The last thing Mary wanted to do was chat, but without being downright rude to her hostess, there was no way to gracefully tell the woman she wanted to be alone. In the name of good manners, she took a seat and attempted to sit calmly, as expected of a lady, when all she wanted to do was race around the room and let out a string of fine curses she’d heard her brother use.
“Dear, I want to thank you for being kind to Lord Redgrave.”
Mary’s heartbeat sped up again, and she clenched her fists in her lap. “I like to think I am kind to everyone.”
Careful, Mary, you almost sounded snippy. It would not do to have Lady Chadwick looking at me strangely.
Her hostess waved her hand. “Yes. I know you are most kind, but one would expect some coolness toward him after what he did to your sister.”
“That was a long time ago.” Why she felt the need to defend him was beyond her, but there it was.
“I am sure he is relieved, though. He mentioned when he first arrived in London that with rancor between him and the Manchester house, he could be in a difficult spot in finding a bride.”
Oh. My. God.
Redgrave had wanted to gain her family’s favor? The last piece of the puzzle slid into place. That was his reward. Redgrave had regained his good name. Once again, she fought to keep from swooning. If this kept up, she would be required to carry a vinaigrette, something she’d scoffed at for years.
Bloody, bloody hell.
Of course he wouldn’t want to marry her. She was not the simpering young miss he most likely wanted for his bride. She rubbed her head where a massive megrim threatened. If she didn’t leave this house immediately she would behave in a manner that would cause a scandal as yet unknown to the ton.
Getting to her feet, trying to stand on shaky legs, she addressed Lady Chadwick. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I must find my mother. I am afraid I have a megrim coming on, and I think we will need to depart soon.”
“Oh, my dear. I am sorry to hear that. Just let our stable master know to bring your carriage around.”
“Thank you.” Mary fled the room in search of her mother.
The ride home was uneventful. Mother accepted her explanation of an impending megrim as a reason to leave immediately, and she’d been watching her carefully the entire ride home. After the emotions that had swirled through her since early in the morning, Mary was exhausted as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Manchester House.
The footman helped her down, and she walked wearily to the front door. It was immediately flung open, and she stepped through to face her sister Abigail, her arms crossed, tapping her foot. “What is going on with you and the man who ruined me?”
Chapter Twenty
Late the next evening, Redgrave sat in the corner of a nameless pub half a block from the Port of London. With the clothes he borrowed from his stable master along with the woolen cap pulled low over his face, he was unrecognizable. Not that anyone in the tavern would have recognized the Earl of Redgrave anyway.
He ran his finger up and down the outside of the mug of ale, his face down, waiting for his man to join him. He was already ten minutes late, but Redgrave was prepared to wait all night, if that’s what it took to get this done. He was also reluctant to check his pocket watch constantly. There were too many in the room who would be more than happy to relieve him of it.
Lifting the mug, he waved off a blowsy tavern wench who eyed him speculatively, then bent over to advertise her charms. Even without the memories of holding Mary in his arms, he would never be tempted by the woman. Or at this point, any other woman.
Mary.
He felt terrible for leaving her the morning after they’d made love, but word had come that everything was in place to take care of Rumbold, and he had these final connections to set up for its completion. He’d left Chadwick Manor in the dead of night and since then had only enough time to make a few visits and then this final meeting.
As soon as this was all settled, he would speak with her brother about properly courting her and making an offer for her hand, followed by a quick wedding. She was everything he wanted in a wife—beautiful, gracious, loving, intelligent, and an excellent bed partner. He would spend years teaching her all the ways they could pleasure each other.
Lost in his thoughts of Mary, he never saw the giant approaching him. “Ye the nabob lookin’ for me?” The man spit on the floor next to him. His huge body blocked out most of the room, making Redgrave a little uneasy.
“Yes.” Redgrave placed his foot on the chair in front of him and shoved it toward the man. “Have a seat.” His fingers quickly skimmed the outside of his jacket pocket where his pistol rested.
Redgrave eyed the chair with trepidation, waiting for it to collapse under the giant’s weight. “You understand what we’re paying you to do?”
The man nodded.
“How many men do you have?”
The giant spit again. “Enough.”
Redgrave reached into his pocket and withdrew a bag of coins and tossed it on the table. The man lifted it and weighed it in his hands. “It ain’t all here.”
“I’m not stupid. Once you do what we want you to do, you’ll get the rest. Consider that a down payment.”
For a moment, Redgrave thought the giant would demand the full amount, which he had no intention of giving him. Once again he checked the pistol in his pocket. The man grunted and shoved the bag into his shirt pocket.
“Eight o’clock tomorrow night,” Redgrave said as he slipped a piece of paper across the table. “Here is the direction to where you can pick the man up.”
“We’ll be there, just make sure you have the rest of the money.” He rose from his seat, reached over and drank the rest of Redgrave’s ale, then turned and lumbered from the tavern.
One down, one more to go. Redgrave leaned back, called for another ale, and waited for his next visitor. Half an hour and one more watered-down ale later, the short stubby man he’d met the week before pulled out the chair vacated by the giant. His clothes were filthy, he was missing his two front teeth, and he hadn’t seen a razor in days. From across the table Redgrave could smell the man. It wasn’t pleasant.
