The Naked Baron

by Sally MacKenzie

  “Did I actually say I would marry you, sir?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not certain these lips”—he kissed her briefly—“said yes, but these”—he flexed his hips. He was growing inside her already—“definitely did.” He drew a lazy circle around the tip of her breast with his finger, skirting her nipple. “Are you inclined to dispute it, madam?”

  “N-no.” Her nipple was again a small, hard bud. If only he would touch her there…

  “Now that I think about it, I believe I’d best keep you in this bed until I have your complete and utter agreement.” His hand moved to slide down her back and massage her bottom. “I imagine this old brain can come up with a number of persuasive arguments. What do you think?”

  “I think I am very eager”—she rolled her hips and was delighted to see Alex’s gaze sharpen—“to be persuaded.”

  “Fetch Lady Grace immediately, man. Tell her her father is waiting.”

  Oh, no. Grace stopped in the hall, a hollow feeling suddenly opening in her stomach. Not Papa! What was he doing here? He was bellowing loud enough to wake the entire house party. She hurried down the stairs to intercept Lord Motton’s butler. “It’s all right, Mr. Wilks. I’ll deal with Lord Standen.”

  “Grace,” Papa said, “pack your things. You are leaving.”

  “Hallo, Papa. Why are you here?” How did Papa even know she was at Lord Motton’s estate? She had purposely not written to tell him.

  “To bring you home, of course. Go pack your things.”

  Anger warred with embarrassment in her breast. The other house party guests were beginning to gather in the entryway. “But Papa, the party isn’t over yet.”

  “It is for you.” Papa’s jaw was set; his eyes had their stony expression. “We are leaving as soon as you are ready. I hope you don’t have too much frippery with you.”

  Didn’t these onlookers have something better to do with their time? The Addison girls, with their mouths agape, closely resembled beached fish.

  “What about Aunt Kate? I think she’s still asleep.”

  Was Papa grinding his teeth?

  “Let her sleep. She is not coming with us.” He snorted. “Her chaperoning duties are ended. Let us hope she is not forced to earn her keep as a duenna, since she certainly did a terrible job bear-leading you.”

  How dare Papa speak of Aunt Kate so dismissively? And in any event, Grace did not want to leave now, even though things were vastly uncomfortable with Lord Dawson. She would go home and do what Papa wished, but when the party was over. Not now. She needed her last few days of freedom.

  If only all the people staring at her would go off to the breakfast parlor or the garden. She’d been able to stand up to Papa back home, when she’d decided to go to London, but here…

  And perhaps the trip to London had not been a good notion. Her life had been much simpler before she’d come to Town.

  “How did you know we were here, Papa?”

  Papa scowled. “Oxbury wrote me. The man’s an ass, but at least he had the sense to warn me my daughter was going off with a Wilton. Unlike my blasted sister.”

  He said “Wilton” in the same tone he’d use for “vermin.” Anger twisted in her stomach. She wanted to shout, but shouting at her father never did any good, and it would just add to the spectacle they were presenting. The Addison twins were whispering to each other now.

  Perhaps she could reason with him.

  “You are not still bearing a grudge, are you, Papa? The scandal with Lady Harriet happened over thirty years ago.”

  Papa’s lips drew into a tight, thin line—the corners of his mouth grew white and his nostrils flared. “And how do you know that story, miss? I’ve never told you it, I’m certain of that.”

  “I—”

  “What’s going on here?” Lord Dawson pushed his way past the Addisons and strode over to stand next to her. “Is this man bothering you, Grace?”

  Grace closed her eyes briefly. Could the situation get any worse? David looked ready to flatten Papa—and Papa looked equally inclined to fisticuffs. That would certainly add to this raree-show—the two of them pummeling each other in Lord Motton’s entryway, though Papa would be the one getting pummeled.

  She struggled to breathe. She’d almost forgotten this feeling of walls closing in, of being trapped and helpless. She hadn’t felt it since Lord Alvord’s ball—since her…friendship with Lord Dawson. Her friendship that was shortly to end.

