Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord

by Sandra Sookoo

  Once he was alone, Felix glared at the doorway. Damn all the women in his life and their games of feminine intrigue. He’d just been put in his place quite soundly by his mother, hard on the heels of the same from Clarice. His stomach clenched. Not since he was a youth had he felt as thoroughly chastised as he did right now. What next? Lady Drummond scheming to put him in a compromising position? Oh Lord. He groaned. Lingering alone in this room left him vulnerable to further antics. He should return to the party, but every particle of his being resisted. I have no wish to associate with those people. The only thing his brain urged him to do was seek Clarice out and apologize, yet again, and perhaps beg her to consider spending more time with him. Every time he’d hoped to show her his affection, he’d made a muck of it.

  Never had he been led about by his prick or the secret whispers of his heart, yet as he did a swift reconnaissance of the lower level, he couldn’t help thinking both guided his steps. Nowhere had common sense stepped in and stopped him and had very nearly led him into a childish bout of fisticuffs. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly until he’d set things to rights with Clarice, and he didn’t care to analyze why that was. All he knew for certain were things were better when she was around him.

  She wasn’t on the lower level of the house or on the terrace where some of the other guests lounged. Lady Drummond waved at him.

  “Felix, dear, why don’t you come out and join us? I do so want to introduce you to some friends.”

  “Perhaps later. I am on a mission at the moment.” He pushed on with nothing but black thoughts about women in general chasing about his head. Did all of them scheme and hope to bully men into doing their bidding?

  Felix bounded upstairs, more determined than ever to locate Clarice. He didn’t want more games; he merely wanted the truth. If she told him she preferred Guy, he’d swallow his pride and walk away—if she was happy. It was the only thing that mattered to him now. If Guy could cajole her into smiles and provide her with the life she’d dreamed of, he’d let her go. He chose a left-hand hall and stumbled into the object of his desire. “Bloody hell.” His pulse tripped into a frenzy. He gripped her upper arm, steadying her. “You and I need to talk.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.” Her frosty glare would have intimidated lesser men and gave him a glimpse of the aristocrats she was related to. Another reason she should own her French roots.

  When she attempted to edge around him and head to the stairs, he tightened his grip. “Blast it, I am not of a mind to argue again in public. Come with me.”

  “Lord Swandon, release me at once,” she hissed, yanking her arm from his hand.

  He lowered his voice. “Servants will talk and prying eyes are everywhere. I do not intend to leave you alone until we’ve had a discussion.”

  Clarice narrowed her eyes. Though she nodded, she muttered in her native tongue while allowing him to escort her down the hall. “You are impossible, my lord.”

  “Perhaps, but no more so than you, I’ll wager. In this, we are well matched.” At the first unoccupied room, Felix pulled her inside and quietly shut the door behind them. “Let me apologize.”

  “I grow weary of hearing you say it.” She propped her hands on her hips. “There was no excuse for your behavior.” A frown tugged her lush lips downward. “Why did you do it?”

  “I have no answer except to say I’ve lost my mind.” Standing so close to her, with the heat of her body seeping into his, breathing in her faint floral scent and staring into her gold flecked eyes played havoc with his senses. He shoved every altruistic notion and intention from his mind. Never had he had such a swift and sure reaction to a woman. As he descended further into madness, the only thing he wanted was another kiss. “Forgive me for the liberty. You can reprimand me directly after.” He caught her in his arms and crushed his mouth to hers.

  But Clarice apparently wanted none of it. She wrenched from his hold and shoved him away when he reached for her. Her eyes were wide and brimming with high emotion, most of which was contempt and disappointment. As her breasts strained against her bodice while her chest heaved, she stared at him. “Why do you persist in trying to kiss me every time we’re together?” A trace of moisture sparkled in her eyes. “I am not that sort of woman, and I do not appreciate you thinking I am.”

