Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord

by Sandra Sookoo

  “Excusez-moi. Lord Swandon?” The French-accented inquiry shook him from his improper musings.

  “Hmm?” He yanked his gaze from her décolletage and back to her face. “I beg your pardon. I was wool gathering.”

  She pinned him with a knowing look. “I know what you were doing and I don’t appreciate it. I am not an object to be fondled or treated as merchandise or to contemplate bedding as if I have no other worth in this world.” Miss Delacroix sailed down the hallway without a backward glance.

  I deserve that. “Where are you going?” When she didn’t slow or even pause, Felix had no other recourse except to follow after her.

  “To make a tray for Lady Drummond. Her ladyship is famished from her exertions.”

  “From doing what, waking up? Getting out of bed? Washing her face?” Belatedly, Felix realized he didn’t sound very congenial, but since there was no one else around, he didn’t worry how his outburst might affect his image. Something about Miss Delacroix gave wings to free speaking.

  “Among other things.” Her cryptic remark tightened his chest.

  He followed her into the dining room where he’d first met her last night. Something must be said to cover his confusion. “Is Olivia’s gown salvageable?”

  Miss Delacroix turned and gave him a mysterious half-smile that did strange things to his insides. He wanted to experience them again in order to figure out what they meant. “Only time will tell.” She moved to the sideboard and took a tray from a shelf nearby. “Why do you linger, Lord Swandon? I doubt Lady Drummond will be presentable for quite a while.”

  “I’d hoped for the chance to exchange a few words with you, to see you if you must know.” It was best to adhere as close to the truth as possible. He couldn’t very well announce he found her beyond fascinating. “After our discussion last evening, I wished to discover a little more about you.”

  “Me?” Her scoff proclaimed him a nodcock. “I’m no one of consequence, my lord. I’ll tell Lady Drummond you came by.”

  No one of consequence indeed. Her French roots would add to her value in Society and her worth would increase almost overnight. Fortune hunters would plague her door. His stomach clenched. She wasn’t some carrot dangling before donkeys and she deserved much more than being thrown to Society’s wolves. Someone needed to protect her from the ugliness that lurked in London’s ballrooms.

  “My lord?” Clearly, she waited on his response.

  “I suppose that would be the proper course of action.” He pulled a calling card from an interior jacket pocket and handed it to her. “I meant to give this to Pomeroy.”

  “I will pass it on, Lord Swandon.” Her fingers brushed his when she took the thick vellum.

  Tingles raced through his hand. “Oh, bother.” He wanted to hear his name in her voice. “Will you do me the honor and call me Felix? I’m still not used to the title. It reminds me that my father is no longer with me.” Though he’d made peace with his father’s passing, the need to still acknowledge he’d lost his parent had knots twisting his gut.

  She looked at him for long moments before nodding. “I will, but not because you wish it. I want to. I’ve never had a gentleman request such a nicety before.” She laid the tray on the sideboard then placed a china plate upon it. “Your name is refreshing. In a world full of men named John, William, and Charles, I’m glad yours is different. It suits you.”

  His breath shuddered from him as if he’d just been handed a benediction. “Thank you.” He stood off to one side while she piled the plate with scones, seed cakes, and crumpets. “Shall I continue to call you Miss Delacroix then?”

  “You are too clever for you own good, Felix.”

  He pressed a hand to his heart as that organ stuttered. His name from her lips was indeed the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  “Yes.” Her tinkling laughter echoed in the empty room. “You may call me Clarice.”

  “Clarice,” he repeated on a whisper. “A beautiful adornment for an equally beautiful woman.” Steady, Felix. You go too far. He shoved his annoying conscience away. There was no harm in conversing.

  “You jest.” Yet a pretty blush stained her cheeks. Was she pleased with his flirting? She added a cut crystal bowl of clotted cream and another of honey to her tray. “However, I thank you for the compliment. Clarice means fame while my middle name, Adele, means noble sort. My mother was prone to dramatics I think.”