  She sighed. “No, everything is fine, Lord Dawson.” Fine? Ha! As fine as a sunny day in Hell. “This man is my father, Lord Standen. Papa, Lord Dawson.”

  David’s eyebrows shot up; then he smiled slightly and extended his hand. “Ah, my apologies, Standen. I misunderstood the matter.”

  Papa’s expression became even stonier. He looked down at David’s hand as if it were a rotting fish and then turned away, giving him the cut direct.

  “I told you to get ready, Grace.”

  David’s brows snapped down. “Now see here—”

  Grace put out a hand to stop him. Even Lord Kilgorn, Lady Kilgorn, and Lady Wordham had joined the crowd. Those obnoxious Addison girls were hanging on each syllable, memorizing every mortifying aspect of the scene so they could recount it later to all and sundry.

  If only she knew a magic word to make herself disappear. She should have gone up to gather her things the moment she’d seen Papa. If she had, she’d be out in his carriage by now, rolling down the drive. She’d already decided she had to go home after the house party, hadn’t she? It was not such a great tragedy to leave early.

  “It’s all right.” She took a deep breath. She hated it when she sounded so breathless. She wasn’t frightened. She was embarrassed. She just did not like being the center of attention. “I’ll go—”

  “Lord Standen!” Miss Smyth hurried in from the breakfast parlor, Theo perched on her shoulder. “How nice of you to stop by. Come into the red drawing room and I’ll get you a pot of tea. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.” She frowned slightly. “Did I know you were coming?”

  “Tea! Man wants ale, matey.”

  Papa glared at Theo and then at Miss Smyth. “This is not a social call, madam. Thank you for your kind offer, but I will be staying only as long as it takes my daughter to pack her belongings.” He turned his glare back to Grace. His very limited patience was obviously reaching its end.

  “Oh.” Miss Smyth blinked. “But the party isn’t over yet.” She looked at Grace. “Do you wish to leave now, dear?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” Grace took another breath. “I mean my father’s here now. It’s convenient for me to leave.”

  No! David wanted to shake Grace. What was happening to her? Where was the fiery woman who’d fought and argued with him, who’d insisted they find a way to bring Alex and Lady Oxbury together? Where was the girl who had bullied him into meeting with his grandmother? She had gone and left behind this beautiful shell, this pale, cringing shadow of his Grace.

  This was clearly Standen’s doing. He’d like to throttle the bloody bastard.

  “Party’s not over.” Theo cocked his head, and turned one eye to examine the earl. “Spoil-sport.”

  Standen’s face turned red and his fists clenched as if he was only a hair’s breadth from grabbing Miss Smyth’s parrot and wringing its neck.

  “What seems to be the difficulty, Aunt Winifred?” Lord Motton came out of his study and surveyed the assortment of people gathered in the entryway. “Hallo, Standen. You just arrive?”

  “Yes. And I am just departing, as soon as my daughter gets her things.” Standen turned to Grace, his nostrils flaring. “You are keeping the horses standing, Grace.”

  “But the house party isn’t over yet.” Motton smiled. “Why don’t you join us? I’m sure we can find you a room.”

  Miss Smyth coughed significantly.

  “Ah, so there are extra rooms, are there?” Lord Kilgorn said, his voice rather quiet and dangerous-sounding.

 
; Motton looked at his aunt. “Would you care to answer that question, Aunt Winifred?”

  Miss Smyth smiled brightly at Lord Kilgorn. “Extra rooms, my lord?”

  “Aye.”

  She glanced at Lord Standen. “Well, there might be one, but only in a manner of speaking, you know.”

  Lord Kilgorn raised an eyebrow. “In a manner of speaking?”

  “Yes. You know how it is.”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I canna say I do.”

  Miss Smyth kept smiling. “Ah. Well, I suppose it is a bit complicated, what with this and that. And the other.”

  “Madam.” Lord Standen bit off each word. “Do not concern yourself. I am not staying.” He almost shouted at Grace. “Get your things now.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “But—” David choked down panic. He was not going to let Grace go without a fight—he could not let her go. Yes, she’d rejected his suit yesterday, but he’d sensed regret and sorrow in her answer. She cared for him, he knew it. He just needed to overcome her scruples, whatever they might be. He’d counted on having a few more days to persuade her. She couldn’t leave now.

