Fascination -and- Charmed (31 page)

“I’ll take my leave of you.” Grace had actually confided
everything
in this creature.

“Please don’t go until I am assured you are not angry with Grace.”

“My feelings toward my future wife are no concern of yours.”

“But they are!” Her fingers abandoned the slipping bodice to descend upon his arms. “I shall not rest again until you listen to me. You must have noted that Mrs. Wren is ... She is not a sympathetic parent.”

“Agreed,” he said vehemently.

“Yes, well, Grace is alone. And she does not entirely understand her, um,
urges.
Some women are bemused by the strength of their carnal desires, and Grace may be one of those. That is why one man will never be enough—” She paused, her mouth forming a horrified “oh.” “I mean she is very, very energetic.”

Arran looked at her breasts.

“Oh, dear. I am doing this so abominably. I’m certain that given time, Grace may come to appreciate you as she should.”

“As she should?” His gaze didn’t waver. “You mean that if I wait for her approval, I may, in time, gain something close to constancy from my wife.”

Melony tossed her head. “Do not muddle me, my lord. I mean that eventually it is inevitable that Grace should come to appreciate you as much as I already do.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You have befuddled me. I am speaking as I had no intention of doing. But since I have, I shall finish. I consider it a crime for a man with such obvious ...
talents
to be less than adored by any woman he chooses to honor with his attentions.”

“Do you indeed?”

“Yes, my lord.” With one fingertip, she made a line down his chest all the way to the waist of his breeches. “Let me show you how your needs should be ministered to. I assure you I am very sensitive to your needs.”

“You do not know me at all.” Yet he knew her—in the way men of the world knew all such women.

She flattened her palms over his shirtfront, spread her fingers, stroked him. “Should we go to my bed?”

“I think not.”

“Quite so.” Her breasts rose and fell, large, white-skinned, and traversed with the palest of blue veins, the nipples distended. “Here before the fire will be better. I can make you forget Grace. That, I promise you.”

Slowly Arran threaded his silk cravat around her neck.

For an instant there was a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. It faded when he smiled. Winding the ends of the cloth about his fingers, he shortened it, drawing her closer.

Melony giggled and slipped her fingers inside his breeches. “Oh, yes, I will make you forget.” Her head fell back and her moist lips parted. “You need a woman who understands the requirements of a man such as you. A woman who can perform for you in Society ... and elsewhere.”

Arran transferred both ends of the cravat to his left hand and smoothed his right down over her shoulder.

“Yes,” she whispered urgently, arching her back. “Oh, yes.”

Deftly he pulled the flimsy sleeves, first one, then the other, up her arms and tweaked her bodice into place.

“What—?”

A sharp little yank on the cravat silenced her before Arran retrieved the length of silk and stepped away.

“Why ...? You can’t
do
this.”

“Can’t I? Watch me, Mrs. Pincham.”

“I will not
stand
for it, I tell you!”

He unlocked and opened the door. “I don’t believe I ever heard how Mr. Pincham died. Can disgust kill, do we know? Good night, madam.”

“I do believe he’s in love with me.” Grace regarded Mairi with serious intensity. “I have finally identified the reason for my own distress. There are feelings that can make one very disturbed.”

“Aye?” Mairi waited expectantly.

“As a female I have felt so happy, I thought I might pop. And so sad, I thought I might die. In the end all I could do was cry.”

Mairi watched Grace closely. “Aye, miss?”

“Men do not cry,” Grace said. “They get angry. Which explains everything. The marquess is completely, painfully, and hopelessly in love with me.”

“Och, I’m sure I dinna understand the ways o’ the gentry,” Mairi said, her round blue eyes brilliant with anxiety. “How could ye decide his lordship loves ye when he’s not seen ye, or spoken a word t’ye, for days? And ye’d only set eyes on him the two times anyway.”

Grace inspected the white lace falling collar Mairi held. “I’ve just explained all that. It’s as plain as your nose, Mairi. This will do very well.”

Mairi draped the collar about Grace’s neck and shoulders on top of an already high-cut dress in emerald green faille piped with white. “Like one o’ them governesses,” Mairi said, frowning and swiping at the ever loose wisps of fine brown hair about her face. “Not a bit o’ your pretty skin t’be seen.”

