When to Engage an Earl

by Sally MacKenzie

  Why had she flushed so violently when she’d seen him? Was she as embarrassed about last night as he was? Or was there another, more immediate issue?

  He glanced down to ascertain that the buttons of his fall hadn’t somehow worked their way loose.

  And then Martha caught sight of him and her chubby little face lit with a huge smile. “Unca Alwic!” she squealed, leaving Miss Conover to run toward him with her awkward, two-year-old gait.

  Her sister Judith easily outdistanced her. “We have a new baby, Uncle Alex,” she said excitedly, clapping her hands and giving a little hop. “A boy baby!”

  “So I heard.”

  Martha arrived then and raised her hands to be picked up, so he lifted her small, sturdy body. She smiled and rested her head against his, patting his cheek with a pudgy, slightly sticky hand as he settled her into the crook of one arm.

  Longing pierced his heart.

  God, I wish I had children of my own.

  He would someday. He was only thirty. He’d take some time to recover from his experience with Charlotte and then he’d try again.

  Judith captured his free hand and pulled him over to where Diana sat with her son—and a still very flushed Miss Wilkinson, who would not look up at him.

  Diana, however, had no such problem. She caught his eye and smiled knowingly.

  It was a good thing he didn’t have a free hand, because his cravat was suddenly feeling quite tight. If he’d tried to loosen it, his sister’s blasted smile would broaden so she’d look like a bloody Cheshire cat. Quite clearly, she thought her matchmaking efforts were succeeding.

  But she was wrong—her meddling was not going to end with a wedding.

  Judith tugged on his hand to regain his attention. “Stinky has a tiny, little doodle, Uncle Alex. I saw Nurse wash him. He piddled and hit her in the face. It was funny. Show Uncle Alex Stinky’s doodle, Mama.”

  Diana, experienced mother that she was, didn’t blush, but Alex felt his color deepen.

  He didn’t have the courage to look at Miss Wilkinson.

  “Judith, remember how we talked about how some things are private?”

  “But Stinky’s a baby, Mama.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s not polite to talk about him that way.”

  Judith frowned and then shrugged and looked up at Alex. “I suppose you have a big doodle like Daddy’s, so you don’t care about seeing Stinky’s.”

  How was he to reply to that? He could see, from the corner of his eye, that Diana was trying valiantly not to laugh.

  “Judith,”—she managed to sound stern—“you are not to talk about doodles at all.”

  “But, Mama—”

  “Now go play with your doll and let Uncle Alex sit for a while with me and Miss Wilkinson.”

  That was the last thing he wanted. “I don’t think—”

  Miss Wilkinson looked up and spoke at the same time. “Oh, I should go back to—”

  “Nonsense.” Diana gestured to Miss Conover, who came and took Martha from him and led Judith away. “It is too nice a morning to spend inside.” She smiled—rather slyly in Alex’s opinion—and then feigned dismay. “Oh, dear! I’ve just remembered something I meant to discuss with Miss Conover. Will you hold Stinky for a moment, Miss Wilkinson?”

  Alex wasn’t so blind that he couldn’t see an obvious ruse right under his nose.

  Miss Wilkinson looked horrified. “I’ve never held a baby. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Stinky’s almost two months old and quite sturdy.” Diana plopped the baby onto Miss Wilkinson’s lap and got up. “Just keep your hands on him and you’ll be fine.”

  Christopher honored Miss Wilkinson with a toothless smile.

  “Ohh.” Miss Wilkinson smiled back. And then looked up at him, the beginnings of panic in her eyes. “I really never have held a baby.”

  He took the seat his sister had vacated. “No?” He thought all women had experience tending infants, but he sensed saying that would not help Miss Wilkinson feel more confident.

  “No. Cat has lots of younger siblings, but I only had Randolph and he’s five years older.” She looked at him. “How much older than you is your sister?”

  “Five years also.” He pulled a face. “I got stuck playing tea party and other such girlish games quite a bit when I was still in leading strings.”

