The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  She smiled. “On The Siren?”

  He tipped up her chin and kissed her soft, willing lips. “Perhaps.” It was tempting to stay where he was, enjoy a few more kisses and the sheer sweetness of her companionship. But the inn was too full, not least with her family, whom he had no desire to alienate.

  So, he pulled her to her feet and they continued their descent.

  Lily, carrying another tray of various refreshments to the coffee room, paused to wait for them. “Thank you, Miss,” she said to Henrietta. “For what you did.”

  Henrietta blushed. “I did nothing. It was Lord Silford who saved us all.” A moment longer, she regarded the innkeeper’s daughter. “I have a feeling the world would be a much less happy place without you.”

  Lily laughed. “Oh, not me, Miss, it’s the Hart. It’s a lucky house. And Captain, I’m sure his lordship will be fine.”

  Sydney opened the door, ushering both women through before following them inside.

  Lacey’s men had indeed taken away Rudd and Charles, Claude and Pollard. Lacey himself was clearly trying to gather his family for departure, although Matthew lingered by the side of Eunice Blackridge.

  “How is Lord Silford?” Lord Overton asked at once.

  “He’s awake,” Sydney said. “But we’ll know more when the doctor comes down. Lily, when you’ve done that, do you think we could have something stronger than tea in here?”

  “My father’s bringing it now, sir,” Lily assured him.

  When the doctor finally came in, he looked somewhat disapproving to find something very like a party going on beneath the sick room. Sydney walked toward him.

  “He tells me you’re his grandson,” the doctor said abruptly.

  “I am. Come, sit with me over here in some privacy.” Sydney swiped up another glass and poured the doctor a brandy before sitting down with him in the corner by the door. “What is your opinion?”

  “It’s his heart. It’s happened before. Minor attacks, and he has always pulled through them. I see no reason why he shouldn’t again, provided he has rest and comfort for a few days.”

  “Should he go back to Steynings? If it’s too far, I’m sure the Overtons would take him at Audley Park for a few days.”

  “He’s better where he is,” the doctor said bluntly. “If he can be properly cared for. I know the Villins are good people but they have an inn to run.”

  “I’ll send for his valet now,” Sydney said. “And anyone else from Steynings that he needs. And I shall remain at least until they get here.”

  “I’ve left a tincture in his chamber, to be taken night and morning. Lots of rest, no excitement. Try to keep his mind occupied but quiet if that is possible. I don’t want him getting bored and stamping off on a journey before he is fit to travel.”

  Sydney sighed and clinked his glass on the doctor’s. “Thank you.”

  When the doctor had departed, he arranged with Lord Overton for Silford’s valet to be sent over immediately.

  “Is there any other way we can help?” Overton asked.

  “Perhaps visit occasionally, when you have a moment? He likes Miss Maybury’s company, too.”

  Overton’s eyes narrowed. “I think it is you who likes the latter.”

  “Both of us,” Sydney said blandly. “And who wouldn’t? But that, I suspect, is a conversation for another day.”

  Overton scowled at him. “My first instincts concerning my daughters’ husbands have always been wrong. But I always worried more for Henrietta. She is too headstrong and too impulsive. I doubt you are the steady man she needs to keep her in line.”

  “But I shan’t bore her. And it’s possible we shall keep each other in line.”

  “Are you offering for her?” Overton asked bluntly.

  “Would you agree if I were?”

  “No.” Overton’s lips quirked. “Not yet. But you can come to dinner tomorrow evening if you can leave his lordship.”

  *

  Lord Overton was only too aware that the happy marriages of his eldest two daughters had taken place more in spite of his efforts than because of them. Still, he refused to be ashamed of using his daughters to further the family interests. It was a long and respectable tradition in noble families, however much personal preference was granted to modern young ladies.

