Cathy Maxwell

by Lyon's Bride: The Chattan Curse

  It was a dangerous question. “Is she interested?” he heard himself ask.

  Mirabel gave the complacent smile of a cat with her sights on a mouse. “She didn’t have to come in the house when she did. She knew you’d arrived.”

  “She was being polite.” Thea hadn’t given him the impression that she’d been overjoyed to greet him.

  “Thea was working very hard not to notice you.”

  “She was successful.”

  “You know so little about women,” Mirabel whispered. She started down the hall and stopped in front of the first door on the right. “This is your room.”

  She opened the door and led him into a room decorated in green and cream accessories. “Ah, your valet has already been here. His name is Whiteson.” Neal hadn’t traveled with his own man, preferring to use one of the house servants instead. He liked traveling light. The valet was not in the room but had already laid out fresh attire for Neal.

  “Whiteson has probably gone off to fetch fresh water,” Mirabel continued. “He’ll return momentarily. There will be several male guests, so you will have to share his attention.”

  “When I’m in the country, I prefer a more simple life,” Neal answered. “It shall not be a problem.”

  Mirabel tilted her head. “I like you, Lyon. I wasn’t certain I would, but you are not as pretentious as I had feared.”

  “And what gave you the impression I would be pretentious?”

  “It wasn’t Thea, if that is what you are thinking. But usually men like yourself who are statesmen and men of commerce have a vaunted opinion of themselves. You seem a genuinely nice man.”

  “I was hoping for a more dashing opinion, my lady.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you are dashing. Handsome men always are, but they are sometimes arrogant.”

  “I can be.”

  “Yes, that is what Thea said.”

  “She believes me arrogant?” he said, needled by the thought. Then he decided, “Well, yes, I am. I do like to have things done my way.”

  “And you shall have plenty of opportunity to exercise your wishes this week, Lyon.” She started to leave the room but paused by the door. “I wish you a merry chase in your hunt for a wife this week.”

  “Thank you,” he said, uncertain if he meant the words.

  And yet Neal found himself wondering if what Mirabel said about Thea’s interest in him could be true. The comment about his arrogance aside, Thea had not impressed him as being as aware of him as he was of her.

  But if she was, what was he going to do about it?

  “He’s very interested in you.”

  Surprised, Thea turned to see Mirabel leaning on the doorjamb of the butler’s pantry. Thea had brought her flowers in here to arrange them in the yellow and gray pottery vase . . . but Neal had not been far from her thoughts.

  She’d believed she’d seen him every way possible, but he’d caught her by surprise this afternoon. He’d appeared more relaxed than he had in a long time. His hair had been mussed; dust had covered his boots. His whole person had given off an air of vitality and masculinity. A dangerous combination.

  Thea prayed her face hadn’t betrayed the direction of her thoughts. She’d worked very hard to keep her manner welcoming but distant.

  And now here was Mirabel, playing Cupid.

  Thea focused on the rose in her hand. Thank heavens for thorns, which made one have to think when handling roses. “Nonsense, Mirabel. He’s here to meet other women, not me. The time for us was long ago. Too much has happened to each of us since then.”

  “But he likes you,” Mirabel said, inviting herself into the tight space. She leaned her hips against the cupboard where Thea was arranging. “Frankly, I was taken aback by how handsome he is.”

  “You’d never met him?”

  “I’d seen him from a distance, but he doesn’t go out in society often. He is a fine, fine man.”

  Indeed, he was.

  “He has good looks,” Thea agreed without enthusiasm as she poked the rose’s stem into her arrangement.

  “ ‘He has good looks,’ ” Mirabel repeated, mimicking Thea’s tone. “He’s an Adonis. Probably one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met, and you wish to toss him away on scatterbrained, selfish chits who won’t appreciate him?”

  “He wants one of those scatterbrained, selfish chits,” Thea said, picking up the vase and escaping out the pantry door.

  Mirabel followed, as Thea had expected her to do. Mirabel could be single-minded in the pursuit of an idea. “I don’t believe that is true,” she informed Thea. “He was asking me all sorts of questions about you. He’s very interested, and, I believe, with something more than affection for an old friendship.”

