Loving Lady Marcia (12 page)

“Where would you like to go?” he asked nonchalantly.

“The Livingstons’ ball.” She laced her hands in her lap.

“Very well.” He passed the instructions on to Rupert, then leaned back on the squabs and watched her ignoring him, her pensive gaze directed once more to the window. “Was the Davises’ card party so dull you felt compelled to walk out?”

She cast a glance at him. “No. Not really.” She returned her gaze to the window.

“Why did you leave?” He hoped it wasn’t because Finn hadn’t made an appearance.

“I have urgent business at the Livingstons’ ball,” she said, still looking outside.

“Is this urgent business something I could help you with?”

She turned to him again. “No, thank you.”

“Does your urgent business have anything to do with … my brother?”

Her eyes flew wide. “Of course not.”

“You said you were expecting him at the card party.”

“Not expecting, just wondering. And I most certainly wouldn’t go off in pursuit of a
man,
my lord.”

“I didn’t think so,” he said.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re not that sort of woman.”

She sat up higher. “You seem to take a great interest in affairs that don’t concern you. What sort of woman
am
I, perchance? I’d love to know.”

He scratched his head. “The headmistress sort—sometimes. And other times…”

“Yes?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re the sort I’d like to kiss, if you must know.”

“Lord
Chadwick
.” Even in the dark, he saw red flags on her cheeks.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I know about the poker.”

“That’s right,” she said in high dudgeon, and scooted farther back in her corner.

He’d made his point. So he liked her and wanted to kiss her. Let her ruminate on those two notions for a while. With Lady Marcia, one had to strategize, and he knew that she’d not forget his blunt words.

For now, he’d change the subject. “Could your urgent business have to do with your new circumstances? That awful business with Lady Ennis?”

“I suppose you know, too?” She let out a grievous sigh. “Apparently, all of London does.”

His mouth tipped up at the corners. “I’d offer you my sympathy, but I believe your school requires it more.”

“Thank you.” She gave a delicate arch to one brow. “The truth is, I want to speak to Lady Ennis, Oak Hall’s benefactress. I understand she’s at the Livingstons’ ball. I’ve heard she may be planning to close the school, and I must know if she is.”

“Let me go with you.”

“Lord Chadwick,
really
. You’re forcing me to be rude. I don’t want your company.”

“But I think I could help.” He had no idea how, yet he craved helping her. She drew him, like the open page of a book, the unread words beckoning him into the story.

“I don’t
need
your help.” Her voice was testy. “I suppose I should thank you for offering.”

She frustrated him, but did he expect any less from her than a good fight? “At the very least, tell me your plan. I’m giving you safe escort to the ball, after all.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “If the viscountess is indeed closing the school, I’ll offer her an arrangement.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I believe in diplomacy before war.”

“I like that you’re willing to go to war if you have to. But I especially like that you’re keeping your head. We need you in Parliament, Lady Marcia.”

“I think I’d do well there myself,” she said, the merest gleam of amusement in her eye.

But then she seemed to recognize her mistake, and she was back to being … uncooperative, ensuring that her toes or knees didn’t touch his and that her gaze didn’t meet his own.

“What exactly
is
the arrangement you’ll offer Lady Ennis?” he dared to ask.

Reluctantly, she turned to him. “You’re not going to leave me in peace until we get there, are you?”

“Peace?” He leaned back himself, allowing his face to become shadowed. “Is that really what you want from me, my lady?”

There was a tense silence.

He leaned forward. “Would you actually like me to disappear from your life forever?”

A delicate furrow appeared on her brow.

“Never to speak to you?” The carriage rolled and rocked, lending rhythm to his words. “Never to
touch
you?” He reached out a hand and grasped a tendril of hair by her ear. “Ever again?”

She remained silent, but he could see her eyes flare with something other than anger—a reluctant warmth.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his mouth lingering on her knuckles.

When he turned her hand over and kissed her palm, her fingers curled, but she didn’t pull back.

Oh, no. She didn’t.

