How to Entice an Earl

by Manda Collins

  The duke’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he grinned. “I am happy to hear it. I must admit that when Cecily first suggested the idea to me I thought she was cracked.”

  “What does Cecily know of it?” Christian demanded. “I didn’t know for sure myself until last night.”

  “She is a woman, Gresham. Their minds leap from acquaintance to marriage in the space of a moment. Even the ones whose minds are also filled with ancient languages and such.”

  Christian thrust a hand into his carefully arranged locks. “I dislike being the object of such scrutiny,” he said, feeling harassed. “If I’d known she was watching us so closely I might never have…” He paused, rethinking the wisdom of admitting last night’s encounter after Lady Emily’s soiree to his friend. “Never mind.”

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Winterson said reassuringly, “Deveril was quite convinced that she wouldn’t have you. In fact, let me know when you plan to announce the engagement. I want to be the one to tell him. He owes me a pony!”

  Christian’s mouth dropped open. “He bet against me? The bastard!”

  “Don’t be too hard on him, Gresh,” the duke said, leaning back in his chair. “Deveril’s view of you is colored by the less than crisp nature of your shirt points.”

  “But yours is not?” the other man demanded wryly.

  Winterson shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t so sure you’d manage the thing, either. But I reckoned Cecily would reward me for having faith in my friend.

  “Which,” he continued with a wink, “she did.”

  Christian shook his head in disgust. “I cannot believe that I have nursed such—”

  “I believe the saying is ‘vipers in the bosom,’” Winterson offered helpfully.

  “Vipers in my bosom,” Christian agreed, sipping his coffee. “I can only imagine what mischief you would have got up to if it were a love match.”

  This erased Winterson’s grin. “You mean it isn’t a love match?”

  “Hardly,” Christian replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I am fond of her, of course. And we are compatible in … other ways.” He didn’t feel right discussing what he’d shared with Maddie last night. It was private. Between them. “I think we will rub along tolerably together.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Winterson frowned. “I know it’s not always fashionable, but there is something intoxicating about being married to a woman you love.”

  Since Winterson had married, Christian had seen a change in his friend. And it was one for the better. The duke seemed more settled. More grounded. And happy in a way Christian had never seen him. But it was hardly possible for everyone to replicate the Duke and Duchess of Winterson’s happiness.

  “The circumstances that brought about your marriage are not so different from mine with Maddie” he said, treading carefully.

  The duke paused, his frown deepening. “What circumstances?” he asked silkily.

  Christian felt his face color. “Just that it started as a hastily arranged affair,” he said, hastening to add, “As ours will be. That’s all I mean.”

  “Are you saying you compromised the girl more thoroughly than with a kiss, Christian?”

  Damn. Winterson hadn’t called him by his given name since Eton at least.

  Still, he would not allow the other man to cow him. He was hardly Maddie’s father. And though he appreciated his friend’s protectiveness, he was the one who would be looking after Madeline from now on.

  “That is none of your affair,” he said, a hint of steel in his tone. “Suffice it to say that we will be married as soon as possible, and that I will endeavor to make the young lady happy.”

  The two men stared at one another for a moment, then, nodding his approval, Winterson reached out to cuff Christian on the shoulder.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “She’s a fine, if spirited, lady. I wish you every happiness.”

  “Thanks,” said Christian wryly. “But what I need is advice on how to approach her father.”

  Winterson grinned, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Excellent! As you know I love strategizing.”

  Relieved that this first hurdle had been cleared successfully, Christian set himself to the task at hand.

  * * *

  Maddie awoke the next morning with the feeling that something was different, but was unable to place what it was. Then the memories of last night came rushing back, and panicking, she reached down to ensure she’d put her night rail back on since she heard her maid stirring about the room.

  “Good morning, Lady Madeline,” her maid, Landers, said, pulling back the curtains. “You’ve got a visitor in the blue sitting room.”

  Thinking that Christian must have already spoken to her father, Maddie swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose.

  “I hope he hasn’t been waiting long,” she said, moving to her dressing table to pull a brush through her tangled locks.

  “Oh, it isn’t a gentleman, my lady,” Landers said, bustling about the room. “It’s a Miss Snowe.”

  Maddie paused, the brush halfway through a knot. “Miss Snowe?” she demanded. “Miss Amelia Snowe?”

  When the maid assured her that it was indeed Amelia, Maddie debated for a moment whether she should see her. Amelia was hardly a dear friend who would be expected to call. However, the very fact that the other lady had called was remarkable enough that she couldn’t possibly resist receiving her.

  Dressed in a pale pink sprig muslin morning gown that she adored—it was important to one’s confidence she’d found of late to wear something one loved when facing a difficult task—Maddie entered the blue sitting room a bare half hour later to find that Landers had been correct. Seated there on Maddie’s favorite chaise for reading was Miss Amelia Snowe.

  “Good morning, Miss Snowe,” Maddie said, approaching the other woman as if she were a coiled cobra preparing to strike, and curtsying just enough to be polite. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  Amelia stood and offered her own abbreviated curtsy. “Lady Madeline,” she said, her china-blue eyes narrow with dislike. “I have come on a matter of some delicacy.”

