Bedding Lord Ned

by Sally MacKenzie

  He liked it that way: calm and quiet and orderly and predictable. He was done with heartache and upheaval. He would marry a nice, well-behaved woman like Lady Juliet and begin filling his nursery.

  He started back up the path to the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack make a move to follow him, but Ash, thankfully, stopped him. That would earn Ash an ounce of forgiveness, but his elder brother had a lot to atone for. What the hell had he been thinking, letting Ellie go bolting after Miss Wharton like that? Ned flexed his right hand. Perhaps their “discussion” would take place outside. He’d quite like to draw Ash’s cork and see his blood decorate the snowdrifts.

  His feet crunched over the path. The servants had spread cinders, but already the ground was turning icy. They should put down more so no one slipped when the rest of the party returned later.

  He reached the spot where he’d had his unpleasant conversation with Percy and smiled grimly. It looked like he had a busy time ahead of him; he’d use his encounter with Ash as a warm up for his meeting with his brother-in-law. He would keenly enjoy mashing Percy’s face with his fist.

  It would be better, though, if he could manage to steal back the damn drawers first. Without them, Percy had nothing to hold over Ellie’s head. His tale of salacious behavior would be greeted with shocked disbelief and righteous anger—against him, not Ellie, especially after Ellie’s recent act of heroism, no matter how stupidly misguided it was.

  Hmm. Perhaps he would pay a visit to Percy’s room while everyone was still at the pond.

  He handed the footman his skates as he came in the house. “The path is getting a bit slippery, Thomas. You might want to spread some more cinders.”

  “Yes, my lord. I’ll see to it straightaway.”

  Ned nodded and took the stairs up to the bedroom floor, slowing when he reached Percy’s door. He glanced carefully in both directions—no one else was in the corridor—and then slipped inside.

  Zeus, the place was a pigsty. It was painfully clear Percy had let his man go. Shirts were flung over chair-backs; pantaloons lay like cloth puddles on the carpet; soiled cravats festooned the bedposts; and balled-up stockings lurked everywhere just waiting to be trod upon. How the hell was he going to find something as small as a pair of silk drawers in this mess? At least they were red.

  He checked his pocket watch. He would allow himself half an hour. If he hadn’t uncovered the garment by then, he would simply get it from Percy after he’d beaten him to a pulp. Now, where to begin?

  He opened the cabinet closest to him. Faugh! There was a wadded up condom in the middle of one shelf. Thank God Reggie had had better sense than to pilfer that.

  He went through the room as thoroughly as he could. He pulled out drawers, peered into the clothes press, even gingerly picked up the dirty clothes. Nothing. Finally, his allotted time was over; he had to admit defeat. He retreated to his own room, closed the door, and collapsed back against it.

  And then images of Ellie—Ellie in those drawers and only those drawers—flooded his imagination.

  Bloody hell.

  It was all Percy’s fault. Percy had made him wonder about Ellie’s legs and breasts and body. And then at the pond ...

  It had been bad enough wrapping his hands around her delicate ankles, but he’d been able to focus on his effort to save her life. And, truthfully, lying prone on the ice had also helped control his body’s inappropriate reaction. But watching her skirts inch up her legs, seeing bit by tantalizing bit the outline of her calves and thighs and sweet rump ...

  He bent over. His damn cock had gone mad.

  He squeezed his eyes closed. How could he have been so terrified and so bloody aroused at the same time? One emotion must feed the other—it was the only explanation for such a ridiculous situation. After all, this was Ellie. Good, old Ellie. His childhood friend. His almost sister.

  His stomach protested.

  Well, perhaps not quite that last. But still—Ellie. Not Lady Juliet, the woman he was supposed to be wooing.

  He straightened. It was all very confusing, and his emotions had been twisted enough today. He could feel one of his headaches coming on. He’d just go splash some water on his face, take some of his headache powders, and lie down before dinner. He would have to thrash Ash and Percy later.

  Reggie was waiting for him, lounging on his pillow, looking damned pleased with himself.

  “Confound it, Reggie, can’t you at least confine yourself to the foot of the bed? I don’t want to be breathing in bits of your fur all night.”

