The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (59 page)

Iona looked. She did indeed have goose bumps.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Rubbing her arms, she gazed up at the reddish-purple leaves of the stately copper beech shading them. A tiny brown bird was flitting from branch to branch. “Tell me more about little Henry and what it’s like to be a mother.”

May’s face lit up as she stroked her baby’s velvety cheek. It was painfully obvious to Iona that marriage and motherhood perfectly suited her once unbending, independently minded friend. She couldn’t remember ever seeing May looking more relaxed and contented. “I’m still getting to know him and learn how to make him happy. So far the adventure has been an absolute joy. He’s a charmer. Just like his father.”

“I’m happy for you,” Iona said, though her heart didn’t feel the least bit happy. A tremor of pain laced through her veins. May’s marriage had been born from a love match.

Hers would be from scandal. The differences did matter.

“You and Lord Nathan were already friends…and I suspect more. That is a great gift.” May reached out and squeezed Iona’s hand. “You will see. Things will work themselves out.”

“You have a visitor, my lady,” Myers, the Newburys’ butler, approached while clearing his throat loudly. He held out a silver tray with a card on it for Iona to take.

“The Right Honorable Countess of Snaddon,” Iona read aloud.

“Who is she?” May asked.

“I haven’t a clue. Who is she, Myers?”

“I believe she is your fiancé’s sister-in-law, my lady.”

Iona blushed at having forgotten the names of Nathan’s family. She’d met Lady Snaddon several times around town. She should have remembered.

“Shall I tell her you are away from home?” Myers asked.

“No, please show her the way into the garden.”

He nodded deeply and shuffled away.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by the visit,” Iona said. “I’ll have to develop a relationship with Lord Nathan’s family sooner or later.”

A tall, long-featured lady, with a narrow nose, full lips and wisps of dark brown hair framing her oval face, apologized most heartily for arriving without a prior invitation after Myers presented her to both Iona and May.

Iona brushed Lady Snaddon’s concerns away and offered a spot on the bench.

“Since we will soon be sisters,” Lady Snaddon said as she smoothed the skirt of her calico dress before sitting, “I would be delighted if you’d call me Maryanne.”

“And I hope you will see fit to calling me Iona,” she said as she dredged up a kindly smile for her future sister-in-law. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m meeting guests outside where I cannot ring for tea. The weather is just so pleasant today, you see.”

Maryanne waved off Iona’s concerns.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Maryanne?” she asked in the somewhat awkward silence that followed. The little bird flying around in the tree squawked.

“I must admit there isn’t any real purpose for this visit. The sorry truth is that I’ve been wildly curious about you and why you’ve agreed to this wedding.”

Iona dug her fingers into the table runner spread out on her lap and drew her chin up a good inch. “I see.”

“Don’t mistake my meaning,” Maryanne said quickly, “I don’t hold anything that happened with Lord Nathan against you.”

“But you don’t exactly approve either?” May said in Iona’s defense. Henry stirred and after twisting in his bundle of blankets started to cry. May cradled him against her chest and gently bounced him while cooing nonsense words.

“He is a lovely baby,” Maryanne said, seeming relieved to have a reason to change the subject. She talked for a while about her young son who had reached his second year that spring.

“He is a blessing. After eight years of marriage I was beginning to despair whether I would ever bear a child.” She touched her hand to her stomach. “And now I have been blessed for a second time. I’m hoping for another son.”

Iona offered her congratulations without much conviction. Something about Maryanne’s manner—the way her eyes would linger too long on Iona and the way her brows had pinched together when she’d mentioned the wedding—made the muscles in Iona’s shoulders tighten. Something was definitely eating at her future sister-in-law’s mind.

“Why do you disapprove of your brother-in-law’s decision to marry me?” She couldn’t keep silent any longer about the unspoken censure she kept reading in Maryanne’s tight expression. “Are you worried that our union will embarrass your family?”

“Of course not. It’s just…just…” She heaved a deep sigh. “You are so very different from Nathan. You are refined, graceful. And he is naught but a careless rogue. How can such a match possibly work? How can a man like that possibly make you happy?”

“I don’t believe Iona’s feelings toward this wedding or Lord Nathan are any of your concern,” May said crisply.

