A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement) (3 page)

"I don't believe I possess such a talent," she said.

"Surely you only need the guidance of one who is more experienced. Of course, you already have the advantage of Lady Russell's acquaintance."

"We are only newly associated," Mariah said. "Through Lydia. I have no other connections in London, and few even at home."

"Do not feel yourself at a disadvantage, my lady. I have an unusually wide circle of acquaintances, but my true friends are very few.” He continued with a dry laugh, "Taken as a whole, I am less than ideally suited for a career in diplomacy."

"Then why did you choose it?" she asked.

"I didn't precisely seek it out. I had set my sights long ago on a post in the Office of the Exchequer."

"The Exchequer?" she repeated with surprise.

"You think it sounds dull?" He laughed then, a warm and rumbling sound that tickled her ears. "I suppose it does to most people, but I have always had a remarkable aptitude for numbers and had aspirations of one day achieving a cabinet post."

"An admirable ambition," Mariah said.

"But it wasn't to be," he replied with a sigh. "Attaining such a position is nearly impossible without patronage."

"Patronage? What do you mean?"

"I mean that government posts, even lowly clerkships, are rarely granted according to a man's ability, but rather according to their social and political connections, of which I had few. I next thought to seek out a position as an estate factor, but then Marcus secured his diplomatic position and asked me to assist him."

"You have done this for six years, but you don't enjoy it?"

"I enjoy some aspects of the job, but I am an Englishman and miss my own country."

"I think I would as well," she said. "I would very much love to travel, but I am certain I would not like to be away for a lengthy period. Now that you are home again, how long will you stay?"

"That depends very much upon the outcome of the house party."

"I don't understand the connection."

"You may be aware that there is a forthcoming peace congress. We and our allies are to meet with the French at Aix-la-Chappelle in hope of ending this pointless war. The delegates will be announced at some point during the party."

"Lady Russell mentioned that Lord Marcus desires to be chosen."

"Yes, but there are others who also perceive this as the ideal opportunity to make their careers. Marcus's chief rival is Edward Montagu, who just happens to be Lord Sandwich's nephew. As Secretary for the Southern Department, the selection really should fall to the Duke of Bedford, but he's far more enamored of cricket than matters of state. Were it up to the duke, he would probably choose the best cricket players."

"How absurd!" she declared. "I can hardly countenance that our ministry could be run by such frivolous methods."

He shrugged. "When the vast majority of the power is in the hands of the few, there is no one to govern the whims of those who rule."

"You sound as if you would change it."

"I would," he said, "were it within my power to do so. But as it is, I have no voice. I suspect, however, that the duke will permit Lord Sandwich, as the plenipotentiary, to choose his own people."

"Lady Russell seems to think Lydia can help Marcus in his career."

"Although statecraft is a man's game, one should never underestimate the influence of women. In truth, foreign policy is shaped as often in the bedchamber as in the council chamber." He flushed. "I pray you will pardon my indelicate remarks."

"I take no offense at frank speech, Mr. Needham. In truth, I prefer it to guessing what people
really
mean."

He smiled warmly. "Your candor is most refreshing after my years in diplomatic circles, where people take disingenuousness to an art form."

"Is Lord Marcus such a man?" she asked.

His gaze narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I care greatly for Lydia. She has already been hurt deeply by Lord Marcus. One can't help but question his sincerity. She waited six years for him, and only now that she's decided to call it off does he show any interest in wedding her. Is this all just a game to him, Mr. Needham?"

He considered the question. "Mayhap it was a game at first, but I think it all changed once he saw her again. I believe his desire to win her back is genuine, although his means of doing so may leave much to be desired."

"His means?" The hairs on her nape instantly rose. "What are you saying, Mr. Needham?"

"Let us say that Marcus ascribes wholeheartedly to the belief that all is fair in love and war."

  "Love?" Mariah pulled back with a frown. "Is it true? Do you really believe he loves her?"

"In the years I have known Marcus, I have never seen him so obsessed."

"If that is so, why did he wait so long?"

"Because was too young and immature. Furthermore, he resented the arranged marriage. Had they wed sooner, it would have been an unmitigated disaster."

"Why would you think he's ready now? Has he changed so very much?"

"Yes, I believe he has. Marcus is still Marcus, but his wild streak has tempered. Moreover, whether he realizes it yet or not, I believe Marcus is indeed in love with Miss Trent."