  And yet Thomasina, whom he had thought of as the jewel in the family crown, had made a merely respectable match to the comfortable Lord Dunstan while Charlotte, whom he had valued in quite other ways, had made the brilliant match with the Duke of Alvan that he had once sought for Thomasina. Thanks to Charlotte’s marriage and Alvan’s generosity, his financial troubles were more or less at an end.

  He had been relieved that such matters did not need to drive his efforts in finding the right husband for his most willful daughter, and Rudd had seemed the perfect match. Even though Henrie had told him she didn’t like him, he hadn’t taken her seriously. And that truly frightened him. He had almost tied his daughter to a monster simply because he’d imagined he knew what was good for her.

  As a diplomat, he was used to reading character quickly and accurately. And yet, where his daughters were concerned, he was somehow a dismal failure. This severe dent in his confidence contributed to his wild uncertainty about Captain Cromarty.

  The heir to the earldom of Silford was undoubtedly an excellent match. But the man’s past was checkered to say the least, and while there was nothing precisely ungentlemanly in his manners, they were informal and eccentric. The captain baffled him.

  Alvan, whose opinion Overton valued, liked him. So did Charlotte. And Overton was inclined to think his current care of his ill grandfather had nothing to do with personal gain. The man was already wealthy in his own right.

  But could he give his Henrietta to such a man? She was only eighteen years old.

  On Charlotte’s advice, he took Henrie with him when he rode over to visit Silford at the Hart. To his surprise, when they went up to the room and Silford’s valet admitted them, Captain Cromarty, in his shirt sleeves, was sprawled on the side of the bed, with a book between him and his grandfather. They appeared to be alternately reading and arguing over it.

  “Now, you can have a second opinion,” Cromarty told the old man, standing up and reaching casually for his coat. “But I know I’m right. How do you do, sir? Miss Maybury?”

  They did not stay long with Lord Silford, who seemed glad of their company, but quickly grew sleepy. Leaving him, they went downstairs and discovered Captain Cromarty in the private parlor, scribbling hastily on some papers which he shoved into the hands of the waiting young clerk.

  “Off you go,” he said cheerfully, and the young man bowed and effaced himself with just one awed glance back at Henrietta.

  His daughter, however, didn’t notice. Her attention was all on the captain, and the smile they exchanged seemed to convey a message that was entirely private and yet perfectly understood by both of them.

  It was the beginning of the end to Overton’s resistance.

  Over dinner that evening at Audley Park and over the next few days when they visited Silford or Cromarty called at the house, it became obvious to him that they cared deeply for each other. It was there in every look, every word. And there were no seedy efforts to get her alone or entice her away. Though the man had a reputation, he was treating Henrietta with every respect.

  One morning, earlier than usual, he rode over to the Hart alone. Cromarty was breakfasting in the coffee room.

  “Have you heard the news?” Cromarty greeted him. “Lacey has let them all go. Rudd has retired to his estate and Charles to his parents. And Pollard has been given a post in Cornwall.”

  “I’m afraid I urged it,” Overton said, sitting down opposite him. “I can’t have Henrietta’s name bandied about in courtrooms, and God knows what that blackguard would say about her in public if he had nothing to lose. As it is, he is finished in society, and frightened enough, I think, to keep his claws well in for a long time.” He met Cro
marty’s unsurprised gaze. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Dragging the law in was only to frighten them. You always knew it would end like this.”

  “Well, I think it has worked out quite well,” Cromarty said non-committally.

  “How is Silford?” Overton asked after a few moments.

  “Much better, I think. He’ll be glad to see you.” Cromarty signaled to Mrs. Villin for another place setting. “We’re traveling to Steynings today.” If he was disappointed not to see Henrietta with Overton, he had shown no sign of it so far.

  “You’re going with him?” Overton asked.

  “I’ll see him settled and stay a day or so. Then I have business in London I can’t put off any longer.”

  “You’re a busy man,” Overton observed, and gave in, finally, to the inevitable. “If your time permits, perhaps you’d care to call at Audley Park on your way to London? Or on your way back if that suits you better. I will allow my daughter to receive your addresses.”

