Seduction in Mind (35 page)

"Mother, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Ionides. Mr. and Mrs. Ionides, my mother, the Countess of Milburn, Lady Clarissa Thornton, and Miss Alworth," Sam offered calmly. "We were just having tea, Mother. Would you care to join us?"

She most certainly did not, but all her marriage plans for her son were clearly in jeopardy, so she quickly reconsidered. "Yes, certainly. You sit beside Sam, Clarissa," she ordered. "Clarissa tells me she has learned one of your favorite songs, dear," the countess added, smiling at her son. "She most particularly wishes to play it for you, so when your guests have left," she went on pointedly, "we can enjoy her superior talent."

"I didn't know you played the piano," Hedy said uncharitably, moving quickly toward the seat beside Sam, not about to allow Clarissa a prominent position or proximity to the man she coveted.

"I'm afraid the piano is in disrepair in any event," Sam lied, moving to the far side of the sofa as Hedy sat down. "A shame… dry rot, I believe."

"It's much too early for piano music anyway—" Hedy inched closer to him and smiled. "Don't you agree, my lord?"

Sam quickly rose. "Owens forgot the scones, when I particularly asked for them. Mrs. Ionides, would you do the honors?" He pushed the tea tray a fraction closer to her. "Owens!" And he moved toward his majordomo as Hedy's mouth settled into a pout.

Never say Euterpe was intimidated by anyone, regardless of their rank, and at that moment the feelings of a mother lioness were swelling in her breast. As if those insipid young ladies with blond curls and over-ruffled bonnets and gowns the countess was parading before her son were going to take the place of
her
daughter! She didn't care how blue the chits' blood; the young ladies plainly didn't hold a candle to her Alexandra. It was a completely partisan observation but deeply felt, and when Euterpe said in the warmest of accents, "I'd be honored, Lord Ranelagh," he understood even from the small distance that separated them that his suit for Alex's hand had met with favor.

The countess's fury showed in the high color on her cheeks. It was all she could do to keep from storming out of the room. But Clarissa Thornton had a dowry that would add considerably to the Lennox wealth, and even Hedy Alworth, although of lesser estate, would be preferable to a twice-married Greek vixen. The countess had every intention of seeing her son married to a suitable lady, and for that purpose she would stomach even foreign upstarts like the Ionideses.

"Apparently, I misunderstood about the scones," Sam prevaricated, returning to the group with a plate of small pastries. "Cakes anyone?" he offered, playing host as though he were familiar with the role, as though he handed cake plates around the table every day of his life.

"Oh, goody!" Clarissa squealed, reaching for a pastry.

Sam's wince wasn't visible, although the tick over his cheekbone came into play.

"I just love cakes anytime at all," Clarissa cooed, putting a second on her plate. "And chocolate icing! My favorite!"

Sam glanced at the clock on the mantel, wondering how soon he could send his mother and her friends away.

Taking note of Sam's reaction, Hedy said, "No, thank you," when she was offered the sweets. "I prefer more wholesome treats."

"Now you must promise to come up to Milburn Grange," the countess interposed, taking advantage of the public occasion to force her son's acquiescence. "Our midsummer ball will have any number of your old friends in attendance. Sam loves the country," she added, surveying the Ionideses with a smug smile. "You people prefer the City, I'm sure."

"We live in the country," Pandias replied quietly, restraining his wife with a hand on hers.

"The Ionideses have a lovely estate, Mother." Sam set the plate down and pulled up a chair beside Pandias. "I was there the other day to bring a gift to their new granddaughter."

Hedy gasped, the countess turned beet red, and Clarissa even stopped eating, recognizing the seriousness of such a visit.

A sudden hush filled the room.

"What the hell—is this a wake?" The Earl of Milburn stood on the threshold, his gaze sweeping the odd assortment of silent people in his son's drawing room, the most curious sight that of his son with a teacup in his hand.

"Good morning, Father. It's not a wake. We're having tea. Would you like to join us?"

"For tea? Are you daft?"

"Then, I'll wish you good morning."

"Not so fast, my boy. I'm here on an errand." He cast a disparaging eye on his wife. "Seems I'm not the only one."

"If you're staying, Father, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Ionides. I invited them over for tea."

"You don't say. Then, Eddie's story's true." The earl moved into the room, his gaze half narrowed as he surveyed the Ionideses. "Pleased to meet you," he said bluffly and jerked a small bow in their direction. "Seems my boy here has a tendre for your daughter. That's what I came to find out, and there you have it." The earl turned his critical gaze on Sam. "Don't say you're marrying the gel?"

"If she'll have me."

Hedy spilled her cup of tea down her dress front.

The earl's brows flew up into his receding hairline.

"That's impossible," the countess bit off, tight-lipped and furious.

"Not at all."

"Of course it is. Our family has always—"

"I'm not concerned with what the family has done, Mother. My mind is made up."

"But what about me?" Clarissa wailed.

The earl rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you'll find some young man who will better suit you," Sam asserted.

"But you're so very rich!"

Sam glanced at his mother and his mouth twitched, but he managed to keep from laughing. "Perhaps Mother can find you someone equally wealthy."

"I doubt that very much," Clarissa replied pettishly. "Everyone knows you have the most money."

