More or Less a Marchioness

by Anna Bradley

  But something made her hold her tongue. She wasn’t trying to protect Lord Huntington, of course. He’d chosen his debaucheries, and he could live with them, but she hadn’t even told him she knew his secrets. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Violet and Honora.

  His secrets weren’t hers to tell.

  “Oh, Iris.” Lady Honora’s face was the picture of dismay. “This isn’t because he refused to kiss you in the garden, is it?”

  Iris didn’t answer, but turned away from Honora’s anxious face to look out the window. Lord Huntington thought that was the reason, but of course the kiss was only the sharp point of the dagger, and everyone knew it was the blade that did the real damage.

  Iris could have overlooked a great deal to secure the match her grandmother had gone to such trouble to bring about. Lord Huntington’s wager with Lord Harley, his mistress, his disinterest in her—it was all quite distressing, but she would have gone through with the marriage, nonetheless. His lordship could blindfold his mistress with his cravat and tie her to London Bridge if he chose, and for her grandmother’s and sisters’ sakes, Iris would have done everything she could to ignore it.

  But to imply she’d engaged in an indiscretion with Lord Wrexley? To cast aspersions on her virtue, and call her very character into question when he was the one guilty of so many secret sins?

  No. It was too much.

  Here was a man who’d hold his wife to absurd standards of propriety with one hand, while he tied his mistress to…to…well, whatever it was one tied a mistress to, with the other. Perhaps there were ladies docile enough to overlook it for the sake of becoming a marchioness, but Iris wasn’t one of them.

  And marriage—a lifetime of marriage, no less—to a gentleman who didn’t care a whit for her, who’d dismissed her as dull and tedious before he ever troubled himself to know her at all? A gentleman who kept a mistress, and used his cravat for a purpose no cravat was ever intended to be used?

  She thought of Lady Beaumont’s cruel taunts, her catlike smile. That vicious woman didn’t deserve the least bit of good fortune to fall in her path, but as it turned out, perhaps Lord Huntington would keep her as his mistress, after all.

  Either way, she didn’t have a thing to fear from Iris.

  Not anymore.

  “I warned you he might not kiss you, Iris,” Honora persisted, twisting her hands together in her lap. “He’s a gentleman.”

  A short laugh escaped Iris, and even she could hear the note of panic in it. “Yes, you did, and you were quite right. When I tried to hint a kiss would be welcome, he scolded me as if I were a naughty child.”

  “But he made you an offer.” As far as Lady Honora was concerned, this settled the question of his affections. “Why should he do that if he didn’t care for you?”

  Iris couldn’t bear to admit he’d chosen her because he thought her dull and predictable, or worse, that she’d begun to think it of herself, especially after she’d seen the way Lady Beaumont raged and teased and tempted. That moment, when she’d sunk to her knees in front of him…

  Iris had only been able see her red, silk-swathed back through the gap in the branches, but whatever she’d been doing, it had to do with Lord Huntington’s breeches.

  Not just his breeches.

  She cleared her throat. “I think he regretted his offer, so you see, it’s really for the best if we don’t marry.”

  Violet looked like she wanted to argue, but whatever she saw in Iris’s face made her pause and bite her lip. “You haven’t told Grandmother.”

  “No. I meant to, every day.” Iris gave Violet a pleading look. “I should have done so at once. I’ve only made this worse by keeping quiet, but—”

  “Oh, dear God, Iris. You have no idea how much worse you’ve made it!”

  “What do you mean?” Iris sank her fingers into the velvet seat cushion to steady herself, because she was sure she wasn’t going to like whatever Violet said next.

  “Charlotte and Captain West invited Lord Huntington to their house party!”

  “Oh, no,” Lady Honora moaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Iris. It’s going to be dreadfully awkward for you.”

  “Why would they invite Lord Huntington?” It was a foolish question. No one knew she’d jilted him, so why wouldn’t they ask him to come? As far as they knew, he was her betrothed.

  “Grandmother suggested it to Charlotte. She thought you’d be pleased.” Violet reached for Iris’s hand. “I’m so sorry for it.”

