Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance (19 page)

‘A pretty place,’ Lord Hathaway said meditatively. ‘Do you know the Frobishers? I believe they are not far from Bracknell.’

‘I know the family, of course. I have not seen them in some time, however. It has been too long since I have been home.’

‘What has kept you away for so long?’ Johanna inquired.

‘I was with my sister in Scotland for some time. To comfort her after the death of her husband. And before that, I was on the Continent. Traveling broadens the mind, my dear.’ He gave her a smile. ‘I believe you mentioned that you would like to travel?’

‘I would,’ she agreed, silently adding,
but
not with you, my lord, never with you
!

‘I would highly recommend it. Rome is particularly lovely. I am sure you would appreciate it.’

Johanna was also sure she would appreciate it. She hoped… no, she intended to ensure… that whomever she married would also wish to travel. It would be one of the things that would be on her list of items to present to possible suitors. A decent stable, a sense of humor and a willingness to travel were the basics. She intended to work her way up from these unassailable requirements to less essential items, such as living arrangements and domestic expectations.

‘Does your sister intend to go up to town for the Season?’ Lord Hathaway inquired, clearly keen to remain on the offensive.

‘Possibly. Our plans are vague, however. It has been very pleasant to catch up with friends in the district and of course, making new friends has been particularly delightful. This is a very accommodating county. Such charming families.’

And such a condescending, irritating, infuriating man… Johanna ground her teeth for a moment, before regaining her calm. He could be as superior as he liked; it would make his departure all the sweeter.

Johanna sighed inwardly, knowing that he had not meant to sound supercilious. Lord Mordern grappled with the more genuine aspects of human nature. She had no doubt he meant to sound sincere when he dropped heavy handed compliments into the conversation at every opportunity, but it was very tiresome, especially when it was obviously so alien to him. He might be the epitome of smooth, but life had given him a hard edge, which he found difficult to conceal. She suspected he would be far more at home flinging barbs and deploying insults than offering flowery bouquets of words. Not that it had stopped him trying, even if he couldn’t entirely rid each word of its faint echo of cynical boredom.

They made desultory conversation on the way back home, for both men seemed to be rather wary about putting forward much by way of conversation. It would have been rather amusing, if Johanna hadn’t been so frustrated by her inability to move forward with her plans for Lord Hathaway.

I just need to get rid of all these ridiculous distractions. When Lord Mordern and his sister are gone I shall be able to focus on the really important things.

Which reminded her that she needed a plan to keep Lord Hathaway with her beyond the evening ahead. There were some potentially helpful dark clouds rolling across the sky, which suggested that the fair weather they had been enjoying for the past few days might soon be a thing of the past and she urged them to hurry, pleading for nothing short of a deluge. No sensible man would take himself out in a deluge, would he? At the very least, no sensible man would take his horse out and Lord Hathaway certain cared for Hermes. It was so much easier to convince somebody to stay if the circumstances were right and, if nature could provide those circumstances, she would be eternally grateful.

Back at the house, she found her father in an unusually surly mood, no doubt prompted by her grandmother’s sudden desire for his company. Even Mrs. Gordon looked slightly put out but then, she had never been blessed with Mrs. Howeth’s full attention before. When Grandma was determined, very little was allowed to stand in her way and clearly she had been determined to spend time with her son-in-law that afternoon. It was an excellent strategy, inserting herself between the two lovebirds and Papa greeted her with obvious relief when she walked into the drawing room after changing.

‘Ah, my dear,’ he said, face brightening. ‘There you are!’

‘Here I am,’ Johanna agreed demurely. She cast a quick glance at Celine Gordon and was pleased to see an uncommon tightening around her mouth. She looked, in fact, a little like she was pouting. Grandma, on the other hand, looked particularly spry, her black eyes bright as she surveyed her two victims.

‘Hello Papa,’ Johanna replied sweetly. ‘Have you and Mrs. Gordon been having a lovely chat with Grandma? How delightful.’

‘I’ve been telling them about the old days,’ she said with considerable relish. ‘It’s been champion, ha’n’d it, Tony lad?’

‘Champion,’ Sir Antony agreed weakly, casting a beseeching glance at Mrs. Gordon, who gave him a sunny smile. She may have had an execrably dull afternoon but she still had a job to do, Johanna thought grimly. Not by a flutter of those eyelashes would she dream of intimating that she wished to be anywhere else.

Just you wait, Madam. We shall see what Papa thinks when he discovers your brother is set on taking liberties with the daughter of the house…

Lord Mordern walked in at that moment and she gave him a smile; it was so out of keeping with her usual coolness that he blinked and appeared momentarily taken aback. She had dressed with care, selecting a dress that showed rather more of her white breasts that she was accustomed to displaying, this early in the day. Still, the scoop neckline appeared relatively modest, inset as it was with fine lace and she knew that the deep amber silk looked very well with her hair and skin. It was, she hoped, the kind of dress that would make the cagey Lord Mordern forget himself enough to attempt a kiss. But first, she must try and tempt him into pursuing her beyond the dictates of good sense.

Beyond the long windows, the sun had disappeared as grey clouds rolled in, shutting off the golden light. Johanna smiled with satisfaction. Really, the day was going far better than she had imagined it would.

She could hardly wait to begin.

