Three Weddings and a Kiss

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Good evening, milord,” Craven said in his cockney-accented English. He was a dark-haired man with a hard face and cold green eyes. His white teeth were slightly snaggled, giving his smile a snarling quality. “In for a bit o’ play this evening?”

  “Perhaps,” Eric replied, watching the roll of dice across the green felt of the hazard table. He accepted the snifter of brandy a waiter brought him, and warmed the glass in his hands. “Craven,” he said abruptly, “there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

  Craven’s black brows rose in silent inquiry.

  Eric spoke quietly, not wanting the other men around the table to overhear. “I’m interested in finding out what you know about a certain Lord Chauncey Spencer. He’s touring the Continent right now, but I expect he’ll return soon.”

  Craven gave him an assessing glance. “May I ask what your interest is, milord? Owes you some money, does he?”

  Eric shook his head and took a sip of brandy. “It involves a woman.”

  “Ah.” Craven’s smile appeared again. “She must be a fine bit o’ fluff, to please a gentleman so particular as you. Does she belong to Viscount Spencer?”

  “In a way.”

  “I know a little somefing about ’im,” Craven admitted. “For almost a month, ’e’s come to the club almost ewery night.”

  “He’s back in England?” Eric asked with a touch of surprise.

  Craven nodded, his face turning hard. “Spencer plays deep and doesn’t pay ’is bills. At this rate, I’ll refuse credit to him soon. E’s no better than flash-gentry, in spite ow ’is fancy title. Family’s well-heeled but not rich. They won’t leave much for ’im to inherit.”

  “Is Spencer here tonight?” Eric asked.

  “’E’s in one o’ the card rooms right now. Would you like me to show you, milord?”

  At Eric’s nod, Craven casually disengaged himself from the hazard table and motioned for him to follow. Eric swallowed the remainder of his brandy and gave the glass to a passing waiter. Together he and Craven walked through the octagonal room, past the dining and buffet areas, and approached the long row of card rooms. “The lady you want…” Craven remarked idly, “is she Spencer’s mistress?”

  “No. She believes herself to be in love with him.”

  “A pretty wench, is she?” Craven asked, seeming to be interested despite himself.

  Eric gave him a speaking glance. “Beautiful. With black hair and skin the color of new milk.”

  Craven made an admiring sound. “Rum goods, it sounds like. I would wish you luck, De Gray, but I don’t believe in luck. Only the kind a man makes for ’imself.”

  “An interesting statement, coming from the proprietor of a gambling club.”

  Craven smiled and gestured to their opulent surroundings. “’T’isn’t luck what brought me all this, milord.”

  They stopped at one of the card rooms, where blue velvet drapes were parted to reveal a small group of men seated at a round table piled with gambling chips, cards, and refreshments. One of the players boasted loudly as he gathered in an armful of chips. Eric had no doubt that the man was Chance Spencer.

  “This is nothing compared to the streak of luck I had on the Continent,” Spencer was saying, his cheeks flushed with excitement and strong drink. He was a handsome man with slick black hair and a dark, sculptured face. “Everything I touched turned to gold. There were crowds of women around me, watching each turn of the card…they find it very erotic, you know, watching a man gamble—” He stopped as he saw Craven standing at the doorway, and a smug expression settled on his face. “Craven,” he said heartily. “I see you’ve come to witness my success.”

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Craven murmured, his gaze sweeping the room. “Shall I send fresh cards to the table? More wine, per’aps?”

  The five men at the table assured him of their comfort. Eric exchanged greetings with them, recognizing them from the club or from recent society events. One of them stood respectfully to shake his hand. “Lord De Gray,” he murmured with a smile, “please convey my regards to your lovely sister.”

  “I will indeed,” Eric replied.

  Taking notice of Eric, Spencer stared at him intently. “We haven’t met before.”

  Craven introduced them, and Spencer favored Eric with a charismatic smile. “Would you care to join us, De Gray? I’ve emptied the pockets of everyone else here.”

