by Amelia Grey
“Later?” He took issue with her. “The last thing I want is for them to be outside in this unpleasant weather getting cold and getting sick.”
She lifted her chin a notch, clearly taking umbrage at his firm statement. There was something challenging and seductive about her expression as she said, “It’s not so terribly cold out right now.”
Maybe that was because she had on a couple of layers of velvet and a fetching fur collar fastened tightly around her neck. To him it was downright glacial.
“It’s quite refreshing really. Especially in comparison to that stuffy old house with its scents of smoke, burned wood, and tallow.”
“That’s odd,” he said. “I’m sure I smelled the aroma of bread and plum pudding when I came below stairs.”
“Perhaps you came down much later than I.”
“Apparently.”
“All the draperies were closed. It was dark and they could hardly see to read, anyway. Besides, Master Heron and Master Fallon seem perfectly healthy to me.”
“They are, and I intend to keep them that way.”
“Then perhaps I should take it upon myself to point out that you should take care of yourself as well. You are the one outside without benefit of cloak, gloves, or hat.”
Unable to stop, Seth chuckled. No matter how toasty he tried to appear, he should have known she’d get around to saying something about his lack of proper outer wear. She had the pluck of a jug-bitten Irishman. Whomever she belonged to, be he husband, father, or brother, he had his hands full with this one.
If she minded his laugh, she didn’t show it, but said, “And in my opinion, I think you are being overly cautious for no good reason. There’s no need to assume they will get lung sickness or anything else just because they are outside for a few minutes while it’s cold.”
“It’s not a chance I want to take.”
“Oh, good heavens!” she exclaimed in vexation. “There won’t be much enjoyment for them at Hurst this Christmastide Season if you make them stay inside and read all the time.”
There was no denying the attraction Seth felt for her. The long dark brown lashes on her light blue eyes fluttered in a most becoming way, and he momentarily forgot his purpose again. The flush from her exertion with the boys had faded, yet her cheeks still looked as if they’d been delicately brushed with the stain of crushed cranberries. Her face was delectable and sweetened all the more when she was frustrated with him.
Seth found himself wondering about the color of her hair. Blonde? Brown? Darker? Not a strand of it showed from beneath her hat, yet she didn’t need for it to. Her beauty was undeniable, and his attraction to her went far deeper than her face. She was daring, honest, and didn’t try to hide her true feelings. That was refreshing.
Damnation, he was beginning to hope the fiery lady wasn’t anyone’s wife or fiancée but free to accept advances from him.
“Masters Fallon and Heron need to be out climbing trees, playing hide-and-seek,” she continued. “They should be running around cutting holly berries and mistletoe to decorate the house on Christmas Eve, and other childhood games like chasing chickens.” She paused. “But that is usually played when it’s warmer.”
Seth screwed up his face. “Chasing chickens?”
“Of course, boys enjoy doing that, and it doesn’t hurt them. The chickens that is. Or the boys.” She gave him a curious look. “Didn’t you ever do that?”
Seth decided not to admit he would have never been allowed to do something as improper as chasing fowl. How did this young lady know about these things? He sensed she was a lady of substance and not just beauty, wit, and playfulness, he couldn’t let her challenge of his authority over his wards go unanswered.
Scowling, he brushed aside his kindly thoughts of her, not needing the detour of one who was capturing his attention with so little effort when blast it, it was so bloody cold outside.
“Are you lecturing me concerning my nephews?”
“Lecturing?” She had the nerve to look affronted. “A marquis? No, not in the least. I wouldn’t go that far. Merely stating my opinion is all.”
Who was she that she had the gumption to continue to take him to task over something that was his responsibility and none of her affair in the first place? Her impertinence, courage, and determination were boundless. Maybe one of the things that made her so damn appealing was that she didn’t seem to care a whit for the acceptable manners of talking with a marquis.