“Perhaps not. I didn’t intend to create trouble, my lady. I am simply surprised.”

“Surprised by what?” Iona asked when Maryanne failed to explain herself.

“That in the face of such a dreadful scandal, you can appear so unaffected,” Maryanne answered without hesitation and then drew back. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “How thoughtless of me. I shouldn’t have referred to something that must distress you terribly, even if you don’t show it.”

“Rest assured, Maryanne, the circumstances of my marriage don’t so overset me that I cannot bear to hear mention of it.”

“Really?” Maryanne looked taken aback. “You aren’t afraid that word of what happened here will travel to London? You truly don’t mind that others are more interested in the circumstances that brought about this marriage than the wedding itself?”

“Why should I? It is entirely my fault that Lord Nathan and I are being forced to wed.” She leaned her head back and remembered how, in the flickering candlelight of the grotto, he’d touched her in the most intimate places. His deep, rhythmic strokes had awakened her whole body until she felt as if she was going to come apart. Like a shameless hoyden, she’d pressed her hips against his exploring hand, encouraged him, begged for him to give her more. And more.

Swallowing hard, Iona pushed those memories away. They always led to one thing—the terrible thing that followed. “I truly regret that society thinks he is to blame for what I have done. Truly, if I hadn’t pressured him into giving me those clandestine lessons, I doubt any of this—”

“
You
pressured
him
?” both May and Maryanne exclaimed.

Iona nodded sheepishly and then explained how the events of the last couple of weeks had unfolded.

Maryanne shook her head in disbelief. “You are an uncommon lady, Iona. If I were in your position, I doubt I’d be brave enough to make such an admission. The Portfrys are indeed fortunate to soon have you as part of our ranks.”

“I hope your family will also find it in their hearts to welcome Nathan back into the family.”

A deep flush crawled up Maryanne’s neck. “I do not wish to impose on you any longer,” she said as she rose from the bench. “Irregardless of how this upcoming wedding came about, I am pleased. I was my parents’ only daughter. It will be nice to finally have a sister. Good afternoon, Iona.” She dipped her head. “Lady Evers.”

“Thank you,” Iona said. “And a good afternoon to you too.”

“Oh, before I go…” Maryanne’s gaze trailed off to the deep purple flowers blooming on the clematis climbing the brick wall that enclosed the rose arbor. Her voice tightened. “Nathan is planning to invite you to a family dinner tomorrow night. He’s got some fool idea that if you…” She hesitated. Chewing on her bottom lip, she seemed to change her mind about what she was going say. “For my brother-in-law’s sake, I-I rather think it a good idea for you to try and be there.”

Chapter Twenty

All of Iona’s very proper, very organized thoughts spilled out of her head when Nathan drew her fingers toward his and began tracing small circles on the back of her gloved hand. In that timeless moment, she forgot she was standing in the doorway of the Portfrys’ parlor or that Nathan’s family was waiting in the other room to greet her. There was only the memory of the rough whiskers that had scraped against her cheek when Nathan had last kissed her and the skillful movement of his body against hers. The way he was touching her now was so filled with promise that she completely forgot how to breathe.

“I am honored you have accepted our invitation for dinner,” he said, his deep voice traveled down her body, giving the butterflies in her stomach yet another reason to flutter.

“My pleasure,” she choked out, her thoughts still straying.

Nathan’s mind didn’t appear to be operating too well either. What was he doing, practically seducing her in front of the high-sticklers that populated his family?

Before she’d been able to follow Rogers, the Portfrys’ stiff-collared butler, into the townhouse’s ground-floor cream-and-red-striped parlor to be announced, Nathan had bounded across the room and pounced on her. Taking possession of her hand and her mind.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said while still tracing those tantalizing circles against her silk-covered skin, warming her blood.

She dipped her head, not quite sure why she was blushing. “Thank you.”

His broad chest and powerful legs were completely blocking her entrance to the parlor and he seemed set on not budging. Someone behind him cleared his throat.

“Don’t you think I should greet your family?” she whispered. “It would be rude not to.”

