by Ava Stone
“But, Mama,” Rachel complained for the millionth time that day. “Lilly and Violet and Kitty will—”
“On my life, Rachel!” Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to stave off a headache. “You are driving me to Bedlam.” On the bench beside her, Emma slid her hand into Caroline’s and squeezed her fingers in silent support. Rachel must be driving Emma to the ends of her sanity too.
Rachel heaved an irritated sigh. Of course, over the last little while, every breath Rachel took sounded irritated in one way or another. “I just don’t understand why you have to be so mean about the entire thing. It’s one little ride in the park. And—”
“And I’ve already given you my answer,” Caroline replied as the coach came to a stop in front of Staveley House.
“Once upon a time, you were fun,” her oldest daughter accused.
And Rachel was absolutely correct on that score. Caroline shook her head in exasperation. “Once upon a time, I had the luxury of being so.”
Walters, the coachman, opened the door and Emma quickly scrambled from the carriage in her apparent haste to escape her frustrating older sister.
Caroline heaved a sigh of her own. “If you want to attend Astley’s with Olivia and Alex this week, you will let the matter drop, Rachel.”
“I don’t know why we even bothered to come to Town if we’re not allowed to do anything,” Rachel muttered under her breath as she alighted from the coach, but Caroline heard every syllable, as her daughter had most assuredly meant for her to do so.
“We can always return to the country, if—”
“Who are you?” Emma asked, halting Caroline’s threat and drawing her attention to their front door.
But Tindle wasn’t at his post. Instead, another fellow in butler’s attire stood in the threshold. A fellow who looked vaguely familiar, and…then she knew immediately who the man was. What in the world? But even as that thought circled Caroline’s mind, she knew the answer to that question as well. Damn Marc straight to the devil.
“I am Simmons,” the man said and smiled warmly at Caroline’s youngest daughter. “And you are Miss Emma.”
Emma nodded and her dark curls bobbed against her shoulders. “Yes, and—”
“Just what are you doing here?” Caroline snapped. Of all the overbearing, high-handed… “Where is Tindle?”
Simmons met her gaze, not unkindly, and said in a firm voice. “I’m afraid Tindle was called away, milady. So I’ll be filling in for the Season.”
“The devil you will,” Caroline seethed and ignored the twin gasps from her daughters over her language. Then she turned her full attention to Rachel a few feet away. “Go inside and stay with your sister.”
“Where are you going?” Rachel blinked at her in confusion.
“To deal with a pompous, over-reaching marquess.” Caroline flicked her gaze to Walters and added, “Upper Grosvenor, with great haste.” Then she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Haversham House,” because saying those words any louder would be more than scandalous.
“Of course, Lady Staveley.”
Oh! When she got her hands on Marcus Gray! The arrogant blackguard! How dare he? How dare he make decisions regarding her household? Fury welled up inside Caroline in the short distance to his home. She’d been very clear the day before about not wanting to have anything to do with him. But as always, he paid her no attention at all! Well, that was about to change. She was not going to have him inserting himself into her life in any way, shape, or form. And he was going to accept that fact today!
The carriage drew to a stop in front of Marc’s townhouse, and Caroline quickly alighted from the conveyance. She bounded up the stoop, but before she could knock, the door opened and a fellow in footman livery stood in the threshold. Of course he wasn’t a butler as Marc’s butler was currently standing inside Staveley House.
“Yes, Miss?” the footman said.
“Is Lord Haversham in?” she clipped out.
The footman’s brow furrowed slightly. “His lordship is, however, he’s not receiving callers at the moment.”
“He’ll receive me.” Caroline pushed her way past the servant, into the entrance hall. “Marc!” she called loudly before she lost her bravado.
“Miss…” the footman began as he shut the front door behind him. “Miss, please.”
Miss? Caroline managed not to snort. How many misses did Marc generally entertain here? Probably more than she cared to know about. “I am Lady Staveley,” she stressed her title. “Where is he?”
