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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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“It's quite a hodge-podge, as you might imagine,” the duchess added. “Rather dusty, I'm afraid, and a trifle cobwebby. The servants don't clean down there, you understand.”
“Are there ghosts?” Miss Wharton looked as if she half hoped the answer was yes.
The duchess smiled. “Not to my knowledge, but with a place as old as the castle—it's been the Greycliffe family seat for almost seven hundred years—it wouldn't be surprising if a spirit or two was in residence.”
“Oh, dear. I-I don't believe ... I mean ... g-ghosts?” Miss Mosely's voice quavered in alarm.
“If there are any spirits about, I'm sure they're friendly ones.” The duke appeared to be trying very hard not to laugh.
“I wouldn't be so certain,” Ned muttered. “Hasn't Father looked at the damn ancestors' portraits recently?”
Ellie muffled her giggle.
“Oh, even friendly ghosts ...” Miss Mosely turned an unpleasant shade of white, prompting Mr. Humphrey to go so far as to pat her hand in a bracing manner.
Ned snorted, though quietly, thank heavens. “That woman should be named Miss Mousely. She's far more likely to encounter a spider than a spirit.”
“Please don't say so. I imagine she—and most of the other ladies—would be equally alarmed at that prospect,” Ellie said.
He smiled at her. “But not you?”
“Of course not.”
“Your grace,” Mr. Humphrey said, “I must object to subjecting the ladies to the possible presence of preternatural beings. While I—and I assume your other male guests—would face these creatures without f-flinching”—his voice trembled slightly and he cleared his throat—“if f-forced to do so, I cannot think it wise to risk injuring the delicate sensibilities of the lovely females present by inviting them into an area that might be infested with specters.”
The duke stared at Mr. Humphrey as if he were some rare species of beetle. He opened his mouth, likely to put the fellow in his place, but the duchess jumped in before he could do so.
“Oh, Mr. Humphrey—and Miss Mosely—don't be concerned. His grace will be with us, and you know no mere ghost would dare misbehave before the Duke of Greycliffe.”
The duke blinked at his duchess. “Quite.”
“But what is the point of collecting the hearts?” Percy asked. “There must be a point.”
The duchess smiled. “Of course there is. Whoever collects the most hearts will get to take the first sleigh ride.”
Lady Heldon frowned and then said what everyone was thinking. “Pardon me, your grace, but that hardly seems worth the effort of venturing into a dank dungeon.”
“Dank and dusty,” Ophelia said. “I believe I'll stay here and keep my hem clean while the rest of you go looking for hearts.”
“We can get up a game of cards.” Percy looked around. “Care to join us, Ash?”
“No, thank you.” Ash contemplated his mother. “Is the winner to ride alone, Mama?”
The Duchess of Love smiled at her eldest son as if he were exceedingly clever. “No, of course not. He or she gets to choose a companion, so I suppose two people win”—she shrugged—“if the chosen companion is happy with the choice, of course.”
There was a moment of silence while everyone digested this bit of information.
Ellie swallowed a sigh. Ned would choose Lady Juliet if he won, and Mr. Cox would choose—she looked over at the couple on the settee. They were both staring at the duchess.
Would Mr. Cox choose Lady Juliet, too? And that would leave Ned with ... whom?
“Ah, you should have said so at once, your grace.” Lady Heldon stood, shook out her skirts, and threw what was obviously intended as a flirtatious glance at Ash. “Will you lead us down to this dungeon, Lord Ashton?”
“Of course.” Ash offered his mother his arm. “May I escort you, Mama? That is if the specter-taming Duke of Greycliffe doesn't object?”
The duke inclined his head as the duchess laughed and put her hand on Ash's arm.
Ned turned to Ellie; well, obviously he had no other choice if he didn't wish to be unconscionably rude.
“Coming?” he asked, offering his arm.
She nodded and put her fingers on his sleeve, on his strong forearm. Her head came only as high as his shoulder.
She felt delicate and feminine for a moment, and familiar, painful longing swept through her. She loved Ned; she'd always loved him and probably always would.