"Damn you all to hell! Get your hands off me! I was just coming to say good-bye to the viscount!"

The woman's high-pitched screams echoed down the hall and into the drawing room, the cries not only near but notoriously familiar to Sam. He'd braced himself before Owens appeared in the doorway with Farida's wrists in a viselike grip.

Her shrieks came to a sudden stop when she saw Sam. "I just came to say good-bye," she muttered sullenly. "This, this vicious
person
assaulted me."

"She was stealing your Egyptian necklace, sir. The gardener saw her enter your study and came to tell me."

"I wasn't stealing anything. I was
looking
at it."

"Thank you, Owens. Would you escort the lady out? And lock the study doors."

"Very good, sir."

"May you burn in hell, Ranelagh," Farida spat out. "May your flesh fall from your bones, may all the fiends of—"

Sam nodded at Owens to take her away, wondering as his majordomo pulled her screaming from the room how he was going to explain this to Alex's parents.

"Here's the bitch now! He'll leave you just like all the rest! Don't think you have what it takes to hold him, you redheaded witch—"

Farida's shrill voice echoed down the corridor and into the drawing room, precipitating a round of gasps. A second later Alex stopped in the doorway as so many before her had.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, her soft exclamation ringing out like a clarion call in the stillness of the room.

"Alex, come in!" her mother cried.

"Don't leave me! Don't do this! You know what he's like!" The unseen male voice interposed another level of shock until Harry suddenly appeared on the threshold and gave form to speculation.

Alex glanced at him, dumbfounded. Then her gaze swung back to her parents and she was almost paralyzed by the sight of so many unexpected people. She didn't know whether to run or take her chances where she stood.

Sam had jumped to his feet the moment he saw her and, undeterred even by Harry's arrival, he was at her side before she could make up her mind. "I know this looks daunting." He took her hand.

"A true understatement," she whispered.

"Alex, please—"

"You stay out of this," Sam ordered, scowling at Harry.

"Sam, be nice to him."

"I love her, so go home," Sam said to Harry, and turned back to Alex. "Is that nice enough?"

"You do?"

"Very much."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Alexandra!" Her mother beckoned her with a smile, a very smug smile that she bestowed in turn on each and every one at the tea table.

"Why are my parents—"

"I invited them… actually, I invited your father, but your mother came too; we're getting along very well."

Alex stared at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted a second head.

His brows flickered in sportive response. "Really, we are. Do you want to meet my parents? I wouldn't necessarily wish them on anyone, but since they're here and you're here"—he shrugged—"maybe we should get it over with."

"I'd rather hide."

"You have to meet them eventually."

"No I don't."

"You do if you're to be my wife."

"Obviously, this craziness has infected you."

He shook his head, glanced around at all the gawking faces, said, "If you'll excuse us a minute." Then he turned to Harry because Alex wished him to be nice and said politely, "We'll be right back." Tightening his grip on Alex's hand, he pulled her out into the corridor. "I was hoping to make this more romantic, but under the circumstances"—he nodded in the direction of the drawing room—"I'm afraid any romance is out of the question. Will you marry me? I have already asked your parents' permission." He grinned. "Please, just say yes and put me out of my misery."

She smiled. "I came over to apologize to you. To thank you for saving me from—whoever Ben was."

"I don't want an apology. I want you to answer my question. I've never really asked anyone to marry me before; I haven't slept all night for thinking of this."

"Do you actually know what you're doing? You don't have to marry me to sleep with me because I missed you dreadfully last night and I decided my pride could be sacrificed to pleasure."

"You
do
like pleasure."

"
Your
kind of pleasure."

"Good. Now, I'm going to need some kind of commitment here, because I'm not the kind of man who deals with amour in a casual way."

She snorted.

"Not anymore anyway."

"Allow me to be skeptical."

"I swear, my word on it. Last night was the longest night of my life. You have to marry me."

"What about those little pink and white misses in your drawing room?"

"They're interested only in my bank account."

"They don't know what they're missing."

He grinned. "And you do."

"Which is my dilemma. I'm not sure I want to give it up."

"Good." His mouth twitched into a smile. "I'm waiting."

With a man like Ranelagh, every rational impulse urged her to say no. "Yes," she heard herself say.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he breathed. "And I promise to say yes to you anytime you want."

Such delectable motivation was impossible to ignore. Whatever remaining caution she possessed fell away. "Do you think they might leave soon?"

"I can assure you they will," Sam said firmly. "Come, darling, let's make our announcement. And then I'll tell them we have to make our wedding arrangements and we need privacy."

"I don't want a big wedding." Someone else seemed to be speaking for her, each new statement more astonishing than the last.

"I have the archbishop waiting down the hall. Is that small enough?"

Suddenly her head was clear, and her gaze turned challenging. "You were pretty sure of yourself."

"Just hopeful. If you didn't say yes immediately, I was going to seduce you into saying yes."

"Do you think that would have worked?"

"Well," he said calmly, repressing his grin, "based on past experience…"

"Don't be smug."

"Never. I apologize. Please, can we get these people to leave? We can argue the nuances later. Please…"

He looked so contrite, it was impossible to refuse. Then he kissed her gently and said thank you with such unutterable sweetness that she was lost.