To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (13 page)

O
nly Lady Cartridge
would do something like this.

A
ndrew looked
around and saw the people milling through the house, laughing, whispering about one thing or another, looking inside the potted plants, which lined every room. A scavenger hunt, and everyone was reacting like children, glee in their eyes as they explored the large townhouse and its surrounding gardens. All working hard for a prize that would be given out at the end of the night.

With his own clue in hand, he walked down a hallway until he spotted the only three people in the room—in the very house—not looking as though they were chickens missing their heads. His brother, Mark, Mr. Nelson James, and Hugh, the Viscount of Windorland, were all sitting by a fire in the library discussing a topic, which, undoubtedly, was of no one else’s interest but theirs.

Mark saw him and brightened, “Andrew, have you heard of the Carnot cycle?”

Did he care? “No, I—”

“It was just discovered this year.” Excitement grew in his green eyes. His blond hair had gotten a bit too long again, causing his ears to stick out just a little. “It’s how heat can work as an engine. Revolutionary stuff, Drew. You see, in the reversible isothermal expansion—”

A
ndrew held
up his hands in surrender. Mark was his youngest brother. Only twenty-three, yet definitely the genius of the family. The three men in the room were probably the smartest young men in the entire country. But Andrew did not think the way they did and would never understand a thing Mark said. Still, he would listen. Later. For now, he bowed out. “Why are you not looking for your clues?”

Hugh frowned, “I knew exactly what my prize would be the moment I read my card.”

Andrew shook his head, “Why, it’s three cards before you get the last one and your prize. How can you possibly know what it is?”

“Probability,” the young viscount said. Andrew could easily imagine the Earl of Hatchet’s pride in his son, who was handsome and in line for an earldom.

N
elson
, whose weight matched his brains said, “It really wouldn’t be fair if we played.” Then he shook his ginger head, “Not fair at all.”

Mark nodded in agreement, “Let’s meet at the cafe later this week, and I’ll tell you more about the Carnot cycle.”

Andrew nodded. No, he wouldn’t understand anything his brother said, but he would sit and listen because that’s what a brother did, after all. “A fine plan.” He extracted himself from the room just as Nelson said something about refrigeration. Whatever that meant.

Maneuvering through the crowd, Andrew looked at his clue again.

She stands by a bed that her head never touched.

Evening, she comes alive. Speaking without words the answers you speak.

H
e shook his head
. This was a waste of time.

“Andrew.”

Andrew turned to the male voice and saw William Lawson staring at him. His dark blue eyes spoke of boredom, which was a look that fit him well. He’d inherited his mother’s features, a replica of the dowager. He shared her dark eyes and dark blonde hair, yet somehow the man had managed to make it all look masculine. The host of the party. Well, the host’s son, anyway. The earl of Cartridge stood by a trio of women, who all stopped chatting when they noticed Andrew. Then the women began to give him a once more and Andrew saw the huntress looks fill their eyes before smiles were put on. Usually, Andrew had been avoided by the female part of the peerage at parties. Everyone had assumed he’d marry Catherine and left him alone… but that was no longer so.

Ms. Gretchen Haywood, the ringleader of the young women, fluttered over to him, her clue in hand. She curtsied, while her blue eyes remained with his. “My lord,” she said in a suggestive voice. “Perhaps you could give me some insight to my next clue.” She smiled, “Lord Cartridge is of no help.”

Cartridge shrugged, “I was here for the planning of the entire event. It would not be fair to help.”

Andrew lifted a brow. He hadn’t thought to ask William for help. He looked down at Ms. Haywood and said, “It would seem you and I are in the same boat, as I am in need of assistance myself.”

M
s. Haywood brightened
, “Oh, perhaps I could assist you, my lord?” Her eyes fluttered, and Andrew knew her plans had little to do with his clue and everything to do with his title.

Giggles came from the two other women, and Haywood turned her blonde head to shush them before turning back to Andrew, her demeanor bright and dewy again.

He sighed as he thought about Catherine once again. His unofficial betrothal to her had had its uses. It had kept the mamas and their chicks in order. Now, Andrew would have to suffer.

William cut in, “The drawing room.”

Haywood turned to him, a question in her eyes.

He pointed his head back further into the house. “Your next clue takes you to the drawing room.”

Haywood looked surprised and then put out. She’d obviously wanted more assistance from one of the men than that. But, with the good English breeding she had, she curtsied once more, thanked the earl, and left.

William came over to him then, “Let me see your card.”

Andrew passed it to him.

William frowned at him, “A child could get this.”

The marquess lifted a brow, “I’m not a child.”

William smiled, “Follow me.”

T
he men headed
toward the back of the house and outside into the morning light. They were matched in height and remained silent as they headed east in the gardens. Though Andrew was only a few years older than William, they’d never truly been close friends. They’d only spoken on occasion in the past.

William grinned at him. “Enjoying the party?”

Andrew rolled his eyes and spoke honestly, “I’d rather be thrown into a boxing ring.”

“Don’t give my mother anymore party ideas.”

Andrew stared at the man. “Your mother wouldn’t dare.” Boxing was not a female spectator sport.

William laughed, “Have you not met my mother?”

An image of Lady Cartridge came to mind. Andrew grinned. “She would. And no one would dare say a thing to her about it.”

William nodded and chuckled again, “Whatever she wants; I’ll do what I can to see her happy. She’d suffered enough in her life.”