Her skin was an enticing elixir, but he forced himself to release her. For a long moment, nothing was said. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Don’t think for a moment that you can win me over with—with seduction,” she said shakily.

“You’re much too stalwart to succumb to my charms, I’m sure,” he replied. “Perhaps you should simply tell me more about your plan—it can occupy the remainder of our carriage ride.”

Her gaze was wary. “I plan to bring Lady Ennis a very important student. The Duke of Beauchamp’s granddaughter, to start with. And then perhaps I could move on to some other celebrated young ladies, such as daughters and granddaughters of diplomats and foreign royalty. She’ll love the attention such a move will bring the school and will want to keep it open, I hope.”

“Ah. Good plan.” He tried not to notice that her cloak had slipped off her shoulders, revealing a lovely gown and a delicious, deep cleft between her breasts. “How will you acquire this duke’s granddaughter?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I haven’t gotten that far. We must be in accord first.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “If you have any worries about the details, I’d consider it an honor to serve as consultant. My father knew the Duke of Beauchamp.”

“Really?” Her interest was unmistakable.

“He took us to his Kensington property once when I was a boy. I have no idea how I could help at this point, but I’m willing to try.”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “It could be that my stepfather knows him, too. I’d rather not get anyone outside the family involved—”

“Especially me,” he interrupted her.

“Yes, quite frankly, unless it’s strictly necessary.”

“Lady Marcia”—he reached across and laid a hand over both of hers, still clenched in her lap—“I know how close you are to your family. But remember what you told me yesterday: You said I’ve ignored you all these years and the truth is, I have. I’d like to make it up to you now.”

He squeezed and let go of her hand.

“That’s not necessary,” she said in dismissive tones. “I’ll fix this problem as soon as possible myself, not only so the school will go on but so I can get back to work. Surely I’ll get my job back if I do all that I’m offering to do.”

“You want to go back?” God, he didn’t want to help with
that
. He wanted her to stay here. In London.

“Of course I want to return,” she said stoutly, “and to a thriving school with a secure future. Sorry, but I’ve more important things to do than satisfy an earl’s guilty conscience.”

“That’s the best put-down I’ve received in years.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He could swear he saw the glimmer of a smile on her lips when she resumed her watch out the window.

They finished the ride to the ball in silence.

*   *   *

When they arrived amid the pomp and general mayhem of a street lined with too many resplendent carriages and stamping horses, the crowning touch a house with windows blazing with light, Lady Marcia’s face turned rather white. “I hope she’s here,” she said.

“We’ll know soon enough,” he replied.

“
I’ll
know soon enough. Thank you for the ride, but we’ll say good-bye here.”

“Very well, my lady.” He helped her down. “It makes perfect sense we walk in separately. But what a pity we must part.”

“I’m perfectly amenable to parting,” she said with a polite smile. “Now I really must go, my lord.”

“Splendid plan,” he said. “Of course, once you’re on the ballroom floor, you’ll be besieged with admirers. You haven’t been in London this age. Perhaps your brother Lord Westdale will come to your rescue and allow you the few minutes’ peace you’ll require to hunt down the viscountess. Or my brother, Finn, could assist you. Although I don’t think he’d be very interested in your scheme. Like all the other gentlemen inside, he’s more likely to want you to dance with him. Good evening, my lady.” He bowed and began to walk away.

“Wait!” she called to him.

Slowly, he turned. “Yes, Lady Marcia?”

She wrung her hands. “In case I don’t see Gregory or Mr. Lattimore immediately, and I’m … besieged, as you say, please feel free to come over and … and—”

“Rescue you?”

Her face reddened. “I’d hardly call it rescuing me.”

“That’s right. I’d have the pleasure of your company, so it would be no sacrifice for me, would it?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Somehow, her face reddened even further. “All I meant is that it could be”—she hesitated—“it could be that I might be able to use your help, after all. Just for tonight. For those few moments I need to speak to Lady Ennis. Then your guilty conscience will be clear.”

He forced himself to delay answering a moment. “I’ll find you almost immediately and quite rudely sweep you away from whomever has gotten his or her talons into you,” he said. “You go in first.”

