Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord (6 page)

“They won’t wonder. Men oftentimes wait until later in life to marry.
I’m thirty-five, not ancient.”

“Perhaps it’s not women you fancy, Felix,” his mother went on as if he’d never spoken. “If that’s the way the wind blows, I will love you, of course. It’s what a mother does; though expect your contemporaries to take a rather dim view of that preference.”

Beside him, Charlotte snorted with unladylike laughter so great she dropped a piece of marmalade-laden toast onto the table cloth.

“Mother!” Felix
shot to his feet. His chair tipped over from his haste. Good Lord, what if the servants overheard the conversation and misconstrued it? “I do not fancy,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “men. I’m completely capable of finding a match—to a woman—on my own, with no help from you, so please, respect my privacy and sensibilities. Honestly, I rather think I have found a woman worthy or my pursuit.” And it wasn’t Olivia. Without another word, he fled the dining room before his mother could think of something equally scandalous to say.

Devil take his female relatives.
But he’d made a decision. He’d endeavor to accidentally run into Miss Delacroix as many times as he could, and in doing so, he’d discover what would make her happy, which would make him happy, and Lord knew he hadn’t been remotely close to that since his mother had summoned him to London. Perhaps it was time to buck tradition and duty after all.

Two hours later, Felix stood at the front door to
Wynesford’s townhouse on St. James Street, waiting for someone to acknowledge him. Finally, the green-painted door swung inward and the impeccable butler, Pomeroy, gave him a cold stare.

“How may I be of service,
Lord Swandon?” The tall, thin man had a way of looking down his hawk-like nose that made Felix seem insignificant.

“I’d like to visit with Lady Drummond if she’s at home.” Though he could find no fault in the other man’s flawless dark suit or gloved hands, he couldn’t ignore the thought that the butler would rather be somewhere else.

“I shall inquire. Please come in, sir.”

“Thank you. Is Wynesford at home today?” Something troubled him about the
family but he couldn’t fathom what. Perhaps he should pay more attention to
on dits
when his mother and sister bandied them about over breakfast. The only contact he had with Lord Wynesford was in Parliament where he did more talking and shaking the hands of others he wished to impress than actually debating law. Even if Felix had been interested in winning Olivia’s affections, he wouldn’t have been able to proceed until he investigated the family further. Good thing he was secretly here to see Miss Delacroix. He stifled the grin that tried to surface.

“The earl rose early and departed for London Docks, my lord. After that, his schedule is unknown to me. However, you may wait in the front parlor while I obtain news of Lady Drummond.”

Thus chastised for his not-so-subtle curiosity, Felix followed Pomeroy into the house. After walking through two hallways lined with portraits of Drummonds gone by, he was shown into the front parlor then the butler left. It was amazing how much of the house he didn’t remember from the night before, but then, once he’d seen Clarice, everything else had faded.

The residence was as ostentatious as its owner, which was unfortunate for the structure would look statelier without the gaudy Greek statues and overblown portraits decorating every space. Everywhere, the Drummonds had chosen to flaunt their wealth in the trappings of their home. Lavish rugs softened footfalls. Tapestries hung on walls. Expensive paintings from Italian masters were focal pieces even in the parlor. He half—
expected Olivia to leave her jewelry lying about to tempt guests or perhaps to rub their noses in her wealth.

He stifled a shudder and chose to pace the length of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. Something was odd,
yet if he wanted to remain in Olivia’s good graces in order to be near Miss Delacroix, he’d need to tolerate the tawdry. He wasn’t a foolish man, but he was mindful of the potential for scandal. Once he figured out why the Frenchwoman had captured his interest, he could move forward with his life.

“
Lord Swandon?” Pomeroy had returned. He stood, stiff and unyielding, at the door with his nose in the air. “It would appear Lady Drummond is still abed and not of a mind to see visitors. If you’ll be so good as to leave your card, I will make certain she knows you called.”

Still abed, at this hour? Felix slipped his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket just to check the time in case he’d made an error. Ten after two in the afternoon. The slow burn of annoyance climbed his throat while he returned the watch to its pocket. “I see.” His carefully laid plans of gaining access to the house for
the express purpose of seeing Miss Delacroix crumbled around him. “Thank you, Pomeroy.”

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, I don’t suppose there will be.” He couldn’t very well wait indefinitely in the parlor until Olivia decided she wanted to come down.

“
Pomeroy, Lady Drummond requires a bath… Oh, I apologize. I did not know you were seeing to a visitor.”

Felix’s pulse pounded as
she
appeared at the door. “Good afternoon, Miss Delacroix.” Today, in a dress of moss green muslin and her hair caught back in a loose knot with a shiny brown ribbon, she was every bit as captivating as he found her last night. Getting a glimpse of the slim lines of her neck or the curve of her delectable lips was worth the inconvenience of having his plans go awry. “I had dropped by to call on Lady Drummond.”

She nodded
, turned to Pomeroy, and spoke to him in hushed tones. Then she raised her voice. “Thank you. I will see Lord Swandon out.” Once the butler departed, she focused her full attention to Felix. “I apologize. You’ve caught me by surprise.”

“How so?” He joined her at the door then all thought flew out of his mind when he
peered into her coffee-hued eyes. In the strong afternoon light, flecks of gold swam in the dark depths. What would they look like when she smiled with pure abandon or delight? He didn’t know, but he wanted to give it a go.

