The Training of a Marquess (31 page)

“Claire.”

His eyes shimmered with heat, and one side of his lips curved. “Your chaperone has ordered me not to touch you, but she neglected to apply the rule to you.”

His dimple stole her good sense. “How remiss of her.”

“Wonderfully remiss. So you may touch me, if you wish.” His gaze focused on the location of her hand. “Anywhere you wish.”

Her fingers needed no further invitation, and she walked them to the place she ached to caress. He pulsed and grew under her touch as she stroked over the length of him. When he hissed, it encouraged her to continue. He lifted his hand and trailed a finger over the swell of her breast above her gown.

She tsked. “Remember the No Touching Rule.”

“Hang the rules,” he growled and slipped a finger down the valley of her breasts.

His erection jerked under her hand and she tried to encircle him with her fingers, but his breeches prevented it. He shifted and spread his legs giving her better access.

Claire forgot everything—forgot the rules, the open door, forgot all but him. He leaned into her and took her bottom lip between his teeth. She was on fire and only he could stop the burning low in her belly.

Suddenly, he was gone. He put her hand back on her lap. She made a sound of displeasure, her body swaying toward him until voices penetrated the haze.

The twins! She scooted to the opposite end of the sofa and tried to gain control of her breathing. Chase picked up a pillow and placed it over his lap. His chest heaved as if he had run a mile.

The boys tumbled into the room, Bensey taking a seat on the sofa between them, and Harry taking a direct line to the teacart holding a plate of cakes.

“Grandmamma sent us to visit you and Lady Claire,” Harry said between bites of cake. He settled in the closest chair and balanced the plate on his lap.

“Your grandmamma is an evil woman,” Chase muttered.

A giggle escaped, and Claire bit down on her lip.

Chase narrowed his eyes. “Another one you owe me.”

“What does she owe you?” Harry asked.

“None of your concern, young man. Are you going to share those with your brother?”

Harry looked mournfully at the plate on his lap. “Do you want some, Bensey?”

“No, you can have them. I already had some.”

Harry frowned at this news. “When did you have cakes?”

“Cook gave me some when I went to the kitchen to give her the picture I drew for her.”

“It isn’t fair that he can draw and I can’t,” Harry whined.

“You have never expressed an interest in art. The only reason you are doing so now is because it might get you cakes,” Chase said.

Harry shrugged and stuffed another piece into his mouth. “Can we ride in the park in the morning?”

“I knew you would want to and was planning on it.”

Claire perked up at this. “Oh, I wish I had brought my riding habit. I would so like to go with you.”

Chase inclined his head and studied at her. “You are about my oldest sister’s size. Ask Lady Anne if Patricia left a riding habit behind.”

Claire jumped up, too excited to wait until later to ask. “If Lady Anne is sleeping, may I look for myself? Which room is Patricia’s? Oh, I do hope she left one here. Do you think she would mind if I borrow it?”

Chase chuckled. “Yes. The pink room at the end of the hall on my floor. And, no.”

She stilled while she matched his answers to her questions, then broke out in a wide smile and—without thinking—bent and gave him a kiss before racing out of the room.

Chase returned the intent looks from his sons. Harry’s hand, holding a piece of cake, was frozen halfway to his mouth. Bensey, on the other hand, smiled serenely. Harry’s mouth opened then closed. He placed the cake back on the plate.

“Is there something you want to say, Harry?”

Harry’s head bobbed up and down. “Are you going to marry Lady Claire?”

Well, straight to the point his son was. “Would it upset you if I did?”

Harry’s head went from bobbing up and down to a vigorous negative shaking. “We would like her to be our mother above all things.”

Everything the boy wanted was above all things. Chase hadn’t meant to have this conversation with his sons quite yet, but here it was, landed in his lap. He glanced down and realized he was still holding the pillow. No longer needed, he set it aside.

“It’s a possibility. And, Harry, the meaning of possibility is that it’s not a sure thing, so you are not to repeat our conversation outside this room. That applies to you also, Bensey.”

