Bedding Lord Ned (13 page)

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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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Far be it from him to contradict a lady. He would slip Jack the heart when his brother finally made his appearance.
“Ash?” Mama asked.
“Nary a one,” Ash said.
“So that leaves five unaccounted for. Ah, and here are our stragglers.”
Ned turned, his eyes going immediately to Ellie's face. She didn't look as if she were in love with Jack, though he couldn't really imagine what Ellie in love would look like. At least there were no blushes or glowing smiles. She looked exactly as she always looked—calm and practical. Why the hell was he even considering something that bounder Cox had said?
Because Ash hadn't discounted the theory, that's why—but then Ash hadn't concurred, either. Chances were good he'd been thinking about building something and hadn't even heard the conversation.
In any event, he needed to give Jack the damned paper heart unobtrusively—Lady Juliet would not be at all pleased if she saw him slip it to him—but Father was blocking his way. “Ellie,” he whispered as she started past him, “wait a moment if you will.” He could use her as a screen. Ah, there, Jack was now free of Father.
“What?” Ellie asked, pausing.
Perfect. He smiled at her as he bumped Jack and handed over the scrap of red paper. Fortunately, Jack took it as if he was expecting it. “Mama was just wondering if you have any hearts.”
“Yes, Ellie,” Mama said. “Did you find anything?”
Ellie looked a bit uncomfortable, but then she'd always preferred not to be the center of attention. She glanced back at Jack and cleared her throat. “I'm afraid I don't have any hearts, but Jack does.”
“You do?” Mama grinned. “How many do you have?”
Jack produced a wad of red and separated them out. “I've got five.”
“Oh.” Miss Wharton couldn't hide her disappointment. “You have won.” She smiled hopefully. “Whom do you choose to share your sleigh?”
Jack opened his mouth as if to reply and then paused. “I think I should wait to make that choice, don't you?”
“Excellent!” Mama clapped her hands and sprung out of her chair. “Keep your options open, and everyone else on tenterhooks.” She laughed. “Well, our female guests on tenterhooks, that is, though I suppose the men may care if you steal away their choice.”
“It
is
only for one sleigh ride,” Father pointed out.
“Yes, that's very true, but one never knows how important one sleigh ride may be. It could mean everything—or nothing.”
“As usual, my dear duchess,” Father said, “you amaze me with your perspicacity.”
Mama laughed. “Oh, now you are teasing me, but it's true. At any moment everything might change.” She laughed again. “And at this particular moment I suppose what you'd all like to change are your clothes—or at least brush off any cobwebs that may have had the temerity to attach themselves to your persons—and perhaps rest after all this excitement. So off with you, and we will see you in the drawing room before dinner.”
Ned watched Ellie make her way toward the stairs. Cox, the bastard, offered her his arm and she took it without once looking at Jack. And Jack actually went so far as to escort Miss Wharton.
Cox must be wrong. Ellie wasn't in love with Jack. She was still unwed because she'd yet to find a man that suited her.
And yet that didn't quite ring true either.
“So, Lord Edward,” Lady Juliet said, dropping her voice and leaning close as he led her out of the dungeon, “whom do you think Lord Jack will choose to ride in the sleigh with him? Miss Wharton clearly hopes it will be she, but I would have wagered my quarterly allowance against that outcome. Yet here he is escorting her now. What can it mean?”
“I have no idea.” Ned couldn't remember ever feeling so confused. He did not care for the sensation.
Jack was wrong. Jack
had
to be wrong.
Ellie perched on the settee next to Miss Wharton and stared into her teacup while everyone chatted around her. They were playing charades; the women had just acted out
Gulliver's Travels
and now the men were off planning their clues.
She'd seriously considered staying upstairs after the hunt in the dungeon and pleading the headache, but she knew the duchess would drag her downstairs no matter how much she protested. And she couldn't hide forever—there were still three more days left to this horrible party.
She closed her eyes briefly. Three days. How was she going to bear it?
She clenched her jaw. Damn it, she was going to get a grip on her emotions, that's what she was going to do. Why was she giving any credence to what Jack had said? Cicely had been perfect for Ned. Everyone knew that. If she hadn't died in childbirth, they would have lived happily ever after.
And as for Jack guessing she loved Ned, that was only a guess. A wild, lucky guess. No one else suspected it; Mama would have told her if she'd heard the slightest breath of a rumor. Ellie swallowed a slightly hysterical giggle. Ned certainly had no notion that she loved him. And even the Duchess of Love must not know—she'd have said something if she did, or at least have worked harder to throw Ellie at Ned's head.
She looked over at Ned's mother, who gave her a broad, unsettling smile in return.
She dropped her gaze back to her tea. Now she was jumping at shadows. If she hadn't had that blasted conversation with Jack, she'd just think her grace was being pleasant.
At least Ned had managed to return her red drawers. She'd found them tied in a large field handkerchief outside her door when she'd left her room for dinner. She'd put them back in the clothes press, but on a higher shelf this time.
“I love charades,” Miss Wharton confided, giving a little bounce that caused Ellie to wobble on their shared seat. “Don't you?”
Ellie smiled. It was a relief to think of something besides herself. Miss Wharton was unfashionably loud and enthusiastic, but there were certainly worse flaws.