“We didn’t exactly part o
n friendly terms.” She swept her gaze downward and the dark arc of her lashes lay like half-moons on her cheeks. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Had
she wanted to? His heartbeat accelerated and his palms began to sweat. Felix wiped them on his jacket. “Do you not think a spirited discourse can be enjoyed without hurting the other party’s feelings? I’d like to think we are both evolved enough to do that.” Although, at times, he suspected his colleagues in Parliament were not.

“I’d like to hope so as well.” She lifted her gaze and a smile curved her lips. “I apologize, also, that Lady Drummond is otherwise busy
this afternoon.”

“In this instance, I find I don’t mind.”
He barely concentrated on her words as his attention was taken with studying her face. Her lips were full and a dark mauve hue. What would her mouth feel like beneath his or trailing over his body? A few freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, and there was a small beauty mark on her right temple. The smooth, dusky skin tempted him. His fingers itched to smooth themselves down her arms. His groin tightened.
Good God, I’ll soon be three sheets to the wind without any spirits.
What a novel feeling. Olivia never inspired such carnal thoughts, and knowing that Clarice did sent his brain reeling.

“
Excusez-moi
. Lord Swandon?” The French-accented inquiry shook him from his improper musings.

“Hmm?” He yanked his gaze from her décolletage and back to her face. “I beg your pardon. I was wool gathering.”

She pinned him with a knowing look. “I know what you were doing and I don’t appreciate it. I am not an object to be fondled or treated as merchandise or to contemplate bedding as if I have no other worth in this world.” Miss Delacroix sailed down the hallway without a backward glance.

I deserve that.
“Where are you going?” When she didn’t slow or even pause, Felix had no other recourse except to follow after her.

“To
make a tray for Lady Drummond. Her ladyship is famished from her exertions.”

“From doing what, waking up? Getting out of bed? Washing her face?” Belatedly, Felix realized he didn’t sound very congenial, but since there was no one else around, he didn’t worry how his outburst might affect his image.
Something about Miss Delacroix gave wings to free speaking.

“Among other things.” Her cryptic remark
tightened his chest.

He followed her into the dining room where he’d first met her last night.
Something must be said to cover his confusion. “Is Olivia’s gown salvageable?”

Miss Delacroix turned and gave him a mysterious half-smile that did strange things to his insides.
He wanted to experience them again in order to figure out what they meant. “Only time will tell.” She moved to the sideboard and took a tray from a shelf nearby. “Why do you linger, Lord Swandon? I doubt Lady Drummond will be presentable for quite a while.”

“I’d hoped for the chance to exchange a few words with you
, to see you if you must know.” It was best to adhere as close to the truth as possible. He couldn’t very well announce he found her beyond fascinating. “After our discussion last evening, I wished to discover a little more about you.”

“Me?” Her scoff proclaimed him a nodcock. “I’m no one of consequence, my lord. I’ll tell Lady Drummond you came by.”

No one of consequence indeed. Her French roots would add to her value in Society and her worth would increase almost overnight. Fortune hunters would plague her door. His stomach clenched. She wasn’t some carrot dangling before donkeys and she deserved much more than being thrown to Society’s wolves. Someone needed to protect her from the ugliness that lurked in London’s ballrooms.

“My lord?” Clearly, she waited on his response.

“I suppose that would be the proper course of action.” He pulled a calling card from an interior jacket pocket and handed it to her. “I meant to give this to Pomeroy.”

“I will
pass it on, Lord Swandon.” Her fingers brushed his when she took the thick vellum.

Tingles raced through his hand.
“Oh, bother.” He wanted to hear his name in her voice. “Will you do me the honor and call me Felix? I’m still not used to the title. It reminds me that my father is no longer with me.” Though he’d made peace with his father’s passing, the need to still acknowledge he’d lost his parent had knots twisting his gut.

She looked at him for long moments before nodding. “I will, but not because you wish it. I want to
. I’ve never had a gentleman request such a nicety before.” She laid the tray on the sideboard then placed a china plate upon it. “Your name is refreshing. In a world full of men named John, William, and Charles, I’m glad yours is different. It suits you.”

His breath shuddered from him as if he’d just been handed a benediction. “Thank you.” He stood off to one side while she piled the plate with scones, seed cakes
, and crumpets. “Shall I continue to call you Miss Delacroix then?”

“You are too clever for you own good, Felix.”

He pressed a hand to his heart as that organ stuttered. His name from her lips was indeed the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Yes.”
Her tinkling laughter echoed in the empty room. “You may call me Clarice.”

“Clarice,” he repeated on a whisper. “A beautiful adornment for an equally beautiful woman.”
Steady, Felix. You go too far.
He shoved his annoying conscience away. There was no harm in conversing.

“You jest.”
Yet a pretty blush stained her cheeks. Was she pleased with his flirting? She added a cut crystal bowl of clotted cream and another of honey to her tray. “However, I thank you for the compliment. Clarice means fame while my middle name, Adele, means noble sort. My mother was prone to dramatics I think.”

“Both names are
quite fitting, your first especially.” Felix snagged a scone from the platter. Sugar glittered on the top. He took a large bite and chewed. “Ah, lemon. One of my favorites.” He hefted his confection. “Did you make these?”