  “I don’t. It’s merely when I’m with you, I…” He trailed off. After all, what would he say that wouldn’t make the situation into exactly what she thought? Belatedly, he realized the simple wish to kiss her could very well be perceived as using her in a base way. Damn and blast. His nodcock plan had made her feel devalued. “Please understand my attention wasn’t a ploy to lure you into bed. I’m merely beside myself in your presence.”

  “Leave me alone, Lord Swandon.” Her voice shook. “The best thing for both of us would be for you to forget about me. You know as well I as I do there isn’t a future between the two of us—a legitimate future.”

  “That’s not true. Why can we not try?”

  Emotions he couldn’t identify flitted through her eyes. “I don’t know that you truly mean such a thing, especially after your display today. I am not an object to be won or set on a mantle as a prize to lord over other men.” The tendons in her neck worked with a hard swallow. “Despite our class division, I am a woman who would like to have her heart engaged, not only her other parts. If nothing else, I deserve that.”

  “I know you do.” Again, he reached for her, but she pulled away. “Clarice, please, hear me out.”

  “No. If you cannot understand any of what I’ve just told you, please do not attempt to contact me.” With that, she opened the door and slipped into the hallway. The clack of her heels faded as she fled.

  He shoved a hand through his hair. Bloody hell. That wasn’t how he’d wished the evening to end at all. Something had to be done, and soon; otherwise, he’d be fit only for Bedlam. He only needed to think harder about how to win the heart of a woman who had more than enough reason to despise him and men in general.

  Chapter Six

  Felix groaned the second he stepped inside the townhouse. It had been a grueling week dealing with issues in Parliament. It seemed the closer to the holiday break they were, the less likely the lords wished to move forward any sort of legitimate business. Matters which would dramatically benefit everyone in England were quibbled over and shoved to the side for the mere fact the Tory collective didn’t want to do the tasks that would come along with passing such things. They fell back, bandying about words such as tradition, the possibility of a vanishing way of life for the titled if everyone’s needs were taken into account, and how things were always done. By the time the early morning hours crept in, every man in the chambers left in various stages of annoyance.

  Good God, I’m one of them. I spouted off exactly those viewpoints. Except today, when he’d kept his own counsel and bit back opinions based on his peers’. Today, he realized that perhaps he might be wrong about a few decisions. His chest tightened. It wasn’t a bad thing, but his brother Oliver would tease him mercilessly.

  The faint chime of a clock in the parlor called out half past one. The long hours required of the job were beginning to wear on him. When Samuel approached him blinking the sleep from his eyes, Felix waved him off and told him to return to bed. After that, Felix shed his greatcoat, hat and gloves, tossed the whole lot of them onto a low table then made his way to his father’s study. Someone had left an oil lamp burning, no doubt anticipating his arrival nearer to midnight as was his custom. The soft, golden light created a cozy, welcoming atmosphere and recalled to mind the late nights when his father had retired to this very room, most likely after dealing with the same frustrating Peers. He collapsed into his chair and heaved a sigh.

  “London has become quite trying,” he announced to the room at large. The soft whisper of bare feet behind him betrayed the presence of someone else. Only his sister padded about the townhouse in bare feet.

  “Pour yourself something strong and st
rive to forget it for a while.” Charlotte slipped into the room then planted herself in a chair across from his desk. Her white night clothes resembled the trappings of a ghost in the dim light. “I had a feeling you’d wander in around this time.”

  “How?” He made it a point to never discuss business with his family and had never invited them to attend him while in his study.

  Charlotte shrugged. The dark red braid over one shoulder resembled a snake in the shadows. “Father was much the same way. I used to sit with him and listen as he grumbled about the stodgy and stiff old lords who left common sense in the country—if they ever had it.”

  He rolled his eyes. That sounded like their father. He’d been a man split solidly down the middle of both parties, but his decisions were sound and fair. Charlotte had inherited that from him. “While I’m glad to see you, I’m not in the mood for conversation, which is why I’m in here.”

  “Tough day with the stodgy and stiff old lords?”

