by LeFey, Liana
He would find someone else.
Percy’s head ached abominably. It was as if boulders ground against one another beneath his eyelids. In his youth, recovery from a night of carousing had been a simple matter. Not so much anymore.
But it had been worth it, because this time he’d gotten somewhere.
He wouldn’t tell Fanny yet, not until he was sure, but it looked like their luck had finally changed. Lulled into a false sense of security by Percy’s cesspit of a reputation, an unsavory fellow named Rowell had boasted of acquiring goods fitting the girl’s description of Abigail. The man Rowell worked for had very particular tastes and offered rich rewards to those who could indulge them. He must inform Loxdon, the investigator assisting him in the search, so the proper watches could be set on the man. With any luck, the blackguard would lead them straight to the girl and the monster who had bought her.
Spurred to action by the thought, Percy flung off the coverlet and sat up, wincing at both the pain behind his eyes and the stench rising off him. It appeared his man had managed to get him out of his clothes at least, but he was in a sorry state. Coffee and a bath were needed. Especially the bath. The reek of liquor, smoke, and some woman’s sickly-sweet perfume yelled in his nostrils.
Just as he opened his mouth to bellow for his valet, Seamus opened the door. “Good morning, my lord. Allow me to fetch your robe.” The moment his master was decent, Seamus opened the door to usher in a maid bearing a coffee service, as well as several footmen lugging buckets of steaming hot water.
“Good man,” murmured Percy, vowing to raise his wages. As with all good valets, the man had anticipated his master’s wants and needs. The coffee cleared the lingering cobwebs and allowed him to nibble at his toast without ill effect. Soaking in the warm water eased the complaints from his stiff, abused limbs. Neither did anything, however, to ease his mind.
It had been a fortnight, yet Eden-blasted-Lowther still occupied his thoughts in the most infuriating manner. He’d be playing cards, and the memory of her smile would intrude without warning. He’d be riding, and the color of the sky or a cluster of bluebells would put him in mind of her eyes. He’d lie down to sleep, but the moment his lids closed he would recall her wounded look when he’d accused her of being deliberately cruel. Occupying himself with feverish activity hadn’t worked, either. Her touch had stirred him as none other. In fact, the memory of it was stirring him even now.
“Bollocks.” Muttering a steady stream of invective, he hauled himself up and out of the tub, wrapped the sheet about his waist, and yelled for Seamus. He prayed God the man wouldn’t notice his half-aroused state. Confound the woman! One bloody encounter, and she’d managed to set her hook in him. He must go and see Loxdon, after which he would find the nearest pub and take the hair of the dog. Maybe that would bring him back to reason.
Three hours later, Percy found himself on the doorstep of Eden’s house without really knowing how he’d gotten there or why he was there to begin with. Whether it was to prove, in the light of day, that she wouldn’t be as beautiful as he remembered, or to satisfy some irrational impulse originating from his nether region, he didn’t know. All he knew was he must see her.
His gut was tight and his head full of gauze all over a silly female who didn’t even like him. Perhaps that’s what bothers me most. Am I truly so vain? He was shown into a parlor and told to wait. A quarter of an hour later, he bowed deeply before Lady Catherine Lowther, Eden’s stepmother. “I am your most humble servant, madam, and I thank you for receiving me.”
To his surprise, the stately looking woman greeted him with but the shallowest of curtsies and cool cordiality rather than the effusive reception he’d anticipated. “Well met, sir,” said an unsmiling Lady Catherine. Marquess or not, he was clearly not welcome. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
He blinked at the shortness of her address and blurted, “I’ve come to call on Miss Lowther.”
The woman didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Why?”
Still standing as she’d not yet invited him to be seated, Percy flushed. Not because of her blunt, almost rude manner, but rather because damned if he hadn’t come on impulse without any explanation for himself. “Because…because I wanted to…to…”
“Please excuse my lateness.” Gliding past her stepmother, whose glare could have taken the hide off an elephant, Eden waited for him to bow before curtsying in return. “I was just now informed of your arrival. I can only assume you came to offer an apology?”
