The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Read online

  The next half hour was taken up with monetary issues. An old-time benefactor had withdrawn his funding. Upon his recent death, his heir had seen no reason to continue his predecessor’s largess. Various names were presented to approach, each man at the table taking a name or two to contact.

  “Gentlemen, if you will follow me, we will now meet with the ladies.” Beamer shoved away from the table and led the way out the door and down the corridor.

  Female chatter distinguished the room before the men arrived. Redgrave stepped into the space behind Beamer and, like metal to a magnet, his regard immediately went to the woman across the room, sitting gracefully in an overstuffed chair, a teacup in her hand.

  Lady Mary.

  About to take a sip, her hand froze in motion as she stared wide-eyed at him. A flush to her face made him wonder if she intended to toss the cup in the direction of his head.

  It has been done many times before, my lady.

  “Ladies, I would like to make known to you Lord Redgrave, who has joined our board of directors for the London Orphan Asylum.”

  Redgrave bowed in the direction of the ladies.

  Beamer continued. “Lady Melbourne, Lady Pinkerton, Miss Abernathy, and Lady Mary.” Each woman nodded in turn. Except Lady Mary. She glared at him.

  “Ladies, it is a pleasure.”

  Lady Melbourne stood. “If you gentlemen will kindly take your seats we can begin our meeting.”

  He remembered Lady Melbourne. At one time, he had considered her daughter as a potential wife. Sweet, soft-spoken, and biddable, she had seemed perfect until Lady Abigail had caught his eye. He couldn’t help but wonder if Lady Melbourne was more than happy he had turned his attentions elsewhere and saved her daughter from disgrace.

  In any event, she didn’t seem to hold any ill will toward him. Unlike Lady Mary, who refused to look in his direction the entire time Lady Melbourne spoke.

  As the woman droned on about nutrition, lessons, chores, and job opportunities for the older orphans, Redgrave took the time to study his nemesis.

  Lady Mary was lovely. There was simply no other way to put it. Her skin was smooth and porcelain, her lips plump and kissable, her blue-violet eyes bright with intelligence and curiosity. Had he no history with her sister, Lady Mary would be at the top of his list—in fact, probably the only one on his list—whom he would consider courting.

  He had to stop this obsession with the woman. She despised him, and the hurt and shame he’d caused her family would never allow her to look twice at him. He sighed. Better to forget her shiny curls, eye-catching curves, and delicate hands, and move on to other young ladies.

  “But if we had a picnic for the orphans, how would we transport them from the orphanage to an area where they would be able to run free?” Lady Pinkerton had taken over from Lady Melbourne, and still he hadn’t been listening. His ruminating on Lady Mary and her desirable visage had cost him another conversation.

  “Don’t they have a wagon here at the orphanage we could use?” Lady Mary asked.

  Miss Abernathy adjusted her spectacles. “Only the rickety, well-worn one. It would never hold eighteen children, and I fear even if it could, it is not quite safe.”

  Redgrave shrugged. “Hire hackneys.”

  They all stared at him.

  “That is a wonderful idea,” Lady Melbourne said, clapping her hands. “And a perfect solution. Don’t you agree Lord Redgrave has a wonderful idea, Lady Mary?”

  Lady Mary gave a very unladylike snort. “Oh, indeed. Lord Redgrave is just full of…wonderful ideas.”

  Chapter Three

  Mary stood at the door of the orphanage and stared with dismay at the rain pouring down. The others had already left but she had remained behind to discuss the upcoming months’ menus with Mrs. Morehead, the woman in charge. She could have requested the use of an umbrella, but the meeting had run long and Mrs. Morehead had been scheduled to teach a group of students, so she had hurried off.

  Mary had no desire to wade through the river of muddy water coursing down the street between the building and her waiting carriage.

  “Quite a deluge.” The deep voice behind her set her heart to thumping.

  She turned to face Lord Redgrave, staring beyond her at the downpour. Mary jumped when a streak of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder, rattled the house—and her teeth. Her hand flew to her chest. “Goodness.” Thunderstorms were not her favorite thing.

  Redgrave took her by the elbow. “Come. It will be some time before the storm passes. We might as well be comfortable while we wait.” He led her to the room off the entrance hall. She tugged her elbow free and reclined on a settee near the window. Why was the man constantly touching her?

  The room was damp, no fire in the fireplace. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms, trying to chase away the chill. “What are you still doing here?” She winced at the sharpness of her voice, but couldn’t find it in herself to be polite.

  “Actually, I was waiting for you to finish with Mrs. Morehead so I could speak with you in private.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, my lord.” She was really beginning to feel the chill and was afraid her words came out a bit stuttered. Redgrave stood, shrugged out of his jacket and, before she could protest, he dropped it over her shoulders. Immediately the warmth from his body and scent of his soap, combined with another musky smell, encompassed her.

  “This is hardly proper.”

  He grinned. “Is it more proper for me to sit comfortably and watch a lady shiver with the cold? I think not.”

  She turned to view the rain through the window. Muddy water continued to rush down the street, carrying leaves, twigs, and other things she didn’t wish to identify. Another flash of lightning and roar of thunder made her jump.