"That sheds quite a different light on matters, doesn't it?" Mariah said.

"Marcus does not like to be thwarted. He is formidably single-minded when he wants something. One might call him an unstoppable force."

"And Lydia is the immovable object. How do you suppose it will end?"

He shook his head with a sigh. "Either very well or very badly. After six hours together in the coach, I daresay they will come to some sort of understanding."

Lydia had given up on Marcus in the belief that he didn't want her, but if what Mr. Needham said was true, and the love match Lydia had always dreamt of was more than just a dream, she hoped Lydia would find it in her heart to forgive Marcus.

"What of you, Mr. Needham?" Gaze downcast, Mariah began plucking the fingers of her gloves. "Do you ever think of marriage?"

"I do not," he replied. "To do so would be pointless."

She forced her gaze upward to search his eyes. "Why is that? Do you not desire a home . . . a family?"

"It's not lack of desire, my lady, but lack of means. I have no title, property, or fortune."

"I have all of those," Mariah replied. "I am heir to a title and estate in my own right, along with a significant fortune, and it's been nothing but a curse."

"Why do you say so?" he asked softly.

"Because all heiresses are beautiful," she replied dryly, wondering if he would recognize the Dryden quote. His thin smile said he did. "I fear becoming a target of fortune hunters. I do wish to marry one day, but I don't want to be the means to an end. I hope to find someone who will care for me, not just my wealth and property."

"You are wise to be wary. There are many unscrupulous men in the world, those who would go to extreme measures to gain what you have. I even fear you may be entering the wolves’ den."

"How so?"

"Many of the duke's guests will be younger sons who bear courtesy titles but have no property or means outside of the diplomatic corps. I warn you to take great care with such men."

"Did you not just describe yourself, Mr. Needham?"

"No, my lady. The difference is that I would
never
presume to pay suit to a lady when I have nothing to offer her."

Never?
Mariah's heart gave a painful squeeze. "You believe you have nothing to offer? I beg to differ with you. You are well bred, are you not? You are also young, intelligent, and ambitious." She barely caught herself from adding handsome to his list of attributes. Although she found it increasingly difficult to ignore his good looks, it was hardly relevant to the discussion. "Many men in like positions to yours have achieved greatness without having been born into it."

"My lady, while I consider myself a competent and sensible man, I do not delude myself with visions of grandeur. To do so would be needless torture."

"But didn't you say that you once hoped to achieve a ministry post?"

"That was before I fully understood the workings of the machine," he said.

She marveled that the men in charge of the government could be such self-aggrandizing fools that they refused to recognize a man for his true worth. Then again, she hadn't enough experience of such men or matters to know.

"But now that you do understand, is there not a way to work this so-called machine in your favor?" she asked.

"How do you mean?"

"You said earlier that the Duke of Bedford is fond of cricket. Do you play?"

"I have little time for sporting pursuits."

Mariah slanted her gaze upward and replied with a smile, "But if patronage is indeed how the wheels of this machine turn, perhaps, Mr. Needham, you should take up the game?"

***

Nick considered her for a long, silent moment. It wasn't the actual remark she had made, but the look that accompanied it. He was certain she was unaware of it, but the seductive wood nymph had reappeared. There was something mesmerizing about the angle of her head, the way she pursed her lips, and the stray curl that had entangled itself about her ear that made him suddenly want to touch her. The urge was so powerful he had to close his hands against it. "I used to play," he replied. "Back in my university days."

"And I used to play the harpsichord," she said, "but I was never any good. So now I must ask, were you
good
, Mr. Needham?"

"I was one of the better batsmen," he replied. "I frequently hit over the boundary."

"Indeed?" Her eyes challenged as her gaze held his. "Then one wonders if you still possess talent with your bat or if it has diminished with disuse."

Nick shifted in his seat. If this were any other woman of his acquaintance, he would have no doubt of the sexual innuendo, but he was as certain as he lived and breathed that the "bat" to which Lady Mariah referred was merely the club made of willow. "I don't know. I haven't held a
cricket
bat in over five years," he said.

As to the other, at the moment he was absolutely certain
it
had not suffered from prolonged disuse. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been with a woman, probably over a year ago at the preliminary peace talks in Breda. Given their success in setting the stage for a treaty, he'd indulged in a rare spree of celebratory dissipation.