  Iris gave her sister’s hand an absent pat. “It would be awkward indeed if he were to come, but he won’t.”

  Lady Honora frowned. “But why shouldn’t he?”

  “Think of it. Charlotte, Captain West, and Grandmother don’t know I’ve jilted Lord Huntington, but Lord Huntington certainly does. Why would he accept an invitation to attend a house party with the lady who’s just jilted him? I’m certain he’ll stay far away.”

  “Yes, that makes sense.” Lady Honora’s face cleared. “He won’t come.”

  Violet wasn’t as hopeful. “Perhaps not, but what of the other problem? You’ve refused a marquess, Iris, and not just any marquess, but the Marquess of Huntington. Grandmother is going to be apoplectic, and that’s to say nothing of your future prospects.”

  I have no future prospects.

  “My prospects are bleak at best, but I’m willing to entertain brilliant suggestions, if either of you should happen to have one.”

  A long, grim silence followed, then Violet straightened against her seat. “I do have one idea.”

  Lady Honora leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “Lord Derrick will be there. You could encourage him.” Violet kept her gaze on her lap, suddenly absorbed with smoothing the wrinkles from her skirts. “It would go a long way toward soothing Grandmother’s hurt feelings over the loss of Lord Huntington if you had another suitor to replace him.”

  Iris was fond of Lord Derrick. He had lovely brown eyes, and to look into them was to see into the heart of him. He might be the one gentleman left in London who wasn’t harboring a shocking secret, if only because he couldn’t hide a thing in those melting brown eyes.

  But he was Lord Huntington’s dearest friend, and even if he did happen to show an interest in her, Iris would discourage him despite her enjoyment in his company, because Violet also enjoyed his company, and with rather more fervor than Iris did.

  Violet fussed with her skirts to avoid Iris’s gaze, and Iris felt a rush of warm affection for her sister. How dear Violet was, to offer up the gentleman she herself favored. “No. Lord Derrick is a kind, charming gentleman, but I don’t think we’d suit.”

  Violet said nothing to this, but she drew in a deep breath, and then let it out again in a sigh of relief.

  “My cousin, then!” Lady Honora beamed at them, her dark eyes triumphant. “You’ll become Lady Wrexley!”

  All three ladies turned at once to look out the window. Lord Wrexley was escorting them to Hadley House, but he’d opted to take his horse rather than ride in the carriage, and Iris had quite forgotten about him. They were friends, and he wasn’t grand or stiff like Lord Huntington. His relaxed manners and effortless charm put her at ease, but she’d never before considered him as a potential suitor.

  Now, as she watched him from the carriage window, she wondered why. He was certainly handsome, and he handled his mount with an easy grace she couldn’t fail to appreciate.

  He caught her eye, and gave her a wide smile as he touched his riding crop to his hat.

  Iris smiled back, then settled against the squabs. Her trust in her own judgment had suffered a severe blow after she’d so misjudged Lord Huntington’s character, but she knew Lord Wrexley quite well, since he was always about when she visited with Lady Honora.

  Of course, despite their familiarity, there was a chance he hid a dubious character
under his gentlemanly exterior, just as Lord Huntington and Lord Harley did. He could well have his own secrets—a mad wife hidden in the attics at his country estate, perhaps—but he seemed to be exactly what he appeared to be, that is, a carefree young earl with open, easy manners and a handsome face.

  “Lord Wrexley.” Violet tapped her finger against her lips, considering. “He is an agreeable sort of gentleman, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yes, he truly is. He’d make any young lady an enviable husband.” Lady Honora squeezed Iris’s arm, her smile giddy.

  Iris hesitated, glancing at Violet. “Well, I’ve got to do something. I’ve behaved rashly, dismissing Lord Huntington with so little thought. It will hurt Grandmother, and there’s the issue of yours and Hyacinth’s prospects—”

  “I would never want you to marry a gentleman who would make you unhappy because you’re worried about my prospects, Iris, and neither would Hyacinth.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, Violet, but—”

  “I don’t deny it would solve a great many problems if Lord Wrexley were courting you by the end of Charlotte’s house party—not just to console Grandmother, but because it will help to silence the gossips’ wagging tongues. But you have to have some affection for him, and he must feel the same for you, or else you may just as well have married Lord Huntington.”