“My nephews are learning how to be gentlemen, not rascals. They not only read and study the sciences, arts, and languages, they are learning how to understand the account books of their various properties.”
She gasped. “Fallon is only five.”
“I realize that. I’m not a beast.”
He stopped and gave her a hint of a smile when her brows shot up at his declaration. Continuing, he said, “The lads have time each day when they are allowed to play with their wooden soldiers, horses, and carriages. They play chess in the evening before bedtime. However, it is my responsibility to see they are safely and properly brought up until they enter Eton, and I will.”
Her expression softened again. “They almost looked like wooden toys. You didn’t see how lonely they seemed sitting on that bench in the corridor reading, and waiting for you.”
Perhaps she was a bit too honest, Seth thought as he raised his head and folded his arms across his chest, tucking his hands under his arms to warm them as he did so. It was downright frigid, but it would be a cold day in hell before he’d let her know his hands were growing numb and his ears were beginning to feel frost bitten.
“And I’m glad to know they were behaving like properly brought up gentlemen.”
A soft, annoyed huff passed her beautiful lips. “There is the problem, my lord. They are boys. Not young men, not gentlemen, and they shouldn’t be treated as such.”
Seth sensed that in the very short time she’d been with the lads, she’d already developed an affection for them, and that triggered an unexpected warmth to settle over him. And then more. She had stirred him as no other young lady ever had. An overwhelming desire to pull her velvet-covered body against his rose strong within him and tugged at his willpower. He wanted to breathe in her snow-kissed scent, taste her warm lips, and feel her soft pliant body next to his.
But first he needed to know who she was.
“Excuse me, miss or madame.” He bent his head closer to hers again. “Who are you to tell me I’m doing something wrong?”
She squared her shoulders again and pinned him with a confident, unflinching expression. “It’s miss, my lord. Miss Lillian Prim. I am a younger sister of the Duchess of Hurst and thereby a sister to the Duke of Hurst.”
That admission sobered Seth and, instinctively, he changed the direction his thoughts had been taking him. He relaxed and took a reluctant step away from her.
Now he knew why she had all the confidence of a well-schooled noblewoman. She was. Two of her sisters were married to dukes. He didn’t know anyone else in Society who could boast such a powerful family of peers. As luck would have it, one of the dukes just happened to be his childhood friend and host.
Self-restraint had never been something Seth paid much attention to. He’d never had to—until now. Any thoughts he had of dallying with the tempting miss melted away like the snow on her velvet cap.
Chapter 2
Lillian Prim stood quietly amazed looking at the gentleman before her. He was tall. He was handsome. He was commanding, and he was wrong.
What kind of man didn’t want boys to play outside and be boys? Sunshine, rain, or snow? She’d wager no one had kept the serious-minded marquis from enjoying the adventures that could come from being outdoors when he was a youngster—be it hot or cold. Though, with him standing before her in all his masculine splendor, making her senses dance, sizzle, and pop around like water dripping onto a roaring fire, it was difficult to imagine a magnificent male like him ever being a boy.
And added
to that, none of the multitude of gentlemen she’d met during the past Season had ever looked at her with the audacious intensity that this man was. As if trying to see into her mind and know her intimate thoughts. That left her feeling exposed, vulnerable, and in a strange way somehow extraordinarily special that he wanted to all at the same time.
The very idea that she had the nerve to question this impressively strong man with thick, straight brown hair that hung neatly to the top of his collar astounded her. That he was a marquis made it even more unbelievable she’d be so outspoken. Maybe it was because he had an aura of authority that she sensed was as gentle as it was hard and unyielding. No matter the reason, it was taking all the courage she could gather to remain firm with him about her disagreement with his orders. Especially considering he was right about it being none of her concern how he dealt with his nephews.
She inhaled quietly and said, “I would never tell you that you are wrong—my lord. Well, perhaps not never. Just certainly not today, or just not right now—anyway.”