“Well…yes, actually,” Percy replied, eyeing Lady Catherine, who appeared on the verge of apoplexy. How odd she should be so hostile toward him when any other mama in England would be giddy to have him standing in her parlor. “I was unconscionably rude the night we met,” he continued, addressing Eden. “I’ve come to cast myself upon your mercy and humbly beg forgiveness.”
“Very well, you are forgiven. Now, if you will excuse me, I—”
“I also came to ask if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Latham lawn luncheon this Thursday,” he said in a rush, desperate to keep her in the room and talking to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Catherine’s lips compress into a thin line. “Both of you, of course,” he amended, including her.
Lady Catherine opened her mouth to no doubt deliver some polite excuse, but before she could do so, Eden replied with, “We would be delighted.”
A quiet, strangled noise from the older woman let him know Eden would be hearing about this later. But the milk had already been spilled. Eden’s acceptance could not be retracted without great awkwardness and embarrassment. He looked to his hostess. Would her dislike of him overcome good manners? Had he really fallen so far?
After a moment, Lady Catherine nodded grudging assent. “We would indeed,” she answered without inflection. “Will you stay for tea, my lord?”
“I’m afraid I cannot,” he said, refusing her clipped offer with an easy smile. “I was only passing through and have other business to which I must attend. But I shall call again on Thursday to escort you to the luncheon,” he promised. “Ladies, it has been a pleasure.”
Bowing, he excused himself and walked out, unable to keep from grinning. Damned if he hadn’t just run the bloody gauntlet! As he climbed into his carriage, he reflected upon his sudden lightness of heart. He’d come, he’d seen, he’d conquered. She’d accepted his invitation despite her warden’s obvious disapproval, which meant she must like him a little.
Vanity satisfied, he relaxed against the squabs and contemplated his next move. Destroying his reputation again now seemed less appealing. Perhaps this momentary lapse of reason could work in his favor? If he were seen single-mindedly pursuing the beautiful Miss Lowther, it might deter other females.
It was a brilliant idea. He’d attach himself to her just enough to keep the others at bay, and make amends with her in the process. She, too, would benefit from their association. Wherever he led, other men often followed. He’d make a valiant and obvious, yet ultimately unsuccessful, attempt to woo her. And when she found him lacking, he would walk away defeated, and she would be left to choose from among England’s finest.
If he made it look like a serious pursuit, Lady Catherine might also be more genial. Not that he had any reason to require the woman’s approval. After all, this was merely a means of apologizing to Eden for his boorish behavior—and achieving a measure of peace from London’s ravenous she-wolves. One Season of being left unmolested would serve—for now. He’d cross next Season’s bridge when he came to it.
…
Eden almost laughed aloud as she peeked through the curtained window to watch him leave. This could not be more perfect! As her gaze swung over to her stepmother, however, her elation withered.
“I demand a full explanation,” said Catherine, quietly closing the door. “At once.”
Schooling her features into proper sobriety, Eden made ready her excuse. She’d known this was coming the instant she’d hear
d his voice from down the hall. Already, she’d been the recipient of a mighty scolding for granting him a dance, but it had been well worth it. He’d come to heel! For the moment, however, there was a price to be paid for her victory.
“I assure you I did not in any way encourage this visit.” Not with words, at least. “I’ve really no idea what inspired him to call. Perhaps he truly felt remorse for the way he behaved when we last spoke.”
Her stepmother’s eyes widened with incredulity. “Ha! That dandified blackguard has no such sense of decency. And he has no business associating with innocent young ladies,” she concluded with a snort. “Eden, what will people think if he takes an interest in you? They’ll think you’ve given him cause, that’s what! You rejected five offers last Season, and now—”
“And I was completely justified in doing so,” Eden cut in, furious. “Am I to be trodden upon for those decisions in perpetuity? I realize you wish me gone with all haste, but I will not take myself down the aisle with the first—or even the sixth—man to propose marriage simply because you wish Thomas unrivaled in Papa’s affections.”
