by Fish, Aileen
That irked him more than anything. He was nine-and-twenty years old, and still his mother harped on his behavior.
He saw Motheer in the connecting doorway to the withdrawing room. Before he could make even one step in that direction, however, his path was blocked.
“Lord Markham, how pleasant to see you.” Lady Matilda was one of his sister’s closest friends, but often a thorn in his side. At times, he wondered if she deliberately sought him out as more than just her friend’s brother.
He bowed. “You knew I had to come.”
“Had to come? To your sister’s wedding?” Her eyebrows were nearly hidden beneath the curls across her forehead, but her eyes laughed at him.
He shot a glance around the room. “You know me too well to pretend to question my interest in having guests or being happy to see Lavinia wed.”
“Ah, but there was a time you weren’t pleased to see her with Ringley.”
She’d opened herself to teasing by bringing up how his sister and the viscount fell in love. “I don’t believe I ever heard whom you were supposed to kiss. I have a limited number of respectable friends—although someone wrote Ringley on that list, so respectability clearly wasn’t a requirement.”
Mattie nibbled her lower lip to hide her smile. “What fun would we have stealing a kiss from a respectable man? Why, he might insist on a wedding!”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “I fear for the man you marry. He’ll never know what to expect. I must make my greetings. Will you walk with me?”
“Of course.”
He strolled as slowly as he could, feigning interest in the guests. Having Mattie beside him saved him from stopping to chat in most cases. He could smile and nod and move along.
He spoke softly so only Mattie would hear. “Please tell me you, Clara, and Selena don’t plan to continue your game.”
She coughed, then cleared her throat. “Of course not. There’s little point since Lavinia already won. Why would we wish to come in second, or third, or…?” She gasped.
“Be advised, you’re practically sisters to me, so I’ll be as harsh on those poor souls as I was on Ringley.”
“Lord Markham, I think it best we aren’t discussing kissing when we reach my parents.” Mattie’s smile was quite smug while her eyelashes fluttered.
He gave her a side glance, shaking his head. “Minx.”
Unable to do anything less while walking with their daughter, he paused in front of the Earl and Countess of Abernethy. “Good evening. I hope your stay has been pleasant. When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday,” Lady Abernethy answered.
“Good, then you missed the bit of rain this morning.”
“You must be delighted to see your sister wed,” the earl said.
More than the man knew, after the girls had their wager last year. “I’ve never seen her so happy. Excuse me, but I must greet my parents.”
Mattie continued to stroll beside him. She was the rare female he’d met who was capable of remaining silent for longish periods, which he appreciated. On this night, however, he wished she was chattering away so he wouldn’t have heard her parents.
“It’s not at all surprising,” Lord Abernethy said, to whom Markham couldn’t see. “They’ve been good friends these many years.”
Any thought Markham had that they discussed Lavinia and Ringley was shattered by Lady Abernethy. “And just imagine, our Matilda will be a duchess!”
“Well, not right away,” Abernethy said hurriedly. “The current duke should have a good many years left in him.
A light brush on his sleeve brought his attention to Mattie. Her face glowed red, and tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“I would never blame you.” He huffed out a breath while calming himself to speak gently. “Your parents would be foolish to allow you to marry anyone but a duke.”
He bit back a groan. He’d be a duke one day, so he hadn’t done well deflecting the insinuation they would marry.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His sister stood with their parents. “Lavinia, look who I brought you,” he said a bit louder than necessary. If anyone hadn’t already overheard the Abernethys, they’d catch the gossip as it spread.
“Mattie, I wondered where you got off to. Come. Mr. Ulchester was asking about you.” Lavinia grabbed her friend’s hand and led her away.
Mother caught Markham’s face between her cool hands. “I’d begun to wonder if you planned to arrive mere moments before the wedding.”
He placed a kiss on her cheek. “And miss all the dancing and trivialities of the next few days?”
Father muttered, “You’ve got the right about that.”
Markham smiled and stepped away from his mother’s clutching hands. Sometimes he felt she was afraid he would vanish if she didn’t hold tightly to him. “I could use a drink after my journey, Father.”
“I’ll join you. We have much to catch up on.”
When they were seated in the library, swirling his father’s fine brandy in their glasses, an amiable quiet settled between them.
Father was first to speak. “Did you bring that wastrel Ringley with you?”
“Don’t let Lavinia hear you call him that. I spoke to him, and expect him to arrive in the morning.”
“He’d better.”
Markham had no worries about him. The love he saw in his friend’s eyes when he looked at Lavinia told him how much the couple cared for each other. He changed the subject. “What do you know of Sir Rollo Walford?”
“I know the name, but not the man.”
“What have you heard about him?”
“There was talk about his having been banned from the Jockey Club for cheating.”
Nodding, Markham considered that. If Sir Rollo had given up the horses, there was little wonder why he gambled so heavily in the gaming hells. “Ringley thinks he’s cheating at Vingt-et-un.”
“That’s harder to prove. He could be quite skilled at counting cards and no one could catch him at it.”
