Loving Lady Marcia (27 page)

“Well, she’ll find what she needs to sustain herself at Oak Hall,” Marcia said. “I know she will.
I
did.”

“Tell you what.” The duke rubbed his chin. “Marianne is returning in another month. Prove to her that you can be a clever beauty and still be happily independent. A wallflower by choice, as it were. This means you won’t accept a marriage offer this Season, Lady Marcia. If you agree to my terms, I’ll send my granddaughter to Oak Hall in the autumn.”

“I shall have no problem fulfilling that requirement, Your Grace,” she said with alacrity. “None at all.”

“We have an agreement, then.” The duke pushed himself up from his chair.

It was done.

Done!

Marcia restrained herself from looking at the earl, but she hoped he was as excited as she was and happy for her.

The duke looked at Joe. “As for you, young man, are you prepared for a sword fight?”

“Yes, Your Grace!” Joe hopped up and immediately brandished his invisible sword.

“Stand back,” the duke commanded the other adults.

The atmosphere in the room was somewhere between festive and unruly, every boy’s dream. Whether because of the agreement or the invisible sword fight, or both, Duncan found himself relaxing for the first time since they’d entered the house.

He caught Marcia looking at him from across the room. She was guarding the breakable treasures on one side; he, the other.

Thank you,
she mouthed. She was positively beaming.

For what?
he mouthed back.

You know what,
she returned.

But he really didn’t. All he’d offered was the introduction. And dammit all, here she was with another good reason to turn down his marriage proposal. Yet he found himself gratified anyway. Perhaps it was because the gratitude came from a lovely spitfire who’d talked back to a duke and gotten away with it.

Some ten minutes later, after Duncan and Marcia had both caught precious vases from tipping over as a result of Joe’s and the duke’s invisible sword clashing (the duke was more sprightly than he had a right to be at his age), the party made their farewells.

At the front door, Joe shook the old man’s hand and thanked him for a lovely fight.

“You won again,” the duke said. “But next time, I plan on trouncing you thoroughly.”

“Next time?” Joe’s voice went up an entire octave.

“Of course there will be a next time,” answered the duke crossly, but then his expression softened. “I’ll have my secretary write your father’s secretary, and we’ll arrange it, shall we?”

“Thank you, Duke!” Joe hugged His Grace’s knobby knees, then raced out the front door and scampered down the steps. Kerry was already waiting for him by the carriage.

Lady Marcia gave the elderly peer a graceful curtsy. “Thank you, Your Grace. You won’t be disappointed in your choice of schools. And I assure you, neither will Marianne.”

“Don’t count on us yet.” He sounded grumpier than ever. “You have a lot to prove, young lady.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, smiling broadly.

Duncan saw the duke watch her exit his house with obvious speculation.

His Grace then turned to him. “My secretary is a thorough man, Chadwick.”

“Is he?”

“Yes.” The duke lowered his brows. “I understand that Joe is your by-blow.”

Duncan inclined his head. “I prefer not to refer to him as such. He is my
son
.”

“Yet you had the temerity to bring him to a duke’s house.”

“I did, Your Grace, and I can’t apologize, I’m afraid. I don’t make a habit of going out with Joe, but I recalled something from the visit I made to your house when I was ten years old.”

“And that was?”

“That your daughter wasn’t born on the proper side of the blanket. A servant’s son told me when we were swinging upside down from a tree limb. Yet she lived with you, ate with you, and was treated as one of your own. As she rightfully was, God rest her soul.”

“Yes,” the duke said softly, “God rest her soul.” He speared Duncan with a challenging look. “You live only once, Chadwick. Too many riders rein in their horses when they should be giving them their heads.” He poked him in the chest. “You have a fine son, my boy.”

“I do.” Duncan swallowed. “Thank you for noticing, Your Grace. Thank you
very
much.”

“And you’ve got excellent taste in women.”

Duncan gave a short laugh. “Excuse me, Your Grace?”

“The race is on for you, Chadwick,” he pronounced cryptically. “Or should I say races?”

“I—I don’t know, Your Grace.”

