Bexley-Smythe Quintet 02 - Rhyme and Reason

by Catherine Gayle

  That felt oddly appropriate, given his inability to move words free from his tongue when he looked at her.

  But they were alone in that drawing room. He shouldn’t be here at all, since he had no intention of marrying someone so far beyond his reach as to be unconscionable. But no matter what, he absolutely should not be alone with her.

  Not only that, but sitting upon any bit of furniture in this elegant room was entirely out of the question, as he’d likely transfer the filth of his boots and the rest of his attire onto the delicate red satin of Lord Teasdale’s furniture.

  Then there was the small matter that, even after his few visits to Danby Castle where he was a guest and not a servant, the very thought of sitting in a room such as this merely served to remind him he was not meant to be part of this world.

  This was not going as he’d planned. But then again, he hadn’t exactly planned his visit at all. He’d just come, as Lord Teasdale had insisted upon, and hoped he would be able to sort out what he ought to do once he arrived.

  That wasn’t quite happening.

  Instead of sitting, he crossed the room to look out the window. Lady Matilda couldn’t even look at him any longer other than the muck upon his boots; he doubted she would be overly concerned that he didn’t sit as she bade him to do.

  An expensive traveling coach and four rattled along the roadway outside, bearing Lord Harrington’s crest upon the door. Traveling the opposite direction, two gentlemen in impeccable finery ambled along on a fine pair of bays, their shouts of laughter ringing out loud enough he could hear them from inside the house.

  This drawing room, much like the ones in Danby’s immense castle and in the Pritchards’ country estate where Thomas had once worked, was filled with elegant and ornate bits and bobs of a quality that left him feeling entirely unworthy of being in the same room.

  He did not belong here—not in the slightest—but when he looked back to where Lady Matilda Bexley-Smythe was seated, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she fit perfectly within such a setting. The delicate bend of her legs with her ankles crossed just so made her seem almost as one with the settee.

  His thoughts turned to how they had curled around his arm yesterday, and how he’d like to perhaps feel more of her curled around more of him, but then he gave himself a mental shake. Now was not the time to have such thoughts. Was there ever a time it would be appropriate? Not in his estimation.

  The soft yellow of her gown and her hair blended with the golden accenting hues scattered throughout the room. He could hardly imagine a place she would better fit, nor one in which he would feel less at his ease. This realization only reinforced his previous conclusion that he, of all people, could never marry her.

  How could he provide her with a grand life such as this? The Duke of Danby could, of course. But Thomas had already taken more from Danby than he ever should have allowed.

  The double door opened again. Thomas turned to see who was coming in just as the same inept maid who’d been at the cliffs with Lady Matilda yesterday slipped through the doorway carrying a tea service. She nearly tripped over the Aubusson rug, causing the china to rattle about on the tray. She struggled to settle the tea implements whilst her eyes went wide enough to match one of the saucers, and then set the service upon the table nearest Lady Matilda. Before she could cause any more damage, she scurried off to seat herself in an armchair hidden in the corner where she could see and hear everything which was to transpire.

  Thank goodness they weren’t to be left completely alone, after all. Granted, he would feel more comfortable about the situation if someone more…well, more reliable than this maid had been sent to chaperone. Nevertheless, his pulse settled into a somewhat more regular rhythm upon the realization that they weren’t to be alone.

  A man such as he had no business being alone with a lady.

  Her lips pressed tightly together, Lady Matilda leaned forward and fiddled with the tea service, causing her bosom to press against the fabric of her bodice and draw his eye. Stop that, he admonished himself, trying desperately to look at her hands, her hair—anything but the delightfully rounded breasts pushing against her gown.

  “Would you care for some tea, Mr. Goddard?” Though somewhat strained, her voice had a soft, lilting quality to it. She picked up the teapot and poured two cups without waiting for his response, adding small amounts of cream and sugar as if such an action had become rote over the years.