“We’re all set. We leave tomorrow night at eleven. Have your man aboard by then or we sail without him.”
Redgrave leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “He’ll be there if I have to drag him there myself.”
“Don’t care how he gets there. Eleven o’clock we sail.” He took the packet of bills Redgrave slid across the table and flipped through the bundle, then shoved it into his pocket. “Eleven.”
Redgrave took a deep breath and watched the man scurry like a rat from the room. He downed the rest of his ale and closed his eyes. They were so close. If all went well he would save a number of his friends from losing a great deal of money. Rumbold would be out of his life forever, and he would finally be free…to pursue Mary.
If only he could see her, hold her in his arms, and kiss her mindless. He loved her. No longer could he deny his feelings, or pretend he only just cared for her. This was love, deep and true. Hopefully, she felt the same way.
But he still had things to do before tomorrow night.
He tossed a coin on the table and left, the damp night air swallowing him up when he stepped from the tavern. The mist swirled around him as he moved toward the slick cobblestone street. Since he had been unwilling to bring his carriage into the area, he signaled for a hackney and swung into the vehicle.
“Mayfair.”
…
Mary looked glumly out her bedchamber window at the dark sky. She hadn’t heard from Redgrave in two days, which was no surprise. He’d done exactly what she’d expected when she’d received his note. She had no doubt the next time she saw him it would be across a ballroom where he would be announcing his betrothal to a sweet, simpering miss.
He had needed the goodwill of her family to succeed in what he’d come to London for. To find a bride. How nice of her to accomm
odate him. Since she’d arrived home, she’d gone through anger, tears, and now depression. Perhaps she would enter a convent.
Except she was not Catholic.
The most difficult thing had been explaining Redgrave’s actions three years ago to Abigail when all she wanted to do was curse the man. She had defended him while she believed he’d most likely done the same thing to her that he’d done to Abigail, except this time he’d left her a note.
She’d apparently done a good job, however, since Abigail had listened to her story and made only one comment. “You’re in love with him.”
She sighed, then turned abruptly at the knock on her door. “Come.”
Abigail peeked around the edge of the door. “Do you feel like company?”
Mary shrugged. “If you do not mind my lack of conversation.”
Her sister sat on the bed and regarded her. “I think you are making a mistake in assuming Redgrave is done with you.” She held up her hand as Mary began to speak. “After speaking with mother and Drake, I do not believe he has cast you aside.”
“Oh, Abigail. Why involve Mother and Drake in this? How can you, of all people, take his side? Don’t you see he is just repeating what he did to you?”
Abigail shook her head. “No. After you explained to me what had happened, I no longer consider him the terrible person I believed him to be. I mean, he really was given no choice. I wish he had found a way to write to me afterward, but since I was happily settled with Joseph, it might not have mattered, anyway.” She smiled. “In fact, he did me a great favor.”
The knot in Mary’s stomach grew larger at the serene look on her sister’s face. No, she did not envy her. No, she was not jealous.
No. Not at all.
“In fact, when I spoke with Mother she was not at all surprised that you and Redgrave had developed a tendre for each other. She said she’d suspected such for a while now. And Drake merely grunted, which is not the reaction I expected. As usual, he did not say much on the matter, but the fact that he didn’t curse the man says a great deal.”
Mary paced, her skirts swinging out as she turned. “I was a fool. I trusted him when I should not have.”
Abigail slid off the bed. “Why don’t you come with me to have tea with Mother in her sitting room? Drake has been locked away in the library since dinner and insisted we all stay abovestairs this evening. Something dark and secret, I’m sure,” she said with a grin. “No doubt Mother could use some company to distract her from the worry over Penelope.”
The Dowager Duchess of Manchester looked up as they entered her sitting room. “Well, I am certainly glad to have some company. I thought I would need to spend the rest of the evening counting my toes.”
“Why, do you think one or two are missing?” Mary settled across from her mother and picked up the teapot. “This feels cool. Shall I ring for more?”
“Don’t bother. I will make a quick trip to the kitchen for more.” Abigail retrieved the teapot from Mary’s hand and headed to the door.
“Drake was most insistent that we remain abovestairs this evening.” The duchess frowned. “I fail to understand the need, but you know how men are. Everything to them is secret and dangerous.”
“I will be in and out of the kitchen in a minute. Cook always leaves hot water available. ’Twill take no time at all,” Abigail tossed over her shoulder.
“You are still looking under the weather, my dear. Is your megrim no better?” her mother asked.
“It is slowly getting better. Perhaps the tea will help.” How she wished she was still a girl and able to throw herself at her mother’s knees and pour out her heartbreak. Mother had always made her feel better, and if it had been an overpowering dilemma, Father had been the one to ease her mind. But she was a woman now, with a woman’s needs and problems. This particular issue was not one she dared share with her mother, anyway. If the dowager knew what Mary had done, had allowed, had enjoyed, she would be scandalized.