  “The reason I wished to speak with you is because it appears we will be in each other’s company, whether you wish it or not.”

  She glared at him. “Why are you here, anyway? Charitable work hardly seems to suit you.” She was generally a well-mannered young lady, but seeing him here, pretending to be concerned with orphans, wrapping her in his jacket, looking at her with those startling blue eyes, set her teeth on edge. She didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, and wanted nothing to do with him.

  “I understand you have every right to dislike me. I acknowledge the pain and suffering I caused your family, and particularly Lady Abigail. Even though I offer my apology, I do not expect you to accept it. However, whatever my intentions, we will be working together for the betterment of the orphans, and I suggest we declare a truce.”

  She pulled his jacket closer around her, until she realized what she was doing when his scent grew stronger, so she released her hold on the coat. “Very well. We have a truce.” She waved her hand. “You may leave me now.”

  To her irritation he burst out laughing. “So says the queen.”

  Even she had to grin. She did, indeed, sound like royalty giving her commands to underlings. The little bit of laughter released some of the tension, and she relaxed. “My sister is extremely happy, you know.”

  His face grew serious again. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I understand she married a childhood friend? A rector?”

  “Yes. Mr. Joseph Fox. They have three-year-old twins, David and John. The boys keep her quite busy.”

  “Ah, yes. Twins do run in your family. How are your twin sisters?”

  “Sybil married a Highlander. The Laird of Clan MacBride. They have twins, also. Donald and Andrina. They will be two later this year. Sarah married a professor from Edinburgh University.”

  “Don’t tell me. They have twins as well?”

  She shook her head, a smile twitching her lips. “No. Alasdair will be one year old in September. He arrived all by himself.”

  “Ah, and broke with the family tradition.” His smile reached his eyes, making her smile back at him.

  This was a dangerous man. She felt herself warming to him, enjoying their tête-à-tête,
which was not good. Stiffening in her chair, she said, “I agree, my lord. We shall call a truce and be civil to each other in public.” She quickly added, “But we have no call to be polite to each other in private.”

  Not happy with the second part of her acquiescence, nevertheless, he gave a slight nod. “Thank you. That is all I ask.” He glanced out the window behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know the rain continued to pound down. It blew against the window, making the room appear more dark and dreary.

  “I will see if I can fetch some coal and make a small fire. It might be some time before this storm passes.”

  “If you do that, I will go to the kitchen and prepare tea.”

  “And perhaps a bite to eat?” He gave her a smile that had her stomach twitching. She must remember herself and order her body to behave.

  Mary was no foreigner to the kitchen, since her mother had made sure her daughters understood the benefits of their station in life. Whenever a Lacey daughter had required punishment, it had been kitchen duty for her. She had peeled many a potato and stirred many a pot in her day, Cook’s oversized apron wrapped around her. Her brother, Drake, despite being the future duke, had mucked out stables when his shenanigans had come to Mother’s attention.

  She would not have had it any other way. Were she ever able to get beyond her fear and have children of her own, it would be the same for them. There were too many spoiled young ladies and gentlemen in her circle of friends.

  After rattling around and opening and closing cabinets, she came up with bread, cheese, and dried fruit. She placed all the items on a tray and went in search of Redgrave.

  She found him leaning over the fireplace, his arm against the mantle, one knee slightly bent. He stared into the fire, giving her the opportunity to study him. He truly was a handsome man. Broad shoulders under his linen shirt, trim waist, and snug breeches outlining powerful thighs. Wisps of shiny black hair curled over his cravat.

  Why did he have to be a scoundrel?

  Not that it mattered to her. She had absolutely no interest in him. “My lord, can you follow me to the kitchen to carry the tray in? It is quite heavy.”

  Once they were settled across from each other and the tray sat on the small table between them, Redgrave said, “Perhaps since we will be working together we can dispense with the ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady’ and you can call me Redgrave?”

  The last thing she wanted to do was get cozy and familiar with the man who had broken her sister’s heart. But he did have a point—they would be working together for the betterment of the children. A more informal address might be in order. She did call the other lords by their names, and it would seem petty to not address him so. Plus it would stand out, bringing attention to the strain between them.

  “Very well.” She cut a small piece of cheese and stabbed it with her fork. “I must say your suggestion to rent hackneys was a good one.”

  His brows rose, and he smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t make too much of it, my lord—”

  “Redgrave.”

  She nodded and popped the cheese into her mouth. The man made her decidedly uncomfortable. The way he stared at her, the way her heart thumped when he did. She didn’t want to be attracted to the cad, but her body was not getting the message. Perhaps more conversation would distract her until the blasted storm was over.

  “Why are you interested in helping orphans?”

  Redgrave wiped his mouth and set his serviette aside. “It isn’t something I searched out. When I first returned to London from the country I met Beamer at one of my clubs. After we struck up a conversation, he told me there was an empty spot on the board. He encouraged me to consider joining, and after some deliberation I decided it was a venture of which I heartily approved.

