The duchess’s ball was tomorrow and it seemed the fevered pitch of work in the household had accelerated, if possible, in preparation for the grand event. Lord knew the Duke and Duchess of Roxborough had had any number of entertainments in the past, yet he couldn’t remember ever seeing the household in such a frenzy. Perhaps it was due to the absence of his mother’s personal attention. Admittedly it could well be that he’d simply never paid heed to such activity before.
Now, however, he was the official host, and the ultimate responsibility for the success or failure of the ball, and the launching of the Shelton sisters into society, would be laid at his feet. “I’m afraid I couldn’t face another minute of it.”
Besides, if he was to marry these girls off properly and quickly, this was the perfect opportunity to get to know them better without the protective gaze of Lady Dragon. He’d scarcely gained any useful information yesterday, although Jocelyn had let slip the younger girls’ refusal to wed before their older sister. Marianne was obviously the key to his success. She’d been surprisingly quiet during their dance. Rather as if she were considering some matter of grave importance that had nothing to do with her partner at the moment. The idea that a young woman could be in his arms yet oblivious to his charms was disgruntling, to say the least. Particularly this young woman, since he’d been all too aware of her. The scent of her hair and the warmth of her hand in his and the quite enjoyable feel of her in his arms.
Today she seemed much more the talkative creature she’d appeared in the library and he had suggested abandoning their carriage for the footpaths precisely to be able to engage her in relatively private conversation. And admittedly, he rather liked not having to share her attention.
Marianne nodded toward a sedate, dark-haired beauty riding in an open carriage. “I think she looks like a distinct possibility.”
“A possibility for what?”
“Why, for the kind of bride you’re seeking, of course.”
“How would you . . . ” He grimaced. “Is there anything else I said in what I thought was a private conversation that you will use against me?”
She flashed him a smile and her eyes twinkled behind her spectacles. “You may depend on it, my lord.”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Very well, I surrender. Tell me why you think that young lady, the daughter of a marquess, I believe, would be a suitable bride.”
Marianne studied the woman thoughtfully. “Well, she’s perfectly attired in the latest stare of fashion, so she obviously has a respectable dowry. And she’s not the tiniest bit mussed. That alone says a great deal about her character.”
“Nonsense. I know any number of women who are faultlessly turned out yet not the least bit amenable.”
“Perhaps, although strict adherence to the dictates of fashion certainly indicates a willingness to abide by other restrictions as well. Add to that her manner, which appears somewhat reserved, the way she smiles and acknowledges greetings, I mean. I suspect she’d be quite biddable and more than willing to acquiesce to your desires and your decisions.”
“Do you think so?” He was amused in spite of hearing his own words thrown back at him.
“I do. I think she’s exactly the type of woman who would make you . . . how did you phrase it?”
“I don’t remember,” he said firmly.
“Come, now, how could you forget? I know I can’t. You said you wanted a woman to whom you will be the moon and the stars.” She nodded. “Yes, I definitely think you should seek an introduction.”
“Perhaps I will.”
“I should be happy to inform you of any other prospects I might encounter.”
“That would be most appreciated.” He chuckled. “Now that we have identified a potential match for me, what of you? Do you see anyone you would consider?”
“I told you I have no intention of marrying.”
“That’s right. You wish to have adventures.”
“And experience life.”
“Of course.” Under other circumstances, he might well find that declaration enticing and worth further exploration. But as the man charged for now with safeguarding Marianne and her sisters, he didn’t like the implications of that phrase one bit.
“However, I have given your plan to find us all husbands a great deal of consideration.”
“You have,” he said cautiously.
She nodded. “Indeed I have.”
“And?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
“And I recognize adventures are in short supply for a woman in my position. I have no money of my own to speak of, at least not at the moment, so I am, again at the moment, trapped in a town in which the most exciting thing that could happen is a faux pas at a ball. I suppose there is the chance of some sort of scandal but surely that doesn’t count as true adventure. Don’t you agree?”
“Well, I—”
“Exactly.” She nodded firmly. “After all, I scarcely think there is much possibility of running into pirates at the duchess’s ball or marauding bands of Bedouins at Almacks or African cannibals at Vauxhall—”
“One never knows,” he murmured.
“—therefore, since I can’t expect adventures of any significance, I shall have to focus my efforts on experiencing life.”
There was that annoying phrase again. He chose his words with care. “And what does that have to do with my plan?”
“Why, Thomas, it’s obvious.” She stared at him curiously, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t understand what in the hell she was talking about. “I’m going to cooperate with you fully.”
“You are?”
“Indeed I am.” She nodded. “I shall embrace every introduction graciously. I shall flutter my lashes, and my fan and whatever else, at each potential suitor who crosses my path. I shall endeavor to be charming and witty and all any man could want. Why, I shall even attempt to gaze at these prospects as if they were the moon and the stars.”
He snorted in disbelief then narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“My goodness, do try to pay attention.” Marianne sighed in exasperation. “The opportunity for adventure is minimal; however, the opportunity to experience life is endless.”
“What?” He halted in midstride and glared. Surely she wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying. “What on earth do you mean by that?”