“No,” Grace agreed lightly. “Skin is a very dangerous thing, Mairi. You would do well to ensure that your own is well covered. I have given all this much thought, and I cannot think why it took me so long to see the truth.”

Mairi blushed a bright pink. “I’m sure I dinna know what ye could be talkin’ about. There’s none t’look at me, Miss Grace. But ye’re different.”

“You’ll find a wonderful husband in due course. He’ll be perfectly charming and very good to you. Meanwhile, I intend to ensure that there is nothing about me that may cause the marquess to feel compromised.”

Mairi stared. “What’s that, miss?”

“Compromised?” Grace laughed. “It means
endangered.
At risk.”

“An’ how would a great, bad-tempered man be en—en—put in danger by a wee slip o’ a lassie like ye?”

Grace gave Mairi an arch look. “By causing him to have thoughts that might lead to his wishing to ... Mairi, I would not speak so plainly if I did not think this was for your own good. I have noted that there are events—situations—certain
touches,
that lead a man to want to
Sit With a Woman.
”
She watched Mairi’s wholesome face and waited.

“I see,” Mairi said at length. “Sittin’ wi’ ye?”

“Hush.” Grace dropped her voice. “In a man as principled as the marquess, such
urges
may cause grave disquiet.”

“I’ve no idea what t’say t’ye, miss. I thought ye were actin’ strange. Ye said ye’d seen the marquess himself? On your own?”

“Of course,” Grace said irritably. “I told you he summoned me and we have discussed the wedding.” If being told when the event would take place could be counted as a discussion. “And although I would not wish you to mention this to anyone else, I had met with the marquess on several previous occasions.”

“Ye had?”

“I had.”

“They’ll not speak any good o’ him belowstairs. They say he was at dinner! Himself at dinner!”

“Certainly,” Grace said, pretending that there should be no cause for surprise over the event.

“But he’s not been seen around the castle in many a year, so I’m told. Are ye afeared o’ him?”

“Not at all,” Grace said with more conviction than she felt. “He is a charming man.” A slight exaggeration. He was a pigheaded ogre, but she was—with the help of Melony’s insights into masculine behavior—in the process of working out a cure for that condition.

“Is he ... What does he look like, then? Is he all twisted up wi’ great long arms and a mouth like a gash made wi’ a dirk?”

Grace tutted and went to sit before the glass to ensure that her hair was suitably restrained. “He is the most handsome man I have ever seen.”

“Ah. What a ninny I am. That explains that, then.”

At Mairi’s distant-sounding comment, Grace turned on her stool. “What does it explain?”

“I’m not supposed to tell ye.” Mairi smoothed her apron and plunked her hands on her hips. She began to pace, muttering under her breath as she went.

“But you will tell me,” Grace said in a wheedling tone.

“Aye, I will on account o’ ye bein’ a gentle, carin’ soul. Ye’ve been bewitched by a fair face and form. The devil himself in pretty garments. Och, miss, ye shouldna put yoursel’ in the way of such danger as marryin’ with the Savage. There, I’ve said it.”

“Oh, come, now. Because of all the silly old stories about him
eating babies?
Mairi, surely you see how foolish that is.”

“They’re talkin’ about him belowstairs. He was fair ragin’ at dinner, they said. An’ he sent them all packin’ .”

Grace had no wish to remember the event in detail. “His lordship had good reason to become agitated. There was a great deal of—er—discussion. Everybody wanted to tell him what he should and should not do.”

“About ye goin’ to Edinburgh.” Mairi blushed brilliantly. “I’m sorry, miss, but people do talk.”

“Let them. All that nonsense about the marquess’s first wife is purely malicious, too. I’ve no idea what really happened to her, but I’m sure it wasn’t anything like the wicked stories that have been invented.”

“He’s a foul temper, has he not?” Mairi said, making a great deal out of tidying the scarves, fichus, pelerines, spencers, and other items of clothing Grace had assembled to wear at the necks of her gowns to render them as modest as possible. “And there’s none who can tell ye otherwise than that he’s capable of ... Well, ye know what he’s capable of.”

“I do not know that he’s capable of the wicked things you’re suggesting.”

Mairi straightened and folded her arms over her plump bosom. “I wasna’ goin’ t’mention this, but I think I may have to.”