Marcus had given himself a quick scrub to remove the scent of horse off him before descending the stairs, anxious not to let Miss Claybourn out of his sight for too long. She was a reckless thing, much too apt to follow her inclinations rather than good sense and he didn’t want her rushing into anything without him being on hand to lend a helping hand, specifically, the kind of hand that saw a seedy villain cast out of the house. A quick look into one of the drawing rooms told him that Sir Antony and Mrs. Gordon were being held as conversational hostages to Mrs. Howeth, who was regaling them with what sounded to be an interminably long description of how a coal mine operated. Celine looked ready to howl with boredom. He grinned appreciatively but did not join them. He was intent on remaining inconspicuous until Miss Claybourn put her plan into action. It would never do to be trapped in conversation for too long. Timing, he sensed, would be everything.

He was cursing the fact that he had had no time to talk the matter over with her further. Mordern’s presence on their ride had curtailed frank discussion. Several times he had caught Miss Claybourn sliding sidelong glances towards him but, with Mordern along, there was nothing he could say.

What an impish chit she is, he’d reflected with mingled exasperation and amusement. There was an element of the untamed about the creature and he wondered how she would go among the proper salons of London or the censorious regard of the matrons who controlled the popularity of the hopeful debutantes. There would be no wild rides through Hyde Park for the girl; unless she was properly supervised, there would be no rides at all and she would not be allowed the freedom of Hounslow Heath. No wonder she was reluctant to go up to London.

Now, hovering in the doorway of the library, he caught sight of her hurrying downstairs and his breath caught at the sight of her. It was an involuntary reaction to a lovely vision, but the dark gleam of amber seemed to make her pale skin luminescent, while her hair had been allowed to cascade down her back in a stream of silver curls. Marcus had deliberately not allowed himself to dwell on her particular charms – something of an effort as they were manifest – but every once in awhile, since their initial meeting he had forgotten to censor himself and her beauty took him aback. That beauty, coupled with a nature that was remarkably unaffected, made him think thoughts that were entirely unworthy of a vagabond guest. So he firmly repressed all thought of what it would be like to kiss those generous lips and how she would feel in his arms. Soft and delectable, he had no doubt. He rather thought that Miss Claybourn would not object to finding herself in his arms but, as she represented everything he had sworn to avoid, it was not a scenario that was ever likely to occur, no matter how much he might wish to experiment.

With such thoughts as these floating through his head, he knew he needed to escape Cloverton Hall and its oddly intriguing inhabitants. A little longer and he could see himself being pulled even further into their complicated family web and he did not need the distraction. Damn it, he was not after distraction of
that
kind, certainly not the kind that Johanna Claybourn represented. As soon as this business with Mordern and his sister was done, Marcus would leave. Safety, he sensed, lay on the open road.

For a time it was deuced difficult to remain invisible, for Sir Antony employed excellent servants and they moved through the rooms soundlessly, tending fires, replenishing water and wine carafes and generally making a damned nuisance of themselves. Once, he startled a maid so badly that she gave a little shriek of surprise and he’d had to say soothing things that, he suspected, had quite the opposite effect. She was probably wondering why the devil he was standing about in a shadowy corner. As well she might.

Happily, Miss Claybourn did not wait too long to instigate her plan. He saw her leave the drawing room and wander over to the library; not moving quickly, and not – obviously – moving particularly slowly. There was an air of casual innocence about her and he smiled grimly for in truth, the girl might be unworldly but she knew
exactly
what she was doing. After a quick glance around the hallway, he slipped after her, determined to have a word.

‘Miss Claybourn,’ he murmured, moving towards her swiftly. She gave a start of surprised, spinning to face him.

‘Go
away
. You’re not meant to be here!’

‘I’m aware of that. I just wanted to say that I shall be very close by, so you have nothing to worry about.’

Her frown cleared and she smiled, sunlight after an April shower. ‘Well I know that. You would not let me down, my lord. I am quite confident, I can assure you.’

‘As long as you are not too confident -’

‘Oh, really. With you ready to step in I am not in the least afraid. But you have to wait until he actually does something. Tries to kiss me or takes hold of me. Otherwise he will probably talk himself out of it.’

‘Does he know you are in here?’

‘Dear heaven, I hope so. I said I was going to look for a particular book for Mrs. Gordon. Shakespeare’s sonnets of all things. I doubt I could have made it more obvious so you must leave. Now, if you please.’

He hesitated, not at all pleased. He did not like the idea in the least of letting the situation go so far but he could see her point. He could hardly burst in on a little light conversation. There must be a reason to eject the fellow from the house and nothing short of inappropriate behavior would do.

Just the same…

Johanna Claybourn was watching his face and made a small clucking sound. Raising her hands, she waved them at him in a shooing motion. ‘It will be perfectly all right, my lord. As long as you disappear! If he finds you here he is never going to try his luck.’

‘What a way you have with words,’ he muttered, but retreated, nevertheless. She was correct. Mordern wouldn’t put in an appearance if he was around. He retreated to the alcove he had taken up position in earlier. And just in time, for Mordern came out of the drawing room. Despite the fact that there was surely no need – he was a guest here, after all – he moved as softly as a cat and there was something in his demeanor that suggested he intended something illicit – as he padded quickly towards the library.

And there you are, Marcus thought in disgust. Despite the fact that the man had been rebuffed enough to know that his advances would not be welcome he had decided to follow his quarry again in the hope of gaining some ground. He must be getting desperate by now if he was going to be the one to succeed, for his sister was certainly doing well in her pursuit of Sir Antony. And Marcus couldn’t believe that Mordern would be content to have it so. There was an arrogance about the man that made Marcus think his lordship wanted to take the ultimate prize for himself. Marry the daughter and he could reasonably expect to inherit Cloverton Hall. And even if Sir Antony did get married again and manage to produce an heir, he would still have access to a considerable dowry.