  “I believe if we are to help the underclass, proper upbringing must be the first step. In order for a person to become a productive member of society, he needs ample food, sturdy clothing, shelter, and education. I intend for that to be an issue when I take my seat in the House of Lords later today.”

  This was not the Redgrave who had been betrothed to her sister. The conversations she’d had with Abigail about him had left her with the impression that, though he was not a mean man, he had been far more interested in his own comforts and welfare than anything else. Had it been guilt that had changed him? Or his marriage to Lady Priscilla?

  …

  Redgrave studied Lady Mary as she took in what he had just said. Snug in his large jacket that dwarfed her frame, she looked like a waif. The dancing flames from the fireplace cast a glow on her skin, illuminating her large eyes and high cheekbones. He had to fight the urge to pull her up and cover her mouth with his own. Surely he would get a well-deserved slap for that.

  Before he even considered what he was about to say, the words were out. “Why is it a beautiful woman like yourself is still unmarried?”

  Obviously caught off guard by the change in conversation, her brows rose and two red dots appeared on her cheeks. “Is beauty the primary advantage in securing a husband? Do women of ordinary looks not deserve love and happiness? A husband, home, and children?”

  He winced. “I think I just made a major mistake.”

  “Perhaps I am content with my unmarried state.” She failed to meet his eyes, instead glanced at her teacup when she answered, a sure sign she was not telling the truth. Had someone broken her heart? His muscles tightened with the desire to seek out the man who had put that look on her face. But then, given what he had done to her sister, he had no right to feel anger on her behalf.

  “Surely you have been inundated with potential husbands since you made your debut.”

  She shrugged and ran the tip of her finger over the edge of her teacup. “There have been a few. None that I felt suited.”

  Lady Mary was definitely hiding something; her demeanor was a stark contradiction to her words. He should not be concerned with nor interested in her deep, dark secrets. They had just called a truce, a far cry from actual friendship. Once the storm passed, and they were on their way, in the future, the only contact they would have would be the few times they gathered with the others to discuss the orphans.

  “What about you? I assume you have returned to Society to seek a wife?” She took another sip of tea and regarded him over the rim of her cup.

  “Yes. I have a duty to my title to set up my nursery.”

  Priscilla sashayed into the library and stood before his desk, smirking. “I’m with child again.”

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “Really, my dear? And who is the happy papa this time?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes, then she shrugged. “We know it is not you, since you refuse to come to my bed.”

  “Ah, but my lady, your bed is much too busy a place for me.”

  Her face reddened, and her lips curled into a sneer, diminishing any beauty she had. “I hate you!”

  Redgrave sighed, returning to his work. “Close the door on the way out.”

  Lady Mary nodded an acknowledgment. “I hope you find what you are looking for. To be truthful, I am glad my sister makes very few visits to Town. I would not want to witness the awkwardness should she and Joseph run across you in a ballroom. Although, given how besotted my brother-in-law is with Abigail, there is a good chance he would shake your hand in thanks.” She paused, a twinkle in her eye. “After he punched you in the nose, that is.”

  Drawn back from his dark musings, he said, “Lady Mary, you have a splendid sense of humor.” He placed his cup on the table between them and glanced over her shoulder and gestured toward the window. “It appears our storm has ended.”

  Lady Mary turned. “Oh, good. Will you be so kind as to carry the tray back to the kitchen? I don’t want to add to Mrs. Morehead’s workload.”

  When he returned to the room, Lady Mary had removed his jacket and had laid it on the back of her chair. She was already at the front door staring morosely at the muddy water that continued to race do
wn the street. The duke’s carriage stood in the road, one wheel missing.

  She turned to him. “It seems my driver discovered a crack in one of our wheels. I will need to stay here until he can have it fixed.”

  He shrugged into his jacket. “I have my carriage with me. I will be more than happy to escort you home.”

  Lady Mary hesitated, glanced again at the river of water, and said, “Yes, if you will provide me with a ride home, I would greatly appreciate it. My man has no idea how long it will take to repair the damage.”

  “I’ll notify my driver to bring my carriage around.” He stepped onto the wet steps and hurried down, his boots splashing through the puddles. Arriving at Manchester House with Lady Mary in his carriage could be a tricky thing. Hopefully, no one would be about. Not that he intended to hide from the duke, but he doubted very much Manchester would appreciate his sister in company with him.

  He started back up the steps once the carriage appeared. The air was cooler, crisper than before the storm. The sun peeked out from behind the scattering clouds, promising a lovely evening.

  Lady Mary reached the bottom of the steps and eyed the muddy water racing by. She glanced at him, then fisted her skirts. It was obvious the half boots she wore were going to be soaked. Despite knowing she would object, he moved behind her, placed his arm under her legs and back, and hefted her into his arms.

  “What! What are you doing? Put me down! This instant.” Lady Mary kicked her legs, but he held tighter.

  “Nonsense. If you walk through that water you’ll be soaked and might catch a chill.”

  “I never catch chills. Now put me down.”

  “Of course.” He slid her into the carriage and climbed in after her. “There, was that so horrible?”

  She straightened her hat and tugged on her already well-fitted gloves. “You had no right to manhandle me, my lord.”