Nick had never had a mistress. He'd  never even entertained thoughts of keeping a woman for pleasure, for the very same reason he'd never contemplated marriage—because he was man of extremely limited means. His only hope to improve his circumstances would be advancement in the diplomatic corps, which meant endless work and constant travel. He'd long ago accepted that work would fill his hours and emptiness would be his constant bedmate—a dismal future indeed.

"I wonder what sort of man you are, Mr. Needham," she said. "Are you content to cheer the team on, or will you secretly be itching to best them?"

"Are you dropping the gauntlet, Lady Mariah?" He smiled. "Let us say that Marcus is not the only one who hates to lose."

"Neither do I. I am also possessed of a competitive nature, especially at cards," she confessed with a grin. "I would love to watch you play cricket."

"Given the duke's fondness for the sport, no doubt the opportunity will present. Do you really enjoy the game?"

"I do. I even played a bit when I was a girl. I was a tolerable bowler, but I could never quite master batting. I don't know if it was poor timing, the size of the bat, or the weakness of my stroke, but I always pitied my fellow batsman."

"The size of the bat matters little as long as one employs proper timing and a forceful stroke. Ideally, the two batsmen should be in perfect synchrony as they come together." Nick almost groaned at the innuendo in his own words.

"Indeed? Do you suppose you could teach me?" She smiled up at him again before dropping her blue-green gaze. "I suppose I shouldn't presume to monopolize your time. I know that you must attend to your business rather than my pleasure."

Her pleasure
. Nicolas shut his eyes on a sudden image of Mariah lost in the throes of ecstasy. 

"Is something wrong, Mr. Needham?" she asked.

"No, my lady," he replied. Unable to resist any longer, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I would take great delight in making my business
your
pleasure."

CHAPTER TWO

"Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense,

But
good men starve for want of impudence." -
John Dryden

MARIAH'S EYES JOLTED OPEN to discover her head resting against the broad, solid surface of Mr. Needham's shoulder. "I-I beg your pardon," she stammered. "I must have dozed off." Noting the carriage had ceased its movement, she asked, "Have we arrived?"

"No," Mr. Needham replied. "The road is obstructed by a fallen tree. I was loath to wake you, but 'twould be best if I alight to assist the coachman in moving it."

"Is it a very large tree?" she asked.

"I don't believe so, but it still must be moved. This is a heavily forested stretch of road, and there is no way around it."

Lady Russell sat up with a yawn. Eyeing them with blinking eyes, she asked, "Why have we stopped, Needham?"

"A tree has fallen across the road. I must go and have a look."

"Perhaps I shall go with you," Mariah said. "I am unaccustomed to sitting so long. It would be good to stretch my legs."

Mr. Needham inclined his head to Lady Russell. "Would you also care to alight?"

"I think not, Needham. One fallen tree looks much like another."

"As you will, my lady."

"A moment, if you please, Needham." Lady Russell reached beneath the seat and slid open a drawer, revealing a pair of pistols.

"You have a hidden compartment?" Mariah exclaimed.

"One can never be too careful, my dear. I have them cleaned and loaded prior to every journey. Marcus insists that I carry them in case of trouble." Lady Russell offered one of the weapons, muzzle downward, to Mr. Needham. "Have a care, Needham."

"I believe the tree is already quite dead," he quipped, "but thank you for the warning, madam." He tucked the pistol into the waistband of his breeches.

Mr. Needham opened the door and preceded Mariah out of the coach with a leap. Mariah hesitated upon noting the coachman had not let down the stairs.

"Would you like me to assist you, my lady?"

"If you please, Mr. Needham." She sucked in a breath as he settled his large hands on her waist. Their gazes met and held as he lifted her effortlessly to the ground. "Thank you, Mr. Needham," she said, feeling quite breathless.

"Nicolas, please," he murmured softly, his hands still on her waist. She darted a nervous glance toward the open coach door. They were in plain view of Lady Russell. He must have realized it too. He dropped his hands abruptly from her sides.

"Pray stay close by, my lady, whilst I go and assess the situation."

She breathed a sigh of relief when he turned his back. In truth, she was in great need to relieve herself but never would have said so in front of him. Heading in the opposite direction behind the coach, she located a thicket of shrubbery, where she quickly took care of her needs. After settling her skirts, she headed toward the front of the vehicle and froze at the sight of the coachman lying insensible on the ground. Her gaze darted upward to find two large masked men with pistols. One was mounted, and the other stood facing Nicolas with his weapon cocked. Thankfully, neither of the brigands had taken notice of her. She crouched along the side of the coach, close enough to hear but hopefully not to be discovered. Her mind raced. What to do?