“Well, Lady Staveley, he’s in his chambers. He’s not receiving, as I said. If you would like to call another time…”
His chambers. Hiding out, most likely. The coward. Well, he wasn’t going to hide from her. Firing her butler and dropping his own off like a gifted puppy was beyond the pale… “Marc!” she called again, starting down the corridor. “Marcus!” She glanced back over her shoulder at the blackguard’s would-be butler and said, “Well, which way to his lordship’s chambers?”
The footman blanched. “Up the stairs, milady, but—”
She was not about to hear even one but, especially not as she spotted the staircase just down the corridor. “I’ll manage on my own.” And then she made her way to the steps and climbed them with a determined focus.
The arrogant, egotistical bastard. Thinking he could just swoop into her life and make decrees that would be heeded simply because he said so. Of all the high-handed…
Reaching the top of the stairs, Caroline glanced right and then left. Which way to search first? Luckily, a chambermaid stepped into the corridor and her eyes rounded in surprise at seeing Caroline.
“Lord Haversham’s chamber is…?” she asked the girl.
“That door right there.” The maid gestured to the right and then said, “But, Miss—”
“Thank you,” Caroline replied before the girl could offer any sort of objection. She stalked to the door in question, fury still pounding in her veins, and she tossed the door open, and…
Good Heavens!
Marc was sitting in the middle of a copper bathtub. His dark hair was wet as though it had just been washed, and soapy water clung to his chest which was…Well, his bare chest was quite remarkable, actually. Muscles that looked as though they’d been sculpted by Greek Gods. So blast him for that. He would have to be…remarkable. Caroline sucked in a surprised breath and was certain she was blushing to her roots as her gaze flashed to his face. Unfortunately, he’d always been more handsome than he had a right to be. Heavens, it was suddenly very warm in here.
“Caroline.” A rakish smile tipped the edge of his mouth, and his light blue eyes glinted wickedly. “What a surprise. Do come in. Shall I ring for tea?”
Oh, he was enjoying this. He was laughing at her. Not outwardly, of course, but that glint in his eyes… “You planned this,” she accused. It was just like him to do something so untoward as to flummox her and—
“You’re too clever for me,” he drawled, leaning back against the edge of his bathtub, and the soapy water sluiced up his chest, which she did not want to look at, remarkable as it was. “I’ve been sitting here for hours in tepid water on the off chance you might break down the door to my chambers and find me in such a state of dishabille.”
She wouldn’t put it past him.
“However did you figure me out?” he continued smoothly. Then he dipped his hand into the bath and flicked soapy water in her direction.
The water found her leg through the muslin of her gown, and it wasn’t tepid in the least. The water was quite warm, actually, as though it had recently been drawn. So…he hadn’t been waiting in bath water for hours on the off chance she would burst into his chambers. What a foolish thing to have even suggested. He just…Well, he always turned her thoughts inside and out until she couldn’t think straight. And if he hadn’t sacked Tindle…
That’s right. She was there because he’d interfered in her life without warrant to do so. “
I want my butler back, Marc.”
He shrugged, which made the bathwater move against his skin once more. Heavens! She shouldn’t be here. It was the last place on Earth she should ever be.
“The man had no fortitude, Caroline. You’re in much better hands with Simmons.”
Oh! She wanted to slug him. “I don’t want bloody Simmons. I want Tindle.”
He seemed to bite back a smile, which only made her hate him even more. “What an interesting vocabulary you have, my dear.”
“You bring it out in me,” she snapped.
“I must confess, I have often longed to hear naughty words slip from your tongue, though that wouldn’t be the first one I would choose if given the choice.”
Whatever he would choose, she never wanted to find out. “You are the most vexing man alive, do you know that?”
That glint in his light eyes twinkled once again. “I have been told something similar once or twice before.”
She was getting nowhere with him like this. They could talk in circles all day and never get one blasted thing accomplished. “You will find Tindle and you will return him to me. Are we clear?”
