Lyon's Bride and The Scottish Witch with Bonus Material (Promo e-Books)

by Maxwell, Cathy

  “Mrs. Martin,” he said, aware that anyone could be listening. “Is there anything I can do for Lady Sophie?”

  She shook her head. “No, there isn’t, and I assure you I believe Lady Sophie will be fine, although it is quite worrisome.” She paused. “You are sorry she won’t be able to ride with you this morning?”

  There was an edge to her voice, a sign of a sharper question being asked—and Neal realized that if he answered honestly, if he really didn’t have a concern about Lady Sophie, that it was Thea who drew his notice, no good could come of it. His sister Margaret’s worst fears would be realized, as would his own. “Of course,” he responded, shrugging as he did so to take any import from his concern.

  “Then it is Lady Sophie you have chosen?” she asked.

  Neal took a step back. “I’ve not made a decision.”

  “But you singled her out quite often yesterday.”

  “I was talking to her. She’s pleasant.”

  “Is she the one, my lord?”

  Neal frowned, not liking the way she worded the question. “I haven’t focused on any ‘one.’ Did you not tell me to become acquainted with the young women?”

  “I did.”

  “Then I was becoming acquainted with her.” He did not like the direction of this conversation. Thea was too eager to see him matched. Perhaps he was wrong in his assumption that deeper emotions were in play. “I have not made up my mind one way or the other.”

  “I gained the impression you had, my lord,” she answered. “I was mistaken.”

  “Thea, don’t go stiff on me,” Neal said, annoyed at her cool facade. “This is devilish hard. I’ve never been watched so much as I am now. Lady Sophie was very safe to talk to. She’s—” He paused for the right word. “Uncomplicated. If an impression has formed that I have made up my mind, then I’m sorry for it. It’s not true.”

  If he’d thought his reasoning would placate her, he was wrong. If anything, the gleam in her eyes hardened and the furrows along her brow deepened. However, voices in the breakfast room warned that they were about to be interrupted.

  “I appreciate knowing where you stand, my lord,” she said and started to walk away.

  He caught her arm, the action forcing her to look at him. “What do you want from me?” he demanded, his voice low. “One moment you befriend me and in the next you are distant and barely polite.”

  “And what do you expect of me, my lord?”

  He frowned, uncertain of her meaning.

  “You don’t know, do you?” she pointed out, and on that cryptic remark she turned and he had to let her go.

  Within minutes, Neal found himself surrounded by the other guests. Lady Lila pulled his arm one way, Lady Cynthia another, and in the end, he escaped to his room, much to Sir James’s amusement.

  An hour later, he found himself riding along on the most frivolous of ventures, a picnic—but his thoughts were not far from Thea.

  The doctor said that Lady Sophie was suffering a stomach disorder of some sort.

  “I wonder what good doctors truly are,” Mirabel grumbled. “They always state the obvious.” They, along with Lady Sophie’s mother, Lady Carpsley, had left the patient upstairs sleeping off the effects of her illness.

  “Yes, well, at least she isn’t in danger of imminent demise,” Thea said. “She had me worried last night.”

  “I’m sorry she missed the picnic,” Lady Carpsley said. “I had my husband go with the group so we would receive a full report. I told Sophie she’d best be on her feet and in her prettiest frock by this evening.”

  “She may still not be feeling well,” Thea suggested.

  Lady Carpsley bristled at the suggestion. “She can’t be abed when Lyon returns. I’ll see that she is up. We came here to win him, and we shall.”

  “Are you so certain he is smitten?” Mirabel said, asking the question Thea hadn’t dared voice. “Men have an amazing ability to appear interested when they are not.”

  “That’s why Mrs. Martin is here, is it not?” Lady Carpsley said. She looked to Thea. “With Sophie taking sick at such an inopportune time, we may need your help. Sophie was gaining ground over the others. We could all see that.” She folded her hands in front of her. “You wish for your son to attend Westminster School, do you not?”

  “I do,” Thea said, surprised that she knew and suddenly cautious. “He has an interview there in a few weeks.”

  “It’s a very exclusive school. They don’t allow just anyone to walk through their doors. My husband’s cousin is the headmaster. Your son’s interview will be with him. And, of course, recommendations from well-placed persons can be very important. The right word from my husband and your son will be admitted.” She paused and then added, “The wrong word and your son will never grace Westminster’s halls.”

  Thea looked over at Mirabel, whose eyes had widened in outrage, an outrage Thea shared.

  “Lady Carpsley, that is blackmail,” Thea demurred.

  “Yes, well, one does what one can for one’s child. Lyon is the catch of any four seasons. The more we are around him, the more Lord Carpsley and I are convinced he is the perfect husband for our daughter. I shall expect your full assistance, that is if you wish your son to attend Westminster. There are so many bright lads from good, but modest, families. Westminster can’t take them all, so they must be very selective.” She smiled, the expression almost friendly, and left the room.

  Thea sank down on the divan. Mirabel sat down beside her. “What are we going to do?” Mirabel asked.

  “I’m disgusted that she would use my son as a bartering tool in this,” Thea said, her temper taking hold.