  Reggie gave him a reproachful look.

  “Yes, I know you’re offended, but I need that space.” He reached for the cat, but Reggie jumped down first, leaving behind a pair of red silk drawers.

  Chapter 13

  The path to true love is not without its slippery spots.

  —Venus’s Love Notes

  “I can never thank you enough, Miss Bowman.”

  Actually, Miss Wharton could thank her enough. Once or twice would have been fine; nine times—or was it ten now?—in the space of half an hour were far, far too many.

  “It was nothing, really, Miss Wharton. Please put it out of your mind,” Ellie said, hoping she hadn’t stressed the “please,” but worrying that perhaps she had.

  Ash’s aborted laugh indicated she definitely had.

  She, Ash, and Miss Wharton were drinking cider, standing by the bonfire with Mr. Humphrey and Miss Mosely. Ellie looked out over the pond. Jack was skating with Lady Heldon; Percy, with Ophelia. The duchess sent her an apologetic look as she and the duke glided by. She’d love to be out there with the others—away from Miss Wharton. Could she persuade Ash to partner her again?

  “But if you hadn’t acted so quickly and so bravely, I’m sure I would have broken through the ice.” Miss Wharton shuddered. “And I can’t swim.”

  The inability to swim would have been the least of Miss Wharton’s problems. “Lord Edward was right there as well. He would have kept you from getting wet.”

  Of all the skating couples, Mr. Cox and Lady Juliet were by far the most striking. They moved together so gracefully it was as if they were one body, not two. They must have skated together often.

  They swept by close enough for Ellie to see their expressions. Oh! Their eyes were glued to each other’s, their faces tight with suppressed passion and longing.

  She flushed and quickly looked away. She felt as if she’d intruded on an intensely private moment.

  “And really, Miss Wharton,” Mr. Humphrey was saying, “I must apologize fervently. You were my partner; your safety was my responsibility.” The shock of the near disaster had apparently knocked much of the bombast from Mr. Humphrey’s breast.

  Miss Mosely jumped immediately to his defense. “Oh, sir, you are too hard on yourself. You must admit Miss Wharton—” Her fierceness suddenly faltered. She flushed. “That is, no offense meant, of course, but you were moving rather rapidly, Miss Wharton.”

  Miss Wharton nodded. “Oh, yes. My lamentable enthusiasm. At home we race about our pond all the time in the winter, but I am obviously not at home. I should have been more careful.” She smiled at Mr. Humphrey. “Please don’t blame yourself, sir. My papa has always said I skate like a runaway horse. No one can control me.” She looked back at Ellie. “Which is why I must thank you yet again, Miss Bowman, and apologize for being the cause of you putting yourself at risk.”

  Ellie really wanted to scream. “Yes, well, it is over—do let us say no more about it.” Perhaps Miss Wharton would cease if Ellie pointed out not everyone saw her as a heroine in this story. “I will tell you Lord Edward thought I was very much at fault for being so impetuous.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Ned admired your pluck, Ellie,” Ash said. “He just wished you’d let me or him attend to Miss Wharton’s rescue.”

  Miss Wharton’s face developed a definite sheen of admiration. “Lord Edward was wonderful, wasn’t he? So brave, so manly.”

  “Yes, yes, Ned is
a very good fellow,” Ash said dryly.

  Ellie turned her laugh into a cough. Was Miss Wharton going to set her cap for Ned now? That match would be a disaster even Ned should be able to see a mile away. Miss Wharton’s impetuosity would have him in Bedlam before Sir Reginald could lick his ear.

  “I wish I could tell him so,” Miss Wharton said. She looked around. “Where is he?”

  “I believe he returned to the house.” Ash’s smile was slightly evil. “But I’m sure he’d be delighted to speak to you in the drawing room before dinner.”

  Ellie coughed again. Delighted? Ned would be mortified.

  “And since everyone is safe and dry, and Miss Bowman has begged us to desist, I don’t believe we need to belabor the issue any longer,” Ash said. He bowed to Miss Wharton. “May I take you out on the ice? I do strongly suggest, however, that we head away from the warning ropes.”