"Keep yer hands where I can see 'em, guv. Make a move," the brigand bearing the pistol threatened Nicolas, "and I'll blow a hole in your gut the size 'o Bedfordshire."

"Is that where we are?" Nicolas asked mildly, as if inquiring about the weather. "I could have sworn we were still in Hertfordshire. But then again, you aren't really from here, are you? I detect a distinct hint of Newcastle. No, maybe not Newcastle," Nicolas amended. "But you are definitely from the north. I'm certain of it. West Riding perhaps?"

"Shut yer bloody yap!" the mounted man bellowed.

"I certainly commend your audacity," Nicolas continued unabashed. "A man must have bollocks of brass to rob a coach in full light of day when he can be so easily identified."

"What d'ye mean?" said the first thief. "Ye ain't seen our faces."

"I don't have to see your faces," Nicolas said. "Both your accent and his horse are easily identifiable." Nicolas inclined his head to the mounted man's horse. "I can't imagine there are many walleyed piebalds in Bedfordshire."

"Dead men tell no tales," said the first brigand.

"Ah! You quote Dryden? How intriguing. I am robbed by a highwayman of rare breeding." Nicolas arched a brow. Mariah wondered what he was about to taunt them so. Did he not realize the danger he courted? "Do you really intend to add murder to your crimes?" he asked.

"It needn't come to killin' if ye hand over the goods," the highwayman growled.

"Hold 'im there, Jeb," the mounted man commanded his companion in crime. "I'll see what they be carryin' in this fine coach."

Mariah stifled a gasp. Remembering the second pistol in Lady Russell's coach, she stepped backward, only to trip on her gown. Her lungs emptied with a grunt as her backside hit the hard ground.

The mounted ruffian instantly spun around to face her. "What 'ave we 'ere?" His face split into a lecherous leer as he dismounted. "Let's see what the missy's got for ol' Bart . . . or mayhap ol' Bart's got something for the missy."

She gazed up in speechless horror and scrambled backward like a crab as the lecherous highwayman approached. In growing panic, she looked to Nicolas. Both men were watching her. In the few seconds his assailant was distracted, he slid his hand under his coat. Her heart lodged in her throat as he retrieved the hidden pistol.

Both highwaymen froze at the click of a hammer cocking.

"If you think to add ravishment to your litany of crimes," Nicolas said, "think again."

"You've got one shot, guv," the first highwayman said. "Use it on me, and Bart takes his pleasure while you watch. Use it on Bart over there, and I'll kill ye. Now how d'ye s'pose this'll play out?"

"There is a third option you have not considered." Four sets of eyes riveted toward the coach, from whence Lady Russell emerged holding the coachman's blunderbuss. "It is primed and loaded, and I assure you, gentlemen, I most certainly know which end to point. Mariah," she said, "why don't you wait in the coach like a good gel. Needham, pray feel free to disarm our friend Jeb. I believe both of these fellows will need full use of their hands in order to move this infernal tree from our path."

***

"Needham," Lady Russell said with a sniff, "I can't tolerate it a moment longer. Would you please cast them out?"

"Pardon, my lady?"

"Their clothes." She wrinkled her nose. "The stench is unbearable. Pray let us be rid of them. Surely we have enough miles between us now. There is little chance they'll catch up with us."

"Certainly not without their horse. Do you think they'll press charges for horse thievery?" Nicolas asked. "I believe 'tis a hanging offense."

Lady Russell released a gleeful chortle. "What a farce the entire episode turned out to be! They thought to rob us, only to be left by the roadside as God made them. And what pitiful specimens of manhood they proved to be," she added with a wink. "Call it a widow's whim, but I can't help measuring every man by my dear departed Wriothesley's," her lips curved wickedly, "standard."

Nicolas and Mariah simultaneously colored at her scandalous remark.

"Weren't you frightened, my lady?" Mariah asked, eager to change the subject. "Would you truly have shot them?"

"Undoubtedly," Lady Russell replied. "But I prefer not to think of such unpleasantness. Happily, we are all safe and sound, aside from my poor coachman's bruised head." She sighed. "I suppose 'twould be wise to beg the duke to provide us outriders for our return journey."