  His gut clenched. How could he tell her the only reason he was here today was to inform her he had no intention of marrying her? It was true that he had never spoken to her before, never done anything which could have given the impression that he wished to marry her, yet from what Lord Teasdale told him, there was an understanding already in place.

  He had no earthly idea of her feelings on the matter, though, and attempting to discover them might be a tricky business. One wrong step, one poorly worded phrase was all that would be required to inadvertently present her with just such an understanding. Then he would be well and truly done for.

  That was a trap he had no intention of getting caught in.

  She returned the teapot to the tray and held up a saucer to him, a gentle smile upon her lips. Full lips. Lush and dusky pink and entirely too kissable-looking. Damn, but he didn’t know what to do. While he attempted to sort through his rampant thoughts, he crossed the room to take his cup of tea.

  His fingers inadvertently brushed against hers in the transfer.

  Lady Matilda sucked in a sharp breath and averted her gaze once more.

  Thomas’s jaw clenched as he backed away to place some distance between them. She couldn’t even bear such simple contact with him. She had to be revolted by the thought of marrying him. No matter how hard Danby tried, he couldn’t make Thomas into a gentleman—something he absolutely and unequivocally was not—and she knew it.

  She knew it, and he knew it, and yet beyond all manner of rhyme and reason, Danby thought he could coerce everyone to do as he wished them to do for no reason other than the fact that he was the bloody Duke of Danby.

  It was enough to make Thomas scream at the heavens.

  Instead, he steadied his breaths and pressed his eyes closed. “My lady—”

  “You should know that there is another gentleman who has been paying me court.”

  His eyes flashed open to stare at her. She had another suitor? One who was a true gentleman, who could suit her needs and provide her a proper place within society and all the lavishness befitting a lady of her station, as opposed to what Thomas could give her? It was all he could do not to shout in victory upon hearing her news.

  Yet somehow he maintained his composure.

  “I see,” he said, keeping his tone so serious it nearly sounded grave to his own ear. “And has this gentleman made an offer?” Please, let him have made an offer for her. And let her have accepted.

  “Not as yet.” Lady Matilda met his gaze then, a resolve flooding her chocolate-hued eyes which was rather unnerving. “But I can assure you, sir, that regardless of any agreement which may have been reached between you, my brother, and your grandfather, if Sir Lester offers for me, I will accept him.”

  Any sense of jubilation Thomas might have felt turned to ice within his veins. Teasdale had mentioned Sir Lester briefly in their interview yesterday, but the name had hardly even registered in Thomas’s mind at the time. But now… “Sir Lester? Sir Lester Hammond?”

  Not if Thomas had anything to say about the matter.

  The sudden changes in Mr. Goddard’s demeanor were unsettling, to say the least. In only a few moments, he’d moved from apparently being pained to be in her presence, to being overjoyed to discover he might not have to marry her, and now he seemed outraged.

  The outrage felt entirely out of place, though. Mattie couldn’t understand why he would feel such a strong sense of anger, when mere moments before he’d been delighted to hear she had another suitor. Why should her choice of gentleman matter?

&nb
sp; He stood there staring at her, his strong jaw working back and forth for so long that Mattie feared she’d thoroughly unsettled him with her revelation. He remained silent after repeating Sir Lester’s name with a voice filled with contempt and loathing.

  This silence between them was most decidedly of the uncomfortable sort. She licked her lips to soothe her nerves. “I apologize for my candor, sir, but I can’t see how it would serve either of us to avoid discussing the situation as transparently as possible. Perhaps it would have been better not to tell you anything…”

  What little bit of courage she’d mustered was quickly escaping her, and all because he still remained silent.

  Mr. Goddard drew a hand through his long, curling brown hair, never removing his gaze from her person. It left her unnerved and shaken, the way he stared at her so resolutely, delivering an unflinching inspection. His ire was slowly giving way to a heat of a different variety. Mattie wasn’t quite certain she knew what to name this new sensation he was causing her with his heated look.