Explaining his suspicions, Markham filled in the details.
“I don’t know how you can prove that,” Father replied. “Wait a moment. Did you say Ringley suspected him? What is he doing at those tables? Weren’t you firm enough in your warning, should he be caught gambling again?”
“It was in favor to a friend who lost quite a sum to Sir Rollo. And Ringley is careful not to stay too long when the cards aren’t falling his way.”
Father tapped a finger against his glass, then set it on the table between them. “He’d better. I won’t have Lavinia suffer the embarrassment and deprivation a gambler might bring her. You’re aware your mother has been looking for a suitable woman for you?”
“She’s done so since I was born.” Markham grimaced and tossed back the last of his drink before pouring another.
“Yes, well. This time she’s looking for a willing bride.”
“They’re as rare as hens’ teeth, is my guess. Who would marry the Miscreant?”
“Any young lady who knew you better than that. There must be some who’d make a good duchess, as well.”
“I hope she doesn’t encourage anyone, since I don’t plan to marry.”
“Still obstinate, I see. I made my father wait until I was thirty-four before finding the woman I desired…your mother, of course.”
“Good, you can convince Mother to leave me to my own devices. Standing witness for Lavinia is as close as I plan to be to an altar for the indefinite future.”
Chapter Three
The next afternoon, Mattie had a difficult time concentrating on pall mall to the point she kept losing. Every time she swung her mallet, she was certain she heard Markham nearby, and would look for him instead of the small wooden ball she was supposed to hit through the arch. In doing so, the ball invariable went in the direction she looked, missing the arch widely.
Clara was waiting for her when she finished her turn. “Who has you jumping like a locu
st?”
“No one.” She barely got the words out before again visually following the sound of his voice, only to discover it still wasn’t him.
“You’re a horrible liar. Now, who among our party is missing? Of the single men, that is. How about…no, he’s there. Maybe…no.”
Mattie folded her arms across her chest. “Must you go through each and every one? This is very droll.”
“Then tell me who you hope to see.” Suddenly, Clara’s eyes widened as she looked over Mattie’s shoulder. She gasped. “Markham? Oh, Mattie, no!”
“Why not? What’s wrong with him? We know he hasn’t done those things he’s accused of.” She didn’t let on her continued thoughts. He was so handsome, so very charming.
“I thought you were embarrassed when he overheard your parents last night. Won’t he be leery about talking to you now?”
“I can’t believe them, boasting about something that hasn’t happened. They sounded like they sought to improve their station, but they’re already peers. I wanted to hide. Markham was so good about it, though.”
“Of course he was. That’s Markham’s way. Now, smile like you’re surprised to see him and haven’t been talking about him.” Clara put on the most glaringly polite face and spoke over Mattie’s shoulder. “Markham, do you wish to join us?”
“In truth, I sought Ringley, but I see he and my sister are deep in conversation. I’d love you join you ladies.”
Clara held out her mallet. “Use mine. I was about to get a bite to eat. Have fun, you two.”
Markham took the mallet and watched her walk away. “Tell me she hasn’t been enlisted by your parents to push you in my direction.”
“Of course not! Please, can we forget what they did?” Her scheme was becoming more difficult by the hour. She must flirt subtly so he fell in love, rather than flee.
“I thought I had forgotten. Now, which color am I?”
He collected their balls and handed her one. Mattie took her turn first, and was surprisingly better than the last round. Now that she knew where Markham was, she came much closer to concentrating.
Still when he walked past and she caught a whiff of his soap, she wanted to lean closer for a better sample. He wore no cologne, which surprised her for a man of his station. Maybe surprise wasn’t the right word. Markham was unpretentious, so of course he didn’t bother with fripperies.
When her turn came again, she focused on the arch a short distance away and swung the mallet just so. It went in! “Ha! That’s three blows. I doubt you can do as well.”
“We shall see.” His ball hit a tuft of grass and went astray, requiring him to take a fourth blow. When he finally found the arch, he laughed and picked up the balls. “I bow to your superiority, Lady Matilda.”
Just when she was going to ask if he wanted to play another round, a footman approached. “The duchess requests everyone join her in the drawing room for charades.”
Without thinking, Mattie wrinkled her nose.
“You don’t enjoy the game?” Markham asked.
“I’m awful. No one can interpret my moves. It as if my body was speaking Greek.”
“Well, I learned Greek, but I don’t care for the game, either. What shall we do instead? Not everyone will be in the drawing room, so we won’t be missed.”
Myriad ideas rushed through her head, most of which she had to let scurry on. The maze, for example. Perfectly enjoyable, but certain to encourage her mother’s dreams of a wedding. Whatever they did, it must be in sight of the house. “Why don’t we walk through the garden. I haven’t seen it in a few years.”
Markham bowed formally and then offered his arm. Mattie placed her hand just so on his sleeve as if she was being escorted to meet the Queen. The image made her laugh.
“What do you find so humorous?”
“It’s silly. I pictured you in a wig, breeches, and stockings, and me in a wide-skirted gown, both of us with powdered hair, approaching the Queen on her throne.”