But damn it, he didn't love her, at least not the way she wanted him to.
They were the last to leave the drawing room, and by the time they reached the stairs down to the dungeon, everyone else had vanished.
“People must be eager to begin the game,” Ellie said.
“Or to finish it,” Ned said. “Here, the stairs are uneven. Let me go first. You can lean on me if you need to.”
Ellie watched Ned's broad back move ahead of her as she stepped into the stairwell. She would not touch him if she could possibly avoid it. She put her hand against the wall instead.
Whom would she choose to ride with if she won this game: the man she loved who thought of her as a sister or the man who'd settle for her if he couldn't have the woman he really wanted?
She stumbled slightly, but caught her balance without having to touch Ned.
She'd choose Mr. Humphrey and hope his incessant, nonsensical chattering put her out of her misery.
Chapter 7
Keep a man guessing ...
—Venus's Love Notes
 
 
Ned hadn't been down in the dungeon for years; he'd forgotten how low the ceiling was. He ducked just in time to avoid banging his head on the lintel as he stepped through the door from the stairs into the cellar. Damn! He'd have to be careful.
“Oh—eek!” Ellie landed hard against his back.
He stumbled forward a step, and then twisted, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady her. Her body brushed against his, her breasts soft against his chest, and he inhaled the clean scent of lemon and soap and woman.
His cock sprang to attention.
He shot his arms straight to hold her away from his misbehaving organ. “Are you all right?”
“I'm fine.” She jerked herself free. “I merely tripped on the last step.”
“I told you they were uneven.”
“Yes, I know. The last one was just deeper than the others.”
It was—he'd almost missed it himself. “Be careful—the floor's uneven as well.”
“I
know
that. I've been here before.”
“Not since you were a girl, unless you've taken to helping Dalton with the wine.” They were standing right outside the wine cellar, but Father had been very clear there was nothing hidden among the casks. Everyone else had moved on to the other storage rooms around the corner.
“Of course I haven't been helping Mr. Dalton, but it's not as if any of this has changed since we used to play down here.” She looked away. “We should catch up to the others.” She took a quick step—and tripped again. He caught her around the waist.
Her slender waist. She had a figure somewhere under this ocean of fabric. As a girl, she'd been tall and willowy. When had she started hiding herself in her clothes?
The damn red drawers popped into his head and the image of how she would look—
What the
hell
was the matter with him?
She slipped out of his hold and started to hurry ahead—and stumbled once more.
“Mama will be very unhappy with me if you get injured while in my care,” he said, trying to grasp her elbow. She danced out of his reach, and he lost his patience. “What is the matter, Ellie?”
“Nothing.” She wouldn't meet his gaze. “I-I just want to catch up. They might start without us.”
“I doubt that.” Mama had hit on an inspired way to get them to participate in this silly game. She must know Jack and Ash wanted to be certain they weren't trapped in a sleigh with Miss Wharton or Lady Heldon—and those ladies were equally determined to nab their quarries.
He didn't much care if he won or not; surely he would be paired with Lady Juliet. Humphrey would likely ride with Miss Mousely—Mosely—and Cox ...
Ned frowned. Would Cox choose Ellie?
Blast it, he didn't trust the fellow—he was obviously a bit of a rake. Ellie didn't have the experience to deal with a man of his stamp; she might be twenty-six, but she was still as green as grass.
“Why do you wish to find these ridiculous hearts, Ellie?” he asked. “You aren't hoping to capture Cox, are you?” She had spent most of last night in Cox's company, seduced by his pretty face, no doubt.
Oh, damn, she flinched before glaring at him. Had he sounded as if he thought she was out of her depth with Cox? He hadn't meant to injure her feelings.
“I'm merely taking your advice to cooperate with your mother's matchmaking efforts.”
He hadn't precisely told her to do that, had he?
“And in any event, your mother and father went to the trouble of hiding the hearts,” she said, finally taking his arm. “It would be rude not to show some interest.”
They proceeded down the corridor in silence. Ellie might have her fingers on his sleeve, but it felt as if she were separated from him by a solid stone wall. All the easy smiles and relaxed warmth he'd had with her in past years were gone. She was acting like a complete—and unpleasant—stranger.