The hurt on her stepmother’s face told her she’d made a grave error.
“That’s not true,” said Catherine, a tremor in her voice. “Eden, I may not be your mother, but I had hoped, at some point during the last nine years, you might at least come to view me as a friend. Your place in your father’s heart can never be usurped. Just as to this day he still loves your mother, he will always love you. But you cannot remain with us forever. You are nearly twenty-one and—”
“I’m well aware of my age,” Eden again interrupted, her face hot. “But allow me to again remind you I have no need to marry. I’ve money enough of my own to live into my dotage in comfort. Why can you not simply leave me be?”
Upon her death, Mama had settled on her a sum apart from her dowry to serve as security against just this sort of thing. She’d known Papa would remarry and his new wife might produce a male heir, and she’d wanted her daughter to have money of her own that wasn’t contingent upon her marriage. Once Eden had attained her majority, those funds had been released directly to her. With quiet advice from Papa and help from their solicitor, she’d managed to increase that gift through careful investment. Had she been without a dowry, she still would have no “need” to marry.
It was a bone of contention with her stepmother, who felt it inspired rebellion. That her stepdaughter had actually earned money by means of entrepreneurship was a terrible secret Eden knew Lady Catherine would never want to come to light. The daughter of an earl, her stepmother had tried for too long to rise above the stigma of having married a mere baronet who dabbled in trade.
“This is not about whether or not you need to marry,” insisted Catherine. “Why must you always view me in such a disagreeable light? I’m not trying to be rid of you! I’m trying to help you build a life for yourself. A proper life with a home and a family of your own—a happy life. It’s not right for a beautiful young woman like you to be without a husband!”
“Nor is it right to marry a man I cannot love,” Eden shot back.
“You won’t know whether or not love is possible if you never give any gentleman a chance to prove himself. I have introduced to you every sort of man in the hope of making a good match—a love match, if possible—but none have passed muster. Surely there must be one you find acceptable.”
Not every sort of man. Eden kept the thought behind her teeth.
Coming to stand before her, Catherine took her hands. “Ever have you refused to share yourself, so that no one may ascertain your wants. Tell me what it is you desire, so that I may help you attain it.”
She was tired of hiding. Tired of making up excuses. “You really want to know? Then I shall tell you. My heart’s desire walked through that door just now—and you very nearly sent him away without allowing him a chance to prove himself.”
“Tavistoke?” Catherine released her. “Are you mad? He is the last man on this good green earth you should ever consider for a husband! He’s a—a—” She broke off, red-faced. Her tone became placating. “Eden, be reasonable. Why not Lord Ravenwood, or that nice Mallowby fellow? Both are handsome, wealthy, and titled. Why in heaven’s name would you set your cap for someone like Tavistoke when you’ve but to crook your finger and half a dozen decent gentlemen would instantly bend knee?”
“Because Tavistoke is the only one I want.” Until he’d touched her, she’d been unacquainted with carnal desire. It had been something she’d heard about but had never experienced. Now, thanks to him, she knew what it was to want a man. But she couldn’t say such a thing without causing all manner of uproar.
A gasp of incredulous laughter burst from her stepmother’s gaping mouth. “Surely you are not so foolish as to imagine yourself in love with the man, not after a single dance?”
“Of course not, but I like him.”
“Like him? This is marriage we are discussing, a permanent pairing!”
“I realize this,” Eden snapped, her patience dwindling. “I tried to like the others. Unfortunately, none of them suited me. I believe Tavistoke does.”
