The Training of a Marquess (6 page)

He and Harry followed until they came to a stand of trees. “If you would help me down, my lord, it would be best to walk from here.”

Chase dismounted and dropped Mischief’s reins. Easily lifting Claire, he held her until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Blue eyes met his and he had to command his hands to let go of her waist. He quickly stepped back, putting distance between them.

She blinked, glancing around as if she had forgotten where she was. Thank God Harry was with them because Chase wasn’t sure he would have let her go otherwise. The beginnings of an attraction simmered between them and if he wasn’t careful, the heat would soon cause the pot to boil over. He needed to get her to London and find her a husband. Soon.

She led them through the trees on a regularly maintained path. After a ten-minute walk, they came to a large boulder jutting out into the lake. On the other side of the rock, a sandy shore edged the water.

“The bottom doesn’t drop off sharply here, so you won’t have to fear the boys stepping into a hole,” she said.

Harry climbed onto the boulder. “Will you teach us today, Father?

“Not today. If the weather is clear tomorrow, we will begin your lessons.” It was a beautiful, secluded spot—perfect for teaching the twins to swim.

“What do we wear when we swim?” Harry asked.

Chase glanced at Lady Claire and deviltry took control of his tongue. “Your drawers, Harry.” Pink strained her cheeks, but she didn’t look away.

Claire tried to form a vision of his lordship in his drawers, but having never seen a naked man she had nothing to build from. From the time she had wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him, she hadn’t been able to get the thought out of her head.

All she wanted was one kiss so she could stop thinking about it. Then she would be able to stop staring at his mouth and would be able to ignore his dimple. She wanted this unsettled feeling to go away so she would feel normal again.

Yes, one kiss would do it.

When he had lifted her from Amira, the heat of his hands on her waist had birthed butterflies in her belly. Thomas had never affected her like this, and she didn’t know if it was normal. Did other women ever feel this way? There were no female friends she could ask, and she wasn’t about to ask Derebourne.

“A sovereign for your thoughts,” he said with a grin.

Her eyes focused on his dimple, and she forgot to listen.

“Lady Claire?”

“Yes?”

“I asked what you were thinking.”

Good heavens. As if she could tell him. She hadn’t thought her cheeks could get hotter, but they did. “I don’t know.”

His grin widened. “You don’t know what you were thinking? How singular.”

“Look, Father!” Harry yelled.

Derebourne’s grin disappeared. “Come back from the edge this instant!”

Claire’s heart raced at seeing Harry perched precariously on the edge of the boulder. “Oh, my.”

Harry gave them a cheeky grin. “I wasn’t going to fall.”

“The boy is going to be the death of me,” Derebourne muttered.

When Harry reached them, Derebourne placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Harry, you are not to stand on the edge like that until you know how to swim. If you had fallen into the lake, I would have had to get my boots wet to rescue you.” He flicked a finger under Harry’s chin. “And you know what Anders would have to say to that.”

“Yes, Father, I won’t do it again. But when I learn to swim, can I jump off into the lake?”

“When I’m satisfied as to your ability to swim and after I show you how to jump so you don’t hurt yourself, then yes, you may.”

“Splendid,” Harry exclaimed.

His handling of the boy fascinated Claire. There had been fear in Derebourne’s eyes, and she’d expected him to berate his son—perhaps even punish him in some way. But he seemed to understand the ways of a boy and how to manage them without hurting or humiliating them. A yearning invaded her to be a part of a family that laughed and loved as Derebourne and his sons did. A feeling of loneliness seeped into her heart.

They returned to the horses and rode for another hour. Claire showed them the fields of wheat, corn and cotton. She pointed to a large building in the distance. “There is the dairy and beyond, the tenant’s cottages. I’ll take you there on another day and introduce the tenants to their new lord.”

Derebourne listened attentively and asked intelligent questions. Her concern for the tenant’s welfare under their new lord eased. Harry also asked questions, impressing her with his quick mind.

Riding with the two of them, listening to their banter and answering their clever questions, she again longed for something she would never have.

But she had made up her mind on one thing. She wanted her first kiss and the angel riding beside her was the one she wanted it from. How did one go about getting a man to kiss her?

