The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 2

  He released her elbow and left his hand dangling at his side.

  Instead of hurrying off, which is what she certainly should have done, she smoothed her hair back and raised her chin. “Lord Redgrave, I would appreciate you not speaking to me ever again. Your actions devastated my sister, cast a shadow of scandal over my other sisters and myself, and gave my dear mother many sleepless nights.

  “I am sure you care nothing for the havoc your actions wrought, and frankly, I do not see why you have returned to London as if you have the right to do so.” She stepped back, her hands fisted at her sides. “Now I will bid you good night. And good-bye.” Spinning on her heel, she pulled open the door, almost flinging poor Lady Ambrose to the floor as she rushed past her.

  Her heart pounding, causing her head to do the same, she wended her way through the dancers until she reached the card room. She attempted to calm herself as she studied the players for a moment until she spotted her mother.

  She approached the table with three women and one man playing whist. “Mother, I fear I have developed a headache.” Her mother turned from her play and studied Mary, her brows drawn together.

  “Please don’t stop your game,” Mary said, as her mother laid her cards on the table. “I will go home and send the carriage back for you.”

  The dowager duchess regarded her. “Are you sure, dear?”

  “Yes, quite. I don’t wish to cut your evening short.”

  “Well, if you are certain. The game is going quite well for me this evening.” Her mother gave her a wink.

  “Enjoy yourself, Mother. I will have the carriage return and see you in the morning.”

  Still agitated from her exchange with Lord Redgrave, Mary attempted to soothe herself as she waited for her conveyance to be brought around.

  “My carriage, please,” said a deep voice behind her.

  She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Was she destined to run into the man at every turn?

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Drawing her cape around her, she kept her back to Lord Redgrave, tapping her foot as she waited for her vehicle. She could feel him staring at her from behind and fought the urge to pull her cape up higher to cover her neck where her skin tingled.

  After several minutes, a footman entered and bowed. “My lord, my lady, your carriages are ready.” His attention was immediately taken with an older couple requesting their carriage.

  She really could have used an arm to hold onto, since her slippers were slick from all the dancing she’d done, but she’d rather fall and break a limb than ask Lord Redgrave for assistance. She started forward and made it as far as the second step before her foot slipped. Before she’d fallen more than a few inches, a warm, firm hand gripped her elbow, and another wrapped around her waist. She did not have to turn to know who held her. “Unhand me, sir.”

  “Do not fret, my lady, I am merely assisting you to your carriage.”

  Her jaw tightened and she gave a stiff nod, and allowed him to place her hand on his arm. They continued down the steps where he handed her into the carriage. Mumbling a brief “thank you,” she settled in, keeping her body rigid as the vehicle advanced.

  Clutching her hands tightly in her lap, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Two

  Redgrave watched Lady Mary’s carriage roll away from Remington House.

  The devil take it!

  Why was the only woman in the entire ballroom who had caught his attention the one woman he should stay far away from?

  He had no business remembering her beauty, her fascinating curves, her bright smile, or the fire in her eyes when she’d challenged him. If Manchester caught him even glancing in Lady Mary’s direction, he would surely find himself with pistols at dawn.

  The sound of his carriage rolling toward him cut into his thoughts. “White’s,” he shouted to the driver before climbing in and settling into a slouch in the corner, stretching out his long legs. He stared straight ahead, his thoughts leading him through the disaster the evening had been.

  Once Lady Mary had cut him in the ballroom, he’d almost turned on his heel and left. Instead, he’d decided to hold firm, since he had known he would run into the chit somewhere along the line and knew what her response would be.

  He had been right.

  After spending a few minutes conversing with Miss Edgeworth and her friends, he had excused himself. He’d had no idea Lady Mary had gone to the garden until he’d heard her conversation with Bentworth.

  He hated to admit how rattled he was, but after she’d given him a tongue-lashing in the garden, he’d decided his first adventure back into Society had come to an end.