  Standen was white with rage. David didn’t care; he wasn’t afraid of the earl. It was Grace’s look that stopped him. Her eyes held pain and entreaty. She did not want him to say more, so, much as it went against the grain, he held his peace. Grace gave him a fleeting smile and hurried upstairs.

  With her departure, the gawkers dispersed. David kept a close eye on the Addison twins. It looked as if they might approach him, but thankfully, they changed their minds and headed off toward the music room. With Grace gone, he would have to be extra cautious around those two.

  Hell, if Grace left, he wouldn’t stay either. He’d head back to London as quick as may be.

  “Why don’t you come into my study, Standen?” Motton said. “You may as well be comfortable while you wait.”

  “I’ll be comfortable standing right here.”

  “Nevertheless…” Motton stepped aside to usher Standen into the study. The earl went reluctantly. As soon as the door closed behind the man, David took the stairs two at a time. He hurried down the hall and rapped on Grace’s door. He wouldn’t be so bold normally, but desperate straits called for desperate measures—and fortunately everyone was either still asleep or already downstairs. There were no gossips in evidence.

  “My lord.” Marie opened the door. “Please come in and see if ye can talk some sense into my lady.”

  Grace whirled around. “Lord Dawson! What are you doing here?”

  David stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He had no time for roundaboutation. “Grace, don’t leave.”

  Grace’s eyes dropped from his. She stared at her portmanteau as she stuffed a handful of clothes inside it. “I have to leave. Papa is here.”

  “No, you don’t. You are of age. Your father cannot order your obedience.”

  She glanced up. “It is not a matter of obedience. I love my father. I do not wish to hurt him.”

  “But what about me?” Desperation trumped pride. “Do you not care that you hurt me?”

  She straightened, pushing her hair back off her face. “Of course I care, but you will get over it.”

  Good God! Her words turned like a knife in his gut. “How can you say that? How can you dismiss what I feel out of hand?”

  Grace’s eyes were strained, but dry. “How long have you known me, Lord Dawson? A few weeks?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “What can a person really feel—really know—about someone in such a short time? Attraction, yes. You are attracted to me. If circumstances were different, that might be enough. But circumstances are not different. There is too much history between our families for us to overcome. And Mr. Parker-Roth expects me to meet him at the altar.” She closed her portmanteau. “You will find some other girl who will suit you as well or better than I. You will get over me.”

  “I won’t.” He swallowed. He finally understood how his father must have felt, faced with the threat of losing his love to another man. Society and reputations be damned. David would grab Grace right now and flee for Gretna if she were willing.

  If she were willing. But she wasn’t willing. She obviously didn’t feel for him what he felt for her.

  So now he also knew how Standen had felt when Lady Harriet chose his father over him—and that pain had stayed with the man through a marriage and Grace’s childhood, year after year, even till today.

  “Your father didn’t get over losing Lady Harriet.”

  Grace stared at him, her mouth slightly open, as if his statement had caught her unawares. Was she going to change her mind?

  No. She shook her head, a wooden, determined expression on her face.

  “The situations aren’t the same,” she said. “If anyone is in my father’s position, it is John Parker-Roth. If I were mad enough to run off with you, he would be left standing alone at the front of the church, jilted as my father was.”

  David had little sympathy for a man who had so failed to woo Grace he hadn’t even kissed her. “But does Parker-Roth love you, Grace? He may like you; he may find you a comfortable—a safe—option for marriage, but does he love you? Does he ache for you and dream of you? Does his heart leap when he sees you? Is he always listening for your voice, waiting for your smile?”

  David clenched his teeth. He had to stop blathering on so—he was making a fool of himself. He couldn’t force Grace to love him. Love was a gift that must be given freely.

  Grace bit her lip and stared at him. He thought he saw uncertainty in her eyes again. He started to open his arms to welcome her back, but she shook her head and turned away.