  “Both names are quite fitting, your first especially.” Felix snagged a scone from the platter. Sugar glittered on the top. He took a large bite and chewed. “Ah, lemon. One of my favorites.” He hefted his confection. “Did you make these?”

  Her blush deepened. “I did. Cook lets me create a different scone each morning.” She glanced at him through the dark veil of her lashes. “Do you enjoy it? You seem to have quite a penchant for sweets.”

  “Very much, and I do.” Though his mind was most certainly not on pastry. Would her lips be as sweet? He finished the flaky, buttery treat in short order then brushed the crumbs from his clothing. “Why is the food laid out here if Olivia is still abed? Tea time is a couple of hours off yet.” It didn’t make sense as the pastries would grow stale and the meats would go cold and congealed.

  An eloquent shrug lifted Clarice’s shoulders. “We expected her down for breakfast at her customary time for her usual cup of tea, but this morning she declined to follow habit. The food is laid out in the event she decided to come down at any time, as she turns grouchy on an empty stomach.” Her gaze jogged away from his. “She is occupied with other matters right now.”

  Felix frowned. Was she deliberately dissembling? What did she not want him to know? “Meaning?”

  She sighed. “Meaning, Lady Drummond is otherwise engaged with a guest. I hope you can figure it out as I don’t wish to blatantly say while so many ears can hear.”

  “Ah.” A prickle of the truth entered his brain. “I see.” A touch of anger speared him. Olivia was sleeping around. Bad form, that. Clarice continued to put more food on her tray than one woman could eat alone. Plus, she added two delicate china teacups. His suspicions doubled. It must be true. Damn his penchant for ignoring the gossip his mother and sister bandied about. He could have known where the wind blew with Olivia sooner. “Perhaps I should limit my exposure to Lady Drummond.” However, in doing so, he’d deny himself further visits with Clarice.

  “Only you can decide that, my lord. Though I will caution you to observe everything before making an important decision that could change your life.”

  “Felix,” he automatically corrected. “No more of this ‘my lord’ business either. It grows tiresome, especially during intimate conversation.”

  “Yet, you and I are not indulging in an intimate conversation… Felix.” Flatware followed everything else already on the tray. A few folded linen napkins completed the stock.

  “No, but we can be. In fact, perhaps we should.” The idea to start a light flirtation grew. He moved to the opposite side of the room toward the end of the sideboard, well away from either doorway, and tugged Clarice along with him. The chance alone, the placid hour and the complete temptation she made coupled with the lingering sound of her voice in his head, threw every ounce of common sense from his mind. “I meant what I said earlier. You are quite beautiful. There is nothing else I want to do than know you even more intimately, find out what makes you smile, what makes you frown.”

  He couldn’t stop what was already in motion.

  “That is not a wise decision.” A warning sat in her voice. “Besides, this isn’t the time.”

  All he knew was how warm she felt beneath his fingers. Her vibrancy raced up his arms and swirled about him. She smelled of lavender and vanilla. If they were caught there would be hell to pay, but he would make certain they weren’t. He’d been skilled enough on the battlefield evading capture. One tiny embrace here, with her, wouldn’t be as dangerous. Felix grasped her shoulders. “Clarice.” His intentions must have showed in his face fo
r her eyes grew wide and round. Panic and annoyance warred for dominance there. She planted her palms against his chest and shoved, but he easily caught her wrists in his hands.

  “Clarice, please, one kiss. I must know why I’m haunted by you, why the need to continue to be in your company grows larger each time I see you.” He leaned in and pressed his lips briefly against hers before she reared back, yanked from his grasp, and slapped him. The contact shattered the silence of the room.

  “Merde! Lord Swandon, for shame.” Clarice skittered away, her chest heaving. Rosy color blazed on her cheeks. Disappointment lit her expression. “I never thought you, of all men, would assume I’d debase myself.” She hefted the tea tray and walked backward toward the door. “Show yourself out, you cad. I do not wish to see you ever again.” The last bit was hurled at him in French.