  Eric shook his head. “I’m on my way to the dining room.”

  “Afraid of losing your money?” Spencer taunted.

  Derek Craven grinned at the question and gestured toward Eric. “Our Lord De Gray ’as money to burn. But what ’e wants, ’e can’t buy.”

  “Everything worth having can be bought,” Spencer countered. “Even people.”

  “Except for a few,” Eric replied, finding it difficult to believe that this was the man Lidian Acland had given her heart to. Spencer’s sort existed everywhere—self-important parasites who survived on the merest fringe of respectability. With a polite nod, Eric made his departure from the card room, wondering grimly why he was so fascinated with a woman who was in love with the likes of Spencer.

  Derek Craven followed Eric casually. “Well, now you’ve met Lord Spencer. No woman in ’er right mind would choose a crowing bantam like Spencer over a gentleman such as yourself.”

  “Women,” Eric said darkly. “Who can understand how they think?”

  Craven snorted with amusement. “True, milord. But thank God for ’em, all the same.”

  Staying at De Gray house promised to be more enjoyable than Lidian had expected. She had never slept in such beautiful surroundings: a bedroom decorated in pale pink damask and delicate scrollwork panels, with satinwood furniture polished to a high gloss. The rest of the house was just as lovely, its elegant rooms kept spotlessly clean and bright.

  Although Lidian never forgot her concern with the Acland estate affairs, she found herself putting it to the back of her mind as she and her mother spent a great deal of time with Julia and Dollie. Together they went on shopping trips in London and carriage drives in the park, while at home they made plans and pored over invitations for upcoming society events.

  In the past few years there had been no time for Lidian to cultivate friendships with other young women, and she found herself liking Dollie very much. The girl was intelligent and kindhearted, possessing the disarming ability to laugh at her own faults. “I’m too romantic and impulsive for my own good,” Dollie laughingly admitted to Lidian. “I seem to fall in love with a new gentleman every week.”

  “And what becomes of all these infatuations?” Lidian asked with a smile.

  “They fade quickly. I haven’t yet found the man I’m destined for.”

  “How will you know when you’ve found him?”

  Dollie chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I’ll know when I look into his eyes or when he kisses me. It will be pure magic! Do you feel like that with the man you love, Lidian?”

  Lidian hesitated for a long moment. Whatever magic she had felt with Chance had faded long ago. A year of waiting and wondering had taken its toll on her emotions. There was so much that was still unresolved between her and Chance. “I think I did,” she said quietly. “But being in love is not all magic, Dollie. And it’s not something I’d care to experience again.”

  Dollie looked intrigued and sympathetic. “Uncle Garrett says the same thing. Now that his wife is gone, there’s not enough of his heart left to give to anyone.”

  “Your poor uncle,” Lidian murmured sincerely. Although he could be surly and short-tempered at times, she rather liked the man. There was a softness beneath his gruff facade that she had discovered a few days ago, when he had accidentally intruded on her while she was reading by herself in the library. Embarrassed to be caught with a novel entitled Love Lost Forever, she had jumped slightly and set the book aside.

  Usually Garrett was indifferent to her, but there was an amused gleam in his dark eyes, and the lines on his face had
relaxed a little. “What are you reading, child?”

  Lidian had flushed guiltily. “A romantic novel,” she had confessed. It was one of her favorites—she had read it many times and brought it with her from Acland Hall. “You must think I’m very silly, my lord, indulging in idle fancies.”

  “No,” he had interrupted quietly. “Such fancies can make life very pleasant.” He went to pour himself a drink. “Continue with your reading, child. I’ll be gone in a moment.”

  “Lord De Gray…you won’t tell anyone, will you?” She couldn’t bear it if anyone else found out that she had been reading love stories, and teased her about it. She could only imagine how Eric De Gray would mock her.

  “Certainly not.” He had actually smiled. “If you prefer, you may call me Uncle Garrett, as Dollie does.”