He shook his head. “Where do these ideas come from?”
“I don’t know. Do you think my problem with charades is that all my make-believe happens in my mind?”
Now Markham laughed. “You’re just as silly as you were when you were young.”
“I’m twenty-three, not an old crone. Or a spinster.”
He stepped aside to let her pass between two topiaries. “You are nowhere near a crone’s age. A spinster, however…”
She spun around and pointed at him while walking backwards. “You are older and unmarried. It’s unfair that no one chides men for waiting.”
“Believe me, I hear often enough that I should consider starting a family.”
“Why haven’t you?” she asked boldly—then tumbled backwards over a statue of a swan. She squealed.
Markham’s lips were pressed tight as he bent to help her stand, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Are you injured?” She’d swear the cough that followed was meant to cover laughter.
“If I were, would you miss me at the ball tomorrow night?” When she found her footing, she retied the ribbon at her waist so she wouldn’t see his expression.
“Of course. You dance elegantly, but I fear that with all the guests arriving this afternoon, there will be so many young men asking to stand up with you, that I won’t have a chance to do so.”
Her heart lightened and she caught his gaze before continuing their walk. “You could rectify that now.”
He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the lavender bushes beside the walkway. “I suppose I could. But you’ve danced with me so many times, I wouldn’t want to deprive the other young men their opportunity to enjoy the pleasure.”
Mattie swung her head so quickly to see his expression, she nearly stumbled once more.
Markham’s laugh rang out. “Oh, the look you give me. You’re too easily goaded, Mattie. You must guard yourself before someone takes advantage.”
No one else ever goaded her, though, and no men teased the way he did. If she ever accepted the fact he didn’t want to marry her, she’d be spoiled for other men. None of them could live up to Markham.
Hanging from a tree branch ahead was the swing she and Lavinia played on as children. “Look!” She trotted to it and sat, kicking her feet up.
“I take back what I said about you being too old to be an eligible bride.” He stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips.
“Be quiet and push me.”
He shrugged and circled the tree, staying out of reach of her half boots. Pushing her shoulders, he sent her drifting forward. “Do you miss your childhood so much?”
“No, I enjoy dancing and the opera more than I miss swinging, or playing hopscotch.” And being an adult allowed her to enjoy her time—what little there was—with Markham so much more. He barely noticed her when they were young.
After a few minutes, Markham asked, “You never said who you needed to kiss to win.”
“My, how curious you are about who I plan—er, planned—to kiss. Are you envious?”
“Of course not. I’m merely curious how the minds of young ladies work. What draws you to a man?”
He’s about your height, your hair color, has your smiling, expressive eyes… No, she had to steer this conversation away from there. “The object of the game was to kiss someone we didn’t want to.”
“And you chose among my friends? What’s wrong with any of us?” His pushes grew a bit harder.
“The entire point was they had to be someone our parents wouldn’t approve of.”
“Was I included in your list of men you didn’t want to kiss?”
Quite the opposite. “Lavinia forbade that. She didn’t want to picture any of us kissing you.”
“I see.”
“If you and your friends had made a list like that, who would have been on it?”
“You believe there were girls we didn’t want to kiss? You don’t have brothers, that’s obvious.”
“Would you avoid kissing your sister’
s friends?”
“How did we end up here, anyway?” Markham asked. “Let’s talk of something else.”
She refrained from reminding him he’d started the conversation. It was a good thing he was behind her and she was on a swing, or she’d attempt to get an answer to her question by kissing him.
Eventually a footman appeared and informed them it was time to dress for supper.
“We’ve been out here that long?” Mattie asked. When Markham eased the swing to a stop, she stood.
“Someone will have noticed. Just in case no one saw us out the window, we should have an excuse for our absence. Where were you?”
She looked around her at the plants, statues and benches. “I was revisiting my childhood. No, wait, I got lost in the maze. You heard my shouts for help and came to my rescue.”
“How long were you trapped? They’ll think I found you an hour ago and we enjoyed some time unseen. We need something better. I might have gone for a ride. You might have fallen asleep in your room.”
“Those are so dull. I’d much rather say I was tilting at windmills or facing down a dragon.” Those might not be respectable dreams for a lady, but she didn’t care. They were the most outrageous things she could think of, and she was in a mood to be outrageous.
“If you were facing down a dragon, it had better not have been in aid of my rescue. You’ll emasculate me and I’ll never recuperate.” Markham’s features were more relaxed than she’d seen in a long time. Regardless of her desire to kiss him, she was happy to be responsible for putting him at his leisure.
“Windmills it is, then,” she said.
Chapter Four
While allowing a maid to style her hair for the evening, Mattie pinched her cheeks and nibbled her lips to bring some color to her face. She attempted to convince herself she wanted to look her best for everyone, but it was Markham on her mind.
Apparently he was on Mama’s mind, too, for she burst in the door of Mattie’s bedchamber. “You and the marquess were quite cozy in the garden. You must make certain he knows you are attracted to him.”