“I'm afraid I'm not very good at the game,” Ellie said. As she had just demonstrated; she hadn't offered a single clue to help her team act out its title. “But you did an excellent job. I think it was your impression of a gull that caused the gentlemen to come up with the answer so quickly.”
Miss Wharton blushed. “I'm much better at acting than guessing, though.” She giggled. “How do you think Mr. Humphrey will do without being able to speak?”
Ellie laughed. “I can't imagine.” So Miss Wharton had a sense of humor. Jack could do worse.
But he'd looked so unhappy and tense in the dungeon.
Jack might be a bit easygoing and even careless at times, at least according to Ned, and he was certainly annoying, but he had a good heart. And he was kind. And likely capable of falling in love.
If he didn't love Miss Wharton, he shouldn't marry her.
And if
she
didn't love Mr. Cox ...
She took a sip of tea. That was different.
“Ah, here come the gentlemen,” the duchess said. “Put on your thinking caps, ladies!”
None of the men except Mr. Humphrey looked at all happy to be there, but at least no one was sporting a fresh bruise. Ellie had been a little worried. Percy had always been adept at needling Ash, and now he was at odds with Ned as well. Not to mention Ned had been giving Mr. Cox some markedly unfriendly looks in the dungeon.
Mr. Humphrey began by holding up three fingers.
“Three words,” Miss Wharton shouted, bouncing again.
Ellie juggled her tea cup; fortunately, the saucer had captured the splashes. She quickly put it down on the table by her elbow.
Mr. Humphrey nodded enthusiastically, pushed his spectacles up his nose, and then held up one finger.
“First word!”
He placed his hand on his breast.
“Waistcoat,” Miss Wharton shouted. “Shirt, cravat.”
He shook his head.
“Chest,” Ophelia ventured.
“Broad,” Lady Heldon said, snickering. “Muscular. Manly.”
Mr. Humphrey shook his head more vehemently and then began patting his chest.
“Hit,” Miss Mosely said. “And do be careful, sir. You don't want to injure yourself.”
“Slap,” Lady Juliet tried.
“Beat,” Miss Wharton said. “Pound.”
Ellie had no guesses and was getting slightly seasick from all the bouncing. She watched Mr. Humphrey thump his chest. Could she love him?
Her stomach twisted. N-no, probably not.
If she couldn't love Mr. Cox or Mr. Humphrey ...
She stiffened her spine. She was asking the wrong question. Of course she couldn't love either of the men. She knew that. She wasn't some starry-eyed young girl looking for love. No, she was a practical spinster. She wanted a comfortable, civil arrangement that would give her her own home and children.
Mr. Humphrey dropped his hands in defeat and looked to Mr. Cox who smiled and held his thumbs and index fingers together in the shape of a—
“Heart!” Miss Wharton yelled. “Beating heart. Terror.” She bounced almost to her feet. “I know.
The Mysterious Warning
by Mrs. Parsons. Or perhaps
The Mysteries of Udolpho
by Mrs. Radcliffe.”
The men gaped at her. Mr. Humphrey and Mr. Cox shook their heads in unison.
“Oh.” Miss Wharton collapsed back onto the settee. “Well, my heart almost pounded out of my chest when I read those novels.”
“I completely agree,” Miss Mosely said, touching Miss Wharton's knee. “I haven't read Mrs. Parsons's book, but
Udolpho
kept me up all night.”
“You must try Mrs. Radcliffe's
The Romance of the Forest
if you haven't already,” Lady Heldon said, for once not sounding the slightest bit snide. “I quite enjoyed it.”
“And Mr. Lewis's
The Monk
,” Ophelia added.
“Ladies,” the duchess said, “you may discuss your favorite books as much as you like later, but now the poor gentlemen are trying to have you guess a title, and it is not that of a horrid novel.”
“Oh, yes, I'm so sorry,” Miss Wharton said. “Please continue.”
Mr. Humphrey and Mr. Cox looked at the other men. Percy held up two fingers.
“Second word,” Miss Wharton said in a more subdued fashion.
Ellie gripped her hands tightly together. But practicality only went so far. Marriage was not the same as hiring an estate manager or a butler or even sharing a house with a brother or father. No, if she wanted children, she would have to share her body.
Her stomach threatened to climb up her throat.
Could she tolerate Mr. Humphrey or Mr. Cox sufficiently to allow one of them to impregnate her? Her reaction to Mr. Cox in the dungeon had not been encouraging, and as for Mr. Humphrey—no, she couldn't see welcoming the mole into her bed, even with her eyes tightly closed and her thoughts focused firmly on household accounts.
Percy pretended to take off his coat and roll up his sleeves. Then he rubbed his hands, grabbed an imaginary something, and made definite digging motions.
“Dig!” Miss Wharton said.
“Shovel,” Ophelia offered. “Excavate.”
“Bury,” Lady Heldon suggested. “Corpse.”
“I know,” Ophelia said. “‘The Grave' by Robert Blair.”
Lady Heldon frowned at her friend. “That's only two words, Ophelia.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks! So it is.”
Ellie bit her lip. She might be able to adjust to Mr. Cox. At least he was attractive, and if the duchess was correct, many other women had accepted his intimate advances. Perhaps marital relations were like riding a horse—a skill one became better at with practice. She enjoyed riding. She didn't have to love the horse. It was a stimulating physical activity, that was all. And if Mr. Cox had had plenty of practice, he was likely very good at performing the deed.

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