MY WICKED EARL: The Wickeds Book 3

by Ayers, Kathleen

  His nostrils flared slightly, but he nodded tersely in agreement. “Of course.”

  Donata smiled. “Just so. So much has changed since your last visit to London, sadly before all the,” she struggled to find the right word to convey the respect for all that Colin had endured, “troubles visited upon your family. I’m sure you find the city much changed. It’s astounding to me that eight years has flown by so quickly.”

  “Six, Lady Cambourne. Six years.” His gaze once more settled on Miranda with startling intensity.

  Miranda appeared oblivious to his attention.

  In Donata’s experience, gentlemen did not typically remember with such clarity the exact passing of time, especially as it related to something mundane. Like the debut of your friend’s younger sister. Unless, of course, there was something more.

  “My word, of course you’re correct.” Donata smiled. “I keep forgetting.” She raised a brow and gave a pointed look to the tome clutched on Miranda’s lap. “Do you approve of such reading material for young ladies, Lord Kilmaire? Lord Thurston! Miranda seems obsessed with this series of books though I cannot imagine being interested in such…drivel. A peer turned pirate by circumstance, as if any man of good birth would do such a thing. Miranda is filling her head with nonsense.”

  Miranda shot her a look that could best be described as hostile.

  “You do not approve of the Lord Thurston novels?” Colin asked with a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes, as if he was amused by her diatribe.

  "Not in the least." Donata shook her head. “Filling the heads of impressionable young ladies with outlandish romantic notions is irresponsible.”

  “I’m given to understand that Lord Thurston and his adventures are all the rage amongst the ladies of the ton. I visited Lord Bumont’s box at the opera, and I overheard Lady Bumont professing her adoration.”

  “The fact that Lord Thurston is fashionable does not mean one should read such,” Donata hesitated to make her point, “tripe. And Lady Bumont is a featherwit.” Donata could not think of anything less entertaining that reading about pirates. “Young ladies especially should not read such things. It gives them unrealistic romantic notions.”

  “You’ve read Lord Thurston, my lady?” Colin mused, one finger pressed against his lip.

  “Good heavens, no. I’m certain there is nothing in those books that would interest me. I’m much more partial to poetry.” Her dear friend Lady St. Claire, in a shocking display of disobedience to her husband, had purchased one of the tomes from a bookstore on Bond Street. She’d been regaling Donata with the shocking details ever since. “Poetry is much more suited to a lady.”

  Miranda flicked a raisin off her lap. “I think I’m rather old to have you monitor my reading material, Grandmother. Alex reads Lord Thurston as well. She adores the books.”

  “Humph.” Donata’s eyes watched as another raisin made it to the floor. Now it was time to truly set her snare.

  “Enough of Lord Thurston. We’ve much more important matters to discuss.” She bestowed a wide smile on Colin. “Lord Kilmaire has asked my assistance in finding the future Countess of Kilmaire. And since you are like a sister to him,” she let the words hang in the air, “I feel certain that your opinions of the young ladies I’ve selected could be crucial. Isn’t that so, Lord Kilmaire?”

  Colin’s light mood fled, and his handsome face contorted into displeasure. He appeared as if facing a firing squad. “Yes. Of course.”

  Miranda pressed a hand to her stomach. Possibly the pastries she’d eaten earlier were about to join the collection of raisins on the floor.

  Splendid.

  Now that Donata was certain of her assumptions concerning Colin and Miranda, she refused to acknowledge the flood of guilt that filled her at the look on Miranda’s face.

  Time was of the essence. How could Donata allow Miranda to marry either one of the gentlemen vying for Miranda’s hand now that the truth was sitting across from Donata in the form of the Earl of Kilmaire? And, Colin who was notoriously stubborn, would never seek Miranda out of his own accord. He would marry a woman he didn’t want just to prove a point.

  “Miranda?” Donata thumped her cane.

  “I am happy to help in any way I can, of course.” Her normally dulcet tones were brittle. “As you say, Lord Kilmaire has been like a brother to me.”

  Colin’s face pinked, his nostrils flaring slightly at Miranda’s words. The pads of his fingers pressed into the fabric of the chair. “Then we are in agreement.”

  Oh my.