***

It was late afternoon when Lady Russell's traveling coach turned up the long chestnut-shaded drive leading to Woburn Abbey. Although Mariah resided in a large and ancient manor, it was still a struggle not to gape at the sheer opulence of the grand Palladian mansion surrounded by meticulously manicured grounds and its vast expanse of lushly wooded deer park.

"This entire property was once a Cistercian monastery until confiscated by our good King Henry and awarded to one of the present duke's ancestors for services to the crown," Mr. Needham said. "The original house dates back to the twelfth century, though I don't know how much remains since the present duke has rebuilt it."

A veritable army of footmen in forest-green velvet livery greeted the coach as it came to a halt under the marble-pillared and pediment-topped
porte-cochere. One
footman lowered the coach steps, and two others flanked their progress to the massive double doors of the duke's mansion. The doors swung open in synchrony into a marbled foyer with a soaring frescoed ceiling.

Nicolas followed her gaze as it tracked over the faces of smiling angels and dancing cupids and then down the silk-covered walls adorned with priceless paintings. "The Dukes of Bedford are renowned for their love of art," he said. "If you also enjoy it, I daresay you will be impressed by the gallery."

While Mariah gazed almost awestruck at her surroundings, Lady Russell wasted no time in chastising the servants.

"Why is there is no one to greet us?" she inquired, painted brows raised.

"The duke and duchess are hosting tea, my lady," the head footman replied apologetically.

"Very well," she sighed. "I won't impose upon them. Did my baggage coach arrive?"

"Indeed, madam," he answered, "a little over an hour ago."

"Good, then. Will I be in my usual rooms?"

"Indeed, my lady. Miss Trent and Lady Mariah have been given the adjacent chambers. Shall I have a footman escort you?"

"There is no need. I daresay I know my way around this monstrosity," Lady Russell replied.

"Do you not find it strange that Lydia and Lord Marcus have not come to greet us?" Mariah remarked. "Do you suppose they are at tea?"

"Miss Trent is not traveling with you?" the footman asked.

"No, she is with Lord Marcus," Lady Russell replied.

"But Lord Marcus has not yet arrived, my lady."

"Are you quite certain?" Lady Russell asked. "They departed well before we did and were traveling in a much lighter vehicle. They should have arrived hours ago."

The footman sniffed. "I am
most
certain, madam. It is my duty to oversee every guest's arrival."

"My lady," Mariah interjected, "what if they were also set upon by highwaymen? What if they were not as lucky as we were?"

"Surely they were not set upon," Mr. Needham reassured. "'Twas a highly unusual occurrence in broad daylight. No doubt they simply stopped for refreshment."

"For two hours, Needham?" Lady Russell asked.

"If it eases your mind, I shall proceed to make inquiries after Marcus and Lydia," Nicolas offered. "I must speak with His Grace anyway as I carry important correspondence that requires his immediate attention. I will report back to you after I have spoken with him."

"Very good. Pray inform the duke that I would like a word later when he is free."

"As you wish, my lady." 

"You see?" she said to Mariah. "Needham will look after everything. In the meantime, let us go and take a brief repose."

"But, my lady, how can I rest when I am worried about my cousin?"

"I assure you there is nothing to worry about." Lady Russell patted Mariah's hand with a look of maternal sympathy. "You must refresh yourself, my dear. You will want to look your best. Once the evening begins, there will be no rest for the weary. First there will be a reception, and then music, followed by supper and cards." She pursed her lips with a frown. "I do hope Marcus manages to arrive by then. If he fails to appear by supper, he will surely incur the duke's displeasure. My brother-in-law is well-known for his hot temper and his cold heart. 'Tis a most unpleasant combination." She lightly tapped Mariah with her fan. "Come now, my dear, you mustn't gape. Let us go. I am fatigued."

"Will we see you later this evening, Mr. Needham?" Mariah asked.

"I cannot say, my lady," he replied. "My time is not my own. I am at the duke's disposal, at least until Marcus arrives."

"What about supper?" Mariah asked, hoping they could have more time together. "Surely the duke won't deny you sustenance!"

Mr. Needham's mouth curved subtly at one corner. "I imagine that will depend on how he receives the news that I carry from the Dutch envoy."

"Were this not such a formal affair, you might have escorted Lady Mariah to supper," Lady Russell said. "But no doubt the duchess will have already paired her guests."

"So my supper companion is already chosen for me?" Mariah asked in dismay.

Lady Russell nodded. "Of that you may be certain. The duchess runs a well-ordered household. Nothing will be done randomly. All the guests will be paired according to their respective stations."