by Jenna Jaxon
At her touch, Hugh became so distracted he could scarcely comprehend what she was saying. All he wished to think about was the warmth that seeped into him from that one spot, as though nothing else had ever brought him this much joy. After a stunned moment, he managed to steady himself enough to compose an answer. “Thank you for your interest, my lady. I am sorry to say that my brother’s condition has not changed since the . . . accident. He lies in bed, unable to do more than breathe and take a little nourishment the servants feed him.”
“I am so very sorry to hear that. I know this has been an especially distressing time for you and your sister.” She squeezed his fingers, but did not remove her hand. “Can the doctors do nothing else for him? He has clung so tenaciously to life, I would think they would be encouraged that he might yet recover.”
“Sadly, no, my lady.” Hugh sat back in his chair and she did as well, breaking their tenuous contact. “They are, in fact, greatly puzzled that he lives still. According to the surgeon who has attended him from the first, he should have died of his wound shortly after he . . .” God, but he hated to confess Kit’s transgression to this woman. But if he wished to pursue any sort of courtship with her at some point in the future, he must trust that his honesty would stand him in good stead with her.
“What did he do, Mr. Granger?” The soft question seemed to echo in the still room.
“He shot himself, my lady. In the head, after the woman he had hoped to make his wife refused his proposal.”
“Dear God.” Her face paled and her hand flew up to her mouth, as if to take back his words instead of hers. “I am so terribly sorry, Mr. Granger. I had no idea.”
“We have not put it about generally, save that he was wounded by a pistol in the hopes people will think it was an accidental shooting. Mr. Lambert, the surgeon, has been discreet, but if Kit does indeed die, Mr. Lambert will be called to testify about the nature of the wound.”
“What do you mean?”
“Suicide is a crime, Lady Kersey. If his death is ruled as such, our family will lose everything—land, personal property, money—to the Crown.” He’d thought about the inevitability so much he now stated it matter-of-factly. “There is also the dreadful shame that my brother’s body will not be allowed to be buried in consecrated ground.”
The lady stared at him, her mouth working, though no words came out.
Perhaps honesty had not been the best option. Still, he would rather have the situation laid out for her. It would be her choice how to respond now. “I know this is quite a shock, but I wanted you to know, my lady. You have been so kindly interested in Kit’s—that is to say my brother Christopher Granger’s—health, I felt I should now tell you the particulars, despite their unsavory nature.”
Lady Kersey shook her head, sadness in her face once again. “I thank you for trusting me with this information, Mr. Granger. I know how painful it must have been to disclose it. But I can assure you I will speak of this to no one unless given your leave.” She rose, bringing Hugh instantly to his feet in front of her. “If there is anything I can do to help you or your family in any way, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, my lady.” And now he would find out if his forthrightness had been for nothing. “There is one thing you might do, not for my brother, who I fear is simply in God’s hands, but for my sister.”
“Yes, Miss Granger.” Her face lit up and Hugh’s heart stuttered. “You were to arrange an introduction between us. I hope that will be possible sooner rather than later.”
“That is the very boon I was about to request, my lady.” A tightness in his chest made Hugh pause. “Would you and Lady John come to tea with me and my sister tomorrow afternoon at Wingate?”
“Your residence, if I remember correctly?”
“Yes. A small manor house about a mile from Kersey Hall, in the opposite direction from Francis House.”
“I would be delighted to meet Miss Granger. I shall ask my cousin, but I am certain she will wish to make the acquaintance as well.” Her eyes sparkled with true joy, making Hugh almost giddy with relief.
“Thank you, my lady.” She was so close, so temptingly close. Her face tilted up to him brought her mouth only inches from his lips. If he swayed slightly toward her—
She rose up and brushed her lips against his in a fleeting kiss that seemed to last far longer than the few seconds it surely took. Still, he savored the warmth of her mouth, the sweetness of her breath, the closeness of her face next to his. Not a sensual kiss, but one so comforting he could forget the worries for his family completely for those few blissful moments. Heaven in several different ways.