  Thea pulled up short. Mirabel almost ran into her. Thea faced her. “Now you are doing it a bit too brown,” she informed her friend. “Lord Lyon is not the curious sort. He wasn’t asking questions.” She set the bouquet on a sideboard in the dining room.

  “He was in his mind,” Mirabel insisted. “I thought he would eat you up with his eyes when you came in holding those flowers. You did look quite charming, and I could feel the interest radiating from him.”

  “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary,” Thea said, moving a daisy away from a rose in the bouquet, although heat rushed to her cheeks. “If anything, he seemed a bit tired.”

  Mirabel hummed her disbelief. “And he likes your sons.”

  “He likes children. That is why he wishes to marry,” Thea said, making a beeline for the dining room door and away from Mirabel’s tempting suspicions. She couldn’t think this way. She mustn’t. If Neal had been interested in her, then why had he kept his distance this past week when she’d been making arrangements for the house party?

  “He gave your sons presents,” Mirabel pointed out, following close behind her. To Thea’s dismissive wave of her hand, Mirabel said, “A book is a very personal gift.”

  Thea stopped in her tracks. “Books are not personal. Anyone can receive a book.”

  Her words lacked conviction, and Mirabel pounced upon them. “Have you seen the price of books? Very personal. Of course, I would prefer rubies, but books would be the perfect gift for you.”

  Starting down the hall again, Thea said, “These books had stories that would appeal to young boys.”

  “Exactly my point. If a man wants to impress you, he should buy books for your sons, and Lyon knows it. You both might not admit it yet, but he wants to woo you—”

  Her voice broke off as they rounded the corner into the main foyer and realized they had guests.

  Lady Montvale, her husband, her daughter, and a good sampling of her servants had just arrived.

  Any retort Thea had been about to launch at Mirabel caught in her throat at the realization they might have been overheard.

  Her ladyship, still in her traveling coat and wearing a velvet cap embellished with rose ostrich plumes, began pulling off her gloves. “Who wants to woo you, Mrs. Martin?” she said.

  Thea’s first impulse was to blurt out that Mirabel had been speaking nonsense.

  Fortunately, Mirabel had a cooler head. “Yvette,” Mirabel said. “Lady Yvette. She is another option, but Mrs. Martin wouldn’t invite her for the house party. She said she wanted to give your lovely daughter, Lady Susanne—”

  “Cynthia,” Thea broke in, realizing Mirabel’s mistake. Mrs. Pomfrey’s daughter was Susanne. “Lady Cynthia.”

  “Oh, yes, Lady Cynthia,” Mirabel said, soldiering on. She smiled at the young girl who was truly pretty, save for the petulant set of her mouth and an air of laziness. “Lady Cynthia, what a pleasure to meet you. I am Mirabel, Lady Palmer.”

  Lady Cynthia looked Mirabel up and down as if she’d been beneath her.

  Oh, yes, here was a woman Neal could not love.

  Thea stepped forward, and introductions were made. Mirabel entrusted her servants to show the Montvale servants to their quarters.

  “Who is this Lady Yvette?” La
dy Montvale asked Thea. “Is she a threat? And who else did you invite?”

  Thea dodged her curiosity about Lady Yvette with some mumbled comment. She knew Mirabel had just made the name up. As to her other question, it was answered as Lady Lila and her father Lord Corkindale arrived. Within the space of forty minutes, the foyer was a scene of comings and goings. Mrs. Pomfrey and her family were the next to arrive. She barely spoke to her good friend Lady Montvale, a sign the competition between them to bring their daughters to the attention of Lord Lyon was going to be cutthroat.

  Two other young women arrived with their parents. Lady Jane Birdinger and Lady Sophie Carpsley were from well-respected families and very much of the same spoiled, indolent ilk as the other women.

  In fact, Lady Lila stood out because she came across as bolder and more athletic than her peers.

  “Lady Palmer, I must have a rose petal bath prepared every morning,” Lady Montvale informed her. “The petals are necessary for my skin.”