  Miss Wharton laughed. “I believe you are as brave as your brother, Lord Ashton. Yes, I would be happy to take a turn about the pond with you.”

  Mr. Humphrey cleared his throat as Ash and Miss Wharton skated away from them. “Ah, and here I am, with two lovely ladies.” His nose twitched as he tugged on his coat sleeves and smiled a bit awkwardly. “An embarrassment of riches.”

  “Oh, please, don’t feel you need to keep me company,” Miss Mosely said with what sounded to Ellie like false gaiety. “I’m quite content to stay here and watch.”

  “Don’t you skate at all, Miss Mosely?” Ellie asked.

  Miss Mosely shook her head quickly. “Oh, no.” Her smile wavered. “Miss Wharton’s papa may say she skates like a runaway horse; mine says I’m like a terrified snail.” She looked down at her hands. “Well, I really don’t go out on the ice at all.”

  “I’m sure you just need some practice.” Ellie looked at Mr. Humphrey. He had appeared quite competent when he’d been squiring the wild Miss Wharton. “And perhaps an understanding tutor. Do you think you might be able to help Miss Mosely, sir?”

  Mr. Humphrey puffed out his chest. “Yes, indeed. I would be delighted to show you the way of it, Miss Mosely. I will tell you, if I may do so without bragging—I’m saying this only to put your fears at rest, you understand—that I am considered more than a little skilled in this area. If you will only try, I will have you gliding over the ice in no time.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Miss Mosely was clearly torn between her fear of skating and her desire to have Mr. Humphrey’s close attention.

  “We will go slowly, and if you fall, I will help you up.” Mr. Humphrey grinned, suddenly looking much more attractive. “And you will fall, you know. It is part of learning. I’ve fallen many times myself and, as you see, I’ve survived the experience.”

  Miss Mosely smiled shyly. “I would like to learn.” She put her gloved fingers on Mr. Humphrey’s arm—and then looked at Ellie. “Oh, but we can’t abandon Miss Bowman.” She started to remove her hand.

  “Of course you can,” Ellie said. “I’ve had my excitement for today, I hope. I was just on the verge of leaving.”

  It was clear Mr. Humphrey wished to focus on Miss Mosely, but he was too well bred to give up immediately. “Well, if you’re completely certain?”

  “Completely.” She grinned at them both. “I expect Miss Mosely to report at dinner that she raced Miss Wharton across the pond and won.”

  “Oh, no.” Miss Mosely’s eyes widened with alarm. “I couldn’t.”

  “Miss Bowman is merely teasing you, Miss Mosely.” Mr. Humphrey gave Ellie a reproachful look. “She has a very active sense of humor. Do not worry. We shall go as slowly as you need.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Miss Mosely gazed adoringly up at him.

  Ellie waited until Miss Mosely had stepped gingerly out onto the ice, clutching Mr. Humphrey’s arm tightly as if her life depended on it, and then she started back to the castle. Her grace saw her, but only smiled and waved. Ellie waved back.

  The Duchess of Love should be very pleased with this house party. Miss Mosely and Mr. Humphrey were certain to make a match of it; Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Humphrey popped the question before the gathering was over. And even Mr. Cox and Lady Juliet appeared to be on the way to overcoming whatever stood in the way of their marriage.

  Of course, if Lady Juliet wed Mr. Cox, she would not be able to marry Ned, and that would disappoint her grace. But Ned’s mother would be far more disappointed if Ned married a woman who couldn’t sincerely care for him.

  Ned deserved happiness after his heartbreak. He should wed someone who loved him wholeheartedly—someone like Ellie.

  Ellie trudged up the hill, feeling gloomier with each step. Her feet crunched on the cold, packed snow. The hiss of skates, the drone of conversation, and bursts of laughter drifted up from the pond.

  She stopped and looked back. Miss Mosely had graduated to taking a few tentative steps—oh dear, she just landed on her rump. Mr. Humphrey laughed, and it looked as if Miss Mosely was laughing, too, as he helped her up. Ash and Miss Wharton skated over to offer encouragement.