“Certainly you do.” The duke eyed him shrewdly. “I look forward to seeing what you do with your horse, young man.”

He slapped Duncan on the back and sent him on his way.

Chapter Twenty-three

That night in the library, long after he and Joe had said good-bye to Lady Marcia and Kerry, Duncan was in the midst of writing a letter to his American solicitors concerning the sale of the Richmond property when a knock came at his front door.

It sounded too polite to be Finn. Duncan listened while Jenkins answered it, and over the strains of Warren’s fiddle in the kitchen, he could swear he heard the voice of Kerry, Lady Marcia’s maid.

He leaped up, strode through the open library door, and made his way to the entrance hall. It
was
Kerry, and she turned beet red when she saw him. Jenkins stood back to give him room.

“Is everything all right with Lady Marcia?” he asked rather brusquely.

Kerry nodded. “Yes, but we were coming home from a rout, you see, earlier than most”—Duncan looked at the case clock behind him and noted that it was barely after midnight—“and my lady said she needed your advice immediately.”

Somehow, she managed to turn even redder.

“Where is she?”

“In there.” The maid angled her head to the carriage, waiting along the curb several houses down. “And she’s in a right state, Lord Chadwick.”

“Very well, I’ll look into the matter.” He scrambled down the stairs and looked back over his shoulder at the girl. “Why don’t you get something in the kitchen? Some hot milk, perhaps? Warren, my valet, is practicing his fiddle. You might enjoy meeting him and the rest of my staff.”

Kerry smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”

At the vehicle, Duncan called up to the driver. “Go inside, man, and get some refreshment from my kitchen. I sent Kerry there just now.”

The driver doffed his cap. “That’s kind of you, my lord. But I shouldn’t leave Lady Marcia. Marquess’s orders.”

The vehicle door opened. “It’s quite all right, Max,” Marcia called up to him. She was breathtaking in a gold gown that clung to her curves. “Kerry will be back any moment. I promise you.”

“Sorry, my lady. I can’t do it.” Max had a stubborn set to his mouth.

Duncan gave up the quest for total privacy. “You’re a good driver,” he called up to the fellow, and entered the carriage.

Marcia wore a stark expression. “I’m so glad you came.”

He took her hand. “What is it?”

She bit her lip. “I was at a rout, minding my own business—”

“It’s impossible to mind your own business at a rout.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very well, I was caught up in a throng of gentlemen circling me and asking endless questions, when I saw a beautiful French countess who looked terribly alone. So I broke away from the gentlemen and asked her what was wrong. She said she missed her lover in Paris. And I had to pretend I didn’t know what she was missing, but I
knew
—”

“Where are your brothers? And Janice?”

“They were there, as well, but we went in two carriages. Janice decided to remain behind with them—”

He stayed her with a hand. “You could go on for hours describing the rout and the Sherwood logistics. You’re here now. Why is that?”

“Because in the midst of all that talking and laughing … I missed you.”

He was floored. “That’s why you’re here?”

She nodded. “We never got to properly celebrate today.”

That was true. She’d had to get back home, and although the carriage ride had been one of the most memorably happy occasions he’d ever had, he’d had no time with her alone.

Of course, she’d already told him in very clear terms that she didn’t
want
to be alone with him.

Which was why he said nothing at the moment beyond, “I see.”

She bit her lip. “We were so busy with the duke and Joe, and Kerry was there…”

Duncan got the distinct impression she was embarrassed. “Do you mean, you wanted to celebrate with a kiss?” he asked her gently.

“Yes,” she squeaked, and turned beet red. “I wanted that very much. More than one, actually. A million of them.”

He allowed himself a grin. “A million kisses … I don’t know. That might take the rest of our lifetimes. I think I’d have to marry you to accomplish that.”

“Oh, no. We don’t need to talk of marriage. Just kissing. If you please,” she added.

“Why didn’t you say so immediately?”

“I tried, but you kept inter—”

He skipped the preliminaries and started with deep, intimate kisses. For good measure, he followed them with a gentle tugging at her bodice and a thorough teasing of one of her breasts with his tongue.

He never took his eyes off hers when he lifted the sumptuous gold fabric back into place and pressed it smooth, his hand brushing her nipple. It was torture pulling back.