  The two glared at each other with such intimate intensity that Donata nearly excused herself from the room. The air between them was filled with a very real animal attraction laced with years of anger. It had been years since she’d seen such a display of emotion. They’d completely forgotten her presence.

  Donata cleared her throat. “Now see what I have for you, Lord Kilmaire.” She held up an embossed piece of her own personal stationary.

  Two pairs of eyes flew to the creamy paper in her hand.

  “Let us proceed, Lady Cambourne.” The broad shoulders shrugged carelessly as Colin retreated, hiding behind those walls he’d built around himself. An icy blast of indifference chilled Donata.

  “I sense your lack of appreciation for my efforts Lord Kilmaire.” The cane poked Colin in the calf. “How else are you to find a suitable and wealthy bride?”

  Miranda’s body went rigid. She sat back against the cushions and attempted to look uninterested.

  “Unfortunate tragedies and the madness of your mother,” Donata shot Colin a look of sympathy, “will not aid you in your search.”

  “Perhaps I am mad as well. Is that the assumption?” Colin rubbed his chin in thought. “Mayhap I shall pass it on to any future children?”

  Donata pursed her lips and gave a short nod. “And, I do not count myself impolite for pointing out that being half Irish …”

  “I thought we had agreed when I asked for your assistance that I was only one quarter Irish.” Dryness laced his words. “Although the Irish is of the mad variety and I’m barely considered a Papist these days. I’ve not been inside a church since Thomas died.”

  “One quarter, one half, what does it matter? You would do well to hide the bit that slips into your words at times, for while it is charming, it reminds the ton that you’ve lived more in Ireland than at Runshaw Park. You are an English earl. Pray do remember such.”

  Colin shot her a rather frightening look. He did not care to be reminded that his upbringing served as a disadvantage in London and nearly everywhere else.

  Donata did not scare easily. Good Lord if the Devil of Dunbar in a foul temper didn’t put her off, there was little the Cursed Earl could do to frighten her.

  “Now, if you are quite done interrupting me?” She stomped her cane this time more forcefully.

  “I am.” The words were crisp and coldly patrician. One would never know that Colin had ever set foot in Ireland. The upper-class accent was perfect.

  “Good. I have narrowed it down to several girls based on your requirements. However, I feel the first two names are your best chance for expediency.”

  Donata dangled the bit of stationery before Miranda’s nose like a carrot before a mule. “See if you agree with my assessments.”

  Miranda took the paper between her fingertips, holding it as if it were a poison snake. Carefully, she placed Lord Thurston beside her on the couch, all of her attention on Donata’s list. Scanning the page, her eyes widened before looking up at Donata.

  “Lady Helen—”

  Donata snatched back the list before Miranda could finish her sentence. Settling herself more comfortably, she produced a pair of spectacles from a pocket hidden in the folds of her gown. Perching the glasses on the end of her nose, she shook the paper.

  “I agree Miranda, Lady Helen is an excellent choice. She’s very beautiful. Stunning, really. This is her first Season, but I understand Lord Cottingham is eager to see his daughter
married as soon as possible.”

  “What is the urgency to see her married?” Colin said in a bored tone, eyes cast down as he pretended to brush a spec of lint from his trousers.

  Donata cocked her head, not surprised to see Colin glance at Miranda from beneath his lashes.

  “There are several reasons. Lord Cottingham recently inherited the title, no more than two years ago. He was formerly a dairy farmer, albeit a very prosperous one. Perhaps you can discuss the finer points of cow and sheep farming with him.” Donata tried to keep the note of distaste from her words. “At any rate, Lord and Lady Cottingham seek a title for their only child.”

  “And?” Colin shot her a skeptical look. “I’m sure there’s more.”

  “Don’t be impertinent.” Donata pushed the end of her cane against the toe of Colin’s boot. “Lady Helen is a bit long in the tooth for a girl in her first Season. Most of the more discriminating families are not enamored of Lady Helen. Her pedigree—”

  “She’s considered coarse. Forward. Ill-mannered,” Miranda interrupted gleefully. “Overindulged.”

  “Well, she is an only child, dear. And, she did not have the benefits of a refined upbringing as you did. She is quite lovely.”