Marc gripped the edges of his tub and stood up. Water dripped down his body and Caroline gasped as she quickly spun around, but not quickly enough to keep from seeing every part of him, and… Well, his chest wasn’t the most remarkable part, apparently. Heavens! She’d never get the image of Marc’s very noteworthy, naked form from her memory, not as long as she lived.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“You said I should find Tindle. I am always your most humble servant.”
He hadn’t been called humble a day in his life, and she was certain he’d only grown more exasperating over the course of their friendship…not that they were friends any longer. But that was beside the point. “You could have waited until I was gone.”
She heard him rummaging through something behind her, but she didn’t dare to even glance over her shoulder to see what he was doing. And then he was right behind her, his strong hands on her shoulders, and Caroline’s stomach flipped. Good heavens, what was wrong with her?
“You have made it very clear, my dear—” his voice rumbled over her “—that you want nothing else to do with me.”
“I’ve been saying that for years.” And she had. Ever since he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her at Vauxhall, destroying whatever friendship they’d had in the process.
“Well, consider Simmons a parting gift then, Caroline. You’re in much better hands with him than with Tindle.” Then he pushed her, not ungently toward the corridor. “Now be a good girl and run along. I’ve got a long night ahead of me, entertaining impassioned actresses and reveling in Bramley’s fortune.”
Chapter 4
Just as Marc was about to lift a glass of whisky to his lips, his friend Alexander Everett, the Duke of Kelfield stepped into the club and nodded in Marc’s direction. That was unusual. In fact, Marc couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend at White’s. Months, easily. Perhaps even a year.
Alex handed his coat and hat to a footman and then made his way through the throng to drop into a seat across from Marc. “Thought you might be here.”
“As I live and breathe—” Marc smirked “—I had no idea Her Grace let you out on your own anymore.”
Alex gestured to a footman for a glass of his own, then he narrowed his eyes in Marc’s direction. “My wife doesn’t have to let me do anything.”
On that Marc begged to differ. Long gone was the wicked duke who used to haunt these very halls and much less respectable halls, but saying as much never did any good. The prissy Duchess of Kelfield had Alex wrapped around her little finger so tightly it would take an act of God to unwind him. As the man seemed quite happy about the whole thing, though Marc had no idea how he possibly could be, going further down that particular path was pointless. And had been for a number of years.
“You know,” Alex continued after it seemed clear Marc wasn’t going to complain about his duchess, “at some point I would like for my wife to actually tolerate your presence.”
At that, Marc bit back a grin. “And I should like, just once, to have a rational conversation with an actress who has all of her faculties, but we do have to live in the real world, my friend.”
“Ah!” Came a voice behind Marc’s chair and he glanced over his shoulder to find Simon Masters, the Earl of Thurlstone, standing just behind him, a roguish twinkle in his eyes as he grinned at Alex. “Has Her Grace let you out for the evening?”
Marc couldn’t hold in the laugh that erupted from him.
Alex leaned back against the leather of his chair and leveled Simon with his iciest ducal glare. “Go bugger off. Both of you.”
But Simon, as per usual, rounded Marc’s chair and dropped into a seat adjacent to them at the table. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked, still grinning from ear to ear.
Alex snorted and shook his head. “Paradise is perfect, as always.” Then he heaved a sigh. “Should the two of you ever find respectability, you might find it agrees with you.”
Simon chuckled at that, but stopped when Marc added, “He’s in trade now. The chance for respectability left him long ago.”
“At least I had a chance.” Simon shrugged.
A footman delivered Alex’s whisky at that moment, which he happily took. Then he nodded toward Simon. “How is the business world these days?”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Marc complained. “Don’t get him on the subject. He’ll bore us to tears the rest of the night. Ship logs and cargo details. Do spare us the tedium.”
