Bedding Lord Ned

by Sally MacKenzie

  He wasn’t.

  “Er, do you suppose we could go a little faster, Lord Edward? Lord Jack and Miss Bowman are far outstripping us.” She smiled at him. “And I do so love to feel the wind in my face.”

  He glanced ahead at the red and gold sleigh in front of them. Jack and Ellie had almost reached the woods already. They were laughing about some damn thing. Ellie looked younger and prettier when she laughed.

  And then they vanished into the trees.

  His stomach twisted; damn this nausea, though this time it didn’t feel as if the brandy was totally to blame.

  He dropped his gaze back to his lead horse’s arse. They had only to do one loop through the park—it would take no more than half an hour, if that. He could manage it.

  “Of course we can go faster.” He grit his teeth and encouraged his cattle to pick up their pace. His head and stomach protested, but if he focused on the horse’s rump directly in front of him and didn’t look at the scenery sliding past, perhaps he could avoid disgracing himself completely. Not that there was anything in his stomach to come up, but even a case of the dry heaves was to be avoided if at all possible.

  “Our numbers are much diminished,” Miss Wharton said.

  “Yes.” Ned wished they’d been diminished by one more—the lady sitting at his side.

  They hit a bump, and he had to swallow determinedly.

  He would have dodged this duty if he could have, but he was the only man available for the task. Jack had chosen to take Ellie up in his sleigh, of course—even Ned would admit his brother couldn’t very well have selected Miss Wharton, the woman he’d been trying so hard to avoid being alone with all week. Ash was too busy planning a snow fort to even notice the problem, and Humphrey was in deep conversation with Miss Mosely. Cox was nowhere in sight.

  “I understand Lady Ophelia and Sir Percy have left,” Miss Wharton was saying, “which is quite understandable given Sir Percy’s injuries, poor man.”

  “Yes.” Ned didn’t feel one iota of remorse. He’d pummel Percy again in a heartbeat, though not today. Today he was most definitely not in plump current.

  They reached the trees and slid into the shade. Thank God. The muted light was much easier on his eyes, head, and stomach. He drew in a breath of the cold, pine-scented air and felt marginally better.

  “And I haven’t seen Lady Juliet or Mr. Cox this morning,” Miss Wharton said. “Perhaps they are embarrassed by what happened last night and chose to have breakfast in their rooms, though surely they can’t intend to hide there all day.”

  “I imagine we’ll see them eventually.” He might be wrong, but he suspected since both of them were missing they were “hiding” in one room and quite likely one bed.

  Damn, and now he was thinking of those blasted red drawers again. He definitely needed to remarry soon—his body was demanding it.

  “But Lady Heldon was at breakfast,” Miss Wharton said. “I wonder what happened to her.” He felt her look at him. “She mentioned Lord Ashton’s marriage, and the duchess was not pleased. Do you suppose she sent Lady Heldon packing?”

  “Probably. My mother does not care to have my brother’s marriage discussed.”

  “That was very clear.” She paused and sent him another sidelong glance. “Do you care to discuss it?”

  “No.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t think so. Really, it would be a violation of your brother’s trust, wouldn’t it, for you to discuss his situation? You are very right to keep mum.”

  He was, but Ash hadn’t trusted him with any information, so there was nothing for him to conceal. Just as well. He had absolutely no desire to know the details of his brother’s marital troubles, though of course if there was anything he could do to help, he would. Ash knew that.

  He guided his horses along the winding road. Why the hell hadn’t whichever damn duke had cleared this path made it straight? He hoped Jack was being careful. Jack might be able to drive to the inch, but he was also a bit of a dare-devil. He had been racing his curricle on the ice just a fortnight ago, after all.

  Ned clenched his jaw. And this time Jack had a passenger. He’d better not take a turn too quickly and slide into a tree or injure Ellie in any way. Ned listened for the scream of horses and the splinter of wood over the jingle of his sleigh’s harness and the hiss of its runners over the snow. All he heard was Ellie’s and Jack’s laughter.