An attractive, stomach-quaking grin lifted one side of his attractive mouth, and her legs went weak. His features were all masculine. Long straight nose, sculpted lips, and a strong, determined chin made up a face that seemed to beckon her to draw closer.
“That is the most convoluted answer I have ever heard, Miss Prim.”
It was. She knew that. But it was the best she could do under his continued scrutiny that had her feeling as if butterflies were fluttering in her chest and drowning her attempts at taking normal breaths. She’d always thought she was fairly good at matching wits with anyone, until today. The marquis was quite adept.
“I was speaking only to the care of your nephews and for this reason, if I might be so bold, to offer a suggestion.”
“At this point, it would surprise me greatly if you were any way other than bold.”
She hoped that was a compliment and not a disparagement, but she couldn’t be sure which and would have to study over that later. “Master Heron told me their governess had taken ill on your journey here and you thought it best to leave her behind so that she might be comfortable while getting well.”
His attractive, summer green eyes looked suspiciously at her for the second time. “That’s right. I made arrangements with the innkeeper’s wife to look after Mrs. Barstaple and see to it she has everything she needs. Why are you inquiring about her?”
“I know Crispin has a hunt planned tomorrow for the gentlemen and other things for the days ahead.”
“The duke allows you to call him by his first name?”
She gave him a curious look. “Though I am his sister-in-law, he considers me his sister. He insists we don’t stand on ceremony when we are together. Of course, I refer to him as Your Grace at all appropriate times.”
His eyes narrowed just enough to let her know he didn’t believe that for a second.
Lillian cleared her throat. “Perhaps this is one of those appropriate times and I should refer to him as Your Grace when talking to you.” She could tell he was studying over her pronouncement, so she continued. “I wanted you to know that I would be willing to keep watch on Master Heron and Master Fallon so you can join Crispin, that is, His Grace, and the others on the hunt tomorrow.”
“Would you now?”
By his curious expression she worried that he doubted her sincerity. “If it’s their studies you’re concerned about, I’m quite skilled in writing, some of the sciences, and mathematics. Not all, of course.” She paused, and then couldn’t help herself. She smiled and added, “As well as playing.”
To her surprise, he smiled too. A beautiful disarming smile that warmed her all the way to her toes.
“I will attest to your skills in playing and take you at your word on your other abilities. What troubles me is why you would want to burden yourself with two boys and their lessons?”
“First, I wouldn’t consider it a burden.” And neither should you, she wanted to add but held her tongue on that point. “I would enjoy having something to do other than listen to my sister talk about the babe she’s expecting in the spring, menus, needlework, and people I don’t know. I not only have two older sisters, I have two younger sisters, Sybil and Bonnie. I’m used to spending time with them during each day.”
“But they aren’t here?”
“Not yet. We expect them to arrive before Christmas Eve.”
“Having only sisters, Miss Prim, I don’t think you realize how rowdy boys can be. They will squabble over almost everything.”
A shadow of sadness passed over Lillian, and she looked into the distance at the barren snow-covered trees. “I had a brother,” she answered softly. “He was killed in a carriage accident on Rotten Row.”
“Viscount Waverly. I’m sorry. I should have remembered that.”
“It’s all right,” she said, returning her attention to the marquis. “It’s been over six years since Nathan died.”
“Still,” he said compassionately, “I know it’s never easy to lose a loved one.”
Lillian shook off the memories of how devastated all the sisters were to lose their brother to say, “No, it isn’t. And after having suffered losses yourself, I hope you can understand why I was upset with myself for inadvertently adding to your nephews’ great grief. I felt I had to make that up to them and leave them with something other than sad thoughts for the rest of the day.”
His expression softened. “They were definitely enjoying themselves by the time I came out, Miss Prim.”