  It had been his intention, in coming to London for the Season, to find a bride. He realized it would not be an easy task because of the fiasco of his betrothal to Lady Abigail. Most marriage-minded mamas would keep their daughters close. At least at the beginning. He had hoped his title, wealth, and demeanor would eventually loosen their holds.

  All things considered, it had probably been a good thing to have encountered Lady Mary early on. At least now he knew what she looked like and could avoid her in the future, though, based on his body’s reaction to her, ignoring her might take some doing.

  He stared blankly at the growing darkness as the moon slipped behind the clouds. Similar to the darkness he’d endured the three years he’d been married to Priscilla. The familiar tightening of his muscles brought back memories he’d spent the last year attempting to vanquish.

  The teacup Priscilla hurled in his direction bounced off his forehead and landed on the floor. “I want to go to London.”

  “No. We will remain here in the country.” He rubbed his head and gave her a tight smile. “What is wrong, my lady? Is the life you fought so hard for not enough for you? There will be no returning to London.”

  “I hate you!” Her screech echoed off the walls.

  He turned and left the room. “I know, my dear. I know.”

  The footman at the door of White’s took his cape, hat, and gloves as he entered the club. A scattering of members occupied the comfortable high-backed chairs, reading newspapers and sipping from heavy crystal glasses. A few were involved in mumbled conversations. Later, when the evening entertainments drew to a close or guests grew restless, most seats would be full.

  “Redgrave. I heard you were back in Town.” Lord Bixby waved at him, setting his newspaper aside. “Here to see to your much neglected Parliamentary duties, eh?”

  “Among other things.” Redgrave joined him, signaling one of the footmen to bring him a drink.

  “Ah, do I hear the search for a wife in there? There have been rumors.”

  “’Tis a consideration. I need an heir.” He accepted a glass from a footman. “Redgrave Manor needs a countess.”

  “Any of the young chits catch your eye?”

  Ah, how the ton loved gossip. Women seemed to think they were the only ones who loved rumors and scandal, but the men were just as eager to share tidbits picked up here and there. If he even mentioned Lady Mary’s name it would be all over London tomorrow that he was about to ruin another of Manchester’s sisters.

  Redgrave shook his head and swallowed a sip of brandy. “None. ’Tis too early. I only attended my first ball this evening.”

  Bixby made a show of checking his pocket watch. “Based on the time, I’m guessing you made an early departure.”

  He shrugged. “Not much there to hold my interest.” At least not after Lady Mary had given him the cut direct and stormed off.

  Ah, but catching her in the garden had been a boon. His gut tightened when he remembered Bentworth grabbing her wrist to prevent her from leaving. At that point, she had been all fire and righteous anger, a goddess of vengeance.

  She was very different from Lady Abigail. His erstwhile betrothed had been softer, calmer, ready to do his bidding. Lady Mary would never bend to a man’s wishes. Certainly not without a fight. Or seduction.

  The thou
ght warmed him more than the brandy.

  As Bixby prattled on, filling him in on all the ton news, Redgrave spent the time imagining himself slowly removing each layer of clothing from Lady Mary’s fascinating body. Why the girl captivated him after two brief encounters was baffling. Did he really have a death wish? Because if he even attempted to take up with the girl, her brother would come after him with all the wrath, power, and resources of a duke.

  And it would not end well.

  It was best to put her completely from his mind. Not all the young ladies at the Remington ball tonight had been young and frivolous, something he could not abide in a wife. He’d already had one demanding, spoiled bride. He would rather see his title pass to some obscure relative than go through that again.

  “What?” Redgrave realized that Bixby had stopped talking and was looking at him as if he expected an answer to a question.

  “I say, old man, you were definitely woolgathering there. I asked if you planned to stop in at Tattersalls tomorrow for the auction. I hear Rumbold is offering almost his full stable. I guess he needs the blunt, since rumor has it he’s deep in dun territory. He does have superior horseflesh, though.”

  The Earl of Rumbold.

