by Heather Boyd
“So it seems, and I believe the odds are in her favor for making a match, too.”
“I’m so happy for her.” Sylvia grinned and sat back to secretly observe the budding romance unfold with her new friend.
Chapter 11
Alexander was definitely feeling an itch he couldn’t scratch. He didn’t like it one bit, either. He tossed the day’s mail aside, little caring that half the envelopes slid off the slick desktop and onto the carpeted floor.
Why hadn’t she written him yet to arrange another meeting?
Sylvia Hillcrest had become a problem.
Alexander had expected to hear from her the day after their tryst had taken place. He had certainly satisfied the woman beyond a shadow of a doubt. And she had him, too.
However, the glow of that pleasurable meeting hadn’t lasted beyond a day for him. He craved a woman again, and only Miss Hillcrest seemed to interest him at the moment. Despite spending an hour or two at Madam Bradshaw’s House of Pleasure last night, he’d gone away without indulging in more than a few drinks. He found himself looking for Sylvia everywhere, too, and now he was on the verge of doing something unheard of.
He was considering a risky romantic pursuit of a most outwardly proper woman in the hope of something decidedly wicked.
He’d made discreet inquiries at luncheon today when he’d been at his club with their mutual friend. Lord Carmichael was full of praise for the woman and had spoken at length of the business enterprise Sylvia was engaged in with her two female cousins. They were doing quite well for themselves, apparently. Gentlemen in want of a wife called on the trio constantly.
Alexander wasn’t in need of a wife, but he did want to see Sylvia again. He couldn’t wait for random chance to put the woman within arm’s reach. He would have to design a plan to ensure he could fulfill his desires discreetly.
With that aim in mind, he gathered up his new invitations and studied the hostesses’ names. There were several who might do him the favor of extending an invitation to the Hillcrests, but not without a good reason. His sexual satisfaction probably wasn’t a good enough excuse.
Aside from showing up at her door unannounced, and being mistaken for a client, he could only hope to see her at dinner with the Carmichaels sometime in the future. They had invited Miss Hillcrest there several times to partner him at dinner to make up the numbers. It couldn’t hurt to see if he could engineer an invitation to dine with them at short notice, and her, too.
He rang the bell.
A servant appeared a few minutes later. “Yes, my lord.”
“Would you send a man round to Lord Carmichael’s residence asking what his dinner plans are for this evening?”
“Is that all, my lord?”
“Yes, but have him wait for an answer.”
The matter of his evening almost decided, Alexander settled behind his desk. He accepted and declined invitations to parties, and then picked up the paper to read while he waited on a response from Carmichael.
He was totally engrossed until he heard a female throat being cleared.
Miss Hillcrest had done that the other night behind his back, and he smiled, hoping his thoughts about her had summoned her to his home.
Unfortunately, the first words the lady uttered disproved that wish as a dangerous mistake on his part.
“How many times have I told you not to put your feet on the furniture?”
Alexander lowered the paper with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and glanced at the doorway in dread.
At only five feet tall in heeled slippers, Alexander’s mother, Lady Elizabeth, Marchioness of Wharton, overpowered the chamber just by stepping into it. “Mother, what are you doing in London?”
She smiled tightly. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”
Customary. At least for him. He got to his feet and slowly walked toward her. He bent to kiss her upturned papery cheek like the dutiful son she expected. “It’s unlike you not to write and say you’re coming to stay.”
“I am not staying,” she informed him.
He drew back in astonishment. “But you’re already here.”
She looked around her and huffed in disapproval at the lived-in state of the room they were in. Mother was of the opinion that the London residence should reveal nothing of the occupant’s true interests. Alexander completely disagreed on that score and made no bones about it. This was his primary residence, and he would do as he liked within these walls.
Her gaze returned to him. “I’ve taken a lease for the season.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that our presence here is considered a nuisance, so I’ve made other arrangements.”
Alexander wasn’t sure whether to cheer or worry about this startling development. “Did you bring the children with you?”
Her gaze turned decidedly hostile at his question. “Your siblings are hardly children anymore.”
Alexander had two sisters and one disgraceful brother. None had married, a sore point with Mother, and the reason he hardly ever went to the country. His siblings needed schooling in how to keep their opinions to themselves before they were allowed to sit down at one of his dinners. “They act like they still are,” he complained, gesturing toward the chairs set around the fire.
Mother stayed on her feet. Immovable, as always. “One time they got into the wine at dinner, and you refuse to forgive them for it,” she argued. “It was years ago.”
He threw up his hands. “They were tipsy and argumentative in front of the prince regent!”
“Well, he’s often drunk and slovenly in front of us,” his mother grumbled in a low tone.
“Mother,” he warned. Speaking ill against the prince regent was always a sore point with him. The man was of royal blood. He might be lacking in a little common sense at times, but he would be king one day. Getting on his bad side was not in the family’s best interests. “What is it you want?”