She appreciated the fact he admitted that. “And if you think girls can’t be as rambunctious as boys, it’s because you haven’t met my younger sisters. I can assure you their squeals can make you cover your ears and their antics can turn a house upside down in a matter of a few minutes. And there’s no need for you to worry should the boys argue. I am the middle child of the five girls. Often I found myself too old to play with the younger girls and too young to be part of the conversation with the older two. But one thing I was always the right age for, and that was to be the peacemaker between the four.”
He smiled again, and the most wonderful sensation in the world washed over her. There was something engaging about him, about the way he made her feel when he looked so deeply into her eyes, that it made her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t understand the powerful emotion that bubbled up inside her, but she hoped it wouldn’t go away. She wanted it to settle inside her innermost being and become a part of her.
“In that case,” he said, “I’ll accept your offer to watch over Fallon and Heron tomorrow and see to it their lessons are progressing.”
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly almost feeling shy.
Lillian knew she should say good-bye and let him go inside. Her hands and toes were getting cold, so the marquis had to be nearly frozen to death by now. Yet she was reluctant to end the conversation with him. Clearly he’d rushed outside without proper clothing, but he seemed strong and untouchable by the cold. Obviously he worried so much about his nephews that he forgot about himself. The ridiculous notion that he needed someone to take care of him swirled through her thoughts.
She clasped her hands together behind her back and swayed a little as if she were listening to a slow tune played on the pianoforte. “I can see that what I heard about you this past Season is true.”
He pulled the lapels of his coat closed and folded his arms in front of his chest again. “It must have been your first Season? I would have remembered if we’d met during a previous Season.” I would have remembered if we’d met.
His last comment sent her pulse racing. “Yes, my first. And though you were not present, I’d venture to say you were the most-talked-about gentleman in all of London.”
“That’s quite an honor.”
There was no pretense of shock or arrogance in his answer. “You sound as if it doesn’t bother you to be the subject of gossip?”
“Why should it? I’ve heard it said that it’s better to be talked about tha
n never even be thought about.”
She smiled. “I’ve heard that old saying too. So you really don’t mind.”
“Not in the least, Miss Prim.”
Her gentle swaying continued. “Have you any curiosity about what was said about you?”
“None. It probably wasn’t true.”
“In your case, I’d say it is all true.”
“And you are ready to make that claim because you have talked to me for all of ten or fifteen minutes?”
She laughed softly. “Shocking I could do it so fast, isn’t it?”
For an instant Lillian thought she might have gone too far, but then the marquis laughed too.
“The crux of what I heard about you was that you were handsome, serious-minded, and eligible to make a match but more interested in books than marriage.”
He nodded. “It sounds as if there isn’t much change in the gossip from Season to Season. And since you already know all there is to know about me, I’m going to take my leave now and go see what the lads are up to.”
When he turned away, a thought popped into Lillian’s mind that was so wild and so outrageous it made her tremble. She didn’t have time to consider whether it was a good idea, whether it would work or would cause Crispin to send her packing. She just knew she had to do it.
Quickly.
Shivering as much from her plan as the cold, Lillian bent down and scooped a double handful of snow and stuffed it into one of the pockets of her pelisse. Then she scooped up another as she rose, pressing it quickly into a loose ball and throwing it hard at the marquis. She hit him right between the shoulder blades.
He stopped and turned around so slowly that for an instant she regretted her rash impulse. Expecting his expression to be furious, relief blasted through her as she was met with an amused look of disbelief. Her courage returned. She slipped a hand into her pocket of snow and started forming another ball.
Lord Wythebury started walking toward her. The closer he came, the wider his shoulders appeared to be. He didn’t stop until he was toe-to-toe with her, so close she was sure it was his uneven heartbeat and not her own thumping in her ears. The pleasing woodsy scent of cedar wafted from his freshly shaved skin, and though he must be shivering from the cold, she felt warmth emanating from his powerful body. But what stunned Lillian most was that she wanted to be pulled into the marquis’ warm embrace. She wanted to feel the strength of his strong arms and the firmness of his chest against her breasts.