“He’s a rake, Eden!” her stepmother hissed. “And not just any rake, but one who dallies with married women and—and—” Her face reddened further. “Do you truly think you can turn him from his wickedness?” Lips pressed together, she shook her head. “The hubris of youth!”
“Papa changed,” Eden countered.
“Your father may have been a bit wild in his youth, but he was nothing like Tavistoke. Tavistoke is a dyed-in-the-wool roué. That man will never be altered.”
“I believe he already has been. Lady Montg—”
“Ah, yes. Lady Montgomery,” scoffed the older woman. “I know all about that one. She barely managed to escape him. Fortunately for her, she realized her mistake in time—though I am not the first to say the circumstances of her marriage to Montgomery remain a complete scandal. The whole affair was stitched up very badly indeed.”
“How can you blame him for her having eloped with another man? He committed no error!”
Catherine drew herself up. “She only did so because Tavistoke’s interest in her was, at best, shallow. He no more loved her than you love him now.”
But Eden knew better. She’d seen the way he’d looked at the woman. Her stepmother would never believe it, of course. A different approach was needed. “I’ve watched him from afar since I was old enough to spy from the gallery,” she admitted, feeling herself blush. “With my eyes I have followed him from the moment I first saw him. He is the one I want. The one I’ve always wanted.”
Her stepmother looked at her in stunned silence. “Why have you said nothing of this until now?”
“Because until now I did not think there was any possibility of attaining my desire,” Eden replied. “You wished me to choose, and I have chosen.” Her stepmother’s face was unreadable. Panic threatened. “His reputation notwithstanding, he certainly meets the other requirements you’ve set forth. He’s handsome, wealthy, and titled. In fact, he possesses those qualities in greater quantity than any of the other gentlemen you’ve named worthy.”
“My God, Eden…”
Desperation spurred her to boldness. “If he does not come up to scratch before the end of the Season, I promise to accept another offer. If I cannot have him, it won’t matter whom I marry.”
Catherine slowly shook her head. “I may not be your mother, Eden, but I have helped raise you these nine years. I genuinely care for you. While it is true I wish you to marry, I also wish you to be happy. That man cannot possibly—”
“That is for me to decide, is it not?” she asked. “He’s not the devil everyone says he is. You will see.” She could tell from the stubborn tilt of her stepmother’s chin it wasn’t enough. Well, if appealing to the heart wasn’t the means to achieving her ends, then the head would have to do. “He’s a marquess. Even if you are willing to deny him the privilege of calling on me and thus risk
subsequent censure from him and his peers, you cannot possibly deny me such an opportunity for advancement. Not when he has shown such promising interest.”
Still not enough, but Eden could see her argument was beginning to hold sway. “He has not called upon an unwed female of good family in almost two years. That he has done so today must be of some significance.”
“You are your father’s daughter and no mistake,” muttered Catherine. “Once he sets his mind on having a thing, nothing will do but that he have it, even if it be to his own detriment.” She bowed her head. “Very well. We will accompany Tavistoke to the Lathams’ party, and I will allow him to call on you. But he will abide by the rules of propriety according to my standards. Marquess or not, should he set so much as a single toe out of line I shall decline to again receive him.”
“I understand, as I am sure he does,” Eden replied, relieved. “Thank you.”
“I’ll accept no gratitude concerning this matter,” grumped Catherine. “I’m no fool, Eden. I’m well aware the forbidden fruit is the greatest of all temptations. It is my hope that in allowing you to see him under my watchful eye, you will see he is a wolf in sheep’s wool before he has an opportunity to break your heart or worse, ruin you.”
Chapter Four
Thursday
Eden fussed over her attire until Elsie, her maid, was all but in tears. She didn’t care. Everything had to be perfect for this most delicate moment. The holy grail of all rakes was within her reach, and she had to ensure he stayed interested.
Not interested—fascinated!
He must fall in love with her completely. It would be a challenge with her stepmother hovering over them like some malevolent butterfly, but she’d manage it. Somehow.