  “I will tell you,” Miss Wharton said, her voice a bit hesitant, “that Lady Heldon was right in what she said—everyone is gossiping about Lord Ashton, and most of the gossip is not nice.”

  “Oh?” He tried to sound repressive but given the current unsettled state of his stomach, he feared he wasn’t very successful. Miss Wharton pressed on.

  “Yes. When word got out I’d been invited to this party, people who normally cut me dead encouraged me to find out as much about Lord Ashton as I could while I was here—and then tell them all as soon as I returned.” She sighed. “London is not a very kind place, Lord Edward.”

  “Which is one reason I never go there.” Damn, Jack was right. It was indeed time for Ash to settle things with Jess.

  “Oh, I wish I could stay in the country, too,” Miss Wharton said rather passionately, “but Mama and Papa are determined to marry me off, so I must spend most of my time in London until they accomplish that goal.”

  Ned jerked his eyes away from his horse’s rump. This was a surprise. “Don’t you wish to be married?”

  “Yes, of course I do, but”—she smiled sadly and looked down at her muff—“you may have noticed I’m a bit of a bull in a china shop—or, rather, on the Marriage Mart. I’m too loud and awkward, and I never seem to say or do the right thing.” She shrugged. “Mama says I must learn to be better behaved—quiet, demure, perhaps a little bit bored—but I can’t seem to manage it.”

  Miss Wharton’s description of her mother’s ideal bride sounded rather like Ned’s—and surprisingly unappealing when stated so baldly. “I hesitate to contradict your mama, Miss Wharton, but I don’t believe you should change your behavior. Think how exhausting it would be to have to pretend to be someone you aren’t for the rest of your life.”

  Miss Wharton laughed. “Oh, Mama doesn’t expect me to really change. She just means for me to be a model society miss while I’m trying to catch a husband; once I’m wed, she says I can go on as I please as it will be too late for the poor man to get free.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I suspect that’s how she got Papa up the church aisle.”

  “Ah.” He’d never met Miss Wharton’s mama or papa, and, frankly, now he hoped never to have that dubious pleasure. “And are your parents happy together?”

  “As happy as most couples of our class, I suppose”—she smiled briefly—“which means not happy at all. Your parents are the exception to the rule, Lord Edward.”

  He’d known Mama and Father’s marriage was unusual, but surely marital bliss—or at least contentment—was still something to strive for. “What does your papa say about all this?”

  “Oh, he wants me to marry, too, so I’ll be some other man’s problem. He’s managed to rid himself of Lucy and Becky—my sisters—and I think he’s afraid he’ll be stuck with me f-forever.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she gave a shaky laugh. “And here I am acting improperly again.”

  He looked up ahead and caught a flash of red through the trees. At least Jack hadn’t yet wrecked the sleigh.

  Did Ellie’s mama and papa feel the way Miss Wharton’s did?

  “No,” he said. “He must be happy that you are a support to your mother.”

  Miss Wharton snorted. “Hardly. I am a thorn in Mama’s side, a constant reminder of her failure to foist me off on some suitable male. Papa says I quite ruin Mama’s temperament, not that he’s ever liked her temperament very much.”

  He’d never considered how difficult it must be for unmarried women. Ellie had always seemed content with her situation—except perhaps this year.

&nb
sp; Now that he thought about it, he did remember Mama mentioning at Christmas how concerned Mrs. Bowman was about Ellie’s future.

  Hmm. He was in need of a wife, and Ellie was in need of a husband. Perhaps they could solve each other’s problem. They were friends, even though things had been a little unsettled between them recently. And there were those odd red drawers ...

  Something inside him twisted—probably his stomach.

  “Nevertheless, Miss Wharton, I still think it would be a mistake to try to pretend to be someone you aren’t.” Wasn’t that what Ellie had said she’d been doing? “I’m sure there must exist a man in England who will find your true nature delightful.”

  “Oh?” She looked at him. “You, perhaps, Lord Edward?” She smiled eagerly. “I would be happy to marry you. I believe I could even come to love you, if you don’t mind my being so bold as to say so. Your actions on the pond yesterday were most heroic, and you have been very kind to me just now.”