Would he even want to?

Chapter Five

Chase covertly observed the woman riding next to him. The blue riding habit brought out the deep blue of her eyes, and her cheeks were rosy from the wind and exertion. Strands of pale hair had come loose, curling around her neck. In his rogue days, he would have reached over and twirled a lock around his finger. Would it feel as silky as it looked?

His gaze moved to her mouth, one entirely too kissable. She nibbled on her bottom lip—something she really needed to stop doing. An image of taking that lush, plump lip between his teeth and...bloody hell.

“Race you home,” he called and spurred Mischief.

Back at the Abbey, Chase sent a note to Lady Claire asking permission to bring Harry and Bensey to dinner. He didn’t trust himself alone with her. She replied that she would be delighted to have the twins join them. When Anders arrived to help him dress, he fussed over what to wear.

“I don’t know which of you is more difficult tonight,” Anders commented.

“Which of whom?” Chase discarded the coat Anders had chosen. “And I’m not being difficult, I just don’t want to wear this one.”

“That is the third one you don’t wish to wear, my lord. You are going to run out of choices soon. Harry was as particular as you when I helped him dress. He said he must be perfect for the lady.” Anders gave him an amused smile. “I don’t suppose that’s your problem?”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about. And wipe that irritating smile off your face.”

Anders’ smile transformed itself into a smirk. “Is this better, my lord?”

“No, it’s not better.” Chase picked up the forest green coat of superfine. “I’ll wear this one.”

“Ah, of course, the one I first chose and you rejected.”

Chase held out his arms so Anders could put the snug coat on him. “I know you believe yourself to be entertaining, Anders, but truly, you are not.”

His insolent valet laughed. Chase would have made Anders redo his cravat, but the man was entirely too amused as it was. So he was being more particular than usual. It didn’t mean anything. He merely wanted to make a presentable appearance.

He strode down the hall to the boys’ room and found them in an argument—the first he had known them to have. “What is the meaning of your raised voices?”

“I want to escort Lady Derebourne into dinner and so does Bensey,” Harry said. “But I said it first, so I should get to be the one.”

“I’m the oldest, so it should be me,” Bensey countered.

That was news to Chase. He’d never thought to ask which was the firstborn. The twins glared at each other. Well, it seemed his boys were experiencing their first infatuation. His had been with a governess at least ten years older.

“This is easily solved,” he said, suppressing a chuckle. “You may both escort Lady Derebourne, one on each side.”

Identical smiles formed on their faces. “Splendid,” Harry said.

“Thank you, Father,” Bensey said. “I knew you would have the answer.”

Ye gods, he loved these boys. Taking their hands, they descended the stairs. Chase ushered the twins into the family parlor.

Seated on the sofa, Lady Claire stood when they entered. She wore a lavender half-mourning gown—her hair styled in an artful weave of twists and curls. Harry and Bensey stopped, staring in awe. Chase stepped around the boys and bowed. The twins came to their senses and followed his example, giving her their little boy bows.

“My lady, allow me to compliment your lovely gown,” Chase said. It might not be the height of London fashion, but it was certainly an improvement over her widow’s weeds.

“You look ever so splendid, Lady Derebourne,” Harry said.

Not to be left out, Bensey added, “You are as pretty as a flower.”

She curtseyed. “Aren’t I the fortunate one to have such handsome gentlemen joining me for dinner?”

The boys beamed and Chase made a mental note to thank her for her kindness in treating a pair of street urchins as if they had every right to be in her presence.

She sat and patted the space on each side of her. The twins looked to him for approval and Chase nodded. They took their seats and he settled into a chair facing them.

“I hope you enjoyed your day in the conservatory, Bensey,” she said.

“Oh yes, lady, it was the best ever.”

Harry leaned around Lady Claire and said in a whisper meant for Bensey, but loud enough for all to hear. “It’s ‘my’ lady, Bensey.”

Bensey turned distraught eyes his way. “Is she his lady, Father?”

Lady Claire’s lips twitched, and Chase was hard pressed to prevent his own lips from twitching. Before he could respond, Harry spoke up.