  If she did encourage Lord Wrexley, and he wasn’t what he appeared to be…

  The ton wouldn’t overlook two jilted lords. No, if she encouraged him, she’d have to see it through to the end, or else she’d be well and truly ruined, and her sisters right along with her.

  But surely Lord Wrexley was safe enough? Honora would never adore him as she did if he were a villain, and Iris herself had never seen any reason to doubt his character. “Well, I’ve always been fond of him.”

  “Oh, it’s perfect!” Lady Honora clapped her hands together with delight. “He’s so natural and easy, particularly for a gentleman of fashion. I’m sure you’ll adore him, Iris, just as I do.”

  Violet was a bit more circumspect. “Shall we see how you feel when we arrive?”

  The knots in Iris’s stomach were twisting tighter and tighter, but she pasted a smile on her face for her sister’s sake, and nodded. “Yes. I think that’s a good idea.”

  But she’d already made up her mind, because she no longer had the luxury of consulting her feelings. If Lord Wrexley showed the slightest interest in her, she would encourage him. If all went well, she could be betrothed to him by the end of the house party.

  They didn’t speak much after that. Lady Honora lapsed into a happy silence, Violet ceased her scolding, and Iris stared out the window, watched Hampshire roll by, and tried not to think of either Lord Wrexley or Lord Huntington.

  Several hours later, when the roof of Hadley House peeked through the tops of the trees at last, Iris straightened in her seat. “We’re nearly there.”

  Violet leaned to look out the window. “Charlotte says it’s an odd house. Very large, with a maze of hallways leading in every direction.”

  Iris smiled. “Captain West wasn’t as kind as that. He told me once Hadley House makes the London rookeries look organized.”

  “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. Now, don’t look so grim, Iris. You adore Charlotte, and Lady Tallant will be here, as well. You’ve always longed to make her acquaintance.” A sly grin drifted over Violet’s lips. “I doubt our grandmother knows she was invited.”

  “Lady Tallant? Oh, dear.” Honora bit her lip. No doubt she was imagining what her own mother, Lady Fairchild, would say if she knew her daughter was attending a house party with one of London’s infamous wicked widows.

  Of course, Charlotte herself had been a wicked widow, but she also happened to be the Marchioness of Hadley, so the ton was inclined to forgive her colorful past, particularly now that she was married to Captain Julian West, a celebrated Waterloo hero.

  Lady Annabel Tallant, however, remained as wicked as ever. She was a dear friend of Charlotte’s, and the ton thought her so wicked, Lady Chase had forbidden her granddaughters the acquaintance, even after Iris begged for an introduction. She’d always been rather taken with Lady Tallant, despite her wickedness.

  Or perhaps because of it.

  “It’s bound to be a lively party, with—” Violet’s voice was swallowed by her sudden gasp, and she reached out to grip Iris’s arm.

  “Violet? What is it?” Dread slithered up Iris’s spine.

  “For goodness’s sake, Violet, are you ill?” Lady Honora went pale. “You’re frightening me!”

  Violet didn’t answer, only pointed out the widow, toward the front of the house, where a small knot of people were gathered to welcome them. Charlotte, of course, and her husband, Captain West. Lady Tallant—oh, so elegant! And Lord Derrick, so handsome in his dark blue coat, and next to him—

  Iris groped for Violet with one hand, and for Lady Honora with the other, her heart leaping into her throat.

  Next to him, his mouth pulled into a stern line, his hazel eyes fixed on their carriage as it rolled up the drive, was Lord Huntington.

  Chapter Seven

  Finn didn’t care much for fair-haired ladies. Porcelain skin, rosebud lips, and tall, slender figures didn’t make his breath short, and he wasn’t likely to get lost in a pair of blue eyes—no matter how deep a blue, or how heavily-lashed they might be.