  “I must have chocolate in the morning,” Mrs. Pomfrey announced. “And my husband only eats beef. No fish, no fowl, no pork.”

  “What time are we hunting on the morrow?” Lady Lila wanted to know.

  “I must have a horse for the morrow,” Lady Sophie informed them. “Mine has taken lame. Will someone bring horses up here for me to give a look over?”

  So many questions. So many demands. Thea felt as if she was juggling a hundred expectations thrown at her all at once.

  All the chatter came to a sudden halt.

  Thea felt a sudden awareness tickle the back of her neck. She turned from listening to Mr. Pomfrey’s complaints about the poor quality of the roads to see Neal standing on the stairs. He’d changed into dinner dress and cut quite a handsome figure in his elegant black.

  Smiles replaced frowns.

  Even on Thea’s face. And she found herself wishing Mirabel’s theory was correct, that there could be something more between them. Here was a man she could respect. Calm, confident . . . kind.

  For the briefest moment, their gazes met. She looked away first. She had to, partly out of an awareness of how many eyes were watching his every move and partly because she felt vulnerable around him. Neal could slip past her guard and find his way to her heart.

  But he wanted to marry someone else. He was choosing to do so.

  And what if Neal was attracted to her with the same intensity she was feeling toward him? This horde would tar and feather her. They’d come here expecting Lyon to choose one of their daughters as his lady and, by George, Thea had better deliver.

  Having him throw their girls over for the matchmaker would be very bad form.

  Neal came down the stairs to welcome everyone and be introduced to those he didn’t know. The young women Thea had thought rather difficult and selfish suddenly became the most pliant of souls. Even Lady Lila toned down her strong personality.

  Of course, Neal said all the right things. What had seemed impossible moments ago, the meeting of all the demands and expectations of the recently arrived guests, disappeared effortlessly in his skilled hands.

  Mirabel personally escorted the people she dearly wanted to impress, the Montvales and the Pomfreys, to their rooms, and Thea guided the others.

  Lady Lila was the last one Thea directed to her room. Her room was next door to her father’s. She looked inside at the blue and green furnishings and gave a dismissive sniff. Thea attempted to not be offended for Mirabel.

  “Where is Lord Lyon’s room?” Lady Lila asked.

  “In the other hall,” Thea said. “Will you be needing anything else?”

  “Where in the other hall?” Lady Lila persisted.

  Thea knew where his room was, but she didn’t think it was proper for a young unmarried woman to be making such inquiries.

  “Around the corner,” she said, putting a firm note on her words. “We’ll see you in an hour for dinner—”

  “Mrs. Martin, when I ask a question, I’m accustomed to people answering it.” Lady Lila dropped her voice, leaning close to Thea. “I intend to marry Lord Lyon. I’ve been waiting for a man like him. You would be wise to help me.”

  Thea leaned forward, dropping her voice to say sweetly, “I am helping you, but you would be wise not to threaten me.”

  She assumed the girl would back away. Instead, Lady Lila smiled, an expression that did not reach her eyes. “I do whatever I desire.” She then shut the door in Thea’s face.

  Thea stared at the wood paneled door and decided right then and there that Neal would not choose Lady Lila.

  Who was she to think everyone would jump to her bidding? Well, she’d just met her match.

  It took Thea barely ten minutes to dress for dinner. She wore a simple lavender muslin with a demure lace neckline. She liked lavender. It reminded people that she was a widow and gave her an air of respectability that her relatively young age lacked.

  When she went downstairs, she found Neal in the sitting room, lounging by the window reading a paper and enjoying a drink. When she entered the room he set the paper aside and rose to his feet.

  If he was as interested in her as Mirabel claimed, she didn’t see it. He seemed friendly and cordial, his usual self.

  “Well,” she said coming up to him, “what do you think of your prospects?” She took a seat in the chair next to his.

  “They are all lovely young women,” he replied, returning to his chair.

  “Some not so young. Lady Lila is five and twenty.” Thea had to point that out.