Her face registered some relief. “Thank you, my lord.”

It was easy enough to slip inside unnoticed. The receiving line had dissolved long before their arrival. Footmen carried heavy silver trays up and down the two sets of ballroom stairs. The strategic placement of orange trees and massive bouquets of flowers broke up dull stretches of open corridor and lent drama to the balcony circling the entire ballroom floor.

At the top of the stairs, Duncan saw Lady Marcia on the other side of the balcony, standing next to an orange tree. Nearby was a door through which the occasional lady came in and out. It must have been a retiring room.

Lady Marcia was deep in pleasant conversation with two young ladies, judging from the happy smiles on their faces. Another woman came out of the retiring room and joined them. It seemed a nice spot to linger on the upper level to gain a better view of the goings-on below and to admire two massive crystal chandeliers holding hundreds of blazing tapers.

It wasn’t long, however, before a threesome of young men found their way to them.

Ah. It was a regular party now, lots of feminine giggling and male laughter.

She was trapped, just as he’d predicted. He saw a vague look of worry on her face, which she did her best to disguise.

And then she saw him.

He smiled. And winked.

Her cheeks grew pink, and she looked purposefully away, resuming her conversation with a persistent young man, who took her elbow and bent low to say something to her.

She shook her head, smiled gracefully, and shrugged. The young man managed the rebuff well, turning to the young lady on his other side, but then two more gentlemen approached.

Lady Marcia looked over the shoulder of one of them directly at Duncan.

He nodded. It was time to—well, to have the pleasure of her company. Silently, he strode around the perimeter of the balcony, his eyes focused on her curvaceous figure from afar. Up closer, he took pleasure in observing her lively, intelligent expression.

“Lady Marcia,” he said, without waiting for a break in the conversation, which threatened to spill over from all sides. “That dance you promised me is upon us.”

“She’s not dancing yet,” said the rebuffed young man.

But Duncan ignored him. He wrapped Lady Marcia’s hand firmly under his arm and walked away with her.

“I—I’m sorry,” she called over her shoulder to the young man.

“Who does he think he is?” they both heard from the hurt suitor as Duncan led her away.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her hand, small and fine, gripped Duncan’s sleeve.

“My pleasure. Have you had a glimpse of Lady Ennis yet?”

“No.” Her lips were a thing of beauty, perfectly arched, prettily pink.

He patted her hand. “You can do this. Don’t forget you have something to offer her.”

She said nothing.

“We really should dance,” he suggested.

“No, Lord Chadwick, we shall
not
dance.”

“But you can search for the viscountess that way without looking obvious.”

“I’m afraid your shoulders are too broad for me to peer over them.” A blush crept up her cheeks.

“But you can look to either side,” he replied. “Everyone will think you terribly bored to be dancing with me. Tempting, isn’t it?”

“Yes, if you put it that way, it is.”

They began their descent of the ballroom stairs. For all anyone knew, they’d met for the first time that evening on the balcony.

For a second, Lady Marcia froze. “There she is. To the right. By the garden doors. In copper satin.”

“I see.” The widow was a pocket Venus and well aware of it, too, Duncan noted, judging from the way she appeared to be flirting with smug confidence with the gentlemen surrounding her.

By chance, she looked up and caught his eye. She arched a brow at him, a distinct come-hither look if there ever was one. And then she apparently saw Lady Marcia. Her eyes narrowed dangerously before she looked away.

“I can’t believe her.” Lady Marcia withdrew her arm, opened her fan, and advanced a step below him on the stairs.

“What?” he said. “That she makes it obvious she doesn’t like you?”

“No. That she sent you such a warm look when I was on your arm.” She looked back up at him in exasperation. “Oh, heavens. You already knew that, didn’t you?”

“A gentleman never admits to knowing when a lady—” He stopped. She was giving him the perfect view of her gorgeous figure and the plump tops of her breasts.

“Don’t,” Lady Marcia insisted. “Don’t look at me like that, and don’t say another word.”