  Miss Somerset wasn’t at all to his taste.

  He could see why other gentlemen admired her, of course. Those heavy, silky curls made a man imagine what it might be like to pull loose every pin, tangle his fingers in it, and tilt her head back so he could press his mouth against that long neck and nibble a path down to the delicious curve of her shoulder. She’d be soft there, fragrant, and her pale skin would flush so prettily, warming his lips—

  “Close your mouth, Huntington. You’re distressing Miss Somerset.”

  Finn dragged his gaze away from her to scowl at Lord Derrick. “What the devil do you mean, Derrick? I wasn’t—”

  “Looking at her the way a wolf looks at a lamb, right before he devours it? Certainly you were. Every time she so much as twitches, your legs tense, as if you’re preparing to leap over the settee and take a bite out of her. Why do you think she looks so agitated?”

  Lord Derrick raised his teacup to his lips to hide a faint smirk, but Finn saw it, and his teeth snapped together. “Nonsense. I’m not looking at her at all. I was looking at Lady Honora.”

  At least he should be looking at Lady Honora, because with her glossy dark hair and wide brown eyes, she was the one who possessed the kind of gentle beauty he’d always admired. Miss Somerset’s slender figure—no matter how graceful—was nothing next to Lady Honora’s lush curves, and then there was Miss Somerset’s coloring, which was all wrong. Her delicate, blush-pink lips couldn’t compete with Lady Honora’s red ones, even if they did look like a swollen rosebud, the lower lip a tempting curve, equal parts wickedness and vulnerability—

  “Then I beg your pardon, Huntington. I’ve just never known Lady Honora to inspire such a predatory gleam in your eye.”

  “You’ve never known Miss Somerset to inspire it, either.” Finn scowled down at his teacup. Anyone could see she wasn’t at all to his taste—anyone but Derrick, that is, who seemed determined to believe Finn was gaping at her because he couldn’t stop thinking about tasting the curve of her neck—

  “No, but then she’s never jilted you before. I think this sudden preference for the classic English rose is a direct result of her rejection. We all want what we can’t have, eh, Huntington? Such an unexpected rebellion on her part, too. I think the lady has earned your admiration at last. Damned inconvenient timing, isn’t it?”

  “This whole business is inconvenient, and the timing is the least of it.” The secrets, the potential for scandal, the lady herself—it would become a bloody mess before it wa
s resolved, and Finn detested messes.

  Lord Derrick chuckled. “That’s not a gallant sentiment for a gentleman about to embark on a courtship.” Lord Derrick smirked again, and this time he didn’t even have the decency to hide it behind his teacup.

  “Damn it, Derrick, this isn’t some romantic courtship, it’s—”

  “…and I couldn’t be happier to see you all.” Lady Hadley beamed at her guests as she passed Lady Honora a plate of refreshments. “It’s such a long journey from London, but I daresay you found a pleasant way to pass the time.”

  “Very pleasant, indeed, my lady. Beautiful ride.” Lord Wrexley’s dark gaze slid from Lady Hadley to Miss Somerset, and a slow smile curled his lips. “I can’t recall ever being so captivated by the scenery before.”

  Finn slammed his plate down on a side table with a rude clatter. “Beautiful, yes, but I doubt you’ll have an opportunity to see as much of it as you wish to, Wrexley.”

  Lord Wrexley didn’t spare him a glance, but kept his gaze on Miss Somerset. “You’re kind to be concerned, Huntington, but I assure you I intend to make the most of my visit. You see, I’ve made it a point to see as much as I possibly can in the fortnight I’m here.”

  “Ambitious of you, but you can’t hope to accomplish much in such a short time. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with your progress.”

  Lord Wrexley dismissed this concern with an idle flick of his fingers. “Oh, not to worry, Huntington. A fortnight is more than long enough for my purposes.”

  “We’ll see. Tell me, Miss Somerset. Did you find the journey as diverting as Lord Wrexley?” Finn pinned her with a hard look meant to communicate his intentions.