  He nodded, took a sip of his drink. “The age of my sister,” he said. Thea wanted to groan, because he said it as if Lady Lila’s age was a credit to her chances.

  “Sir James will be arriving on the morrow,” he told her.

  “Sir James? I didn’t know he was coming,” Thea said.

  “I’m surprised Lady Palmer didn’t tell you. He was supposed to ride with me today, but unfortunately business kept him in London.”

  “It will be a pleasure to see him again,” Thea said.

  There was a beat of long, uncomfortable silence. She realized an easiness with him was gone, banished by a budding sense of regret.

  Perhaps she had been wrong in her thinking. She’d said she’d felt nothing but friendship that summer years ago, and yet his defecting without a reason had stayed with her. He’d hurt her more than if what she’d felt had been friendship alone.

  The awkward silence was broken by the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Pomfrey and their daughter, Miss Susanne. Thea had no need to talk as they monopolized Neal.

  Very shortly, Lord and Lady Montvale and their daughter joined the group. Lady Montvale was not happy to see the Pomfreys there but didn’t hesitate to elbow the Pomfreys aside.

  Mirabel came up beside Thea. “Did you notice the elbow? Interesting how quickly friendship dies.”

  “Imagine how it will be if he chooses one over the other,” Thea said.

  “All I know is that when I return to London, I shall dine for a week on stories of hosting Vanessa Montvale and Sarah Pomfrey. My tale will be all the more delicious because of this little feud.” She smiled at Thea and then raised her voice. “Come, everyone, dinner is served. Lord Lyon, will you escort me to the table?”

  “I would be honored, my lady.”

  Mirabel’s chef had prepared an excellent repast of pheasant, venison, and numerous side dishes. There was one hastily cooked beef dish. Wine and cider flowed freely.

  After dinner they all returned to the sitting room, where each young woman had the opportunity to show off her talents. Lady Cynthia did indeed have a lovely voice. Miss Susanne entertained them with a complicated piece for the pianoforte, Neal sitting beside her on the bench turning pages.

  But the others sang and played instruments as well. Lady Lila had even brought her own violin and walked over to Neal as she played it. She stood in front of him, the music a mournful piece, which she turned into a lively jig.

  If this had been another gathering, there
might have been dancing, but since each young woman was in competition with the other, the atmosphere was rather tense.

  Thea kept an eye on Neal. She told herself it was important she gauge his reaction to each candidate.

  She also had a personal interest. She found herself hoping he chose exactly the wrong woman. Then she could label him as shallow, which would put a dent in the noble armor he wore in her mind.

  For his part, Neal complimented everyone and managed to spend a few minutes of private conversation with each girl. However, he appeared happy when Mirabel announced that, with the hunt tomorrow, it would be an early day and perhaps they should all retire.

  There was a comical moment when not one girl wished to leave before Neal and the others did. They all hovered around him. He was too polite to just leave, so it was up to Thea to extract him from the group. Everyone followed them up the stairs for the night.

  Before he turned the corner to go to his room, Neal managed to place himself beside Thea. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “That was my wish,” she said brittlely. Yes, the girls were lovely and had impeccable bloodlines and connections—but their characters were sorely lacking. He must see that? Mustn’t he?

  He glanced around. The two of them were at the crossway of the two halls. The fathers had gone immediately into their rooms. Their wives and daughters lingered by their doorways. A few of the girls even gave Neal little waves good night.

  “And you have chosen well,” he whispered, conscious that they were being watched. “I don’t think I could fall in love with any of them. Thank you, Thea.”

  He didn’t say those words happily, and Thea felt a great weight settle on her shoulders. He was pleased. “You are welcome, my lord.”

  He nodded and went to his room. Thea watched him open his door and disappear inside, a hollow feeling inside her. Always before, she’d felt good about putting two people together, but not this time. Neal was making a mistake wanting to marry one of these women. She knew it.

  And she also felt strangely deflated.

  So she took her heart and closed it off.

  Thea went on the hunt with those who wished to go. It was exhilarating to be on a horse again. She’d practically grown up on them but, of course, had not been riding in years.