The Naked Baron

by Sally MacKenzie

  “Why not?” Grace tried to catch her breath. She’d had to almost run to keep up with David, he’d left the drawing room so quickly. “What is the problem?”

  The problem obviously had something to do with Lady Wordham. Miss Smyth had barely got the name out of her mouth before David had grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her out the door and into the bushes. And this trip to the vegetation had nothing to do with seduction. David wasn’t even touching her now. His hands were fisted at his sides.

  “Didn’t you hear? That woman is my grandmother.” He looked away, his jaw tense.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around him, hold him, comfort him…but what was she comforting him for? Lady Wordham had looked harmless. More than that, the poor old woman’s eyes had been full of longing and regret. And tears.

  There was something here she didn’t understand, so she must tread cautiously. “She’s your mother’s mother?”

  “Yes.”

  David still stared off into the distance. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked as taut as a bowstring.

  “Have you met her before?”

  “No, God damn it. Why would I?” He glared at her, but she wasn’t convinced he saw her. “She and her husband never came to visit—they never even sent me a note on my birthday. In all my thirty-one years, this is the first time a member of that family has acknowledged my existence.”

  Grace laid her hand on his arm. For a moment, she thought he would jerk it away, but he didn’t. He looked down at her.

  “Perhaps Lady Wordham wanted to see you, but her husband wouldn’t let her. She is recently a widow. Perhaps this is the first time she has been free to do what has been in her heart all these years.”

  David snorted derisively and looked away again—but he didn’t move away. She put her other hand on his arm as well.

  “Or perhaps she was as bad as her husband, but now sees that such malice and pettiness is wrong. Perhaps she regrets her actions—or lack of action—and wishes to make amends.”

  He looked back down at her. “Why should I think that?”

  “Why shouldn’t you? She has come all this way; she looked so eager—so happy—to see you.”

  He snorted again. She shook his arm slightly.

  “What have you got to lose, David? If she is as unfeeling as you say, you have had your opinion confirmed. You can avoid her—or even cut her—for the rest of the house party and feel justified in doing so. But if she has had a change of heart—or if she has always had a good heart—you’ve gained a grandmother and lost this anger and pain you’ve been carrying all your life. It must weigh you down terribly.”

  He stared at her, his face expressionless. Was he going to cling to his hatred, tell her to leave him alone?

  It would be best if he did. She was going to marry John, not David. She should not be out in the garden with him. She should have refused to come.

  But she could not bear for him to hold onto this pain any longer. He needed to get rid of it—to talk to his grandmother. But he needed to choose that. She could not do it for him.

  His hands came up and covered hers, and she felt his body relax.

  “Will you come with me? Will you stay with me while I talk to Lady Wordham?”

  She should say no.

  “Yes, if you wish me to.”

  “I do.” He wrapped his arms around her. “How did you get to be so wise?”

  She laughed. “It is easy to be wise when it is someone else’s problem you are solving.”

  He kissed her lightly on the nose. “Then I hope I can be wise for you, when you have a difficult problem to solve.”

  She ducked her head so he could not see her eyes, see the pain and longing she knew were there. If only he could help her solve her problems—but that would be John’s place.

  He put her hand back on his arm. “Let’s go in, and I will apologize to Miss Smyth and Lady Wordham for my rude and precipitous exit.”

  “I don’t have to apologize to you, too, do I?”

  “What?” Alex’s teacup clattered in its saucer and he felt his ears burn as he turned to look at his host. Had Motton noticed he’d been staring at Kate, watching her converse with Lady Wordham and Lady Kilgorn?

  He’d intentionally chosen a spot on the other side of the room from her when the men returned to the drawing room after port. For some reason she’d acted nervous earlier when he’d sat with her. She’d used Lady Wordham almost as a shield.

  What did she think he would do? Pounce on her? They definitely needed to have a frank conversation, but Motton’s drawing room was not the proper place.

  The viscount shrugged. “I seem to be apologizing to everyone tonight. I hope you don’t mind that Lady Oxbury is here?”

