard the story of how his parents met at a ball and how his father asked for her hand at the end of the evening a number of times.

“Yes, and it took work. We survived and so will you. Go woo Lady Drummond.
Secure the arrangements.”

He briefly peered at his parent. “I’m undecided about her.
I believe I’ll choose happiness instead. Olivia won’t provide that.” On the tail of a sigh, he returned his attention to Clarice. A smile tugged at his lips. Her lavender dress was exquisitely suited for her slightly olive skin and her dark eyes. Would the Frenchman appreciate her exotic beauty, her sharp wit or the glory of her lips? “Yes, indeed, Olivia is most certainly not the woman for me.”

“Felix Darrington, you get that thought right out of your mind.” Roberta rapped him again with her fan. “That woman is a glorified servant. She’s not for you.”

“We shall see.” He shot to his feet. Of course Clarice wouldn’t pass muster with his mother. She’d never understand what was between him and Clarice. He tamped the urge to laugh.
Hell, I don’t understand it.
Nothing of the sort had ever gripped him before. It made him want to do crazy, wonderful, hysterical things and not care for the consequences. No time like the present to start on such a mad quest. “But that man is not right for her, and I must do something about it. I feel a responsibility for her.” Felix wove through the knots of people before his mother could recall him. “Charlotte, thank God.” He grabbed his sister’s hand and pulled her away from the cluster of women she chatted with.