  His stomach heaved, and, even though frigid air stung his cheeks, sweat popped out on his forehead. “Well ...”

  She giggled nervously. “I have put you in a very awkward spot, haven’t I? I do apologize.” But she still looked hopeful.

  “Ah.” He took a deep breath; the air burned his lungs and cleared the panic from his brain.

  He needed a wife, and Lady Juliet was no longer a viable candidate. Miss Wharton might do. He was older now—he didn’t require, nor really want, the overwhelming lust he’d felt for Cicely. And in any event, that hadn’t survived their wedding night.

  But first he must find out if Ellie needed his help.

  “We’ve just met, Miss Wharton. I don’t believe it would be wise to make a permanent commitment so soon.”

  “But I need to marry, Lord Edward. I am running out of time.” There was a desperation in her eyes that was rather alarming.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before I left for Greycliffe, Mama told me that if I didn’t marry this Season, she and Papa will give me to old Mr. Wattles to be his fourth wife.” Panic flickered over her face, and her voice drew tight. “The man is at least sixty and still without a son to inherit his estate.”

  “I see.” So this was why Miss Wharton was so determined to find a husband. “You can always refuse to marry him, you know. The days of parents forcing their daughters to the altar are long past.”

  Miss Wharton looked at him as if he were a complete cod’s-head. “You only say that because you’re a man. You have no idea the pressures brought to bear on women to get them to wed.” She looked back out over the horses’ tails. “If I don’t marry this Season and refuse Mr. Wattles as well, my life will be more of a hell than it already is. I wouldn’t put it past my father to throw me out onto the street.”

  She must be exaggerating, but she sounded as if she believed every word she said. He wanted to do something to help.

  Perhaps he should offer for her. He opened his mouth to suggest it, but then they emerged from the trees and he caught sight of Ellie and Jack again.

  He must talk to Ellie before he said anything to Miss Wharton. The conversation might be a little awkward, but he’d always been able to talk to Ellie. He’d see if she were in immediate need of a husband. If she were, he would offer her his services. But if she wasn’t, then he could approach Miss Wharton. In any event, there was no need to ask Miss Wharton in haste—she did have some time.

  “I suggest you see what happens this Season,” he said.

  “I don’t know why this Season should be any different than the previous seven.”

  He smiled at her. The cold and their conversation had made him feel almost human again. “Because I suspect this Season the Duchess of Love will be trying to find you a match.”

  Miss Wharton’s expression lightened and she smiled. “Do you really think so?”

  “I am sure of it. In fact, I will make a point to mention it to her.” He grinned. “Now shall we see if we can catch up to my brother?”

  Chapter 16

  If opportunity knocks, throw open the door and drag it in.

  —Venus’s Love Notes

  Ellie took Jack’s hand and let him help her down from the sleigh. The red drawers under her many layers of clothing slid against her skin, and she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Jack asked, concern softening his eyes.

  She flushed. “No.” The drawers weren’t warm, but somehow they generated an odd kind of heat.

  She glanced back at the other sleigh. Miss Wharton was smiling up at Ned as if he were her new best friend—or something more intimate, damn it.

  Her stomach tightened. She’d tried to watch them during the sleigh ride, but it had been difficult since Jack’s and her sled had been in the lead and she didn’t want Jack to notice—she did not care to be teased about this. The few glimpses she’d managed had shown Ned and Miss Wharton in an intense, heartfelt conversation. What had they been talking about?

  “I doubt you have to be jealous of Miss Wharton,” Jack murmured by her ear.

  She glared at him. “I’m not jealous.”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked amused. Blast it, he must have seen her looking back. Her fingers itched to scoop up a large handful of snow and wash his face for him.

  “Of course you aren’t,” he said. “I don’t know what gave me that notion.”

  “I don’t either.” She spun away and immediately collided with Mr. Cox, who’d come up to take his turn with their sleigh. “Oh! Pardon me, sir.”

  “Pardon me,” he said, grabbing her elbows to steady her.