  Miss Wilkinson laughed. “Having an older brother was much different. Randolph ignored me when he could and tolerated me—barely—when he couldn’t.” She looked over at Bea. “You must have been . . . what? Thirteen when Bea was born?”

  “Yes. And since, as you can see, Diana and Roger have been quite prolific, I’ve been surrounded by children of various ages for years.” And soon he’d be playing honorary uncle to Marcus’s and Nate’s children.

  I’d like to have my own children. My own family.

  Right. But not yet. Not until I’ve sorted things out.

  Christopher started fussing.

  “Oh, what should I do?” The panic was now in Miss Wilkinson’s voice. “Perhaps you should take him.”

  He could, but for some reason he was enjoying watching her manage the baby. “Try holding him up to your shoulder and patting him on the back.”

  She gave him a doubtful look, but did what he suggested. Christopher settled down nicely.

  Miss Wilkinson giggled. “He’s sucking on my neck. It feels so funny.”

  He had a very inappropriate urge to do the same thing.

  It was going to get very uncomfortable—for him, if no one else—if he couldn’t cure himself of these feelings for Miss Wilkinson. Even if he could indulge in a pleasant flirtation with her—which he was quite certain the Spinster House spinster would not welcome—he couldn’t risk creating bad blood between them. How awkward that would be. Her closest friends were married to his closest friends. They were going to cross paths for years.

  “Oh, dear. What’s he doing now?” Miss Wilkinson looked at Alex in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  Alex looked at Christopher. The baby’s face was red and he was grunting.

  He tried not to laugh. “I think Stinky may have just illustrated how he got his nickname.”

  She frowned at him—and then sniffed. “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose and looked back at the baby. “What do I do now?”

  “Call in reinforcements. Diana!”

  Diana looked over from where she was chatting with Miss Conover. “What is it?”

  “Stinky is . . . stinky.”

  “Oh, he did just eat.”

  Miss Conover collected young Christopher, taking him off to be cleaned up elsewhere, while Diana got the younger girls settled with Bea and Caroline and came back to join them.

  “Stinky didn’t dirty your dress, did he, Jane?” Diana asked.

  “N-no.” Miss Wilkinson stood to inspect her skirt. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, if you find any, er, spots, you must let me know and we’ll get everything set to rights.”

  Miss Wilkinson nodded.

  “Where’s everyone else?” Alex asked, hitting on the first topic that occurred to him which didn’t involve Stinky’s bowels.

  “Here and there,” Diana said. “Mama went into the village with Mr. Grant. You know they’re going to make a match of it, don’t you?”

  “What?!”

  Bea and Caroline looked over and even the game of tag paused.

  “It’s nothing,” Diana called to her daughters and then looked back at Alex. “Didn’t you know?”

  “I never thought about it.” Another example of his failure to understand the people around him. Now that he did consider the matter, he had seen Grant with Mama a lot recently. But... “Aren’t they a little old for such things?” Mama had more than fifty years in her dish.

  Diana laughed. “Clearly not. And it took me a while to get used to the idea, too, but I think they will be very happy together.”

  “If you say so.” Likely they just wanted some companio
nship—some platonic companionship—in their twilight years.

  Miss Wilkinson reclaimed their attention. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go in now.”

  “Very well.” Diana smiled—and Alex’s inner alarms went off again. That particular smile always meant trouble. “I forgot to ask—how did you enjoy your walk this morning?”

  “It was f-fine.” Jane turned a truly remarkable shade of crimson.

  Diana was grinning now. “The lake is very pretty in the early morning. I enjoy walking there myself—or I did before I had Stinky getting me up at all hours.” She laughed. “But he’ll sleep through the night eventually. They all do, thank God.”

  Alex knew Diana was talking, but her words were just a meaningless drone after the word lake.

  He stared at Jane. “You were at the lake this morning?”

  She stared back at him, swallowed—and then managed the smallest nod. “Y-your sister s-suggested I w-walk there.”

  He turned his gaze on his sister. He’d told her he was going for a swim. “Diana.”