She clasped her hands before her waist. “Can a mother not visit her eldest son?”
“I am not getting married this season.” Alexander made that announcement every time he saw his mother, and still she tried to introduce women to him who were acceptable to her, but not one had been acceptable to him.
She shrugged. “I’m not interested in your love life anymore. I am here for your sisters’ sakes.”
Alexander sat down on the edge of his desk, exaggerating his shock. “Don’t tell me they want husbands at last.”
She shook her head hard enough that the ringlet curls at the back bounced wildly from side to side. “They’ve always wanted husbands, just not the fools you would have thrown them to. Since we are not staying under your roof, I demand that you leave us all alone to get on with it.”
“I beg your pardon?” he said, glowering at the woman who’d given birth to him.
“Your sisters and I will go about society without your escort this season. You are not to interfere with any suitors your sisters attract.”
He stood again. “I’m not about to let them marry just anyone who asks for their hand in marriage. Their dowries—”
“Their dowries are separate from your management, and none of your concern. Your father set the amount, not you, a long time ago. I want to see my daughters made happy, and with children of their own coming along soon after. I warn you to stay out of my way in this.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. She was asking too much. “Are you capable of staying out of my life?”
“We move in the same circles, my son.”
“You know what I’m referring to. I will not be introduced to another daughter of an old friend of yours and forced to dance with them this season.”
His mother winced. “Has it really been such an imposition to be polite and dance with a few young women?”
“Yes, it has.”
Mother suddenly swayed a little on her feet, and although he moved to catch her elbow, she wouldn’t let him touch her. She hugg
ed her arms under her breasts and pressed her lips together.
“Please, won’t you sit down? I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Nor I, you.” She sighed and then sat down, stiffly, in a chair before the desk. “I cannot stay long. I promised your sister that we would attend the Marshall Ball.”
“Which sister?”
“Amelia.”
Alexander sat back down behind his desk. “I wasn’t aware she knew the Marshalls.”
“Your sister met their son a few months ago, and is quite keen to continue their acquaintance in Town.”
Alexander rubbed his hand over his jaw, a little unprepared to discuss his sister and potential husbands. “So, Marshall’s son has been courting her? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why haven’t you come home to visit them?” she asked in a cutting tone.
Alexander wisely didn’t respond to that one with an honest answer. “He’s a little young to marry yet, isn’t he?”
“He’s been pleasant company,” Mama promised.
That didn’t make anyone good enough in his opinion. He had a list of potential candidates hidden away somewhere but he couldn’t consult it in front of Mother. Given her mood, she might just tear it up and burn it in the fire behind her. “What of Jocelyn? I suppose she’s standing sadly on the sidelines longing for a suitor of her own.”
Mother’s smile was smug. “Not at all. Your younger sister has become quite popular, with a number of her own admirers, too.”
He could hardly believe he was hearing this, but he wouldn’t contradict Mother until he’d had a chance to judge the matter for himself. “If only Father were here to scare away the unworthy rogues instead of leaving me to do it.”
“I have to do the best for them now.” She shook her head angrily. “The girls barely remember your father. They looked to you once upon a time.”
Alexander shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll talk to them, and the importance of making the right match.”
“Will you? When?”
“Soon,” he promised soothingly. But not this week. He had a full schedule that he might have cleared if Mother had told him of her plans to come to London in advance. But she had not, so he’d make plans to see them in the next week or so.
“You always forget your promises to them. They are not little girls anymore. They are young women, and they deserve a proper season.”
“I do not forget them.” He considered his chances of just escorting one sister about and dismissed it as hopeless. They would complain, and loudly, too, if they were separated. It was both or none. And he was not capable of keeping his nose out of any plans to marry off his sisters. “Fine, I’ll try to escort both of them to a few events I’ve already agreed to attend and hope for the best.”
“You’ll try? Please don’t strain yourself to accommodate your family when there are such important decisions to be made. I am quite capable of helping my daughters find good men without your belated meddling mucking things up for them. Please, do go on with your own life of ease.”
He stared, and Mother stared, but Alexander looked down first. He consulted his open appointment book discreetly—shifting and rearranging his appointments in his head. There was nothing so urgent in his schedule that he couldn’t delay it so he could, in fact, spend a few evenings with his sisters, and his mother, too. “I can escort you all tonight.”
“One night? Oh, thank you,” Mama said, sarcasm dripped off her words in waves. “Don’t bother throwing any more crumbs our way. You’re much too busy. I can manage our lives without any help from you. No matter how wearying your sisters can be, you’ve made it clear I am on my own with them, and all of us are unwanted around here.”
“You are not unwanted.” He gritted his teeth and chose his next words with care. Perhaps he had abandoned his responsibilities at home and heaped them all on his mother. No wonder she’d grown surly over the years about his absence. She was clearly at the end of her tether, and in need of immediate relief. “I’ll have their rooms prepared and the servants ready to receive them within the hour. Would their presence here for a week be long enough to begin with?”