  “With an odd fascination for birds,” Miranda snapped back.

  “Baron Masters,” Donata interrupted Miranda’s tirade of the unsuitability of Lady Helen, “as well as several other young gentlemen in much more dire financial straits then you, are sniffing around Lady Helen, no doubt smelling blood in the water. Lady Cottingham is ambitious. She wishes her daughter to be a countess. Lady Cottingham is much too practical to believe in curses, and considering her own lineage, she is not concerned with your Irish blood. Her dowry is twenty-five thousand pounds.”

  It would have to be, Donata surmised uncharitably. The girl was spoiled with an appalling lack of discretion. The Cottingham’s sense of urgency was due to the fact that their daughter had the makings of a spectacular scandal and would ruin herself if she wasn’t wed soon. Baron Masters had been the frontrunner for Lady Helen’s hand, until Lord Kilmaire arrived in London.

  “She sounds…adequate. Who is the other?”

  “Miss Margaret Lainscott. A lovely girl. Considered a bit plain and more intelligent than she should be. As wealthy as Lady Helen, she is the sole heir to father’s fortune. Tin mining, I believe. Poor man died during a cave in. Since that time, she’s lived with her aunt.”

  “You can’t be serious, Grandmother.” Miranda piped up.

  “I am. She is the daughter of a miner, a mark against her that only a very large dowry could overlook, and of course, marrying a title.” She paused for a moment. “Lady Dobson is determined that Margaret marry as high as possible.”

  Lord Kilmaire pinched his nose between his fingers as if striving for patience.

  A wisp of a vengeful smile lingered on Miranda’s lips.

  Before Donata could continue, a scratch at the door announced the arrival of Bevins with the tea cart. The butler rolled in the cart, laden with a steaming pot of tea and an assortment of finger sandwiches, scones, and biscuits. Bevins leaned heavily against the cart, using the device to hold himself upright as he moved into the room.

  Donata was of a mind to stand up and wheel the cart in herself. Bevins did not have the strength of a kitten and was exhausting himself in London. She really must speak to Sutton about Bevins. It was well past time for the butler to retire, but he refused all offers to spend his remaining years at Gray Covington where he would be comfortable.

  Donata suspected it had something to do with Gray Covington’s butler, Zander. Although she couldn’t imagine how the two men even knew each other.

  A maid followed behind Bevins and curtsied to the room before approaching Miranda’s overturned tea tray. Silently, she bent to her task, shooting Colin curious looks while she worked. Appreciation shown from the maid’s eyes as her glance ran discreetly over the Earl of Kilmaire.

  Dipping again in a small curtsy, she left the room with Miranda’s tray.

  “Shall I pour, Lady Cambourne?” Bevins trembled as he spoke.

  Dear God, they would be here all afternoon if Bevins poured, or worse. She doubted he could be trusted to hold the teapot steady. “No, Bevins, that will be all.”

  The elderly servant bowed, straightening himself carefully before turning toward the door. Donata watched patiently as he shuffled across the carpet, nearly tangling his feet in the deep pile of the rug before taking a firm grip on the knob.

  A discreet click sounded as the heavy mahoghany closed.

  Donata breathed a sigh of relief at the butler’s exit. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Lady Dobson’s niece.”

  “Lady Cambourne, the girl’s aunt is Lady Dobson? She is—” Colin started.

  Donata cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Wealthy. I know well that Lady Dobson has her faults. Too many for me to recite at one sitting. I am witness to them every time she calls on me. You would learn to tolerate Lady Dobson, for goodness sake. I have. There are times when I actually enjoy her company and you shall too.”

  Enjoy was perhaps rather strong, but Lady Dobson was useful.

  A snort of disbelief came from the couch.

  “She is a reigning matron of the ton,” Donata continued, ignoring Miranda’s rudeness. “Regardless of her past errors in judgement, Lady Dobson has many useful connections and could be instrumental in paving your path through society. Besides, you would be marrying Miss Lainscott, not her aunt.”

  Colin’s gaze searched the room, probably looking for something stronger than tea. Donata wasn’t surprised. The mere mention of the woman invoked fear and distaste in most everyone who knew of her.

  “Are those my only choices?”