Then she was gone, slipped out the door with only the swish of her purple skirts lingering on the air.
Hugh gazed about the room, not entirely certain what had just happened had been real. And if it had been—and he hoped like the devil it had been—then he must figure out what Lady Kersey had meant by kissing him, and how they could go on from here.
Chapter Twelve
“What did I do? What did I do?” Running lightly down the corridor from the steward’s office at the rear of the house, Maria could scarcely believe she had kissed Mr. Granger. How could she have acted so scandalously?
Well, because the poor man had been in need of comfort. Not that such a fleeting kiss could be truly comforting, but at least she hoped it told him she understood his troubles and would be a friend to him. More than a friend, really, if truth be told. If he wished her to be.
She turned a corner and slowed down to a fast walk. If anyone saw her now they would have no idea she’d been in Mr. Granger’s office. Had she been caught there alone with the steward, both of them might have been censured. Mr. Granger would have quite likely lost his position. Or worse, they might have been forced to marry. Not that that would be a bad thing as far as she was concerned. She liked Mr. Granger more each time she spoke with him. Not only was he handsome, but a genuinely kind man who cared deeply about his family. He was excellent with children—he’d taken to Jane and her to him in mere moments. And compassionate toward the Tates and his brother.
Yes, if she wished to marry a man with integrity and a clear moral code, Mr. Granger—She turned a corner and smacked into a tall, hard body. Rebounding off the solid torso, she staggered backward, the scent of bergamot filling her nose as she raised her gaze to the equally startled face of Lord Wetherby.
“Lady Kersey, are you quite all right?” He grasped her arm, even though she was standing perfectly still by the time he had done so.
“Yes, my lord. Thank you.” She waited for him to release her, but he kept his hand where it was, squeezing her upper arm lightly.
“You must be more careful, my lady. You could have taken a nasty spill.” He removed his hand, only to take her arm and twine it through his. “Let me escort you to avoid further mishaps.”
Smiling, although she actually wanted to grimace, Maria nodded and adjusted her hand so it lay in the crook of his elbow, touching him as little as possible. “How good of you, my lord. I was going to my cousin’s room to help her with her packing.”
“That should make for a lengthy journey if we walk sedately, Cousin Maria.” He glanced down at her and smiled, showing very white teeth. “You do not mind if I call you that, do you? We are related, of course.”
Permission to use such a familiar name with a gentleman she did not know well at all should properly be refused. In Maria’s circumstances, however, it might be in her best interest to agree. True, the connection was tenuous at best, but Lord Wetherby’s father ruled whether Maria had a home or not. If his son wished to claim a familial tie, she should probably acquiesce so he could tell his father that she was being cordial. “Of course, Lord Wetherby. I would be pleased to be known to you as Cousin Maria.”
“And you then must call me Anthony, Cousin.” A glimmer of humor shone in his eyes. He was pressing his advantage to the hilt when he knew it was improper.
“Cousin Anthony, th
en.” Lord, but he did remind her uncannily of Alan, especially when she’d first met him. Dashing, handsome, charming, and so very good at using all those attributes to get what he wanted. No doubt Cousin Anthony was cut from the same cloth.
“What brought you to the rear part of the house, Cousin? Surely there’s nothing of interest there save some empty rooms.” His dark eyes searched hers, as if ferreting out a secret.
“I had gone to see Mr. Granger.” Jane had always said, the best way to tell a lie was to make it as close to the truth as possible. “I had a favor to ask of him.”
“Indeed.” That seemed to take Cousin Anthony aback. “What favor could you want from Granger?”
His implication was clear—a tryst between her and Mr. Granger would naturally be the first thing a rogue such as Anthony would expect. A sudden eager speculation in his face with raised eyebrows and a subtle licking of his lips confirmed it.