  Felix stood staring after her while pressing a hand to his stinging, hot cheek. Botheration. I am a fool. He hadn’t meant to startle or scare her. Now, because of a moment of madness on his part, he’d damaged his chances. He glanced at the tray of pastries, but even the sweets couldn’t entice him. What hurt the most was he’d abused her trust and for that, he deserved a sound flogging as well as Clarice’s wrath.

  Chapter Four

  “Clarice? Come here. I’d like a moment of your time please.”

  Clarice stifled a sigh of annoyance. She changed direction in the hallway in order to attend Lady Drummond in her morning room. Though it was nearing tea time, Olivia had taken up residence in the sunny room to go through her correspondence and invitations. “Yes, Lady Drummond? How can I be of assistance?” It didn’t matter she was trying to accomplish the last three tasks the lady had already given her today. When Lady Drummond issued a command, Clarice had no choice except to dance to the summons.

  “Did anything untoward occur earlier today when Lord Swandon called?” Lady Drummond folded a missive and slid it into an envelope of ivory vellum. She heated a stick of wax, put a dab of it on the flap then pressed her seal into it.

  How to answer when she wanted nothing more than to forget the meeting with Felix had ever happened? Why did men look at her and immediately think she’d be a good candidate for bedding? Why couldn’t they see her as a woman who would like to be wooed and treated with respect? She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “No.” Finally, Clarice could stand Olivia’s hard gaze no longer. “I put together the tray of refreshments like you asked. He happened to call at the same time and began a conversation with me while I did so. Why do you question me?” Perhaps if she pretended ignorance, no more would be said.

  “What a clever woman you’re turning out to be.” Lady Drummond rose and shook out her skirts of sky blue silk. “And quite a liar too.”

  “What do you mean?” She didn’t like it by half that Lady Drummond’s gaze was cold and assessing, almost as if she was in process of formulating a nefarious plot. She stifled a nervous chuckle. How silly that would be. The woman terrified her, yes, and the knowledge of where the bulk of the Drummond fortune came from never failed to send cold chills down her spine, but to think Olivia would do something truly frightening to her? She hadn’t much proof of that beyond her penchant for sending servants packing with no warning.

  “Don’t play coy. Pomeroy saw you with Felix in the dining room.”

  “So he should have since that was where Lord Swandon followed me.” She raised an eyebrow but refused to say anything else in case Lady Drummond hadn’t been apprised of the rest.

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “He also told me you and Lord Swandon shared a kiss. Is that true?”

  Cher Dieu. “I… Lord Swandon, ah, became a bit carried away, I think. The word ‘share’ puts too much emphasis on what actually occurred.” Once she’d discerned what he’d been about, she’d pushed him away as fear had gripped her. Even though their lips had barely touched, heat from that brief meeting swept through her. What had possessed the man to make such an overture? Nothing in her demeanor invited such an intimate gesture, and she’d said nothing to lead him on. At least she’d thought she’d been careful. Though her mother had spent countless hours instructing her on how to flirt and please gentlemen, Clarice had worked hard since her passing to unlearn such lessons. If she didn’t flirt, men would leave her alone. Perhaps she hadn’t done the job well enough since Felix had literally pounced. She frowned. Do men see what my mother was when they look at me?

  Olivia ran a hand along the back of a cream colored settee. “Regardless of what prompted the kiss, you show too much familiarity with him. One of the footmen let it slip in passing you tarried with Lord Swandon in the kitchens last evening.”

  Warmth bloomed in Clarice’s cheeks. Of course the blasted footmen would tattle. They were forever looking for favor from Lady Drummond. Some had even wagered on which one of them would tup her first. “I couldn’t very well prevent him from entering the kitchens, could I?”

  “No, I don’t suppose you could,” Olivia conceded. “Though it is surprising given his viewpoints on classes. It would seem Felix is turning Whig and he doesn’t know it. I wonder why that is?”