Perhaps it was just as well. He should concentrate on wooing Lady Juliet. He hated to see Ellie hurt—and he was very much afraid she would be hurt by Cox—but if she didn't want his advice, there wasn't much he could do.
He'd have a word with Jack and Ash, though. She might listen to one of them.
“There you are,” Mama called out as they turned the corner and found the group gathered by the door to the first storeroom. “What have you two been up to?”
Something in Mama's tone implied that they had indeed been up to something.
Ellie's cheeks turned bright red, and she whipped her fingers off his arm as if his sleeve had just burst into flames. Zeus, did she have to look so guilty? They hadn't been doing anything but arguing, for God's sake.
“I was merely helping Ellie—I mean, Miss Bowman—navigate the uneven flooring,” he said.
“Oh?” Mama raised her brows. “I would have thought you'd have no trouble with your footing, Ellie. You and Ned played down here often enough.”
“That was when I was a girl, your grace,” Ellie said, “many years ago.”
“Not so many.” Mama had a definite twinkle in her eye. “Why it seems like it was just yesterday.”
Good God, now Mama seemed to be hinting that he and Ellie made a practice of sneaking down into the dungeons for some salacious purpose. “Hardly yesterday,” he said. “More like almost twenty years ago.”
Mama and Ellie both glared at him.
“Well, it was. Admit it, Ellie. You couldn't have been more than seven or eight—ten at the outside—the last time we were down here.”
“You might not have wanted to stress quite how far from girlhood Ellie is,” Father murmured.
Apparently Father was correct. Ellie showed him her back. “I believe I did say it was many years ago. Is it time to start the game, your grace?”
Mama looked at Ned reproachfully before she smiled at everyone else. “Yes, indeed. Now that we are all here, the hunt can begin.”
Ophelia and Lady Heldon almost knocked Ash down to get through the storeroom door, Miss Wharton close on their heels and everyone else not far behind. Immediately the sound of drawers opening and shutting filled the corridor.
“The hearts are rather cleverly hidden”—Mama had to raise her voice to be heard over the din—“and some have clues written on them, so you'll have to use your heads from time to time.”
No one even paused in his or her furious searching.
“The duke and I will meet you at the other end of the storerooms. We don't want to risk giving anyone hints.”
Mama and Father moved off down the corridor. Ned waited until Ellie and the rest of the party—led by Ophelia, Lady Heldon, and Miss Wharton, of course—had moved onto the second room before he even stepped out of the passageway.
Ash and Jack were the only ones left. Jack had slipped his arm out of his sling once they were alone and was now pulling drawers out haphazardly while Ash leaned against a hideous wooden chair. Carved serpents frolicked across its back. Not for the first time Ned wondered about the decorating taste of his ancestors.
“Why aren't you looking for hearts, Ash?” he asked. “Think they've all been found already?”
Jack was the one who answered. “No one found anything here, so I'm still hopeful.” He glanced at Ash. “Why aren't you looking? Resigned to cuddling with Lady Heldon under the fur rug?”
“Don't be disgusting. I just don't believe a helter-skelter approach is the best plan.” Ash shrugged. “I'm trying to think like Mama to figure out where she might have hidden the damn things.”
“Now there's a frightening notion,” Ned said. “I suspect even Father can't divine the workings of Mama's mind.”
The storerooms ran the length of the castle and were a series of chambers crammed full of chairs, tables, clothes, statues, paintings, and other odds and ends. Ned had long ago decided his ancestors never threw anything away; they just consigned it to the dungeon.
He and Ash and Jack—and Ellie and Cicely and Percy and Jess—had never tired of exploring the vast, odd collection of cast-offs. He smiled at the battered, one-armed knight propped against the wall in one corner.
“Ah, here's Sir Gawain,” he said. He stepped closer. “And his right arm is still on the floor beside him.”
Ash laughed. “Thank God it was his arm and not mine.”