“What is it, my dear? You seem to be suffering from ennui, as well. Did something happen at the house party that brought all of this on?”
The urge to rid herself of this despair was so strong she almost succumbed to the temptation.
“Does this have to do with Lord Redgrave, my darling girl?”
Why was it mothers always seemed to know precisely what their children did not want them to be aware of? Mary sighed and twisted her hands in her lap. “Yes, but there is more to the story than what I’m sure Abigail told you. I am afraid I have made a grave mistake.”
…
Redgrave dropped the knocker on the front door of Manchester House and waited. The knot in his stomach had grown to major proportions. All of the years of suffering with the guilt of what he’d done to Abigail, of living with Priscilla and chafing under Rumbold’s threats would come to an end tonight. He would be vanquished, and able to move on with his life.
His life with Mary.
The door opened, and he was admitted to the entrance hall. He handed his hat and gloves to the butler. “If you will follow me, my lord, His Grace is expecting you in the library.”
He quickly checked his timepiece. Three quarters past seven. A mere fifteen minutes before the giant and his cohorts would arrive. He started forward just as Abigail hurried down the corridor, holding a teapot. She came to an abrupt stop, her expression closed. “My lord.” She gave a slight dip.
“Lady Abigail. Or should I say Lady Abigail Fox?” The very last person on the earth he’d expected to see stood in front of him.
“Whatever are you doing here?” Although she seemed surprised to see him, she also had a glint of speculation in her eyes.
“I have an appointment with His Grace.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, Lady Abigail. I would like to extend my apologies—”
“Don’t.” She held up her free hand to stop him. “Mary told me what happened, and while I am not necessarily of a mind to let bygones be bygones, I must say your perfidy gave me a wonderful husband, two lively twin boys, and a full life in Addysby End. For that, I am most grateful.”
“My lady, there are no words to express how very happy I am for you. Truly.” He paused, his eyebrows raised. “Twins?”
Abigail grinned. “Yes. They turned four years just this month. The first two years were difficult, but they are growing and thriving and already able to read.”
The mother’s pride in her children’s accomplishments warmed his heart. Would that one day he could glow with such delight in his own children.
I will definitely take care of that once this Rumbold business is finished.
“Well, I must join my sister and mother. They are waiting for hot water for their tea.”
“Mary? I mean, Lady Mary? Is she at home?”
Again that speculative look crossed Abigail’s face. “Yes. But I must go now.” She turned and headed up the stairs, and Redgrave followed the butler to the library.
Manchester sat behind his desk, a glass of brandy in front of him. “Are we all set?”
“Yes, Your Grace. The men will arrive at eight, and the ship sails at eleven.” He took the seat across from Manchester. “When is Rumbold expected?”
“Any minute now. And you can cut the ‘Your Grace’ business.” Manchester stood and moved to the sidebar. “Brandy?”
As much as Redgrave wanted to remain completely alert for the upcoming interview, a little bit of brandy would certainly settle his nerves. “Please.”
“Did you bring all the documents with you?”
“I did. Along with the money.”
Manchester settled back into his large leather chair. “Mother tells me my sister returned quite distressed from a house party two days ago.” He took a sip of his drink. “One where you were also a guest.”
Redgrave frowned. “Yes. I am not certain why she returned distressed, but once this business is finished, I would like to have a serious conversation with you about Lady Mary.”
A grunt was the duke’s only r
esponse. A slight knock at the door had both men staring toward the opening. “Your Grace, Lord Rumbold has arrived.” The butler stepped aside, and Rumbold entered the room. He glanced at Redgrave, and his eyebrows rose. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“Redgrave is my guest. Have a seat.” Manchester waved to the settee near the fireplace. Both he and Redgrave moved to the two chairs across from the settee.
Manchester leaned forward, his hands clasped between his legs. “It seems this little venture is not quite what you proposed.”
Rumbold’s face grew red, and he jumped up. “I have no idea what this blackguard has told you, but there is nothing wrong with the project. It is a legitimate investment opportunity. If you have decided not to join in, then that is no concern of mine.” He turned on his heel and took only two steps when Manchester said, “Sit down, Rumbold.” His quiet voice was more frightening than if he’d shouted from the rooftops.
“You will pay for this,” Rumbold said, glaring at Redgrave.
“I think not.” Manchester stood and walked to his desk, leaning his hip against the edge, his glass of brandy dangling from his hand. “In fact, Rumbold, your days of swindling your friends, of threatening your relatives, and generally making a nuisance of yourself, are over.”
Rumbold shifted in his seat and straightened his clothing. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Manchester nodded at Redgrave, who crossed one booted foot over his bent knee and leaned back in his chair as he spoke. “Tonight, you will sign a document renouncing this scheme of yours, and another missive to your man of business to release all the funds you have collected thus far and return them to their rightful owners.”
“I will do no such thing,” the man blustered.
Manchester moved to the door and opened it. “Have the men arrived?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler’s voice drifted from the corridor.
“Good. Send them in.”
“What the hell is all this?” Rumbold said, his face growing pale at the sight of the giant and two other men of equal size entering the room.
The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 19