  Cromarty laid down his knife and smiled.

  *

  Henrietta was eager to set out for the Hart. She enjoyed spending time with the earl and making him laugh, but she lived for her short encounters with Sydney. The rest of her day seemed tedious, especially now Charlotte had returned to Lincolnshire with the duke.

  Something was missing from her enjoyment of everyday life: Sydney. And secretly, she was disappointed he did not arrange more clandestine meetings when they could be alone. He had even turned her own suggestion aside. Part of her knew he was keeping her father placated, so that they wouldn’t have to wait three years to be married. But inevitably, she worried that he was losing interest. After all, what was so unique about her that would keep him?

  “Where is his lordship?” Henrietta asked Gerald the footman, on failing to find him in his study.

  “He rode over to the Hart, Miss.”

  “Already?” In dismay, she ran past Gerald and back upstairs for her hat and gloves. She had every intention of riding alone to the Hart, for she was afraid her father’s deliberate abandonment meant he was trying to end her relationship with Sydney, and that she would not allow.

  Sydney was against an elopement to the border, but now she began to think this might be the only way. On impulse, she pulled a carpet bag from the foot of her wardrobe and dropped in a few chemises and stockings, a day gown and an evening gown. After a moment, she added some indoor slippers and began to close the bag.

  The shutting of the bedchamber door made her jump physically. Spinning around, she hid the bag behind her.

  But it was not her mother, or even her mother’s maid.

  “Sydney,” she breathed.

  With his back against the door, he regarded her. A smile played around his lips. His eyes were warm and predatory. Pushing himself off the door, he advanced across the room. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

  “An overnight bag,” she said shakily. “My father is on his way to the Hart without me and I’m afraid he’s going to try and stop me seeing you. I think we have to elope.”

  “Your father has already seen me and is now gone to Finsborough to some meeting with the local landowners.”

  He took both her hands, and she clung to his fingers. “Did he try to send you away?” she asked painfully.

  “No. He gave me permission to address you. Not today admittedly, but what difference does a day or so make?”

  “He did?” Henrietta squeaked in disbelief, staring at him.

  “So, will you marry me, Henrietta, my sweet and only love?”

  Henrietta thought the smile would split her face. “Oh yes, you know I will.”

  He bent his head and kissed her, a long, exploratory kiss that melted into another and then another. By this time, her hat was on the floor and her hair falling from its pins. Both her arms were wrapped around his neck, and he held her so close she could feel every hard plane and muscle of his body.

  “When,” he whispered against her lips. “How long do you need?”

  “Today would be fine.”

  He smiled and kissed her again. “No, it wouldn’t. I have to take my grandfather back to Steynings. And then to London. Five days, and I’ll bring a special license.”

  One more kiss and he was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

  Henrietta collapsed on the bed and began to laugh from pure happiness.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sydney was as good as his word.

  Which was why, seven days later, she found herself once more on the pebbly beach below the Hart, being carried into a small boat by her husband, who then picked up the oars and rowed her toward The Siren.

  The wedding had been a quiet ceremony performed at Audley Park. Henrietta had been sorry Charlotte could not be there, but at least Thomasina had bolted down from London to be her matron of honor. Mr. Kettle, the lieutenant from The Siren, had appeared to be Sydney’s best man and was given such a warm welcome by the children, that Henrietta was sure her parents would spot they already knew him.

  However, everything passed smoothly, and suddenly, she was no longer Miss Maybury but Mrs. Cromarty, and sat down to a family breakfast full of laughter and fun. Kettle left before them, taking Henrietta’s trunk with him, for their wedding trip was to begin, with a sail to Ireland and wherever else took their fancy. After calling in at Steynings, of course, for Lord Silford’s blessing.

  “We did it,” Henrietta said, leaning back in the boat. “We actually did it.”