  “Yes, and among other things I’m fighting a fit of the blue-devils.” When his sister didn’t move from her chair, he sighed. “Very well. Never say I didn’t warn you I’m not proper company.” He twisted, grabbed a couple of cut crystal tumblers and a decanter of scotch then placed everything on the desktop. “Why are you not tucked into bed dreaming of the day when a man swoops in and rescues you from all of this chaos?”

  “First off, I was worried about you.” Charlotte lifted the decanter and poured out a measure of the amber liquid into both glasses. “Secondly, I do not require rescuing. I’m perfectly content in London, watching Mother’s antics, and I most certainly do not need a man. I’m being me.”

  “Please, continue thinking that. Men are rotten scoundrels and we’ll muck up a female’s life like nothing else.” He knocked back a large gulp of the drink. “I would hate for you to land in the middle of a coil such as the one I’ve created.”

  “I’d wager this month’s pin money a woman has brought you to this pass.” She folded her legs beneath her then sipped her drink. “When men suddenly depart from the normal way of things in their own lives, there is always a woman involved.”

  He leveled a glance at his sibling. What harm would it do to discuss the problem in generalities? “Perhaps there is, and what’s more, I’ve never felt such a reaction before. It’s unsettling and somewhat disconcerting but also quite exhilarating.”

  Charlotte’s eyes twinkled. “I’m a good judge of romantic affairs, Felix, so let me be direct. Is it Miss Delacroix you find so charming? After that whole thing on Saturday, I began to wonder, then afterward it occurred to me. Men don’t often risk throwing away their reputations if their feelings for a woman weren’t strong.”

  “Or very wrong.” Heat crept up the back of his neck. “Even if I do have strong feelings for her, nothing can come of it. She’s not of the same class—at least on the surface—and a match between us would disappoint Mother.” The secrets he knew of Clarice were not his to tell. He couldn’t degrade her trust merely to purge his soul to his sister.

  “I see.” Charlotte took another sip while Felix poured his second glass. “Why would that make a difference? You’ve never lived your life to please Mother before.”

  “It is a complicated problem.”

  “Is it? Where romance is concerned, it’s been my experience one merely needs to think their way through clearly. I rather doubt you’ve done any clear thinking since meeting her.”

  “Indeed.” A grin tugged at his lips. “I’m afraid my interactions with Miss Delacroix have not shown me in the best light.” He sipped his drink and savored the smooth, smoky taste of the liquor as it hit his throat. “I cannot explain it. There is something about the woman that makes me take leave of my senses and become a different man—a man who could so easily forget his duty for a chance at… I mean, I have thought about it, and would like very much to find myself near her, but…” He sighed. Charlotte would never understand his ramblings. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m afraid our meeting last Saturday was more than Clarice could bear.”

  “While on the battlefield, did you save lives of men who were beneath you in class?”

  “Of course. In life and death, there is no distinction.” He leaned back in his chair. The springs creaked. “One of the most vivid was the battle where I received my own injuries. Shortly before I was cut down, I fought off a couple of French soldiers and came to the aid of a young man who’d fallen. Later, I discovered his parents were a seamstress and a pickpocket, and both were very grateful their boy was still alive.” He held her gaze. “What of it? Military campaigns and affairs of the heart are not the same thing.”

  “Oh, I think they are, my dear brother.” Charlotte chuckled. “A person fights battles in both. Perhaps there is nothing of consequence there or perhaps when a heart finds a home it shouldn’t matter the class or caliber of the person housing it.”

  “Ah, there’s the rub.” He scratched fingers through the stubble clinging to his jaw. “There are certain… facts surrounding her birth and French lineage that would put her in a different light should she choose to reveal them.”

  “Would those facts truly make a difference? Do you see her inversely because of them? Would you only want her if she did reveal them publicly?”

  “No.” Felix leaned forward and planted his elbows on his desk with his head in one hand. “For whatever the reason, I adore her for herself, right now, in this moment.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She’s quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met, yet I know hardly anything about her. The more I discover, the more I want to know.”

  “Oh, you silly goose.” Charlotte snickered then finished the remainder of her drink. “Life is short and love is difficult to find. If you’ve captured it, you are lucky indeed.”