Her mouth hung half open, her lips rosy. “Thank you,” she said. “And I meant to kiss you, too, for introducing us to the duke.”

“Go right ahead,” Duncan said, secretly amused.

She leaned forward, her lips puckered and her manner nervous, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

He closed his eyes, then opened them. “Very nice.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll go now.” Of course, it was the last thing he wanted.

“All right,” she said back, her voice thin.

He was flattered by her disappointment. “Believe you me, I’ve missed kissing you, as well.”

“Have you?” She gave him an awkward smile.

“Yes, and I want to—” He leaned forward and told her something very naughty.

“R-really?”

He nodded.

She gulped.

He winked at her and leaped out of the carriage.

She leaned out. “Good night,” she whispered.

“Good night.” He leaned back in. “I’m assuming your brothers and Janice won’t be back by two?” he asked in a low voice, so the driver couldn’t hear.

“Oh, no,” she said, “they’ll be out all night.”

“I’ll be at the rhododendron bushes at two, then, at your house.”

“You will?” Her excitement was touching. And arousing, of course.

“Yes,” he said. “You have a way into your garden shed?’

She nodded. “It’s kept unlocked.”

“Good. I’ll send Kerry out.”

“Wait—” Her eyes were large. “Don’t forget. This liaison of ours can’t mean anything. I—I’m going to convince Lady Ennis to bring me back to the school. Surely I’ll be able to resume my post once I tell her the stupendous news about the Duke of Beauchamp.”

“I see,” Duncan said. “So I’m to, ah,
service
you?”

She shrugged and winced. “If you don’t mind. Headmistresses don’t often run into opportunities like this.”

He had to restrain himself from laughing aloud. “Very well, I’ll do it.” He had his own reasons for agreeing to the arrangement.

“I promise you,” she went on, “I’ll be most grateful when I think of you in the future.”

“Yes, when you’re that old, stalwart headmistress of Oak Hall. I can quite see you celebrating your fiftieth year there.”

“Can you?” Her eyes lit up. “I’d be rather a legend, don’t you think?”

“I do. It could be that the daughters of future English monarchs will choose to attend Oak Hall simply because your leadership will make the school the best in the land.”

“In the world,” she said.

He gazed into her eyes. She was serious, wasn’t she?

All right, perhaps she was teasing, but she really did want to go back to that bastion of learning, more than anything else in the world.

“That would be splendid,” he said softly.

Without another word, he shut the carriage door behind him. At his own front door, he looked back. She’d leaned out the window and was watching him.

He hated all the space between them. All that … air.

But he couldn’t hate her for believing that being a headmistress again was better than marrying
him
. He couldn’t. In fact, he found her commitment to Oak Hall so endearing, so true an aim, that he was afraid—

He was afraid he might be falling in love with her.

“No,” he whispered out loud, his gaze still locked on hers. “No, I couldn’t possibly be.”

But he was extremely reluctant to shut the door and go in search of Kerry.

Chapter Twenty-four

At two in the morning, Lady Marcia met Duncan at the rhododendrons flanking the back gate of the Brady mansion, and they sneaked together into the garden shed. They were in total darkness, save for a diamond of moonlight which slanted over a potting table. The floor might as well have been a black abyss.

“We can’t waste any time,” he told her.

“No,” she said back.

They kissed until they fell to their knees. Duncan ripped off his jacket and placed it on the soft plank floor.

He lowered Marcia to it, and lay at her side, stroking her face and then her breasts, which he’d managed to expose but couldn’t see whatsoever.

The darkness lent them boldness, and they explored and fondled and kissed whatever warm flesh on the other that they could feel.

“What are you doing?” Marcia said at one point.

He kissed the inside of her calf, using her knee as a compass. “Kissing you,” he whispered. “What else?”

There was loads of “what else,” but he wasn’t at liberty to indulge in the whole gamut of sensual repartee with her, much as he wanted to.

She giggled. “I like it.”

He kissed her up her legs, blew gentle circles on her inner thighs, and pressed them wide.

“Oh,” she exclaimed.