Andrew stared at him and thought about what he knew of the dowager’s past. “You’re a good son, William.”

The younger man shrugged the comment off, but his blue eyes were sharp. “I try. Daily.”

A
ndrew nodded
and knew he’d make any woman a fine husband.

They came to a stop, and Andrew looked up at the statue of a woman who stood in the garden. He shook his head. “She stands by a bed.” It was a flower bed. And sure enough, there was a bed of roses surrounding her. He went over, felt a petal, and was immediately flooded with thoughts of Catherine. He’d once gifted roses much like these. They matched her lips while the thorns matched her spirit. Their silk petals matched her softness. And the red reminded him of her hair when there was too much sun out. Though most people would declare her a brunette, in the sun, Andrew had always noticed the red tint of her hair, which always managed to make her pale skin and bright brown eyes stand out. Catherine was a rose, through and through.

His heart constricted with the knowledge that he had no business thinking of her in such a way. He’d told her to move on. He had to move on himself. He looked back at the clue.

Evening she comes alive.
He figured that had something to do with the setting sun. “So, if the sun sets in the west, then…” He noticed he was talking to himself and turned to find William looking at something else.

G
oing back
over to the man, he spotted what had caught William’s eyes.

A group of women stood through an opening in the garden’s hedges. They were all giggling over their clues, which they held near their faces. Then the one woman in the center lowered hers, and Andrew’s throat almost collapsed. Catherine.

Nothing had changed about her. She was beautiful. The sun had picked up her hair’s hidden strawberry tint, which made her look a little flushed at the moment; this was not a bad look on her. Her cheeks were red. Her lips, somehow, more pink. And then there was something in her mannerisms that seemed… different.

O
ne of the girls
, Lady Julia Garrett, the daughter of the Earl of Hatchet, saw the men and called to them in giggles. “Lord Cartridge. Lord Clariant.” Her voice carried as she waved to them. She couldn’t be ignored.

He watched as Catherine recognized the name and turned to look directly at him. Stunning. Simply beautiful. Had he ever seen her in pale pink before? She looked soft and lovelier than ever.

William turned to him, “Shall we?”

Andrew didn’t want to. Not with Catherine there. He looked at her again and tried to read what she thought about the situation, but as he looked at her, he saw… nothing. She simply looked at him and then turned away to speak to another one of the women there.

“Let’s go.” Andrew started walking toward them, causing William to play catch up.

When they arrived at the group of women, Julia introduced the ones that he and William didn’t know, but the woman might as well have been speaking to herself because Andrew was only concerned about Catherine. A very silent, calm Catherine.

She gave a small smile to both men before meeting Andrew’s eyes again. “My lord.”

My lord?
Who was this woman?

Andrew played along, “Ms. Croftman.”

S
he smiled softly once more
.

Julia spoke again, her pale, almost gray-like eyes moving from one man to the next, “We women decided to try and figure out our clues together but found ourselves stuck out here.” She gestured around to the bushes.

William extended his hand, “Let me see your card.”

Julia handed it over, “It says something about the wild and a jungle of sorts. Honestly, we’re lost.”

William read the card and then narrowed his eyes at Julia. “Whose card is this?”

“Catherine’s.”

William’s eyes moved to her, “Who gave you this card?”

Catherine hesitated and then said, “I received it from the butler’s bowl, just like everyone else. Why? Where does it lead?”

William stared at her, “My room.”

T
here was a collective gasp
.

Catherine placed a hand on her chest, and Andrew noticed for the first time how very low her dress was cut. He didn’t so much care for the dress anymore. Neither did he care for the way Catherine seemed to stare at William. And he certainly did not like the fact that she’d been destined to go to his room. God forbid she’d gone alone. Andrew wanted to shout at someone. What kind of game was at play here?

Andrew’s entire face and neck began to heat up in anger. Catherine belonged in no room but her own. Or his. Theirs. Together. Like they’d planned. “No,” he whispered.

“What?” Julia asked. She was a very alert woman. And very chatty.

Then it dawned on Andrew. That was the difference in Catherine that he had noticed. She wasn’t speaking. Julia led the group, and Catherine usually did not follow well. Why wasn’t she speaking?

W
illiam asked them all
, “Shall we go find the next clue?”

Another collection of gasps.

Andrew’s eyes went wide, “You’re just as mad as your mother.”

William laughed, “There are six of us.” He counted the four young women. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Oh, so many things could go wrong. A marquess, who was destined to be a duke, and a young earl found in a bedchamber with a group of unmarried daughters of the peerage? So much was wrong with that. It was a scandal waiting to happen.

Andrew turned to Catherine, “I forbid you to go.”

The gasps happened again.

Catherine lifted a brow. And there was the old Catherine. Hidden under all that fine decorum. She would not be bullied. She would not easily follow directions. She would stand her ground and lead the way. “Fine.”

Everyone looked at Catherine in surprise.

Andrew’s eyes went wide, “What?”

C
atherine lowered
her head yet still managed to meet his eyes. Had she ever given him that look before? There was something very innocent about it. “How apt you are to look out for my reputation, my lord.” Another curtsy. “I will remain outside the chamber while Lord Cartridge retrieves the clue.” And then she smiled pleasantly.

Andrew frowned. Who was this woman?

Julia clapped her hands, “Well, it’s decided. Let’s go find that clue, shall we?” Everyone followed William back into the house, Andrew included, because he was not about to let Catherine out of his sight. Something was definitely wrong.