  “No, of course not. Why should I mind?” Not only was Kate here, her room was next to his—with a connecting door. Someone—Miss Smyth?—had a very twisted sense of humor. He did not expect to get a wink of sleep tonight.

  Motton smiled slightly, almost slyly, and took a sip of his tea. “Why indeed?” He looked over at Kate. “Aunt Winifred tells me you and Lady Oxbury were acquainted before her marriage.”

  Alex stiffened. “Only slightly. I believe we crossed paths once or twice when she was in London. She left to marry Oxbury before the Season was over, so she wasn’t in Town long.”

  “Hmm.”

  Dash it, what did Motton mean by hmming that “hmm” in just that tone?

  “Oxbury was many years her elder, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Did the cur think Kate had been unfaithful? “By all accounts, she was completely devoted to him.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she was. Lady Oxbury is above reproach.” There was that damn smile again. “It is…nice that she’s come back to London now that her period of mourning is over. Do you think she’ll wed again?”

  What was the man getting at? “It would not be a surprise if she did.”

  Motton nodded. “And if she did marry, she might even have a child or two.”

  Alex’s teacup crashed into its saucer.

  Motton raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “There I go, apologizing anyway. But did I say something to offend you, Wilton?”

  “No. Of course not. Just my own clumsiness. I am the one who should apologize. I must still be tired from my travels—got up very early this morning, you know.” It was past time to change the subject. “I say, I thoroughly enjoyed talking to your man Watkins. Very knowledgeable.”

  “Yes, he is, isn’t he? I—oh, blast!”

  Miss Smyth had appeared in the drawing room, accompanied by Theo on one shoulder and a small monkey dressed in the black and silver of Motton’s livery on the other.

  “I’m going to kill her. I swear I’m going to kill her.” Motton forced a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, Wilton?”

  The viscount headed toward his aunt.

  “Avast! Trouble on the portside!” Theo flapped his wings, disarranging Miss Smyth’s hair and disturbing the monkey.

  The monkey screeched.

  The Addison twins screamed.

  “Aunt Winifred, I believe we had a discussion earlier today about the livestock.”

  “Oh, pooh, Edmund. Theo is perfectly well-behaved, and you’ll see I have your namesake on a leash.” She flourished a red leather strap she had tied to the monkey’s leg.

  Alex heard a choked laugh behind him and turned. He had the very odd feeling that his heart had jumped in his chest. Kate was standing there grinning.

  His heart wasn’t the only organ jumping.

  “She named the monkey after Lord Motton. Can you believe it?”

  “No.” He grinned back at her. He hadn’t seen this uncomplicated glee on her face since she was seventeen. If only she hadn’t married Ox—

  But she had.

  It didn’t matter. That time was in the past. She was here now, unwed, and…increasing?

  Would she tell him? Should he ask?

  How do you ask such a question?

 
; He cleared his throat and gulped down the rest of his tea. This time he managed not to make the teacup clatter, though only just. Kate was watching him, a small frown between her brows. What was she thinking?

  “Would you like another cup of tea, Mr. Wilton?”

  He wouldn’t, but if he said yes, she would take his cup and go away, giving him a moment to get his heart and other organ under control.

  “Thank you, Lady Oxbury. That would be very kind.”

  She carried Alex’s cup back to the tea tray. She needed to get her nerves under control. She took a deep breath and then another as she poured the tea carefully into the cup. Her hand only shook slightly.

  She had to tell him about the child.

  The cup rattled in its saucer. She put it down quickly and glanced around. No one was paying the slightest attention to her; they were all transfixed by Miss Smyth, Lord Motton, and the monkey. Well, and the parrot, too.

  She took another breath, smiled slightly, and picked up the cup again, starting back across the room to Alex. How difficult could it be? She would just smile coolly and say, “Mr. Wilton, do you recall the evening you spent in my bed? Well, I need to inform you there has been…you will be…in less than nine months’ time…”

  Her hand shook so badly, she had to grasp the cup in both hands.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him.