“Yes, I wanted to ask him if he would introduce me to his sister, Miss Granger. She is currently residing with him, as you may know. As we are somewhat of an age, I thought she might be good company for me when Lady John leaves on Monday.” She beamed up at his fallen face. “I was just hurrying to tell my cousin that we are invited to tea tomorrow afternoon.”
“How charming.” His tone said otherwise. “I had hopes you might ride out with me tomorrow afternoon. We have not had a chance to get to know one another properly. Dinner conversation can only go so far and we have had precious little of that. I do wish to get to know you better, my dear Cousin Maria.”
They stopped at the bottom of the front staircase. Anthony took both her hands in his and squeezed them in an extremely strong grip that came close to being painful. If she ever had to fend this man off, or escape from him, she would be hard-pressed to do so.
“A ride about the property sounds like a lovely outing, Cousin, if the weather will cooperate.” Best lay the groundwork for this refusal as thoroughly as possible. For she did not wish to spend any time alone with Lord Wetherby. Despite Jane’s advice, to do so would be to invite disaster back into her life. The gentleman might have all kinds of sterling qualities, though she’d heard of none since she’d met him, but he reminded her of Alan, from his coloring to his cologne, and that was enough to ward her off of him for good. “I am engaged tomorrow, and on Monday Lady John takes her leave—I am certain I shall need to rest after the ordeal of telling her farewell—so we may be able to schedule a ride on Tuesday. If the weather permits.” And by Tuesday she would have come up with another excuse to put him off. Unless Cousin Anthony was completely bird-witted, he’d realize quickly she did not wish to ride with him any day.
“I shall await Tuesday’s dawning with a keen eye.” He raised her hands, placed a kiss on the back of each, then released her.
Resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her skirts, Maria nodded to him. “My lord.”
“Cousin.” The admonishment was half teasing, half serious.
“Cousin.” Maria turned and mounted the stairs, keeping her pace slow and even, despite the gooseflesh crawling up her back. If she looked back she’d certainly see Anthony watching her ascend the stairs. When she finally reached the first-floor landing, she risked a look back, but Cousin Anthony had gone.
Blowing out the breath she’d been holding, Maria picked up her skirts and fled toward Jane’s room. Never had she wanted anything so badly as to beg her true cousin to stay with her. Anthony’s attentions could mean one of several things, and none of them necessarily good for Maria. Still, she must let her cousin go, and learn to cope with the difficulties life had a tendency to throw at her. One way or the other, Maria would learn to be on her own.
* * *
Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, Anthony followed Maria’s progress up the stairs. Just in case she should glance back, he wanted her to know that he was watching her, to think that he was interested in her. When she reached the top step, with no backward glance, he whirled on his heel and strode quickly down the corridor toward the main study, in urgent need of his father.
He’d been keeping an eye out for the little widow for a couple of days, but the lady had either been spending her days in her room or actively avoiding him. He didn’t think the latter—she had no reason to think ill of him yet—so perhaps she tended to be retiring. She did not put herself forward at all, if her behavior at dinner could be an indication.
When the family gathered before being called in, she’d been talking to either his mother or her cousin. He had tried to engage her in conversation both before and after dinner, but she seemed more elusive than a nightjar. At dinner his chances were worse, as his seat necessarily put him at his father’s side. Maria sat to his mother’s right and her cousin, Lady John, between her and him. He’d speak to Mother about changing the seating—to hell with protocol—if she wanted him to be able to woo Maria.
So today’s encounter had been a spot of good luck. He’d been out riding this morning, as was his custom, and had just returned and was heading to his room to change when he stopped to admire the backside of one of the maids, bent over stoking the fire in the library. He’d been debating approaching her—it had been far too long since his last bit of skirt in London—when he’d heard the patter of running feet and moved away from the library door before Lady Kersey had almost barreled him over.