“But don’t you want to marry her?” Harry asked.

“It isn’t that. I want her to be sure it’s what she wants.”

Harry scowled. “She doesn’t want to marry you?”

“She loves him,” Bensey said.

Chase turned to Bensey in surprise.

“How do you know?” Harry asked. “Did she tell you so?”

“No, I see it in her eyes when she looks at him.”

Ah, his son with the artist’s eye. Harry beamed as if that settled everything. Now that all was well in his world again, he turned his attention back to his plate. Chase sent them off to get ready for dinner a few minutes later.

He stood and walked to the window. Carriages passed by, but he was too deep in thought to notice much about them. She had said she loved him, but somehow, hearing Bensey say it because he saw it in her eyes made it feel real.

Was he being obstinate by insisting she prove herself to him? What did he feel for her? There was desire and a great liking for her. If it was love, then it was different than it had been with his wife.

With Teresa it had been an obsession, something he never wanted to feel again. With Claire there was a kind of peace in it. On the few—too few—times he had made love to her, it had been like coming home after a long absence. Could love feel different depending on the person you loved? It was an intriguing question.

****

Wednesday morning, Claire met Chase and Harry in the breakfast room at dawn. She had been thrilled to find a riding habit in Patricia’s room. It was a little snug around her chest and a bit too short, but it would do until hers arrived.

“We usually eat light before our ride, just some toast and jam to tide us over,” Chase said. “Afterwards, we return for a hearty breakfast.”

“That suits me,” she said.

Harry grinned at her like a madman. She assumed it was because she was joining them on their ride until Chase narrowed his eyes at the boy. Harry ignored his father and continued giving her his maniacal grin. Come to think of it, he had watched her all through dinner last night.

“Have I done something to amuse you, Harry?”

“No yet,” he said mysteriously.

“So you think I am going to?”

“I hope so, above all things, my lady.”

“Harry,” Chase said, a warning in his voice. “Let’s be off.” He set his cup down and stood, not giving her a chance to question Harry further.

Claire crammed the last bite of toast into her mouth and followed them out of the room. When they reached the mews, Harry took off for the stables.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Just Harry being Harry.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Good morning, Claire. I would rather be kissing your lips, but this will have to do. For now,” he added softly.

Her body hummed in response to the heat in his eyes, his touch and the male scent of him. He took the hand he had kissed and wrapped it around his arm as he led her to the stables where a saddled Amira awaited her.

Claire laughed in exhilaration as she raced alongside Chase and Harry. It had been four days since she had been on a horse and had missed it, even if she did have to ride sidesaddle. Amira reached the tree they had designated as the finish line a nose ahead of Victory. Mischief finished a head behind them. Harry eyed Amira with envy.

“No, Harry, don’t even ask. You cannot have her,” she laughingly said.

He hung his head and affected a pitiful face. “That makes me so very sad, Lady Claire, but if you were to promise me her first colt, I think I could be happy again.”

Oh, to call this precious boy her son. “Suppose I tell you I’ll consider it?” It would really depend on what happened between her and his father, but she couldn’t tell him that.

“Splendid!” he said, and she knew in his mind it was a done thing.

“Claire! Harry! Let’s go. Now!”

His voice held an urgency Claire had never heard before. Mischief added to her apprehension when he gave an agitated snort and laid his ears flat back.

Harry glanced behind them. “Cor,” he cried and took off.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Just go,” Chase ordered.

As she was gathering her reins, she heard a lady’s shrill voice. “Lord Derebourne! Lord Derebourne, wait, please.”

“Go!” Chase demanded and she did. Galloping away, she glanced over her shoulder to see a heavy-set woman walking briskly toward them, waving her hands wildly in the air. Who in the world was she that she frightened the wits out of Chase, Harry and even Mischief?

When they arrived back at the stables, Harry shuddered. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” Chase agreed.

He slid off Mischief and came to Claire. Reaching up, he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her down. She could feel the heat of his hands through his gloves.
Wake up, butterflies
, she thought, and they did.

“Who was she?”