  His former father-in-law, the bane of his existence. But not so much since Priscilla’s death. Redgrave had always known the man would end up in trouble. He spent money foolishly and had hit up his son-in-law for coin every once in a while. Even though Redgrave knew of the precarious position Rumbold was in financially, it had to be serious for the gossip to reach his ears.

  “No. I am newly appointed to the board for the London Orphan Asylum. There is a meeting tomorrow that I need to attend, then I will be sitting for the House of Lords session.”

  Bixby grinned. “My, aren’t we the self-sacrificing one. Trying to make up for past slip-ups, eh?”

  Redgrave stiffened. There was nothing he could ever do to make up for the disgrace he had caused Lady Abigail. He gulped down the rest of his drink. “Not at all. Merely resuming London life.”

  “Ho. If I remember correctly, the life you had before was mistresses, clubs, and gambling.”

  “A man changes.” He placed his empty glass alongside him and stood. “Good night, Bixby.” ’Twas best to head in early. Somehow things in London did not appeal to him much, anymore.

  …

  The next morning, Mary entered the breakfast room, joining her brother, Drake, and her mother, who were in the middle of a lively debate. After a quick “good morning,” Mary filled her plate with buttered toast, a boiled egg, and an orange.

  After her clash with Lord Redgrave, it had taken her a while to fall asleep, but eventually her heart had settled down. However, it was some time later before she was able to push from her mind the image of the man’s startling blue eyes and the feel of his strong arms assisting her down the steps to her carriage.

  Is that what he had done to Abigail? Overwhelmed her senses with his presence? Well, this was one Lacey sister who was totally immune to the man. In fact, it was her intention to avoid him altogether. He would certainly not chase her from events she wanted to attend, but with all the goings-on during the Season, the chances of her running into him were slim. Especially now that she had been reintroduced.

  Four years ago she’d not paid much attention to her sister’s courtship, being caught up herself in suitors, parties, and balls. Although she soon learned to avoid a few of the would-be suitors who were merely interested in her dowry and family connections.

  Most likely that was the reason she hadn’t remembered Redgrave when he’d approached their little group last night.

  “Are you feeling better this morning?” The dowager poured tea into her cup as she regarded Mary.

  “Yes. Thank you, Mother, much better.” Mary turned to Drake. “Is Penelope not feeling well again?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid, this time around, things are not as easy for her as they were with Robert and Esther.”

  Mary’s sister-in-law was in the sixth month of a very difficult pregnancy. She had sailed through her first two, but this third child had kept its poor mother feeling miserable almost from the beginning.

  “I am assuming, then, you will not be attending the Rothford’s musicale this evening?”

  Drake shook his head. “I fear we will not be attending much of anything for the rest of Penelope’s confinement. I would actually prefer to retire to the country, but the accoucheur strongly advises against traveling any distance until after the babe is born.”

  “With this being difficult for her, I am much relieved knowing she will be here, closer to help, if it is needed,” her mother said.

  Mary wiped her mouth on her serviette and laid it alongside her plate. “You will never guess who attended the Remington’s ball last evening.”

  Drake took a sip of his coffee. “Who?”

  “Lord Redgrave.”

  Anger flashed in her brother’s eyes. “I was aware that he had returned from the country. I received word in my club that the scoundrel opened Redgrave House.” He snorted. “He also plans to take his seat in the House.”

  “Oh, dear. I am so glad Abigail is happily settled with Joseph in Addysby End. I would hate for her to have to face the man in a crowded ballroom. You know how the ton enjoys watching drama unfold.”

  Mary raised her chin. “Actually, I am of a mind that the best thing the cad could have done for Abigail was to abscond with Lady Priscilla. Joseph and Abigail were obviously made for each other, and it all turned out for the best.”

  “It did not seem so at the time, I’m afraid,” the dowager said. “I have no idea how long it would have taken Abigail to get over Redgrave’s perfidy, and the scandal it caused, if Joseph hadn’t happened to stop in to visit that day.” She shook her head. “It was almost as if it truly was meant to be.”

