Hunting the Hero (19 page)

The battle wasn’t worth it. Not even for the best sex she’d ever had.
 

CHAPTER 16

CONSTANTINE STEPPED FROM the main doors of Stanton Harold Hall and pulled his coat tighter about him as a sudden blast of icy cold wind hit his body full force. It had been a miserable few days and he’d come outside to see what fool dared to travel in such ghastly weather. He gaped at the crest gleaming through the mud-splattered carriage sides. “What the devil brings you to Wiltshire on such a dreadful day, Rothwell?”

His oldest friend emerged from his vehicle and grimaced up at the sky. “I’m here to see if you still live. Why the devil were you not at the wedding? I would not care to be in your shoes. Your sisters are rather put out with you.”

He grinned and strode down the steps quickly. “As am I with them for marrying so far beneath them.”

They shook hands amiably, but Rothwell’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve never even met their new husbands. Everyone knows you disapprove. But given one is the boy’s heir, and wealthy, their marriage will be accepted in due time. Too late now they’ve tied the knot. It’s official and been witnessed by quite a few of our mutual friends so all of London will know the details of the matches already.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll meet the upstarts at my leisure.”

Rothwell appeared ready to argue, but Constantine held up his hands to hold him off. “Come inside where it’s warm and have a drink. You’ll stay, of course?”

He gestured to the front door and was very quick to lead Rothwell into the warmth of his study. The room was comfortable and he had a good supply of brandy on hand.

“Unfortunately, I cannot. I’m needed back in London tomorrow for a meeting but I could not pass through without checking on your welfare.” Rothwell’s gaze grew sharp. “How have you all been? Well, I trust?”

“We are all very well.” Constantine grinned. The past weeks had done much to mend three very small hearts. Employing Miss Clark had been the best decision he’d ever made. “You’ll find the girls much the same as before.”

“Still too quiet?” Rothwell asked.

“Actually, no. I have had the good fortune of securing a new governess, and she has worked miracles in lightening the girl’s spirits. It’s a rare day now that I do not hear them laugh as they used to. They are almost as they were before Augusta passed.”

Rothwell squinted at him. “Seems you’ve had a change of heart too. You’ve not spoken of your wife so easily since her death.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I lost, but it is time to move ahead.”

In the weeks since Miss Clark had come, he had taken stock of his situation. He was still young. Everyone had told him that Augusta would not want him to mourn her forever. He should not feel guilty for laughing or enjoying life without her. He should remember the past was not all there was to life. There were endless possibilities for happiness, yet each included Meredith Clark.

Rothwell clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent. I shall expect you in London for the season. It’ll be like old times. We’ll drink, dance, and do the pretty for the ladies. Who knows, perhaps you can find another diamond among the lumps of coal crowding the ballrooms.”

Constantine laughed along with Rothwell at the picture he painted, but his heart did not leap with excitement. Sifting through the
ton
in search of a wife or even a lover held little appeal. The woman he wanted was already under his roof. “I don’t intend to rush toward matrimony.”

Rothwell grinned. “Who said anything about marriage? Many diamonds have a chance to shine by moonlight without a ring upon her finger.”

Unfortunately, Constantine was rather taken by a garnet-loving minx in spinster’s clothing. The last weeks had been a struggle, but he’d managed to keep his word. He’d barely touched Miss Clark, just the occasional fleeting caress to her jaw when no one was looking. What surprised him was how that small caress was almost enough to satisfy him. He could look whenever he wanted. He could touch, although fleetingly.

He poured Rothwell a drink and they toasted. “To the future.”

“And the past.” Rothwell settled himself in a chair. “I had a chance to speak with your new brothers-in-law. The elder is quite a serious man, rather well traveled too. The younger is a far different kettle of fish. I have a feeling Blythe keeps him on a tight leash. They were rarely apart during the party.”

Constantine snorted. “I knew she’d made a mistake.”