“Lady Montgrove,” Chase said.

“The last time we were in London, she caught me and Father in the park one morning and thought I was Father’s servant,” Harry said. “She looked down her nose at me. When Father tried to excuse us, she grabbed Mischief’s muzzle and held onto him.”

Then Claire didn’t like the woman either. “But who is she?”

“Someone we want to avoid at all cost,” Chase said.

“Why?”

“Because she devours men and has three marriageable daughters.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “There is only one woman I want nibbling on me.”

“Oh.” The butterflies went into a frenzy.

“Oh.” His face lowered toward hers, her lips tingling in anticipation.

“Are you going to kiss her, Father?” Harry asked.

They both turned to Harry, who now stood next to them staring with open interest. Claire’s cheeks flamed and she knew they had turned bright red. How did this man keep making her forget herself?

“Well, I was considering it. But I think we have embarrassed my lady enough for one day.” He winked at her and gave her a little shove. “Go on ahead. Harry and I will see to the horses.”

Claire returned to the house in a daze. She had almost kissed Chase in front of his son. What must Harry think? But he hadn’t seemed to be unhappy about it. He had looked curious, yes, but he’d also appeared pleased.

Would he and Bensey want her for a mother? They liked her as a friend, but would they be jealous of their father’s attention to her? What if they asked Chase not to marry her? She hadn’t considered how the twins would feel about bringing her into their little family.

How selfish not to think of them and what they would want. But there was also the possibility they would be pleased. How would they feel if Chase asked her to marry him?

****

“I didn’t mean to embarrass her, Father.”

Chase sighed. “I know, son, but a gentleman doesn’t take notice when a lady is about to be kissed.” He rested his hand on Harry’s head. “You do want to be a gentleman, do you not?”

“Oh yes, above all things.”

“I thought so. Now, let’s get our lady’s horse brushed and settled in her stall.”

They had grooms that could brush the horses, but he and Harry always performed this chore themselves. It was a part of their morning ritual and gave him the opportunity to teach Harry while also spending time with him. Chase caught sight of Mischief as he unlatched Amira’s gate and disappeared into her stall.

It just might be that both he and his horse were in love.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Thursday proved to be a momentous day at Angel House. The documents making Harry and Bensey a Warren arrived, followed by a delivery from Madam Jacqueline. Chase asked his family—Claire was included in his definition of family—to attend him in the drawing room. He stood with his hands behind his back as they all filed in.

“Have a seat, please.” He hid his amusement when the four crowed together on the sofa as if they were in trouble and banding together.

“It has come to my attention…” He paused. Four pairs of wary eyes stared back at him. “We now officially have two new Warrens in our family.”

Harry understood immediately and let out a war cry. He jumped up, dragging Bensey with him and began to dance in a circle.

“Harry and Bensey Warren,” he chanted. Bensey looked at his father in question, and Chase nodded. Bensey’s smile was a beautiful thing to see.

“Do you know what this is about, Claire?” Lady Anne asked.

“I’m not sure.” Claire said.

Before he could explain, Harry suddenly stopped his little dance. “Does it say we are Warrens on paper, Father?”

Chase removed his hand from behind his back and held out the document. Harry reverently took it from him. “The important part is the last paragraph.” But it seemed Harry was determined to read the entire thing. Chase took a seat near Claire.

“I have officially had their names recorded as Warron. Eventually, I’ll have to explain to them why it is spelled with an o and not an e.”

Harry came and handed him the paper. “They spelled it wrong, Father.”

He should have known it wouldn’t get past Harry. How best to explain hereditary issues to a boy of nine? “As much as I would like it to be spelled exactly like mine, they wouldn’t let me because you or Bensey might want to be the earl someday.”

“They aren’t very smart, are they? Even me and Bensey know your true son will get to be the earl.”

Lord, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No, I don’t suppose they are. It will still sound the same when you say it, however.”

“Oh, Kensington, this is a wonderful thing you have done,” his mother said. “I must go write your brother and sisters about this.” She kissed him on his forehead before leaving.