“You needn’t take that tone. Honestly, it’s not as if I’m about to squander my virtue willy-nilly on the first man to come along.” She thought for a moment. “Even though I do think virtue is an overrated quality.”
“You do?” His voice had a stange, strangled quality about it.
“Indeed I do.” She nodded vigorously. “If one is planning to marry I suppose it’s important, but if one has no interest in marriage, it quite loses it’s significance, don’t you agree?”
“I most certainly do not,” he said indignantly, wondering at the irony of him, of all people, discouraging such an attitude in a woman.
She studied him for a moment. “You know for a man with your rakish reputation you’re a bit stuffy.”
“Stuffy!” He drew himself up and stared down his nose at her. “I’ll have you know I am not the least bit stuffy. In point of fact I am universally considered to be quite a rousing good time.”
“You hide it well,” she said mildly. “Except when you’ve had too much to drink, of course. I can see how then you might be considered just the tiniest bit fun.”
“I do not . . . I have no need . . . ” He clenched his jaw, took her elbow and steered her back into the flow of foot traffic. “We cannot stand here arguing about my nature—”
“I wasn’t arguing—”
“—we shall attract no end of attention,” he muttered. “The next thing you know all of London will be gossiping about the argument—”
“Really more of a discussion.”
“—in public between the Marquess of Helmsley and an attractive young lady—”
“Attractive?”
She glanced up at him, her brown eyes behind her glasses wide and enticing. At the moment he realized how very attractive she really was.
“Yes.” He glared down at her. “Damn it all, attractive.” Quite pretty and very appealing and more than a bit provocative.
She turned her gaze back to the walk before them and smiled a soft, private kind of smile. An urge to protect her that went far beyond the requirements of responsibility swept through him.
“Now, then.” He pushed the feeling aside. “What precisely is your definition of experience life?”
“I’m not entirely certain.” She raised a shoulder in an offhand shrug. “I shall have to figure it out as I go along. Although I do believe kissing you was a first step.”
“There shall be no more kissing,” he said with a no-nonsense tone that belied the realization that he would not be averse to kissing her again and again until she melted in his arms.
“Perhaps not with you.”
Only with me. “Not with anyone.” Damnation, he knew these sisters were going to be nothing but trouble, and this one dangerous as well, at least to him and his sense of honor. Getting them all off his hands and safely wed as soon as possible had never seemed a better idea. Marianne wanted to experience life, whatever that meant, and who knew what the other two had in mind.
Where were the other two? He glanced around with a mounting sense of unease. The footpaths were at their most crowded at this time of day; still he should be able to spot the girls.
A knot settled in his stomach. Blast it all, if he lost them there would be hell to pay. He scanned the drive filled with slow-moving carriages and finely bred cattle. Swiveled and searched the walkers behind him. Turned and studied the backs of those strolling in front of him. All the world was awash with bobbing hats and parasols, swishing skirts and muted voices. Each looking like every other. Why hadn’t he paid attention to what the damned girls were wearing?
“Whatever are you doing?” Marianne said.
“Looking for your sisters,” he snapped. “You may not have noticed but they’ve disappeared. Probably run off to experience life or execute some other fiendish plan designed for no better purpose than to muck up my life.”
She laughed. “Nonsense. Why, they’re right—”
“On foot today, Helmsley? Not your usual style.” The arrogant drawl sounded off to the side behind him.
Thomas jerked around and bit back a groan. Lord Pennington grinned down at him from astride a fine piece of horseflesh. Beside him, on an equally excellent specimen, Lord Berkley mirrored the other man’s smile.
“Pennington. Berkley.” Thomas greeted them reluctantly. Both were known rakes and admittedly his friends; still, he wasn’t particularly ready to expose his innocent charges to them.
“You spoke too soon, Pennington.” Berkley’s gaze shifted to a spot behind Thomas and admiration colored his voice. “This is much more impressive than Helmsley’s usual style.” Berkley slipped from his horse and stepped closer. “Well done, old man.”
Thomas turned. Marianne, Jocelyn and Becky stood gazing at the newcomers, the same smile gracing all three faces. At once he saw them as the others must have. They were the perfect picture of feminine charm. Fresh, delightful and lovely. He frowned. Perhaps too lovely.
“Don’t just stand there, Helmsley, introduce us.” Pennington nudged him. He too had dismounted and both men now stood at Thomas’s elbow.
“Yes, my lord.” Marianne extended her hand to Pennington. “Please do.” What on earth had happened to her voice? Surely it hadn’t been quite that, well, sultry a moment ago. His frown deepened.
“Allow me to present the Ladies Marianne, Jocelyn and Becky Shelton,” Thomas said reluctantly.
“Rebecca,” Becky murmured.
Both men apparently felt compelled to kiss each and every offered hand in a flurry of greetings. A bit overdone to Thomas’s thinking. And hadn’t Pennington lingered a shade longer than necessary over Marianne’s hand?
“On further consideration, I do believe a walk is an excellent idea. May we join you?” Berkley said.
“We’d be honored.” Marianne favored Berkley with a smile that was entirely too inviting.