  Her breaths came in shuddering draws as she tried not to cower from his gaze. Mattie had never been as traditionally beautiful as her sister Freddie, nor as charmingly lovely as Georgie, and certainly never as precociously pretty as their youngest sister Edie. Of all the Bexley-Smythe sisters, she’d always felt herself the most plain of them all, and therefore the least likely to be wanted.

  She’d thought the only reason Sir Lester had paid her any attention was because none of her sisters were with her. If he had seen any of them, surely he would have ignored Mattie.

  But with the way Mr. Goddard was staring at her, so intensely as to cause her whole body to suffer from a warm, tingling sensation, she was starting to question a great many things she’d always believed.

  He took a long breath. “My lady—”

  “Please.” Mattie gave him a pleading look with her eyes, willing him silently to allow her to speak uninterrupted. “Mr. Goddard, I do not know what my brother has promised you, or what the Duke of Danby has promised my brother, but the fact remains that you and I do not know one another. We don’t even know the first thing about each other, actually, and so there can’t be any emotional damage if we break things off now. Even if an announcement has already been made, a lady can cry off—”

  “What if he Hammond doesn’t offer?”

  “I…” Mattie hadn’t allowed herself to think of that possibility.

  “Will you allow me to court you? You don’t have to cry off yet. I haven’t asked you to marry me, even if Danby and Stalbridge have come to an agreement, so there’s nothing for you to cry off from. Perhaps some might think we already have an understanding, but there’s nothing you or I can do about that.” Mr. Goddard sat beside her finally, so close she could see the depth of his blue eyes. He seemed so very sincere. “You can put an end to this later if you choose. But please, not yet.”

  This was all making her head spin again.

  Sadler opened the door to the drawing room. “Sir Lester Hammond to call upon you, Lady Matilda.”

  Mr. Goddard stiffened where he sat, his jaw clenched so tight his lips turned nearly white. His reaction to Sir Lester was perhaps the oddest thing she’d ever witnessed.

  The baronet entered carrying a bouquet of hothouse flowers. His gaze traveled briefly over Mr. Goddard before it fell upon Mattie. Then he smiled. “I did not know you had another caller. I could come—”

  “Stay,” Mr. Goddard said, his words suddenly terse. He stood, placing his teacup and saucer on the table. He looked at her imploringly. “I’ll be on my way as soon as Lady Matilda answers a question I’ve put to her.”

  Mattie’s breath caught for some strange reason. She swallowed, though the simple action was suddenly difficult. What had he asked? Oh. Yes. He wanted to court her.

  In all truth, there couldn’t be any harm in allowing him to do so. He was correct about that. She looked at Sir Lester again, the bouquet of flowers in his hands drawing her eyes before they moved up to his face. Whatever he was feeling, she couldn’t sense it. Sir Lester always kept his thoughts and feelings well-guarded from her.

  She nodded to Mr. Goddard. “Yes, I could allow that.”

  He inclined his head then. “A good afternoon to you, Lady Matilda.” As he passed Sir Lester, neither man said a word.

  Despite the coldness with which Mr. Goddard and Sir Lester were displaying toward one another, Mattie felt almost giddy. Her fortnight in Scarborough had proven to be rather fortuitous so far. She’d hoped to find one suitor, if she could somehow manage such a thing; now she had two.

  “I’ll handle things from here, Mr. Goddard. There’s no need for you to put off your afternoon appointment on my account.” Lindley shuffled the stack of papers upon the desk and looked at Thomas from over the top of them, a teasing sort of smirk accompanying his efficiency.

  The secretary knew all too well that this wasn’t just any banal appointment Thomas must attend, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the running of the business. Thomas had been so perplexed by the events in Lord Teasdale’s drawing room yesterday that when he’d returned to his office at the stables, he’d been unable to stop himself from telling the man about it—every excruciating detail.

  It was only natural, he supposed, for Lindley to revel in Thomas’s discomfort, at least somewhat. At least he wasn’t running through the stables and telling all the grooms and other workers about how suddenly their employer had turned about in his decision-making.