  “Expediency, I believe, was one of your directives, Lord Kilmaire. Wealth, the other. We are at the end of the Season. The Cottinghams and Lady Dobson could both marry their girls to a lesser title but then you, an earl, fell into their laps. Lady Dobson is quite desperate, practically salivating at the thought of marrying you to her niece. I’ve never seen Lady Dobson exhibit joy. It was a sight I do not care to witness again. Quite alarming.”

  Miranda poured a cup of tea for Donata and placed it on the table. “I did not realize she exhibited any emotion other than malice.” Miranda was not shy in expressing her distaste.

  “Yes. Why she even tried to embrace me at Lady Hastings fete last week.” Donata reached for her tea.

  “Whatever for?” Miranda appeared to have regained control of her emotions. She no longer looked so despondent. She poured and handed Colin his tea.

  Elegant fingers deliberately brushed against Miranda’s as he took the cup.

  The air fairly crackled about the two.

  Donata pretended not to notice.

  “I suppose it was because of the invitation to Gray Covington. She was quite beside herself at being a guest of the Marquess of Cambourne.” Donata gave a dramatic pause to allow that tidbit to sink in. “I assured her it was simply a little house party. Nothing to set herself in such a state. Only an opportunity for Miss Lainscott to better acquaint herself with Lord Kilmaire. Of course, I neglected to inform her that the Cottinghams would be attending as well. It’s always better not to allow Lady Dobson the upper hand.”

  The pot of tea hovered over Miranda’s cup. “There’s to be a house party? At Gray Covington?”

  Oh dear. She did hope Miranda didn’t spill the tea and cause another mess.

  Colin placed his cup and saucer on the table without touching the steaming liquid. “You should not go to such lengths just for me, Lady Cambourne.”

  “Oh,” Donata laughed lightly, “not just for you, my dear Lord Kilmaire. But also for my granddaughter.”

  A stricken look on her face, Miranda set down the teapot unsteadily, nearly upending the plate of scones.

  “Have a care with the tea service, Miranda.” Donata flashed a brilliant smile at Colin. “In addition to the Cottinghams and Lady Dobs
on, I’ve taken the liberty of inviting Lord Ridley and Lord Hamill.”

  The color leached from Miranda’s face.

  “I’m sure Sutton’s told you, Lord Kilmaire, that Miranda must make a choice herself. A house party is the perfect opportunity for either one of her gentlemen to press his suit. Miranda is determined to marry. It will be a difficult decision, I’m sure.”

  That wasn’t true in the least. Ridley and Hamill were both idiots and equally unworthy of Miranda.

  “Indeed.” Colin sounded as if someone had just punched him and he couldn’t breathe.

  “I believe Lord Welles will also be in attendance along with Lord Carstairs.” Well, Donata told herself, the two men would certainly be in the vicinity of Gray Covington and she thought Sutton would likely invite Welles to stay a night or two, though there was no danger of Welles deciding to court Miranda. He was a notorious rake with no interest in marriage.

  “You remember Welles, don’t you? From Eton? Handsome devil and still unattached.”

  “I should look forward to seeing Welles again.” Colin didn’t sound pleased at all.

  “I knew Lord Carstair’s mother, Lady Diana.” Donata continued. “A great beauty in her day. The most startling eyes. Such an odd shade of blue, almost violet. You may have met Lord Carstairs at the gathering hosted by Lord and Lady Marsh. I’m told Lady Marsh has settled on the sister of Lord Carstairs as a wife for her son, Rowan. The girl’s name is Gwendolyn.”

  Donata bestowed upon Colin a benevolent smile as she imparted the information. Lady Diana had indeed been beautiful, but empty-headed, lacking in personality and had an annoying habit of tilting her head in such a way that she always looked confused. Her son had not fared much better. She doubted he was capable of carrying on a conversation in any remotely intelligent fashion. Certainly Lord Carstairs would not be in competition for Miranda’s hand, though Colin need not know that.

  Miranda took a raisin cake and began to systematically tear the pastry into tiny bits, carefully placing the raisins to one side of her plate.

  “Malden has never mentioned Lady Gwendolyn to me. I wonder that he knows of his mother’s plans for his future.”