  But love didn’t guarantee happiness, did it? Look at Ash. She was certain he and Jess loved each other, yet Ash was miserable. Her gaze drifted over to the duke and duchess skating slow, smooth figure eights. That’s what she wanted—the love Ned’s parents had, the love Mama and Papa had. A love that lasted.

  Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Damn it, she was so tired of being alone. She’d been determined to find a husband this year. She’d tried to do what she was supposed to. She hadn’t spent all her time with Ash; she’d talked to Mr. Cox and Mr. Humphrey. She’d even tried to get over her infatuation with Ned. None of it had worked.

  What was she going to do? Next year she’d be twenty-seven.

  She continued up the hill. She couldn’t wait until next year; she would have to beat the bushes closer to home to find a husband. Surely she could flush out some male who wasn’t pox-marked or ancient.

  A jay screamed overhead; she looked up to see if she could spot it in the evergreen branches.

  Of course the problem had never been finding a suitable male; the problem had been her unwillingness to find any male other than Ned suitable.

  This was the first year since Cicely’s death that Ned had shown any interest at all in the women the duchess invited. He’d never completely ignored his mother’s choices—he had better manners than that—but he’d never spent more time with one than the others. He’d been unfailing polite and steadfastly remote. But this year he’d singled out Lady Juliet. Was he finally ready to remarry?

  Ah, there was the jay. He flapped among the branches, sending snow cascading to the ground.

  Down in the dungeon, Jack had told her she should show some determination ...

  Ha! She needed far more than determination—she needed a miracle. Ned was furious with her; Percy was going to spread terrible stories about her; and the only ball gown she possessed was ruined.

  She snorted. And now she knew she’d reached the depths of despair—she was worrying about fashion. Ridiculous!

  Thomas opened the door for her when she reached the castle. “Is the path all right, Miss Ellie? Should I put more cinders down?”

  “It’s fine, Thomas. I had no problems.”

  Thomas peered out the door. “Is the rest of the party coming soon, then?”

  “I don’t think so. Everyone was still skating when I left.”

  Thomas nodded, and then sent her a sidelong glance. “I believe Lord Edward is in his room, miss.”

  Why was Thomas sharing that information with her? He didn’t think she’d seek Ned out, did he? “Er, yes, well, thank you. At the moment I need to put away my coat and make myself presentable.”

  She climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor toward her bedroom.

  She did need to talk to Ned about Percy to be sure he knew not to pay the scoundrel anything. But Ned might feel he had to do something to protect her in some way. He would worry. It would be much easier if sh
e could just make the problem go away.

  She paused in front of Percy’s door. If she had the red drawers back, Percy would have no hold over her.

  The corridor was empty. She could sneak into his room now; if she found the damn garment, she’d be free.

  She stared at the door handle, chewing her lip. But if someone found her in Percy’s bedroom, the scandal would be enormous. It would give credence to Percy’s lies.

  No one would see her. Everyone was still at the pond and likely to be there for a while. Miss Mosely was just getting started on her skating lesson, after all. Even the servants had deserted this floor. And Percy had taken what belonged to her. She would only be taking it back.

  She reached for the knob.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to go in there.”

  “Eek!” She jumped and spun around. Ned was leaning against the wall. “You scared me half to death.”

  “Sorry. I thought I’d made plenty of noise walking down from my room, but you did seem lost in thought.”

  She felt herself flush. “Percy has something of mine.”

  Ned grinned. “Not any longer.”

  Relief so intense she thought her legs would collapse washed over her. That was wonderful news—if only it were true. “What do you mean? You can’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Well, I assume you’re referring to these.” He held up the damn drawers.

  Thank God! She snatched them out of his fingers. “How did you get them?”

  “Reggie, of course. Percy is no match for Mama’s pet.”

  “I never thought I’d be happy that cat is such an accomplished thief.” She balled the drawers up in her hand. “I will hide them away immediately.”

  Ned chuckled. “I suspect the only way to keep them safe is to wear them.”

  She smiled back at him. “I suppose you are right. I’ll have to—”

  Good God, she wasn’t discussing wearing these red silk drawers with Ned, was she?

  She felt herself turn as red as the offending garment—and as red as Ned’s face now.