  “What?” Diana pretended to look horrified, but her eyes were laughing. “Oh, dear. You didn’t run into each other down there, did you?”

  “No.” He looked at Jane. Her face had gone from bright red to white.

  “I really must go,” she said, and fled toward the house.

  Chapter Nine

  Jane stood off in a corner of the drawing room, near where she and Bea had had their chat the night before, and tried to become invisible.

  It was not a trick she’d practiced much.

  She stole a glance at Lord Evans to be certain he was still safely on the other side of the room with the baby and two of his nieces—and the all too vivid memory of his broad, naked back, hard with muscle, flashed into her thoughts.

  She flushed and looked away. She had to think about something, anything else.

  She’d managed to avoid the earl since the disastrous morning. It hadn’t been difficult—and likely he’d been helping, wanting to avoid her as much as she wanted to avoid him. There’d been the christening—Lord Evans had sat with his family and she’d been in a separate pew with Randolph and Lady Eldon—and then the large party Lord and Lady Chanton had hosted for their tenants, servants, and the local gentry. Fortunately, Lord Chanton had suggested an impromptu game of cricket early on, so that had kept the earl and the rest of the men busy. Even Randolph had joined in.

  She’d say—quite without bias—that Lord Evans had been the strongest player.

  And now she was lurking in the shadows while noise and activity went on around her. In celebration of their brother’s christening that afternoon, all the Livingston-Smythe girls had been invited to join the adults after supper, and the drawing room was as close to complete bedlam as she could imagine. Eight girls was quite a lot, especially when not a one of them was either meek or retiring. When she’d seen them outside this morning, they hadn’t been so overwhelming, but inside . . . they were very loud. And shrill, with all their high young female voices. And they had a tendency to jump and twirl and giggle and poke at one another.

  But at least they were keeping Lord Evans busy and so away from her.

  This was the last gathering she had to get through. In the morning she and Randolph—and Lady Eldon—would leave.

  Lady Eldon was coming with them to Loves Bridge.

  Randolph had found Jane soon after she returned to the house this morning—he’d likely been on the lookout for her—to tell her he was marrying Lady Eldon as soon as he could procure a license. She’d congratulated him and then they’d found Lady Eldon so Jane could welcome her into their family.

  I must learn to call her Imogen, since she will be my sister.

  She frowned. She knew she should be happy for Randolph—she was happy—but she was also . . .

  She wasn’t certain what she was. As she’d told Lord Evans, Randolph had mostly ignored her when she was a girl. However, she hadn’t ignored him. Five years was just enough of an age gap that he’d been much larger and more accomplished than she. She’d looked up to him. Hero-worshipped him, really.

  And then when she was fourteen and Mama and Papa had died, Randolph had come home to take charge. He’d given up his chance for love and happiness to be mother and father to her.

  He’d said that wasn’t the case, that Lady Eld—Imogen’s parents had been so against the match they would never have agreed to it, but Jane wasn’t certain of that. And if he hadn’t had to drop everything to take care of her, he might have found the backbone to elope.

  In any event, it was only fair he get this second chance now. As much as she complained about him, as much as he annoyed her, she loved him. He was her only family.

  But having someone else join their little circle would take some getting used to.

  She glanced at the earl again. Now he was laughing at something one niece said, the baby asleep on his shoulder.

  He had such an easy confidence with children.

  She’d never been one to coo over babies. To be honest, they frightened her a little. They were so small and unpredictable. But she’d been enchanted holding Christopher’s sturdy little body this morning.

  Cat, Anne, Randolph—their lives were all expanding to include a spouse and children, while she—

  I’ve got Poppy.

  Not the same.

  “If I may have your attention,” Lord Chanton said, shouting over the hubbub, “I have two announcements to make.”

  She could guess what one of them was. Randolph and Imogen were standing next to the viscount.

  A footman appeared at her elbow, and she took a glass from him. Champagne.

  “Do you mind that Cousin Imogen is marrying your brother?”

  She startled, almost spilling her drink down her front—her well covered front in her high-necked, worn, sensible gown that no cat, no matter how supernatural, could render immodest.