  That brought Maddie up short. What could Amelia possibly have to discuss with her that might be called delicate?

  Waving for the other girl to continue, Maddie took a seat in a chintz chair opposite the chaise.

  Returning to her seat, Miss Snowe said bluntly, “I received an anonymous note this morning informing me of the fact that you and Lord Gresham shared a very public kiss last night at the home of Lady Emily Fielding.”

  What the…? Maddie felt her spine stiffen. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I do not know, nor do I care, about the truth or falsity of the matter,” Amelia said with a frown. “What you do with Lord Gresham is your affair.” She colored slightly. “I will admit that I have not harbored the most … friendly of feelings toward you and your cousins. In fact, I have taken you in active dislike. But whoever sent this note to me thinks that I am the sort of person who would spread the type of rumor that could ruin a young lady. I am not pleased that they thought this of me.”

  Maddie felt her eyes widen. “You mean to say that you do not intend to spread this tale? Despite your dislike of me?”

  She was astonished. Not by Amelia’s declaration that she disliked Maddie and her cousins. That was obvious to anyone. What surprised her was the other young lady’s decision to keep the potentially ruinous bit of gossip about Maddie to herself. Next she’d be cooing at small animals and chucking babies under the chin.

  “No,” Amelia said, her lips tight. “Not because I do not think it’s true. But because I do not wish my reputation to be further sullied by the notion that I am an ill-tempered shrew who will stop at nothing to ruin her social enemies.”

  When it was stated in that light, Maddie felt the world tilt back to its normal axis. This was the Amelia she’d come to know and despise. She was somewhat relieved.
It would have been quite difficult to adapt to the notion of Amelia as a kind, upstanding young lady.

  “I suppose thanks are in order?” Maddie said, unsure how to proceed.

  Amelia thrust a folded letter toward her. “Here it is. I thought perhaps you might wish to see it, to determine who sent it. I did try myself, but since I assume this is someone who wishes you ill—and that number could be legion—I decided that you might do a better job of investigating the matter.”

  Taking the note, Maddie read the scrawled lines:

  Lady Madeline Essex kissed Lord Gresham before an audience last night at Lady Emily Fielding’s card party. I’m sure you won’t be able to keep this all to yourself.

  A friend.

  “What I dislike the most is that this person assumes I am a gossip,” Amelia said tightly. “It is infuriating.”

  “I can see why you’d feel that way,” Maddie said, unsure of whether she should try for commiseration or condemnation.

  Amelia stood. “I will leave you now. I feel sure that you have licentious lords to kiss, or some other mischief to get up to.”

  With that, Amelia walked from the room and left Maddie staring after her.

  Dumbfounded.

  But when her puzzlement lifted, she realized that there was something more at stake than her continuing war with Amelia.

  Someone had purposely set out to ruin her reputation. Someone who must have been there at Lady Emily’s last night and seen her kiss with Christian.

  A chill ran over her as she wondered who would do such a thing. And more importantly, why? Could it be that she was getting too close to whomever had murdered Tinker?

  * * *

  Christian arrived on the front steps of Essex House feeling slightly nauseous at the idea of making his case to Madeline’s father, and clutching a posy of spring roses. It wasn’t that he was afraid. Exactly. It was just that he’d never proposed marriage before. And remembering his discussion in the park with Lord Essex about the suspicions surrounding Linton, he wasn’t quite sure that the man would view him as a suitable choice for his daughter’s hand.

  Of course whether Essex saw him as suitable or not had lost all meaning when Christian had sneaked into the fellow’s house the night before and seduced his only daughter. Running a finger under his suddenly too tight cravat, Christian applied the door knocker.

  “The Earl of Gresham to see Lord Essex,” he said to the butler before the man had barely opened the door.

  Surveying him and the bouquet he carried, the majordomo looked surprised, but ushered Christian in. “I’ll just see if Lord Essex is receiving today, my lord.”

  Stepping into the entryway of the town house, Christian was surprised to hear a low-level hum, not unlike that of the card room at the club, or the crowd at a prize fight.

  “Is Lord Essex having a meeting of some sort?” he asked the footman who stood near the door. He hadn’t counted on pulling the other man away from a gathering. It would draw undue attention to his visit. Not that he thought the reason for it would remain a secret forever.

  “Oh, no, my lord,” the footman said with a smile. “That’s just the fellas who came to bring posies to Lady Madeline this morning.”

  Christian froze. “And how many of these fellows are there?” he demanded. When he’d told Maddie not to marry anyone else while he was away, he hadn’t actually thought there was a possibility of it happening.

  “Oh, perhaps two dozen or so,” the footman said, blithely unaware of the jealous rage he’d lit aflame in the man before him. “First time for everything, I s’pose. Lady Madeline has never seemed to inspire so many gentleman callers before, but something must have changed them.”

  Abandoning his plan to see Lord Essex, Christian strode past the footman and up the stairs, following the sound of male conversation until he reached an open doorway. Stepping inside, he saw the two dozen men the footman had promised, milling about chatting with one another, and presumably waiting to pay their respects to their hostess.