Rothwell leaned forward. “Not a mistake. I’ve never seen Blythe smile so much and I’ve known her since she first learned how to turn up her nose at me. This man could be the best thing for her if he can make her happy. However, when she’s not around he curses like a Barbary pirate.”

“I imagine that is because he was as close to one as it is possible to be. I’ve been supplied with all the disreputable facts of his past, so I will not be surprised by any gossip. But I must say he is exactly the opposite sort of what I’d hoped for her second husband.”

“Sometimes we do not get what we want. Only what we need.”

Constantine studied his friend. “Since when have you been a philosopher?”

Rothwell laughed. “I had the opportunity to spend some time with the middle brother, Oliver Randall. He thrust a book at me rather than continue our conversation. Some of what I read must have rubbed off.”

“Well, Blythe must live with her choices, as must Mercy. I give them a year before they regret their decisions.”

Rothwell dropped his drink to the table. “So you’ve become an opponent of the married state. I’m surprised Lady Farnsworth would allow it.”

“Arabella’s not around to meddle in my affairs right now.” Constantine swallowed a mouthful of his drink. “She’s gone to London. Farnsworth summoned her for his daughters coming out a few weeks ago now, denying her the chance to attend the wedding too, by the way. Callous bastard. The season could be a disaster socially for her, though. Bella’s let slip a thing or two of the niece’s nature that is not promising of an easy or scandal-free first season. Farnsworth will likely blame Bella for any lapse.”

Rothwell shuffled in his chair again, his expression changing to curiosity. “If you’d married the lady, she wouldn’t have to put up with Farnsworth carping like an old woman. Your daughters love her. Why haven’t you married her yet?”

“I’ve told you before that Bella and I are simply friends. She’s very fond of my daughters and likes to visit with them whenever she can. You know as well as I do that I am very fortunate to have her friendship. Before she left she was good enough to send me an excellent governess. As I’ve already mentioned, the improvement in my daughter’s tempers has been remarkable.”

Rothwell chewed on his lower lip. When he released it, his brow had creased in a frown. “Forgive me for being blunt, but why wouldn’t you want to marry Lady Farnsworth? She’s lovely and in possession of a fine mind.”

“Perhaps because she’s never encouraged me to consider more and even told me we would not suit. She was my wife’s friend. Perhaps she sees me as a brother.”

Rothwell shifted in his seat. “So when are you bound for London?”

“I’ve no firm plans as yet, but I must call on Arabella before the season starts.”

“Oh. For what purpose? I’ll likely see her first about Town. Can I pass along any message?”

Constantine still had to find out what Miss Clark had told Arabella before she left for London. The longer he wondered what it might be, the more he worried. Someone had to watch out for the woman. “Ah. That’s very decent of you, but no. It is a delicate matter that unfortunately requires a private word. Don’t trouble yourself about it. I’ll speak to her soon enough, I hope.”

A timid tap on the door sounded and Cunningham entered. “Sorry for the disturbance, my lord, but could I have a moment of your time? It’s rather urgent.”

Puzzled, Constantine excused himself and approached the door. Cunningham held it open for Constantine to step through and he raised a brow when he closed the door behind them. “It’s about the governess.”

The weight of disapproval on the word
governess
raised the hair on the back of Constantine’s neck. Despite having won over the sum total of his household and outdoors staff, Cunningham still held firm to his disapproval. For the life of him, Constantine could not work out why. Miss Clark had been exemplary in her attention to her duties. She spoke kindly to everyone and appeared rather fond of his daughters, even allowing them into her own bed to play on a particularly chilly day. “Oh.”

“Miss Clark has been precipitous and brought the children down to be presented to Lord Rothwell without waiting for a summons. They are waiting in the morning room, but I can send her away until you want them.”

Constantine grinned. “That’s an excellent idea. Send for them at once. Rothwell is not staying long and will want to see his goddaughters before he goes to London.”