  “No, no, it was my fault entirely. I, er, wasn’t paying attention.” She stepped back, hoping she wasn’t staring. Mr. Cox’s expression took her breath away: he was grinning widely, almost glowing with happiness. She glanced over at Lady Juliet, who blushed and looked even prettier than usual. Clearly these two had resolved their differences.

  Envy lanced her heart as she watched them climb into the sleigh and drive off, followed by Mr. Humphrey and Miss Mosely in the other sled. Everyone was finding a match—everyone but her.

  She turned and strode away, the damn silk drawers teasing her with every step. She was taking them off as soon as she could. Surely if she stuffed them under her mattress, Reggie couldn’t steal them again—or, if he did, he’d have to shred them to get them free, which would be fine with her.

  “Are you trying to run away from me, Ellie?” Jack asked, grabbing her hand and placing it on his arm.

  “No.” She jerked back, but Jack had her fingers trapped under his. “Let go.”

  “You don’t want everyone to think we’ve had a spat, do you?”

  “Why would they think that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because you’re glaring at me.”

  Ellie snorted and tugged again.

  “Or because you’re trying to wrestle free as if you fear I mean to abduct you. I only want to keep you from slipping and falling in the snow.”

  She tugged once more. “No one is paying us the least bit of attention.”

  Jack looked heavenward as if the Almighty might be persuaded to drop some sense on her head. “How long have you known Mama?”

  “What do you mean?” Ellie felt a sudden trickle of unease.

  “She’s watching us like a hawk—or, worse, like the Duchess of Love in full matchmaking mode.”

  Ellie glanced up to the terrace; blast it, the duchess was looking their way. “Oh, very well.” She bared her teeth in what she hoped looked like a smile from her grace’s position. “I’ll allow you to escort me, if you insist.”

  “Thank you.” Jack directed their steps toward Ash and his snow fort. Ned and Miss Wharton were already there.

  “I must say”—Jack was moving far slower than necessary, clearly intending to share his thoughts with her before they reached the others—“I don’t see why you are taking your spleen out on me.” He treated her to an uncomfortably probing look. “If you’ll remember, I urged you to purs
ue Ned. Since I’ve yet to see you do so, I’m beginning to conclude you don’t want him.”

  “What? You—”

  He tightened his grip on her fingers to stop her protests. “And if you don’t want him, Ellie, don’t play dog in the manger. Ned needs another wife; if Miss Wharton will have him, it might not be a bad match.” He grinned. “And it frees me from her pursuit.”

  She was so angry, she couldn’t speak. Jack was by far the most annoying man of her acquaintance ... well, except for his next older brother.

  He leaned close. “And if you do want him, do something about it, for God’s sake, because if you don’t, Miss Wharton will, and then you’ll be back exactly where you were when Cicely married Ned: outside looking in and miserable about it.”

  She finally found the breath to hiss at him. “I’d decided to do something about it, you blockhead, but you put paid to that by forcing me to ride with you just now.”

  “Oh.” Jack looked a little contrite. “Well, I couldn’t very well have chosen Miss Wharton; that would have been too much like slitting my own throat.”

  “You could have asked Miss Mosely.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to take her away from Humphrey.” He grimaced. “And, frankly, I couldn’t stomach the thought of spending half an hour alone in her company.”

  “I would have thought you’d be willing to suffer a little for Ned’s sake.”

  “Yes, but only a little. Half an hour with Miss Mosely is far too much. Admit it, Ellie. I might have fallen asleep and crashed the sleigh, and then where would I be?”

  “You’d be in a snowdrift where you belong, freezing your—” She stopped herself in time.

  “Temper, temper.” He waggled his finger in front of her nose. “I am sorry, but self-preservation will almost always trump brotherly love. I shall try to make it up to you.”

  “I won’t be holding my breath.” She looked away from Jack to find Ned glaring at her. What was he annoyed about? She raised her chin as they reached him.

  No, she wished to attract the man, not fight with him. “Did you enjoy the sleigh ride, Lord Edward?” How the hell was she supposed to flirt? She tried fluttering her eyelashes.