Nathan squared his shoulders. “I suppose I cannot keep you to myself all evening. A damned pity,” he grumbled as he relinquished her hand. “You do look beautiful.”

His family greeted Iona warmly and treated her with exceedingly well-groomed manners. And although there was no mention of the upcoming wedding—this dinner was supposed to be a family celebration of it—Iona got the definite impression that they heartily welcomed the addition of one of the Duke of Newbury’s daughters into their ranks.

Only Nathan’s father was fairly tight-lipped in his greeting though she could hardly hold it against him. The dear man still hadn’t fully recovered from his long illness. And the stress of the past few weeks had taken a visible toll. He looked pale and tired as he heaved himself out of the brocade chair in which he’d been lounging. The movement triggered a violent coughing fit. In alarm, Iona grabbed hold of his arm until he was able to catch his breath. Gulping uneven breaths, he dipped Iona a bow and managed to wheeze a raspy, “it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

The Marchioness of Portfry, a lovely woman with a kindly smile softened by a series of delicate wrinkles wreathing her dimples, had been the first to embrace Iona. She’d moved in quickly and, taking possession of Iona’s arm, maneuvered her away from Nathan. “Come, child.” She patted Iona’s hand and led her to a creamy sofa where Maryanne, dressed in a flattering buttercup yellow dress, was seated.

“My two children bring me such joy.” The Marchioness reached over Iona and took Maryanne’s hand. “You will have to indulge me. Though Maryanne is my child only by marriage, I do include her as mine. I hope you will see it in your heart to allow me to do the same…giving me a third child to love.”

Third child to love?
Iona looked around, wondering whether anyone else in the room thought it odd that the Marchioness had miscounted. With her two sons and her daughter-in-law, the Marchioness could already claim three offspring.

Since no one showed any sign that they even noticed her gaffe, Iona tucked her hands onto her lap and gave the Marchioness a compassionate smile. “It cheers me to know that I am so welcome here,” she said and then cleared her throat. “I’d been worried, considering the circumstances—”

“Shouldn’t dinner be just about ready to be served?” Edward interrupted her to ask the room in general. His wondering about dinner was not only a tad odd, it was wholly unnecessary. Rogers, their butler, would announce the meal when it was ready. “I believe we should adjourn to the dining room. Don’t you agree, Father?”

The Marquess tried to clear his throat several times before giving up and simply nodding his approval.

While the Marchioness clung to Iona’s arm, Maryanne moved to help her father-in-law from his seat. Edward’s tight and awkward manner eased as he approached Iona and offered to escort her. She noticed that Nathan had tried to reach her first but he’d been sidetracked by his father, who had purposefully stumbled into his path and shook his head violently.

“You look lovely tonight,” Edward said, his voice deepening and his whole face lighting up, giving Iona the impression that he thought the world existed just for her.

“Thank you, Lord Snaddon,” she said, her brows knitting. She’d heard stories of Edward’s charms but had never actually seen them in action. Unlike most men, his weren’t in the flowery language he used, which as they walked across the hall into the dining room amounted to nothing but drivel, but in the way his navy blue eyes tried to coax her attention.

Though it was probably an affecting ploy for some women, thanks to her wealth of experience with the games men played, Iona found herself quite immune.

Once they were seated at a finely carved round table in the tidy dining room, decorated with a fantastic sage and lavender wallpaper where cranes were flying over exotic bridges toward snowcapped mountains, two footmen carried in the first course, pigeon bisque with a heavy cream and garnished with beetroot.

After taking a taste of the soup, Lady Portfry began recounting stories from Edward’s childhood. She spoke in glowing terms about how Edward had been the ideal son. Several times the Marquess nodded his head in agreement.

Iona’s confusion over Nathan’s family deepened. It was usual and expected for a devoted mama to embellish a son’s qualities to a perspective wife. But the marriage date had been set. And Nathan, not Edward, was Iona’s intended.

So why hadn’t the Marchioness even recognized Nathan’s presence in the room, much less try and promote his positive qualities?

Although Iona had never heard an unkind word spoken against the Marchioness, as she listened to the endless stories of how quickly Edward had learned to ride a horse, she couldn’t help but wonder whether the poor lady was a little wrong in the upper story.