Ned nodded. When Ash and Percy had been ten or so, they'd pretended to battle with some staves they'd found against another wall. As too often happened, Percy forgot they were pretending—fortunately Sir Gawain, rather than Ash, had paid the price.
“Our thanks, sir knight,” Ned said, and lifted the visor as he'd used to do. A red, heart-shaped piece of paper fluttered out.
“Aha,” Jack said from where he was poking into the drawers of a broken washstand. “You've found the first heart. Is there a clue on it?”
Ned turned the scrap of paper over. “No, there doesn't appear to be.”
“Too bad. I was hoping—” Jack stopped as they heard a squeal from another room.
“Damn.” Ash let out a long breath. “Which female was that?”
“Unfortunately for me, it sounded like Miss Wharton. She makes a rather distinctive sound.” Jack closed the last drawer and moved away from the washstand. “You know, Ash, I think Ophelia is helping Lady Heldon.”
“I'm afraid you're right. Percy probably put her up to it for Lord knows what purpose.” Ash's voice was calm, but Ned heard the current of anger running deep in it. While none of them liked Percy, Ash truly detested the fellow. “But as you keep pointing out, I'm already married, so the widow can't do much more than annoy me. Miss Wharton, however, does seem determined to make you her husband.”
“Don't I know it,” Jack said glumly.
“Here.” Ned handed Jack the paper heart. “You need this more than I do.”
 
 
“I've found one; I've found one!” Miss Wharton plucked a paper heart from the jaws of a snarling lion epergne and performed a squealing pirouette, knocking a large, hideous, blue and red china dog with her elbow.
Ellie lunged and caught it before it plunged off the edge of the table.
“How exciting.” Miss Mosely put down the brass candlestick she'd been examining and sighed. “I wish I could find a heart.”
“Now, now, Miss Mosely,” Mr. Humphrey said, “do not despair. We are only just beginning the game—I have no doubt you'll be successful, too.” He pushed the garish yellow sofa he'd been looking behind back against the wall and nodded at Miss Wharton. “Well done, Miss Wharton.”
“Yes, indeed. Brava!” Percy clapped slowly and a bit mockingly, Ellie thought, but he was also smiling. Miss Wharton grinned back at him, far too excited to notice any sort of criticism.
“I've always loved treasure hunts.” She stuffed the heart in her pocket. “They are so much fun.” She almost ran to the next room; Mr. Humphrey and Miss Mosely followed at a slightly more sedate pace.
“Such exuberance!” Lady Heldon raised an eyebrow. “I almost feel as if I'm back among the nursery set.”
Ophelia sniggered. “Miss Wharton is far too old for the nursery.”
“Indeed,” Lady Heldon said. “There's a reason—or should I say many reasons—that she finds herself on the shelf.”
“I don't know, Miranda,” Percy said. “I find her enthusiasm refreshing.”
Lady Heldon stared at him and then shrugged. “I can't believe I heard you correctly, Percy—the girl's worse than the greenest debutante. However, that's neither here nor there. At present she is very determined and either very good at searching or very lucky. We need to do better if I'm to get Lord Ashton into that sleigh with me.”
“Keep your voice down, Miranda.” Percy glanced at Ellie; she pretended to examine the china dog. There was a large ridge around its middle—ah, yes, she remembered. It was hollow inside.
Lady Heldon sniffed. “Very well. I don't know why we are standing here talking anyway. Come on.” She strode into the next room.
Now why did Percy care if Lady Heldon rode with Ash? Ellie watched him and Ophelia leave, and then glanced over at Mr. Cox and Lady Juliet on the other side of the room to see if they'd overheard the odd conversation. Lady Juliet was rummaging through a pile of old cooking pans, making quite a racket; Mr. Cox had his head inside a wardrobe. Likely neither had caught Lady Heldon's words.
She should warn Ash, but what would she warn him about? He knew Lady Heldon was pursuing him—everyone did. She hadn't been at all subtle about it, though what she wanted, since he already had a wife, was a puzzle. Perhaps she was just looking for some bed sport, but one would think she'd be more discreet with the duke and duchess observing her. And why Ash? Surely there were plenty of men in London willing to entertain her.

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