  Since she already referred to the earl and countess as Uncle Edgar and Aunt Julia, Lidian had nodded in agreement. “Thank you. However…I’m not certain my mother would approve.” It was clear to everyone that Elizabeth did not hold Garrett in the same high regard she had for the other De Grays. Elizabeth frequently directed small barbs at him, criticizing his drinking, his smoking and gambling, and his habit of coming and going at all hours.

  “Yes,” Garrett had said dryly, “your mother and I don’t seem to be on the best of terms.”

  “I think that is a pity.”

  “Oh?”

  Lidian chose her words carefully, knowing that Garrett had never seen the side of her mother that was loving, charming, and vulnerable. All he had seen was the reserved, disapproving facade that Elizabeth adopted whenever he was near. “I know my mother seems to be prim and proper, and rather critical…but underneath she is a warm and delightful person. She misses my father terribly, and she’s had so much responsibility since he died. If only you…” Lidian stopped, having said more than she had intended.

  Garrett’s expression had been unfathomable, but for a moment there had been a curious look in his eyes. “If only?” he prompted.

  “If only you would try talking to her some time,” Lidian said earnestly, “I think you would like her very much.”

  He had responded with a sardonic snort, nodding to her as he departed with his drink in hand. Lidian had wondered if he would follow her suggestion. She soon concluded that he wouldn’t.

  One evening Garrett brought a guest to share supper with the De Grays, a beautiful woman with white-blond hair, pouting ruby lips, and a lazy, melted-sugar voice. Although she was dad in a dark, high-necked gown, the woman, whom Garrett introduced as Lady Hewet, seemed barely respectable. At supper she slid Garrett long looks through the black fringe of her lashes and told amusing—if shocking—stories about the latest scandals in London.

  “Have you heard that Lady Montbain has recently given birth to her fifth child?” Lady Hewet asked with a catlike smile. “A dear little boy with curly black hair.”

  “How wonderful,” Julia replied sincerely. “Lord Montbain must be terribly proud.”

  “He would be,” Lady Hewet said with a throaty giggle, “if the baby resembled him. Unfortunately the child bears a striking likeness to his best friend, Lord Lambert!”

  Garrett smiled slightly. Dollie and Edgar looked down at their plates with severe concentration while Lidian felt her face turn pink. She darted a quick glance at her mother, whose lips were compressed so tightly that they appeared to have been sewn shut.

  Mama, please don’t say anything, Lidian thought, but Elizabeth spoke in a crisp, controlled tone.

  “Lady Hewet, I fear that such conversation is not suitable for the ears of impressionable girls.”

  Lady Hewit’s red lips curved in a droll smile. “They must learn about life sometime, dear.”

  “Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied. “But not now…and not from you.”

  Lady Hewit’s smile disappeared with a twitch, and she turned to Garrett, whispering slyly in his ear, while Julia hastened to find a new topic of conversation.

  Later that night, Elizabeth aired her feelings to Lidian as she unpinned her hair at the dressing table. “Garrett De Gray is offensive in too many ways to count,” Elizabeth exclaimed, dropping the pins in a heedless scatter. She picked up a silverbacked brush and dragged it through her dark hair in swift strokes. “I can’t think why Edgar and Julia allow him to stay here with all of his carryings-on, bringing women of questionable reputation to supper…how such a refined family could produce such an abrasive creature is impossible to fathom! Did you see the way he allowed that woman to rub every part of her anatomy against him? And in front of everyone!”

  Lidian repressed a smile, suspecting that Elizabeth would rather die than admit that she was jealous of Garrett De Gray. “He’s not completely objectionable,” she said lightly. “You must admit, he is rather attractive for a man in his late forties.”

  “Is he? I’ve never been able to see him clearly through the cloud of cigar smoke swirling constantly around his head.”

  Lidian laughed. “Poor man. He wants reforming badly, doesn’t he?”

  “There’s not a woman alive with the strength and patience to do it,” Elizabeth said darkly, and set the brush on the table. “Certainly not Lady Hewet!”