  “I imagine with duty to his title he must find another wife.” Drake eyed his sister. “As long as he doesn’t look in your direction.”

  “Oh, please.” She waved her hand. “I can assure you I have no interest in the man.”

  Drake rose and pushed in his chair. “See that it stays that way.” He bowed to both women. “Ladies, have a pleasant day. I will see you at dinner.”

  “I will not be attending the musicale this evening either, dear.” Her mother patted her mouth with her serviette. “Mrs. Gaylord is hosting one of her soirees, and I promised I would attend. I fear I had forgotten about the Rothford event tonight. But I’m sure there will be plenty of guests to keep Lady Rothford happy.”

  “It is no difficulty, mother. I do not intend to stay too long,” Mary said.

  Her mother took the last sip of her tea and rose. “Will you be making calls with me this afternoon?”

  “No. I have a meeting for the London Orphan Asylum. The committee and the board are meeting together to discuss our budget for the year.”

  “Be sure to take two footmen with you. I don’t understand why the meetings have to be held in such an unsavory neighborhood.”

  “Perhaps because that is where the orphanage is located?” Mary grinned at her mother. “I will be fine. Rest assured. Now go on and tend to your correspondence so you may enjoy visiting with your friends.”

  Her mother kissed her on top of her head and left the room.

  Five years into widowhood, her mother, the dowager duchess, had made a pleasant life for herself. She doted on all her grandchildren: Drake and Penelope’s little ones on a daily basis, and Marion, Abigail, Sybil, and Sarah’s offspring when she made her rounds to visit her well-scattered children every year. Mary often thought that with her mother’s fine looks she could attract another husband, but the dowager had said, more than once, that she’d buried her heart with the late duke.

  Taking a last sip of her tea, Mary left the breakfast room to prepare for her committee meeting.

  …

  Redgrave alighted from his carriage and leaned back to stare at the building with the sign london orphan asylum p
ainted over the top of the door. He climbed the stone stairs and raised and dropped the door knocker.

  A matronly woman answered the door, her face flushed. The sound of children having some sort of a meal in the background reminded him he had agreed to join the board to help raise money to feed these children, keep them off the streets, and provide them with a means to earn a living. Although Bixby had made a joke of him taking on this job, once Redgrave had been freed from Priscilla’s clutches, he’d promised himself he would return to London a different man than the one who had left.

  “Good morning, my lord. May I tell the rest of the board who is arriving?”

  “Yes. Lord Redgrave.”

  The woman curtsied and moved back to allow Redgrave to enter. The building was old, but in good repair. The walls had been painted white, the carpet worn, the furniture sturdy.

  “Redgrave.” Lord Beamer strode down the corridor, his hand extended. “So glad you decided to join us.”

  “I am happy to help.”

  “We are in the room on the left. Later, when the ladies arrive, we will meet together.”

  “Ladies?”

  Beamer opened the door and ushered Redgrave inside. Two other men stood near the window, coffee cups in hand as they chatted. They turned and smiled in his direction. “Lord Redgrave, I believe?” The younger of the men addressed him.

  “Yes.”

  “Appleby, here.” They shook hands and Redgrave glanced in the other man’s direction. He was older, vaguely familiar. Apparently, it would take some time for him to become reacquainted with those he hadn’t seen in four years.

  “Lord Cringlewood, at your service.”

  The men all drew out chairs and settled around a battered old table.

  “To answer your question, Redgrave, we, as the board, raise the money for the orphanage. Actually, there are two orphanages right now. One for the girls and one for the lads. We have recently purchased a large acreage to build new buildings, since both structures are filling up more each day.

  “Besides the board, we have a committee of women who oversee the everyday operation of the orphanages. They review the menus, supervise the staff, sort through donated clothing, and see to the children’s overall welfare. We will meet with them when we finish up here.”