  She had to tell him. He deserved to know he was going to be a fath—She swallowed. That he was going to have a chi—

  She couldn’t do it. There was no way she could get the words out.

  “Are you all right, Lady Oxbury?”

  “What! Oh, oh yes.” She’d managed to navigate the room without noticing. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Wilton.” She handed him his cup.

  He took a small sip and looked at her. She looked at him. She moistened her lips.

  “Mr. Wil—”

  “Lady Ox—”

  They smiled at each other.

  “Go ahea—”

  “You fir—”

  Kate laughed, it was too absurd. She heard Alex’s deep chuckle echo her—and then felt his hand on her arm.

  “You first, Lady Oxbury,” he said, smiling down at her. “I insist.”

  She couldn’t find the breath to speak. “Ah…”

  “Aunt Winifred!”

  She turned to look back at Viscount Motton. Now Edmund the monkey had jumped to the decorative lintel above the door and was screeching down at Edmund the viscount.

  “Get that bloody beast!”

  “Theo!” Miss Smyth frowned at her parrot. “Your language!”

  “This is one time Theo and I are in perfect agreement, aunt. Will you curb that animal?”

  “Very well. Come, Edmund.” Miss Smyth tugged on the monkey’s leash. The leash dropped out of her hands. Edmund-the-monkey screeched again and leapt for the curtains. Edmund-the-viscount looked as if he, too, would like to screech, or at least curse freely.

  Miss Smyth smiled brightly at the gathering. “Who would like to take a brisk turn about the terrace?”

  “Lady Oxbury?” Alex offered his arm. She took it and let him lead her toward the garden and darkness, where she could tell him…

  She wasn’t ready.

  Lady Kilgorn was standing by the door, watching Lord Motton and her husband try to catch the monkey. Poor woman. She’d been estranged from Lord Kilgorn for years, but now found herself sharing a bedchamber with him. It must be very uncomfortable. According to Marie, no other accommodations had yet been arranged. Surely she would enjoy a turn about the terrace.

  “Lady Kilgorn, would you like to join us?”

  She laughed. Kate guessed she was not yet thirty. She had beautiful creamy skin, jet black hair, startling blue eyes, and a ready smile—when she wasn’t glaring at someone.

  “Well, I’d like to stay and watch Ian scamper after the wee monkey, but I doubt he’d thank me for it—I’d be laughing too hard, it is so funny.” She looked from Kate to Alex. “Yes, I’d like to join you, if I won’t be in the way?”

  “No, indeed. We were just going to invite Lady Wordham to come with us as well, weren’t we, Mr. Wilton?”

  “Of course, Lady Oxbury.” Alex’s expression was unreadable. Was he annoyed or relieved? She couldn’t say. It didn’t matter. With Lady Kilgorn on her one side and Lady Wordham on the other, she was safe. She could put off the inevitable just a little longer.

  “Lord Dawson, would you be so kind as to escort me around the terrace?”

  “Oh, Lord Dawson, please, surely you would prefer to take a turn around the terrace with me?”

  David looked at the Addison twins and hoped his mouth wasn’t agape. Did they not see Lady Grace on his arm? He was certain he still felt her hand.

  He glanced down. Yes, there she was, biting her lips to keep from laughing, he was sure.

  He drew his arm closer against his side, trapping her hand securely. He was not letting her stray an inch while these man-eating maidens were in the vicinity.

  “I’m sorry, but as you can plainly”—he tried not to put too much stress on that word—“see, I am already committed to Lady Grace.”

  “Oh, but surely she will give up her place,” Abigail—or perhaps it was Amanda—said.

  “Won’t you, Lady Grace?” the other twin said. “Won’t you give up your place to me?”

  “To me.” Abigail glared at Amanda—and vice versa.

  David squeezed Grace’s hand even closer against his side, and turned to look at her. He was certain his eyes held groveling entreaty and abject terror. She couldn’t desert him now—she couldn’t be that cruel.