  No matter how natural such a thing may be for Lindley, Thomas hated it—likely due to the fact that for once in his life, he was on the receiving end of such teasing. He nodded, his scowl as black as his mood at the jape. For that matter, his mood had been black ever since the precise moment he’d understood that Lady Matilda Bexley-Smythe intended to marry Sir Lester Hammond, the rotten blackguard.

  He couldn’t stop himself from wondering why Hammond had taken an interest in the lady. Whatever was behind it, it couldn’t be good. Thomas didn’t know the man well at all, but he knew that even if society might consider him a gentleman due to his birth, in truth Hammond was the furthest thing from gentlemanly a man could be.

  It was the certainty that Hammond couldn’t possibly mean Lady Matilda well, more than any other reason, that had led to Thomas changing his mind and deciding he not only could, but should marry Lady Matilda.

  Teasdale didn’t seem to be very inclined to do what was best for her—his focus was more upon being rid of her, it would seem—or else he surely would have run Hammond off the moment he started chasing after the girl’s skirts.

  Wouldn’t he?

  But then again, perhaps Teasdale wasn’t aware of the sort of cur Hammond was. The baron was only taking a summer holiday here in Scarborough, and Thomas doubted Hammond was one to spend more time than he absolutely must amongst the upper crust.

  Not everyone knew the scoundrel for what he was. For that matter, not everyone had seen the way the man treated his horses. Thomas had, though, and he refused to ever sell the bastard another horse no matter how much money was offered. He could only imagine the treatment a wife would receive at his hands.

  He couldn’t allow Lady Matilda to suffer such a fate. He’d already saved her from one fall; there wasn’t a chance in the world he would allow her to suffer from another, however different the fall might be.

  Somehow, some way, he had to not only court her, but convince her to marry him before Hammond did. His efforts must begin today.

  So he gathered up a few missives that had come in the post and headed down the street to the home Danby had provided him. Today, at least, he would not call upon Lady Matilda still bearing the visual evidence of his work. Once in his chambers, he took off all his clothes and set about cleaning away all the dust and grime he’d accumulated this morning in the basin.

  All the while, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from ruminating over just how, precisely, a man who had been reared as part of the servant class and had onl
y recently been elevated beyond that station was supposed to woo the daughter of a marquess.

  It seemed highly unlikely, particularly since he had competition for the lady’s attentions who, on the outside at least, was a far more suitable match.

  What on earth would possibly attract her to him?

  Thomas had never had much to do with high-born ladies in his life, apart from those he had served and now his new relatives through Danby. In his time as a groom working for the Pritchards, he had done his work in the stables and had naught to do with Lady Pritchard unless she required a horse to be saddled. With the new relatives he’d acquired, he’d really only seen any of them twice. Both times, he’d felt as out of place as he did with Lady Matilda. He and Robert had both done their utmost to avoid all of them, and in particular the ladies. In his current position, he only ever really had dealings with the ladies’ husbands and fathers and brothers, never the ladies themselves.

  He couldn’t really expect to have anything in common with Lady Matilda, or anything to talk to her about. Their brief interactions so far had brought out his protective instincts and his libidinous nature in equal measure, but a marriage couldn’t really hope to balance upon such things.

  Nonetheless, a marriage was precisely what he must convince her was necessary.

  When finally he was as clean as he could manage for the time being and dressed appropriately to call upon a lady, Thomas went back down the stairs, ignored whatever was shouted his way from Lindley, and began the short walk over to the house on Grand Avenue.

  He was sorely tempted to turn himself around, go back inside, and try to forget that any of this had happened.

  But he couldn’t do that.

  According to society, he could never be a true gentleman, no matter what sort of airs he might put on. But Thomas still had his honor, and he would be damned before he would allow a blackguard disguised as a gentleman near Lady Matilda if he could help it.

  A flick of the reins set his pair along the way.