  “I trust you don’t regret your marriage already.”

  She laughed at the very idea. Something caught her eye on the cliff and she shaded her eyes to see it better. “Someone’s waving. I think it’s Lily.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Henrietta waved back, then sat back once more and watched her husband row without obvious effort. There was a contentment in his face she had not seen before. His eyes were curiously distant and yet warm with whatever thoughts took him from her. She ached with love.

  Mr. Kettle welcomed her aboard and the crew surprised her with a spontaneous round of applause.

  Sydney grinned at this, though after a moment, he growled at them to get back to their duties. “I want to be underway in ten minutes.” Then, tucking her hand in his arm, he guided her across the deck and down the ladder to the cabin she and the children had once used.

  Her trunk had been unpacked and everything put neatly away. A small vase of roses had been placed on the windowsill, cleverly tied by a ribbon to two hooks in the wood, presumably to stop it sliding about too much with the roll of the ship.

  “This is beautiful,” she said warmly, turning into his arms. “How good you are to me.”

  “It was all Kettle. And perhaps Lily. I just issue orders. Though there are some things I prefer to do myself.”

  He bent and kissed her lips, a quick, smiling kiss that held no threat. It struck her he was giving her time to get used to him, to the idea of intimacy. He would never force himself upon her. But that brief touch of his lips had been enough to set her pulse racing, and she caught his face between her hands, reaching up to kiss him again.

  Their mouths fused, and his arms slid inside her pelisse and closed around her. As she gasped with excitement, he deepened the kiss, flooding her with sensation while his hands roamed and caressed. In no time, her pelisse was on the floor and so was his coat, and, greatly daring, she found a way to burrow under his shirt and feel the hot smoothness of his back.

  He traced a line of sweet, warm kisses across her jaw to her ear and her neck. He pressed his lips to the galloping pulse at the base of her throat.

  She stumbled backward, and he returned to her mouth, his hands busy at her back fastenings. In a disreputably short time, gown, stays, and chemise all spilled around her ankles and he lifted her, carrying her to the bed.

  She landed naked on cool sheets. For an instant, he half-knelt on the bed, gazing down at her with something like awe. And God help her, she was not embarrassed.
She felt powerful. Raising her arms, she stretched, and he growled deep in his throat. His eyes blazed appreciation as well as humor. “You are a minx,” he breathed, tugging off his shirt.

  In moments, he lay over her, skin to skin, and his hands and lips roamed freely over her. She could not be still under his caresses, but wriggled and pushed up into him, kissing his shoulder, his hand, his face, whichever parts she could reach. When he touched her intimately between her thighs, she cried out in pleasure, knowing instinctively this was the source of her need. The combination of this caress and his kiss on her breast sent spirals of pleasure rushing through her, and then he was inside her and the world stopped.

  “Oh,” she said in shock.

  “Yes,” he agreed breathlessly. He seemed to be trembling with the effort of restraint. “Oh. But don’t let me hurt you. Tell me to stop and I will. We’ll be as slow as you like.”

  “I don’t want to be slow,” she gasped, and he pushed further as if he couldn’t help it.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, and took her lips, rocking within her until the discomfort changed to sweetness and all the remembered pleasure rushed back, expanding and intensifying until her whole body burned with it.

  And still he moved within her, bringing her with him on this new journey of strange delight, until she shattered into a million joys all rolled into one. And then he groaned long and deeply, collapsing upon her in release.

  *

  It seemed strangely wonderful after that to lie in his arms and talk. To dress slowly, with many kisses, and drink a leisurely glass of wine before going up on deck.

  Even more unexpected, the world had not changed. It was still daylight, and they were approaching the harbor from where it was but a short carriage ride to Steynings.

  Once, she turned back from the carriage window to find him watching her with a smile deep in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked. “Is my hair awry?”

  “Have I ever told you, Mrs. Cromarty, how much I love you?”