  Clarice held her tongue. It wouldn’t do to give Lady Drummond more information to use against her.

  “Regardless, befriending a lord just won’t do and I won’t tolerate it. I’ve given you too much freedom in your position as it is. It’s time for you to understand your place.” She bent over the back of the settee and when she straightened, she held a riding crop in one hand. “I don’t wish for you to visit the kitchens or converse with my guests unless specifically invited to do so.”

  Clarice worried her bottom lip. She eyed the crop. Surely Olivia didn’t intend to use that… on her? Her stomach dropped. “Lady Drummond, that kiss meant nothing and could hardly be considered a sign of affection.” Of course it wasn’t. She wasn’t so daft to think he’d been possessed of swift and all-consuming love for her. She almost laughed but choked it back. “I slapped him for overstepping. I sincerely doubt it will be trouble in the future.”

  “You are not to seek him out, do you understand?” Olivia’s gaze bore into hers. She closed the distance between them, and when she was a mere foot away, she struck with the crop. The leather tip smacked Clarice’s forearm. “I did not offer this position to you so you could practice your wiles on my guests.”

  Clarice covered the red mark on her arm with her hand. It stung but didn’t overly hurt. She gaped at her employer. “You hit me with your crop.”

  “Yes, and I’ll do it again until you understand the need to mind your place.” The crop shot out and tagged her on a thigh. Despite the layers of skirting, the blow hurt. “I want Lord Swandon’s attention on me, not the daughter of a common whore.” Olivia struck with the crop again, this time hitting Clarice on the back of the leg as she circled. “Of course, if Lord Swandon attends an event wherein you and I are also at, you may speak in pleasantries as the occasion demands, but nothing else. I cannot have my friends thinking members of my household staff run fast and loose.”

  Even though that is exactly how you conduct yourself. Tears stung Clarice’s eyes. She edged away from Olivia, rounding the settee in an effort to separate them. “I understand, my lady.” Clarice pressed a hand to her belly, hoping its quaking would soon calm as well as the two stinging places the crop had bitten. “I was trying to be polite. I know how much you’ve set your cap for him, your busy personal calendar notwithstanding.” Despite the annoyance of being called to task for her actions, Clarice’s heart went out to Felix. Did he know Lady Drummond enjoyed male attention a little too much or that she entertained gentlemen friends in her boudoir on a regular basis?

  “Indeed.” Olivia’s grin held a predatory edge. She chased Clarice around the settee, and when the crop flew out again, it tagged her on her backside.

  This time, a gasp of pain escaped her. “For the love of God, leave off, Lady Drummond. I swear I didn’t deliberately seek him out.”

  “I’ll forgive you as long as it do
esn’t happen again.” Olivia tossed the crop to the settee but continued to hold Clarice’s gaze. “If it does, I’ll use the crop again only next time it will be on your naked flesh. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” The word came out on a whisper. She refused to cry in front of Lady Drummond, refused to let the other woman know how her treatment had affected her.

  “Good.” Her grin held an edge of cruelty. “In the meantime, you and I will attend a party in Grosvenor Square next Saturday afternoon. Perhaps you’ll find a gentleman who is more appropriate for you to spend time with.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” She rubbed the throbbing spot on her arm. “I’m not searching for a match.”

  “Nonsense, my dear.” A trill of laughter left Lady Drummond’s throat, weirdly out of place after the discipline. “Every woman, regardless of class, desires love and romance. Don’t you long to feel a man’s arms around you and experience the passion behind a proper kiss?”

  Did she? She’d only had one beau before, but he’d not been mature enough for her. She’d broken things off and shortly after began her employ in the Drummond household. She had no idea what had become of the Frenchman. Working for Olivia didn’t afford much free time to contemplate a future with a husband and babies. A picture of Felix drifted into her mind. He had the face and form she’d always thought a man should possess. What would his arms feel like while holding her close? “Even so, I’d rather a courtship with marriage in mind instead of a dalliance for convenience or even boredom. I want the respect over lust.”