  “Perhaps Uncle Garrett needs the influence of a woman like you, Mama,” Lidian dared to say, watching her mother’s face in the vanity mirror.

  Elizabeth seemed astounded by the remark. “Me?…I would prefer to have as little exposure as possible to that ill-natured man!”

  “I think his bad behavior may be a result of loneliness,” Lidian remarked. “It’s very difficult to love someone for so long and then lose her—or him—unexpectedly. You of all people can understand that, Mama.”

  “I would rather not discuss him anymore,” Elizabeth said in a no-nonsense tone, and Lidian agreed dutifully.

  Seated at one of the mahogany desks in the De Gray library, Lidian added stacks of figures from an account book that had been delivered to her by the temporary estate manager at Acland Hall. She concentrated on the numbers, unaware that someone had entered the room until she heard a familiar voice.

  “Miss Acland. What a pleasant surprise.”

  Lidian rose from her chair with such haste that she nearly knocked over the inkwell on the desk. She stared at Eric De Gray, lean and powerful in his riding clothes. Although she had tried to prepare herself for when they would meet again, she was aware of a breathlessness she couldn’t quite control. His self-assurance was formidable as he stood there with a casual smile playing on his lips. All at once she remembered the way he had kissed her, the warmth of his mouth, the light grip of his hand on the back of her neck. A blush covered her face, and she tried in vain to recover her wits.

  “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you,” she finally said. “You must have known that my mother and I were staying with your family.”

  “Do the accommodations please you, Miss Acland?” He spoke with such excessive politeness that it almost seemed like mockery.

  Lidian nodded cautiously. “De Gray House is magnificent, and everyone has been very kind.”

  “A fortunate coincidence, that our mothers have renewed their acquaintance.”

  “Fortunate for whom?” she parried, backing away as De Gray came farther into the room.

  His glance encompassed her from head to toe, taking in every detail of her brown-wool-and-corded-silk gown. Was it her imagination, or did his gaze linger at her breasts? The high-necked gown had fit perfectly three years ago, but as she had matured, the bodice had become a little too snug. Unfortunately there hadn’t been enough money to have more than one or two new gowns made every season. Lidian stared at De Gray defensively, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  “You’re more beautiful each time I see you,” he murmured.

  “Lord De Gray…I want to make something clear,” Lidian said uneasily, ignoring the compliment. “I have come here against my better judgment because my mother was adamant about it. I certainly hope you don’t t
hink I have any designs on you merely because I’m staying at your parents’ home.”

  De Gray stared at her speculatively and reached into his pocket. “I happened to find these at the Willoughbys’ ball after you left me. They belong to you, don’t they?”

  Lidian blushed fiercely as she stared at the pair of white gloves in his hand. They were the ones she had left in the parlor when she had rushed away after he had kissed her. She must have them back, or he could use them to tarnish her reputation. “My lord…you wouldn’t tell anyone about that night, would you? You must keep your silence—”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” she said in relief, holding out her hand for the gloves.

  De Gray came closer and touched her chin with his forefinger, nudging it upward until she met his gaze directly. “However, there is a price to pay for my silence.”

  “A price?” she repeated in confusion, withdrawing her hand.

  “Another kiss…and this time no slap afterward.”

  Lidian jerked back from him in outrage. “You are the most shameless, petty, unprincipled—”

  “Do you want these back?” he interrupted, dangling the gloves before her temptingly. “Or shall I return them to you at a family supper some night and let you make the explanations?”

  Lidian made a grab for them, but he held them high over her head and smiled maddeningly.

  “What shall it be, Miss Acland?”

  Her mind whirled. The thought of letting him kiss her, after all the nights of remembering…made her weak with anxiety. But perhaps it wouldn’t be the same. She might feel nothing this time. Oh, how she would love to show him that he didn’t affect her! She answered in a burst of frustration. “Oh, do it! Do it quickly, and then leave me alone!” She closed her eyes and waited, her lips clamped shut, her nostrils flaring with her rapid breath.