  Maddie herself was surrounded by at least six men who all vied for her attention. Laughing merrily at something one of the men had just said, she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. And Christian was swept with a wave of possessiveness that nearly had him striding forward and telling the men surrounding her to go to the devil.

  “Good afternoon, Gresham.” A female voice punctured the haze of his jealousy.

  Turning, he saw Juliet, Deveril’s viscountess, and Maddie’s cousin. “You look ready to slay the room at large,” she said with a barely suppressed smile. “You needn’t look so murderous. She is merely enjoying the experience of being the center of attention for a change. I have no doubt that as soon as she realizes you are here she’ll send them packing.”

  Christian wondered if that was the case. He had left Maddie last night assured of their affection for one another, but perhaps he’d overestimated her attachment to him. After all, she had barely received much male attention at all before he seduced her. Perhaps she wished to determine if some other man might be a more suitable match for her. He suppressed a growl. She would simply have to understand that she was stuck with him. Last night had changed everything and he was damned if he’d sit by while she searched for his replacement.

  Excusing himself to Juliet, he strode forward, intending to stake his claim before the halflings and drones buzzing around Maddie managed to turn her head.

  “Here’s another bouquet, Lady Madeline,” the second footman, Tom, said, approaching her with another posy. This one was the simplest of the lot. Fresh spring roses in the palest shade of pink that matched her gown perfectly.

  Shaking her head in renewed surprise, she buried her nose in the blooms. She would no more have imagined herself in the midst of a crowd of eligible young men than she would have said the moon would come calling for tea, but as soon as the hour arrived when it would be proper to pay calls, the knocker of Essex House had begun sounding and it showed no signs of stopping.

  “Thank you,” she told the footman and rose to put them with the others. “Who sent them, Tom?”

  “They are from me,” Christian said, looking every inch the nobleman as he strode toward her, scattering the other gentlemen like a cat among the pigeons.

  Unbidden, the memory of his face limned in candlelight the night before as he stroked powerfully into her sent a wave of heat through her. As if he could read her thoughts, Christian met her gaze.

  Burying her nose in the flowers gave Maddie a moment to regain her composure. Unfortunately it also gave her other gentlemen callers, oblivious to the death looks Christian was sending them, time to regroup around her.

  “I chose wildflowers for you, Lady Madeline,” Lord Philip Thompson said, eyeing Christian jealously, “because I thought they best suited your personality.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you, my lord,” she said brightly.

  “Lady Madeline,” Christian said in a voice loud enough for the room at large to hear. “I wonder if I might have a word?”

  Having grown tired of the senseless chatter of the men surrounding her, Maddie leaped at the chance to leave them. “Of course, my lord.”

  “Madeline,” Lady Essex said, abandoning her conversation with Cecily and Juliet and approaching Maddie. “It would be highly improper for you to leave the room just now. Especially when you have so many visitors.”

  Christian was in no mood to be gainsaid, however. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said with a bow. “I assure you that I will be speaking with Lord Essex shortly after I have a word with Lady Madeline.”

  The implication of his statement was crystal clear.

  The room that had been loud with chatter quieted.

  “I say, Gresham,” Mr. George Vinson said with a touch of annoyance, “do you mean to cut the rest of us out that easily? Not sporting of you. Not a bit.”

  A chorus of agreement rose up among the other young men.

  Their objections, however, held no weight
with Lady Essex, who dismissed them with a wave of her hand. “I will allow my daughter to speak with you, my lord,” she said to Christian, “though I will have your word that you will speak to Lord Essex before you quit this house.”

  Christian bowed to Maddie’s mother. “You have my word.”

  To Maddie, she said, her eyes broadcasting her wishes, “My dear, please do be sure to listen to Lord Gresham’s speech most carefully.”

  Maddie reflected that if Lady Essex were aware of the intimacies she’d shared with Christian last night she would be demanding that her daughter listen to the man’s proposal, rather than requesting.

  Nodding to her mother, Maddie put her hand lightly on Christian’s arm as he led her down the hallway to the sitting room where she’d met with Amelia earlier.

  He’d left the door open slightly, as was proper, though Maddie thought it rather foolish. But such was the way of proprieties. They really did little to ensure that the lines between good behavior and bad were never crossed.

  “Come,” he said quietly, reaching for her arm and pulling her toward him. “Are you well?” he asked, looking into her face, as if trying to determine her mind before she spoke.

  “Quite well,” she said, ducking her head with a blush. She was finding it rather more difficult to look him in the eye in the light of day than it had been last night. “And you?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I am well, as well. Also. Too.”

  “You are a silly, silly man,” she said, though she meant it with affection. She had come to appreciate his sense of the absurd as much as his strength and loyalty. Who would wish to be tied to a man who never laughed? she wondered, leaping ahead to what she knew this interview was truly about. Not their well-being or their absurdity, but their marriage.

  “I am,” he said solemnly, pulling her closer, “but I’ll be your silly man if you’ll have me.”

  The confirmation that they were of one mind made Maddie’s heart beat faster. How dreadful it would be to tie him to her if he did not wish it, she thought. She risked a glance up at his eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked, knowing that if he said no she would be wretched for a long time to come.