“If you would be so kind.” Pennington absently thrust his horse’s reins into Thomas’s hands and moved to Marianne’s side.
Thomas stared at them indignantly. “I say, Pennington—”
“Be a good chap, Helmsley.” Berkley passed Thomas his own reins and stepped between Jocelyn and Becky, or rather Rebecca, and the group started off.
“I am not a blasted groom, you know,” Thomas called after them.
“No one would possibly mistake you for a groom, my lord.” Marianne paused and looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “But you don’t mind, do you?”
“How could he?” Jocelyn said in an airy manner. “He wants us to meet new people.”
“How very thoughtful of you, my lord.” Becky cast him an overly sweet smile.
Thomas stared in stunned disbelief. The others moved on and he had no choice but to follow, leading the horses and muttering to himself. “I bloody well do mind.”
What on earth had happened to these girls? It was as if they’d become totally different creatures. They were country bred and not at all used to men of Pennington and Berkley’s ilk. Yet one minute they were innocents straight from the schoolroom and the next they were sirens. Seductresses. Their flirtatious manner as polished as anything he’d seen in more experienced women. Not that he had ever particularly comprehended the female mind.
It was somewhat alarming the way Marianne and her sisters had taken to the art of flirtation. Thomas had always thought something of that nature had to be learned. Apparently it was instinctive. Rather like the calls of various birds during mating season. He could well understand why his friends wasted no time furthering their acquaintance. They were obviously enchanted.
And Thomas was leading their blasted horses!
Still, aside from his current position, was there anything really wrong with this? Didn’t it all fall in nicely with his plans? Certainly Berkley and Pennington’s reputations were no worse than most of the unmarried men he knew. In truth, no worse than his. Their titles were more than respectable, as were their fortunes. They were, in fact, considered excellent matches. Exactly what Thomas had had in mind.
His mood brightened. He certainly couldn’t claim success yet, but this was a good start. Given the reaction of his friends, he wouldn’t have any trouble marrying off the girls. Marrying off Marianne.
Feminine laughter floated in the breeze. Marianne’s? She was certainly living up to her promise to cooperate with his plan in her desire to experience life. Annoyance drew his brows together. However, she needn’t cooperate quite so enthusiastically. He wanted her wed not ruined.
He should be encouraged. If Pennington and Berkley were any indication, the Shelton sisters would have the eligible bachelors of the ton fawning at their feet in no time. And surely there would be at least a few among them who could capture Marianne’s affections and lure her to the altar. She’d change her mind about marriage soon enough if the right man offered for her. Yes indeed, he’d have her and her sisters off his hands in no time.
His plan would prevail. His obligation to ensure the girls had successful seasons would be discharged. After all, what greater accomplishment was there than to make a good match? And with luck, he would find the perfect bride for himself.
Lighthearted voices drifted back to him, oddly irritating, and he scowled. He should be elated at the certain knowledge that everything would work out exactly as he wanted it.
Then why wasn’t he?
Thomas was unusually quiet on the ride home, a silent, somewhat forbidding figure. He stared out at the crowded streets as if he was alone in the carriage. While not exactly rude his manner was terse and the sisters chose to squeeze together on one side of the carriage for the brief ride rather than sacrifice one of their own
to the fate of sitting beside him. Not that they paid him much notice.
Marianne leaned toward her sisters confidentially, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you see that? Do you have any idea how we—”
“We had them both in the palm of our hands.” Jocelyn’s voice carried a touch of awe. “It was quite amazing.”
Becky nodded. “Magic is what it was.”
“Nonsense.” Marianne truly believed in magic but this wasn’t nearly ethereal enough to be magic. No, this was more down to earth than magic. “Still, somehow we did know exactly what to do.”
“What to say.” Becky fluttered her lashes. “How to smile.”
“I don’t recall ever being this charming with the butcher’s son,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully.
“That’s because of the warts,” Marianne murmured. “These gentleman had no warts.”
“None at all.” Jocelyn sighed. “They were both handsome and dashing—”
“And really quite,” Becky grinned, “delicious.”
Marianne nodded. “They were rather, weren’t they?”
“Well if this is the type of gentleman Helmsley plans on introducing to us, I, for one, am looking forward to it,” Jocelyn said firmly. “I find I much prefer delicious to warts.”
A wave of giggles passed through the sisters.
“If you three insist on whispering and chortling all the way home . . . ” Thomas turned and said something to the driver. “Then I shall ride up front with Greggs.” The carriage shuddered to a halt. Thomas tipped his hat then exited the carriage and climbed up to sit beside Greggs.
Marianne stared for a moment. “What on earth has gotten into him?”
Jocelyn and Becky traded knowing glances.
Marianne raised a brow. “What?”
“I’d wager he’s reexamining his plan.” Jocelyn smiled smugly.
“Why would he want to do that? I would think he’d be pleased,” Marianne said. “We’ve met extremely eligible suitors, exactly as he wants. His plan is going quite well.”
“Perhaps too well,” Becky paused, “especially in regards to you.”
The Marriage Lesson Page 6