Mother thrust out her hand suddenly. “Yes.”
They shook hands, but Alexander was taken aback by how speedily they’d settled the matter. Any time Mother was too biddable, he immediately looked for signs of deception. He had a feeling he’d just been tricked into something he would regret later. He also hoped she wasn’t about to foist an unmarried friend of theirs at him and expect him to be interested.
Mother stood. “Now that is settled, I will bid you good day.”
Alexander stood, too. “Where are you going?”
“Home, for a good long rest. I think I deserve it.” She clutched the back of a chair, swaying a little bit again. “I’m sure you don’t need me checking up on how you’re all getting along, so I won’t bother.”
He cocked his head to the side. Was he really free of her interference for a whole week? It was too good to believe he might be left alone to shepherd his sisters toward the right men. There had to be a catch. “Where are you staying?”
She frowned. “Why do you need to know that?”
“To send the carriage to collect my sisters.”
“Pfft,” his mother snorted. “I’ll send them to you by dinnertime so you don’t forget they exist again.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her. “The location, Mama.”
“You’re always telling me how smart you are. Find us yourself,” she suggested, and then turned on her heel. “Remember your promise to keep them for a week.”
“Yes, Mother, as long as you remember to stay out of my affairs, too,” he called to her back.
She did not trade another volley of words with him as she marched to the front door. This had once been her home, before Alexander had inherited the title. They had struggled with command of it for a few years after he’d inherited, until she’d finally retreated to the country and the family estate, along with all his siblings.
Alexander had left her entirely to her own devices in running their country estate, and she did it very well, too. As he’d known she would. Profits were steady and the land steward was full of praise for her decisions.
But having Mother and his siblings in London was not in his best interests right now. Despite her promise, he would bet he’d see her before the week was over. He could only hope that his sisters’ marriage plans would keep her occupied enough after that to never stick her nose in his business this season.
He moved to the front of the house, saw his mother enter her carriage without a wave of goodbye, though he was sure she saw him standing at the window watching her.
“Excuse me, my lord. Message from Lord Carmichael,” a servant informed him.
Alexander held out his hand for it as he watched the coachman prepare to get under way. He read the note quickly. The Carmichaels had plans to go out.
Disappointed by the news he wouldn’t see Sylvia, he crushed the note as mother drove away.
He waited all of a minute before deciding to follow Mother to this new home she’d leased, wherever it might be.
Chapter 12
“It’s very quiet here tonight,” Sylvia murmured, glancing toward the doorway, where beyond not a sound could be heard. “Are your daughters out at an entertainment tonight?”
“They’ve gone to stay with the marquess for a few days to give my ears a rest,” Lizzy told her candidly.
Lizzy did not speak of her connections often, and only then in the vaguest of terms, and yes, Sylvia had considered that the woman might be a member of the aristocracy. But a connection to a marquess was unexpected. “Which marquess?”
“Wharton, of course.”
Wharton?
There was only one Wharton that she knew of in society.
Sylvia pressed her hand to her stomach as it fluttered. “Is the Marquess of Wharton your son?”
“Yes. Have you heard of him?”
>
Sylvia’s cheeks grew warm. Heard of him, touched all of him, even tasted him, too. Not that she would mention that fact to his mother.
Sylvia began to tremble. What had she done by coming here? She swallowed hard. She couldn’t admit to not knowing him at all. They had mutual friends. “Yes, we’ve met, spoken, on several occasions, my lady.” And she was desperate to leave it at that.
“He can be quite cold to unmarried women. I hope you were not offended by his indifference.”
Sylvia wanted to slide under the table to hide her flaming cheeks. Wharton hadn’t been indifferent to her at all. “You never mentioned you had a connection to such an important family. If I had known of your proper title, I would have—”
Lady Wharton raised one brow, and Sylvia clamped her lips shut quickly. “If you had known my title, you would have behaved very differently, I expect. Everyone does.”
In Sylvia’s case, if she had known of the connection, she might have at least considered the potential implications of becoming friends with her lover’s mother. The woman was far above her on the social ladder, and would be offended to dine with a woman who sought pleasure out of wedlock. If she found out Sylvia had spent a scandalous night in Wharton’s bed… Sylvia shuddered at how she might react. One wrong word, too, from Lady Wharton could destroy her tenuous position in society.
Sylvia would have to tread carefully to save them both the awkwardness and slowly withdraw her friendship by degrees, so Lady Wharton never learned the truth. “If I had known who you were, I would have offered a deep curtsy when we first met,” she suggested.
Sylvia would not have walked away from a lady in distress, though. She had been concerned enough to approach the stranger, titled or not, and offer what aid she could. Not that someone of Sylvia’s lower status had much to offer a member of the upper ten thousand. They were not the same in society’s eyes, or her own.
Sylvia lowered her gaze, mortified by her presumption to think herself this woman’s near equal. “You must find my ignorance amusing.”