  “No, er . . .” Was this Rachel or Rebecca or Ruth? Really, parents should not use the same initial consonant for more than one child. When she had children—

  She was the Spinster House spinster. She was never having children.

  For the first time, that made her a little sad.

  Nonsense. My feelings are merely disordered because I’m out of my element. I’ll feel more myself once I’m back in Loves Bridge.

  “I’m Rachel,” the girl said, ascertaining her difficulty. She grinned. “There are a lot of us to keep track of.”

  Jane smiled. “Yes, there are. And, no, I don’t mind that Randolph is marrying Imogen. I’m happy for them. It’s not a sudden attraction. They knew each other years ago, before Imogen married Lord Eldon.”

  Rachel clearly knew the whole story. “Imogen should have stood up to her father. I’ll give Charlotte that, at least.” She scowled. “Though it would have been better if Charlotte had found her backbone before she accepted Uncle Alex’s offer.”

  “Yes.” Jane firmly agreed with that.

  Rachel pulled a face. “I know I’m supposed to be polite to her, but I think she’s silly and not very nice. And she hurt Uncle Alex when she jilted him. That was mean.”

  “Yes, it was.” Very, very mean. Unconscionable. Lord Evans would not welcome Jane’s pity she well knew, but she did feel very bad for him.

  Lord Chanton had announced Randolph and Imogen’s betrothal and was now calling for a toast. Jane took a sip of champagne—

  “I like you much better than Lady Charlotte,” Rachel said.

  The champagne went up Jane’s nose.

  Rachel helpfully slapped her several times on the back before Jane was able to step out of reach.

  “I don’t . . . that is . . .”

  “And Uncle Alex likes you, too.”

  “Rachel, you don’t . . . you mustn’t . . .” This was all so ridiculous. “If you think your uncle has some special regard for me, you are much mistaken.”

  “No, I’m not. I’ve seen how he looks at you when he thinks you
aren’t watching.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She glanced over at Lord Evans—

  Lud! He was looking at her.

  It’s only a coincidence.

  She turned her attention quickly to Lord Chanton, who was now announcing his mother-in-law’s match with Mr. Grant.

  That sent her eyes back to the earl. He didn’t look surprised, so his mother must have had a word with him earlier.

  “Everyone’s getting betrothed, aren’t they?” Bea said as she came over to join them. “Poor Uncle Alex is the last unattached male.” She gave Jane a pointed look.

  She was very happy she was leaving in the morning. “Don’t forget Octavius.” She supposed Septimus didn’t count since he seemed to be privately betrothed to Charlotte.

  Bea waved that away. “Octavius is too young.”

  “He’s older than you are,” Jane said.

  “Yes, but boys are still idiots at twenty.” Bea smiled at her. “Mama thinks you’d make Uncle Alex an excellent wife.”

  Oh, dear Lord. “Why in the world does she think that? She just met me.”

  “Oh, she knows more about you than you think,” Bea said.

  Rachel nodded. “Once she found out Uncle Alex had gone to Loves Bridge in August, she started looking into things. She has spies everywhere.”

  This was quite alarming. “Your mother can’t know people in Loves Bridge. It’s a small village.”

  Rachel shook her head. “No place is so small that Mama—or Grandmamma—doesn’t know someone there—or they know someone who knows someone.”

  “And you’re forgetting Cousin Imogen,” Bea added.

  “She and your brother have been corresponding since shortly after Eldon died almost a year ago. It wasn’t hard for Mama to put two and two together.” She grinned. “Or in this case one and one—you and Uncle Alex.”

  “Are you going to marry Uncle Alex?” Rachel asked.

  “No!” Jane was beginning to feel cornered. “I’m a dedicated spinster. I have no plans to marry anyone.”

  “But Uncle Alex isn’t anyone,” Bea said. “He’s special.”

  “He needs a wife,” Rachel said. “Mama says he’s especially lonely now that his friends the Duke of Hart and Lord Haywood are married. If you don’t take him, he might marry someone truly dreadful.”