  His heart lurched. “I’m not in love with the woman. I’m quite certain of that.”

  “You never were a good liar, Felix.”

  “Fustian. Love does not happen so quickly and without just cause.” He shook his head. “More likely, this is some bacon-brained desire of mine, as I’m under stress and seeking an outlet. Once life returns to a modicum of normality, I’ll forget all about her.”

  “Why must men delude themselves?” Charlotte lifted her gaze heavenward before pinning him with it again. “Love is different for each person. You’ve heard that sometimes it happens with the strength and as suddenly as a lightning bolt. It doesn’t mean it won’t grow into an abiding feeling down the line.”

  “Perhaps.” His pulse increased. Was that the reason he couldn’t do anything right in Clarice’s presence?

  “Perhaps nothing. That’s what it is.” She slanted a knowing glance at him. “I think you should have a care and follow your heart for a change. It makes you seem younger, almost happier.”

  “As opposed to what?” Why was the issue so easy for her to digest but not for him?

  She rolled her eyes. “Duty. Familial obligation. Whatever it is you feel prevents you from making Miss Delacroix an offer. You are planning to declare yourself, aren’t you? I’d be so disappointed to know you only wish her for a mistress.”

  “My interest in her is definitely not of that nature. Besides, she’d beat me soundly if I should even suggest it. Clarice is most adamant she won’t become a woman of that sort.” He didn’t even know why that was. Felix rubbed his eyes, and with a sigh, he stared at his sister. “Every time I’m in her company, the overwhelming urge to kiss her comes upon me.”

  “Have you done it?” She quirked an eyebrow in a gesture much like their mother’s.

  “I’ve kissed her a few times, but they’ve only been stolen or tender in nature. I’ve yet to kiss her thoroughly or with passion.” Heat seeped into his chest. I cannot believe I’m telling my sister such things.

  “It’s funny, really. I never thought I’d see my older brother tip over tail about a woman. It really has done wonders at erasing that line you usually have between your eyebrows.” Her trill of laughter
rang in the quiet room. “You were always so proud and accomplished, and when you went off to fight Napoleon, I feared you wouldn’t return. You are a hero in my eyes.” She reached for the decanter, but Felix pulled it farther away. “I only want to see you happy, Felix. Who gives a fig what Mother or anyone else thinks. If Miss Delacroix can make you complete, then by all means, pursue her. You won’t have another chance.”

  Chance. Just like his father. Would he miss his for the simple reason a match between them was wildly inappropriate in the eyes of Society? Maybe Charlotte was correct. In the affairs of the heart and the battlefield, there were no divides. “Why are you so interested in my personal affairs?”

  She shrugged and unfolded her legs from beneath her. “Just think, dearest brother. If you and Miss Delacroix should have children, how could Mother complain? After all, you followed her dictate and gave her grandchildren.”

  Plus, Clarice is a titled lady. But he kept that piece of gold to himself. His body warmed at the thought of having a family with Clarice and of doing the deed which would result in children. “I shouldn’t think she’d be pleased, and there’s every chance she wouldn’t acknowledge them. I’d be exiled from the Darrington family, and then what?” Would he be forced to reside at his beloved estate in Kent for the remainder of his life, or would any property be out of his reach and worse yet, would the title of earl pass to poor Oliver? “Dear God, it’s a bumblebroth.” Yet, he’d have Clarice, which was all he really wanted anyway. The opportunity to spend uninterrupted days at his country estate filled him with longing.

  “Don’t borrow trouble.” Charlotte rose. Her nightclothes engulfed her. Embroidered pink and yellow butterflies danced around the neckline of the garment. “By the by, Mother and I will be out this coming Saturday evening. Perhaps you should invite Lady Drummond and Miss Delacroix over for an intimate dinner.”

  “Are you mad?” He poured another measure of scotch with a shaking hand. His heartbeat raced through his veins, but excitement speared him. “And what would you have me do with both of them? I’m hardly the sort of man to propose a ménage a trois, and especially not with that combination of women.”