In a gentle voice he often used with his brother, he said, “No, I only meant you are supposed to say, ‘my lady’, not just ‘lady’.”

“If she is not his lady or my lady, why are we supposed to say, ‘my lady’?” Bensey asked.

Lady Claire’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Yes, Lord Derebourne, why is that?”

Three pairs of eyes focused on him, one blue-eyed pair entirely too amused. How did one explain to a brilliant boy something too simple for his comprehension?

“It’s the same as when you used to call me ‘my lord’, Bensey. It’s the way the thing is done.”

“I called you my lord, Father, because you were mine and a lord.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re not explaining it to him right, Father.”

“Then let’s see how well you can explain it.”

Lady Claire pressed her lips together. If this went on much longer, she was going to lose the battle to hold in her laughter. Chase exchanged an amused glance with her. His heart did a little bounce at the warmth in her smile.

Bloody hell. This lady wasn’t for him, and he needed to remember he had other plans for her. He didn’t want her turning those blue eyes his way.

Harry cleared his throat. “A long time ago, maybe a thousand years even, the king made a rule that all the lords must call the noble ladies ‘my lady’ so the lords would know which lady they could marry. Think about it, Bensey. What if a lord married the butcher’s daughter by mistake because he thought she was a lady? No one calls Bettna ‘my lady’, so a lord knows he can’t marry her.”

Chase turned to Harry in wonder. Where did the boy come up with these things? Apparently, this made perfect sense to Bensey because he nodded his agreement.

Lady Claire suddenly stood. “Excuse me, please,” she said, a suspicious tremble in her voice. “I need to check on…” Her words trailed off and then Chase thought he heard her mumble “refreshments” as she exited the room.

Claire made it as far as the library before she gave way to the merriment. Sweet heavens, she had never laughed this hard. The thought sobered her. This was what had been missing in her life. Laughter and the love of a family. For surely, Lord Derebourne and his sons were a family. She had seen the truth of it in his eyes when Harry spun his tale. Derebourne loved his boys, and, oh God, why hadn’t Thomas loved Andrew like that?

“Lady Claire?”

She spun. Lord Derebourne stood in the doorway. “I was just…” Just what? She was lost in her own misery and didn’t want him to be a witness. He approached her the way she did a wild horse—cautious and slow.

“I had thought to come and share a moment of amusement. Instead, I find tears in your eyes. What makes you sad, Claire?”

The intimacy of his use of her name was too much to bear. Tears she couldn’t stop flowed down her cheeks. He pulled her into an embrace, and she foolishly allowed him to hold her.

“Tell me.” He gave her back a few awkward pats.

The words flowed from her mouth. “Andrew…my son. I’ll never be able to laugh at his funny stories, will never see him dressed like a little gentleman. I’ll never be able to tell him how much I loved him.”

“Ah, Christ, Claire. I’m sorry.” He offered no other words, only held her close and she found comfort in the warmth radiating from him. When her sobs ceased, he leaned back and caught a tear with his thumb. “The boys are missing your company. Are you well enough to return, or should I make your excuse?”

“No, I want to stay. I’m fine, truly. It was strange. They were so very amusing, but I didn’t want to laugh in front of them and have them misunderstand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t apologize for loving your son.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, wipe your eyes. I’ll tell the boys you’re right behind me. They’re in the throes of their first infatuation and will be watching the door for your return. They had their first ever disagreement tonight—the heart of it being who would escort you into dinner. I hope you don’t mind, but I solved the dispute by telling them they could both do the honors.”

She looked into eyes as blue as a robin’s egg and smiled. “I would be honored, my lord.”

“Chase,” he said and left.

Chase
. The name suited him. She said it aloud to see how it sounded on her lips. She would never call him that, of course, except perhaps in her mind. When she put the handkerchief to her face to wipe her tears, she smelled him. Bringing the square of cloth to her nose, she inhaled the scent of bergamot.

Would he notice if she didn’t return the handkerchief? Slipping it into the sleeve of her gown, she reached the door of the drawing room as Mrs. Smithfield rolled the teacart in.