Grace’s hair, drawn back to a heavy braid at her nape, shone smoothly. Not a hint of a wisp escaped to form a tempting curl. She ran a hand over the top and inspected her face. Scrubbed clean and with no hint of blacking on her lashes or color on her lips or cheeks, she looked satisfactorily plain.

“I probably will tell ye.”

Of course, her lashes were dark anyway, except for the tips, which, for some odd reason, were gold. And her mouth managed to appear pink all on its own.

“Mayhap I should just out wi’ it and—”

“Mairi! Say what you intend to say anyway!”

“Himself was in that Mrs. Pincham’s rooms in the wee hours o’ the mornin’! On the very night when he’d announced your weddin’ at dinner. There, I’ve told ye.”

Grace sat very still with her hands in her lap.

“A
coorteesan
is what they say that woman is. A
coorteesan
is a woman who—”

“I know that a courtesan is a kind of woman we should not discuss, Mairi.” How could it be true? Why, Melony had been with Grace until very late that evening. “I’ve heard my Mama and her friends speak of courtesans as the destroyers of good husbands.”

“Indeed,” Mairi agreed.

Melony had been a pillar of strength and comfort in the days since that evening.

“So,” Mairi said when Grace didn’t continue. “He canna verra well be in love wi’ ye, can he? He’s a bad man, miss. If ye’ll excuse me for sayin’ as much about your intended.”

A bad man?
“I thought poor Melony appeared distracted on the following morning,” she said vaguely. “I think I begin to understand why.”

“Och, ye’re such a sweet-minded lassie. My father would have had an easier life if I’d been half as gentle a soul as ye are.”

“Piffle! You are the sweetest, kindest creature on earth, and I’m so glad you came to me. Now. You have helped make things entirely clear to me.”

“Deary me, I’ve turned your poor mind wi’ my news.”

“Don’t you see, Mairi? It’s all a theatrical nonsense to hide his true feelings.”

Mairi wound a primrose yellow shawl of China crepe into a creased rope. “I’m sure I dinna know what ye’re sayin’.”

“The marquess, silly. We’re agreed that he’s a pigheaded, overbearing man—a cruel man, even.”

“Aye.” The shawl became a crumpled ball. “I shouldna wonder.”

“Only he’s not really cruel. He has true
beauty
buried in his soul, Mairi. True beauty.” Thinking of how he hid that beauty brought tears to her eyes. “You should hear him play the piano. Sounds of angels, he makes.”

‘Sounds o’ angels?”

“Oh, yes. And this visit to Melony is a direct result of his fears.”

“Aye ...
No.
No, I dinna understand ye, miss. Mayhap ye should go to your bed awhile. Ye dinna sound well.”

Grace swung around from the glass. “But I
am
well,” she said stoutly. “I have not been better in a very long time. I was right all along. Stonehaven loves me, and that frightens his wits to shreds. He went to Melony in an attempt to prove to himself that he could, er, experience similar feelings with her to those he felt with me. He wanted to prove that they were not at all unusual. And he has not appeared since because it did not work, and now he is forced to confront the true situation.”

“And what would that be?”

“He is lost. Lost to me, of course.” She snapped her skirts across her legs. “He is a man who abhors weakness, and like most of his foolish sex, he considers falling in love a weakness.”

Mairi recollected the shawl and hurriedly tried to smooth it. “If ye say so. But I know what they’re sayin’ belowstairs, and it isn’t anythin’ like what you think.”

“They are small-minded and mean. And they are gossips. Poor Melony. What a trial for her to have to deal with Stonehaven. You see, Melony is a most loyal friend, and she must have felt deeply troubled by the marquess’s behavior—because of that loyalty. But it shall never again be mentioned, and I shall learn from it.”

Mairi frowned dubiously.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know what I’m saying. And I
do
know what I’m doing. And what I’m
going
to do. I’m going to force him to give up his foolishness. I’m going to do all manner of kind and loving things for him until he cannot help but pack away his silly doubts. He will open like a flower, Mairi. Like a rose to the sunshine. Yes, indeed. I am going to be Stonehaven’s sunshine.”

Mairi started to respond, but a rap on the door was followed by Melony’s entrance. She hurried in, ignoring Mairi and going directly to Grace. “How are you, dear one? Forgive me for taking so long to come. Theodora has been completely tiresome this morning. She insists she’s misplaced her wretched diamonds. Can you imagine? Anyway, I couldn’t get away sooner.”