Simon shook his head as he admitted, “Actually, he’s right. Hardly the adventure I thought I was buying into. Heaton, Masters & Avery is profitable, but dull as ditch water. And work. Damned work, which I find I don’t enjoy, by the way.”
Not that Marc was surprised. Running an empire, small as it might be, would never be conducive to Simon’s way of life. “Why don’t you hop one of those ships,” he suggested. “Find an adventure…somewhere.” After all, the man had never been…anywhere.
“And have whom run the London office in my absence?” Simon frowned. “Are you volunteering?”
“Hardly.” Marc snorted. “Those are worries I don’t need.” He didn’t, in fact, even run his late-wife’s empire. There were people for that sort of thing. People who were not Marc.
“Speaking of worries,” Alex began and placed his glass on the table before him. “I went by Staveley House this afternoon.”
Damn it.
“Is there a particular reason Simmons is under Caroline’s employ?”
Marc blew out a breath. He shouldn’t have been surprised by the question. Alex’s duchess was Caroline’s cousin, after all. His friend was bound to find out about Simmons’ new station sooner or later. “What did she say when you asked her?” he asked, wondering how Caroline was explaining the situation, wondering if she mentioned anything else…like showing up at Marc’s and barging into his bedchamber. It had certainly been the highlight of his year.
“She’s wasn’t in,” Alex replied. “Poppy wanted to visit Emma. So I escorted her and—”
“Don’t you employ a governess for such chores?”
Alex narrowed his eyes on Marc, something he was doing too frequently these days. “Don’t be evasive. Why is Simmons working for Caroline?”
“You should ask him.” Marc shrugged as a lie easily slipped from his lips. “Apparently, she offered him better compensation than I did. Still trying to replace the traitor.”
“He was with you for so long.” Alex frowned.
“Longer than anyone should have to be,” Simon agreed, which earned him a scowl from Marc in response.
“Isn’t it nearing your bedtime?” Marc asked. “Don’t you have to be up bright and early to run your London office?”
“I’m waiting on Peasemore.” Simon glanced toward the front of the club as though speaking the man’s name could make
him walk through the doors.
“Why the devil would you do anything with Peasemore?” Marc grumbled. Just hearing the man’s name irritated him to no end. Swooping down the other day as though he was Caroline’s knight in shining armor. The bastard.
“What’s wrong with Peasemore?” Simon asked.
There were a great number of things wrong with Peasemore. He was a blood relation to Carraway, whom Marc actively disliked. He seemed rather disingenuous in his own right, however, as though his charm went only as deep as the surface. And he had quite a reputation for bedding widows and unhappy wives. And…well, if he thought he was going to bed Caroline… “He’s a smug jackass.”
Simon shrugged at that. “The same could be said about any of us.”
And while that was true, Marc didn’t feel inclined to elaborate on his dislike of Peasemore, mostly because he felt certain Alex would see through him if he did.
“Oh, there he is,” Simon said. Then he nodded to Marc and Alex. “Well, see you later…” He shrugged. “Or whenever Her Grace lets you out again.” Then he made his way across the club to where Peasemore had just arrived before Alex could throttle him.
“Smug jackass, indeed,” the duke muttered.
And Marc agreed with a laugh.
Alex leaned back in his chair and regarded Marc quietly for a moment as though he wanted to say something but was warring with himself about doing so.
“If you have something to say….”
Alex heaved a sigh. “Tomorrow evening Livvie, Poppy, and I are headed to Astley’s with Caroline and her daughters.” He shrugged. “In case you should find yourself there.”
And that was why Alex had come to White’s. He was a good friend. The best Marc had. Still, he blew out a breath. Though there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to find himself wherever Caroline was at any given moment, doing so now would only incite her anger after their encounter this week. And that could lead to a rather quick end to Simmons’ tenuous position in Staveley House. Marc couldn’t let that happen. Her safety had to come before anything else. “I can’t imagine Her Grace would be happy to know you’d offered such an invitation.”