Cunningham’s indignation deflated like a hot-air balloon. His face grew pinched. “As you wish.”

When he turned to go, Constantine called him back. “Cunningham, might I give you a word of advice? In matters that relate to my daughters, I’m prepared to give Miss Clark considerable leeway. She chose correctly to prepare my daughters to greet our visitor, and as you would well remember, my late wife would have done exactly the same.”

Cunningham appeared a little easier at last. “Of course, my lord.”

Constantine watched him go, wondering what it would take to have Cunningham’s disapproval vanish. There was no reason to fight every decision Miss Clark tried to make. Some of them were imminently practical. Augusta had always claimed that their daughters should not be shut away, that they should know their elders. Since Rothwell would be their guardian should anything happen to him, it was prudent and advisable that the girls were comfortable with him.

“The governess will bring the girls in a moment,” he told Rothwell as he rejoined him.

Rothwell grinned. “Couldn’t help but overhear that Cunningham does not care for the new governess. Is she pretty?”

Constantine shrugged, wondering how Cunningham was treating Miss Clark when he wasn’t looking and whether pretty was a strong enough word to describe Meredith Clark. “Everything will work out in the end, I’m sure.”

Cunningham tapped on the open door and his daughters filed past, heads high, appearance flawless. Miss Clark carried Poppy past the stiff-limbed butler and then lowered her onto her feet. At two, Poppy tottered toward Constantine. Miss Clark followed until he caught the little minx up into his arms. He smiled at Miss Clark. “I’d like you to remain, please.”

“Yes, my lord,” she agreed quickly.
 

Rothwell strolled to his side. “And who is this lovely creature?”

When he glanced around, Rothwell stared only at Miss Clark, his gaze bold and full of speculation. Constantine ground his teeth. “
My
governess.”

The
my
might have sounded a touch possessive, because Rothwell’s brows rose. Miss Clark was his, no matter that she did not share his bed now. He wouldn’t allow his friend to get ideas into his head, no matter how short the visit. Miss Clark was off-limits to all others. If he had to be celibate, then so did she.
 

“Miss Clark, my lord.” After a quick curtsy, Miss Clark retreated to a far chair, as far away from Rothwell’s roving eye as she could get.
 

Constantine breathed a sigh of relief. Rothwell had a large appetite for pretty women and was considered handsome. Constantine didn’t think he could stomach Miss Clark revealing a mutual attraction to Rothwell. The idea of it ruined his good mood.

Although she did nothing to be noticed, Rothwell couldn’t take his eyes from her. To distract him, Constantine all but threw Poppy into his arms. “Say hello to Rothwell, sweetheart.”

His friend appeared startled by the child in his arms but made a passable attempt to speak with her before quickly handing her back. He cast one last look at Miss Clark before bowing to Willow. “Lady Willow, a pleasure to see you again. Do you remember me?”

Willow dipped a much-improved curtsy and smiled up at Rothwell. “Yes, sir. You used to spin me around till I was dizzy. Will you do it again?”

“Anything for you, Lady Willow.”

Willow hadn’t spoken to Rothwell very much on his last visit, yet now she was confidently conversing and even making demands. Constantine threw a quick, grateful smile at Miss Clark as Rothwell clasped Willow’s hands to spin her around. Miss Clark had exceeded his expectations and he intended to show his appreciation later. There was a garnet bracelet burning a hole in his coat pocket.
 

Greeting Maisy took a little more effort. She’d retreated beneath the well of his desk, ensuring that Rothwell had to bend upside down to see her, looking quite ridiculous in the process. “Lady Maisy,” Rothwell said from the same position, “so good to see you.”

When he was upright again, a giggle sounded behind him. Miss Clark, and then Willow, began to laugh at Rothwell. Neither of them could stop even when Rothwell glared at the noise.
 

Constantine probably should stop them, but he rather enjoyed their antics. “Laughing at Rothwell’s expense is rather unbecoming for ladies.”