She had seemed distracted, too distracted to have simply been requesting a meeting with Granger’s sister. What had she actually been up to? An assignation was obviously his first thought. Widows were generally a wanton bunch in his experience. Once given a taste of bed pleasures, they were in dire need of a replacement after their husbands had cocked up their toes. He suspected little Maria was no different. And the only two gentlemen, other than himself, she might have chosen to lie with were James and Granger. James she hardly knew and was therefore the less likely candidate. Granger, however, he could see perfectly as the widow’s paramour.
His long strides had carried him to the small study near the front of the house that his father had taken over as his office. The door stood open and Anthony strode in and went directly to the sideboard. “We may have a problem.”
His father’s head jerked up from the letter he was reading. “What? What the devil are you talking about?”
“The Dowager Lady Kersey may have taken Granger as her lover.”
His father dropped the letter on the desk in front of him. “Good God. Did you catch them together?”
“No.” Anthony poured a hefty libation into a sizeable tumbler. “I said ‘may have.’ I didn’t see them, but I did run into the widow on her way back from Granger’s office. She gave some flimsy excuse about arranging a meeting with his sister, but I suspect it’s more than that.”
“You are suspicious of any woman who doesn’t fall immediately into bed with you.” Father rose and headed toward him.
“But then she put off my suggestion of riding out with me tomorrow. I think she’s avoiding me because she’s being satisfied elsewhere.” Any woman with the prospect of being wooed by the heir to an earldom would be daft to turn it down. “What other explanation could there be?”
“That she really did wish to meet with Miss Granger.” His father poured himself a tot of brandy and moved back to his chair. “You are too used to the ways of light-skirts and the ladies in Society. Unlike them, Maria is young and, despite being widowed twice, still rather naïve, according to your mother, who has spoken with her at length after dinner. You cannot judge her by the behavior of the more experienced women with whom you are familiar.”
Disgruntled by his father’s words, Anthony sauntered over to the leather chair by the fireplace and flopped down. “Are you certain James cannot marry her with the same result? She’s not to my taste at all.”
“Then change your taste or swallow it until you have made her Lady Wetherby or you’ll live to see the estate ruined.” Glaring at him, Father sipped his brandy and sat back in his chair. “Are you telling me you cannot seduc
e this little wench? And here I’d believed your reputation as a rake. Was I wrong to do so?”
“No, you were not. I can get her in my bed.” That had never been a problem before. “It’s just that she seems not to be attracted to me for some reason.” He gazed evenly at his father. “I may, however, need to use other means than charm in order to do so.”
After a moment’s pause, his father shrugged and nodded. “Whatever it takes, Anthony. She must become your wife by fair means or foul.”
Leaning back in his chair, Anthony relaxed against the cushion. He would need to plan a little more carefully if he were to do this properly. Maria had been elusive and often in the company of her cousin. That would change shortly and she would have no one to keep company with, save his mother and, occasionally perhaps, Miss Granger. Plenty of opportunity then to get her alone and compromise her thoroughly so that marriage to him would be her only option.
He sighed. Not the way he’d have preferred the scheme to go, but then beggars could not be choosers. If he didn’t want to end up on the rocks, he’d have to seduce his little “cousin,” whether she wanted seducing or not.
Chapter Thirteen
The Sunday afternoon sunshine was thin, but the air around Maria and Jane was crisp, not cold. They had elected to walk to Mr. Granger’s because of the temperate day. Jane had been less sanguine about it, but Maria had convinced her by citing Jane’s coming journey, cooped up in a carriage for days on end before she arrived in Scotland. “You should get as much exercise and fresh air as you can before you begin your journey,” she’d announced to Jane as they stood in the entryway donning their pelisses.
“I have always believed fresh air and exercise are good for children, dogs, and horses, but not for me.” Her cousin had pulled on her gloves, then glanced at Maria and sighed. “Very well. I shall suffer the walk for your sake, my dear.”
Now they could just see the outline of the little manor house, set back from the road in a clearing ringed by tall trees. As they approached, Maria made out a wildflower garden in front, trailing vines creeping up the end wall, and an arch of roses, the blooms all but gone, over the entryway. Even with the scarcity of flowers, the house was completely charming.