  She smiled slightly. “I’m sorry, but Lord Dawson and I have matters to discuss. I’m afraid I can’t cede my place to either of you.”

  Thank God! David struggled to look and sound pleasant. “And since I am completely incapable of choosing between you”—ever—“I regretfully cannot offer my other arm. And as Lady Grace says, we have matters to discuss that would certainly bore you”—since they don’t deal solely with your narrow little concerns—“so if you will excuse us?”

  He dashed out the garden door while the twins were still sputtering.

  “My heartfelt—my very heartfelt thanks, Lady Grace, for not deserting me in my hour of need.”

  She laughed. “They were rather forward, weren’t they?”

  “Rather. I have been dodging them ever since their come-out; they live near my estate. I thought I’d escaped them when I came to Town—I was not very pleased to see them in London, and I was even less pleased to see them here.”

  They strolled along the terrace. Fortunately, it was an unseasonably warm evening—a little chill, but the ladies appeared to be comfortable without their shawls. Except for Lady Oxbury—she still clutched hers; she had not shed it since she’d appeared in the drawing room.

  “Is your aunt feeling quite the thing?” Was this another sign that Lady Oxbury was increasing? Was she increasing? He had indicated to Alex that she might be, and Alex had acted as though it were a definite possibility.

  Grace frowned. “I don’t know. I confess I’ve been worried about her. She’s been behaving so oddly.”

  “Oddly? How so?” Not that he knew what behavioral signs indicated pregnancy. He only knew the behavior that precipitated the state—a behavior he would most dearly like to engage in with Grace. And if that behavior resulted in Grace growing big and heavy with his babe?

  A part of him grew big and heavy at the thought. Good God! He’d never considered children, certainly never thought he’d want one or two or more.

  Oh, of course, he knew he needed an heir, but that had been, well, just a word. He hadn’t thought of an infant, a small person with his blood flowing in its veins, a being made through a very intimate act with…

  Bloody hell, the thought was physically painful in its intensity.

  Grace sighed. “Well, you saw how weepy she was in Town. I don’t think she’s usually that way at all. And she’s been
so tired even though she’s sleeping more than usual.”

  Grace was frowning, obviously sincerely puzzled and distressed. She was a female—wouldn’t she know the signs of pregnancy? Perhaps he was mistaken. But then why had Lady Oxbury’s maid referred to her “condition”?

  Whatever the situation, Grace obviously had not been told anything. He would not mention his suspicions. Alex was here now. He was a responsible adult. Adult? The man was forty-five. Well, and Lady Oxbury was forty. One would think they were too old…

  In any event, Alex was here. This was his concern. If Lady Oxbury carried his child, Alex would not rest until he had addressed the situation to his satisfaction.

  But would it be to Lady Oxbury’s satisfaction? There were two people involved here…but, thankfully, he was not one of them. He had his own somewhat difficult female to deal with.

  “At least Mr. Wilton is here,” Grace was saying. “I am so glad. Thank you for persuading him to come.”

  Should he lie? No, he couldn’t, even by omission. “I have to confess I didn’t persuade Alex. He came to see Motton’s cultivation techniques, I suspect. He was rather surprised”—shocked would be a better adjective—“when I met him on the drive and he discovered you and Lady Oxbury were going to be guests as well.”

  “Oh?” Grace frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t signify. He’s here, that’s all that matters. Aunt Kate has the opportunity to talk to him. They can resolve any problems they have with each other.”

  Easier said than done, if the problem was the one he thought it was. The only resolution for that was a special license and vows before the parson as quick as may be. People might still count on their fingers the months between church and birth, but that couldn’t be helped. It would be vastly better for Lady Oxbury to walk down the aisle in her current state than a few months further along when she was bulging with child.

  And, of course, there was no question they must marry. Alex’s baby could not be born a bastard.

  Miss Smyth poked her head out the terrace door, her parrot still on her shoulder. “You can all come inside again,” she said brightly. “Lord Kilgorn caught Edmund—my monkey Edmund, I mean.”