  “My father is waiting for me, Lord Dawson, and as I’m sure you discerned, he is not a patient man. I must go.”

  “Very well.” The searing pain of her rejection made it hard to breathe, but he would not fall apart—he would keep a stiff upper lip. He extended his hand. “I wish you the best, Lady Grace.”

  She put her smaller hand in his. “As I wish the same for you, my lord.”

  Did he feel a trembling in her fingers, see moisture in her eyes? Before he could be certain, she’d left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Marie stood, hands on hips, and looked him up and down. She made a guttural sound that spoke volumes.

  “Och, my lord, and here I was thinking ye actually had something in that brain box of yers.”

  Chapter 19

  “David, we wanted you to be the first to hear our good news.”

  David looked up from the desiccated earthworm he’d been studying. The sun was out, the flowers were in bloom, but the only thing that seemed real to him at the moment was this poor dead creature that had been stupid enough to venture out of the safe, dark earth.

  Alex was grinning. Hell, Alex and Lady Oxbury were positively glowing. He’d never seen Alex so happy. If he could feel anything, he would feel delighted for them. “So I see you’ve ironed out your differences?”

  “Yes. I’m getting a special license and we’ll be married as soon as possible.”

  David forced himself to grip Alex’s hand. “Congratulations.” He looked at Grace’s aunt. “And best wishes, Lady Oxbury.” He tried for a touch of levity. “Or should I say good luck? You are taking on a formidable chore, ma’am. Everyone thought my uncle a confirmed bachelor.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried.” She looked adoringly up at Alex, then glanced around the garden. “But where is Grace? We thought she’d be out here with you.”

  Just hearing Grace’s name caused a stabbing sensation in his gut. “Didn’t you hear? Lady Grace left.”

  Lady Oxbury’s eyes widened. “Grace left? When? How? Why wasn’t I told?”

  David clasped his hands behind his back. “Lord Standen arrived about an hour ago. Apparently the current Lord Oxbury alerted him to the fact Lady Grace was attending a house party that included members of the nefarious Wilton family.” He meant to sound se
lf-mocking, but he feared he merely sounded bitter. “I regret to say I believe the earl is not very pleased with you, Lady Oxbury. He seems to feel you should have prevented the situation.”

  “I can’t believe it.” She looked at Alex. “Could my brother be that stupid?”

  “Apparently he could.” Alex frowned at David. “And you let her go?”

  “Of course I did. What did you expect me to do? I have no influence with Lady Grace.”

  “No? I would have thought otherwise.” Lady Oxbury worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “My brother must have forced her.”

  “No, Lady Oxbury, he did not. Your niece went willingly, I assure you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Grace wouldn’t have returned home without complaint.”

  “Well, she did.” He took a calming breath. There was no point in snapping at Lady Oxbury. “She is betrothed to a neighbor.”

  “Mr. Parker-Roth. Yes, I knew there was an understanding of some sort, but I also know she doesn’t love him.” Lady Oxbury shook her head. “She couldn’t be repeating my mistake, could she?”

  “It sounds as if she is.” Alex turned to David. “And so you must not repeat my mistake.”

  “What are you talking about?” David was not in the mood for riddles.

  “Twenty-three years ago,” Lady Oxbury said, “I did what my brother wanted me to do. I left London and married Lord Oxbury. I let family loyalty separate me from your uncle.”

  “And I should have come after you.” Alex kissed Lady Oxbury’s fingers. “Or I should have persuaded you that night in Alvord’s garden to flee to Gretna with me immediately. I should have anticipated how Standen would react.”

  “Nonsense. Who could have guessed my brother would bundle me off to the country? More to the point, who could have imagined he would marry me off so quickly? One does not expect such behavior in this day and age—even the day and age of twenty-three years ago. It is positively barbaric.”

  “I’m afraid your brother is barbaric, at least where my family is concerned, Kate.”

  Lady Oxbury sighed and shook her head. “I don’t understand it. I can’t think his heart was broken when Harriet ran off with Luke—he did marry Margaret a few years afterward and they seemed to have had a comfortable enough arrangement.”