  “I am as well, but that doesn’t change the fact that she is. How close do you think Lyon is to making up his mind?”

  “I don’t know. He’s being very close-lipped. This morning when I talked to him, he seemed distant.”

  “He has showed marked attention to Lady Sophie.”

  Thea shrugged, a tightness settling in her shoulders. “He didn’t appear overly concerned about her this morning.”

  “But isn’t that what he wants?” Mirabel pointed out. “A woman that he can’t possibly like? Once Lyon hears of this, I assume from what I’ve observed of his character, he will be disgusted.” She shook her head. “Frankly, Thea, I sat at the breakfast table this morning, watching faces as you said Lady Sophie wasn’t feeling well, and no one seemed concerned. In fact, a few acted quite pleased with the information. I found it unsettling.”

  “Mirabel, this can’t be the first time you’ve realized how petty and selfish people can be.”

  “I don’t live my life that way. Why should I notice?”

  A new suspicion was brewing in Thea’s mind. “It is a bit too fortunate that Lady Sophie would take ill. She appeared the picture of health yesterday.”

  “No,” Mirabel said, drawing out the word as if to deny it. “Do you suspect someone made her sick? How could someone do that?”

  “I don’t know. It does sound far-fetched. Poison?”

  “But these people are the cream of the ton. Thea, they are respectable people.”

  “Entitled? Yes. Respectable? Mirabel, don’t be naive. Marrying Lyon would be a boon to any of these families. You can never tell where a person is in life just by the surface. They could be in debt or wanting Lyon’s connections for their own use. His money will fill their coffers, his prestige will burnish their stars. You should have met some of the men my father wanted to marry me off to—codgers and his cronies—and he was galloping out the gate to do so. He had a number of schemes to draw me to the attention of the men he’d chosen. Of course, the thought of seeing any of them naked was enough to make me run into Boyd’s arms.”

  “Lyon wouldn’t hurt the eyes naked.”

  Mirabel’s droll observation brought an image to Thea’s mind that a
lmost sizzled her brain and brought a flush to her cheeks. It had been a long time since she’d had a lustful thought. She’d been too busy trying to keep her small family fed and safe. Now, it was as if a part of her tamped down and kept dormant suddenly sprang to life. She rose from the divan and took a step away. “Stop this.”

  “What?” Mirabel asked, her eyes rounding in innocence.

  “Attempting to put us together. It won’t work.” Thea didn’t know if she was saying this for Mirabel’s benefit or her own.

  “It could. You must let yourself believe.”

  “There is nothing to believe,” Thea protested. And yet a part deep inside her wistfully wondered whether Mirabel’s claim was true.

  “I think he likes you too much. He always stays an arm’s distance away from you.”

  “And that means what?”

  “That he is afraid to go closer,” Mirabel explained, as if it should have been obvious. “Truly, Thea, you can’t see the signs? Or are you so busy trying to stay away from him you don’t notice?”

  “He treats me with polite respect. Nothing more; nothing less.”

  “He likes you—”

  “Mirabel, no more of that.” Thea walked off before her friend could toss in a final “He likes you,” something she might have heard whispered as she climbed the stairs. She went to check on Lady Sophie. She was not anxious to keep company with the Carpsleys, not after Lady Carpsley’s threat, but her curiosity had been piqued.

  What if someone had given Lady Sophie something to make her ill?

  The suggestion was worth a question or two.

  Lord Carpsley was taking an afternoon snooze in a comfortable chair in a corner of the room. Lady Carpsley was reading to her daughter. Lady Sophie looked like a beautiful, pale waif resting in the middle of the feather pillows and downy comforters.

  “Are you feeling any better?” Thea asked.

  Lady Sophie turned mournful eyes to her. “They will all be crowding around him now. He was interested in me, and I lost him.” Her fingers twisted the sheets in her agitation.

  “Your health is more important than this nonsense,” Thea said soothingly.

  “Besides, Mrs. Martin is going to see that Lord Lyon doesn’t forget his interest in you, aren’t you?” Lady Carpsley finished, turning to Thea with a look that her ladyship expected to be obeyed.

  “He won’t forget Lady Sophie,” Thea allowed without committing herself. “Have you had anything to eat? Would you like a bowl of broth?”

  Lady Sophie pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No, I can’t eat anything.”

  “When did you last eat?” Thea wondered, laying a hand on the girl’s brow. It was cool. She would recover. She was probably just weak from being ill.

  “Dinner,” Lady Sophie said.

  “And nothing else?”

  “No.”

  “Did you sleep well last night?” Thea asked.

  “I did until I became ill.” Lady Sophie sighed heavily. “I wasn’t feeling terribly the thing earlier in the day yesterday. Just a little queasy.”

  “Her monthly,” Lady Carpsley said, leaning toward Thea as she divulged this information, as if she didn’t want the sleeping Lord Carpsley to overhear.

  “Mother gave me a troche to settle me. I told her I was so nervous with excitement I didn’t think I could sleep.”

  “And she must sleep!” Lady Carpsley declared. “We need her looking fresh.”

  “A troche?” Thea questioned.

  “Yes,” Lady Carpsley answered. “Lord Corkindale gave it to me. Said it always settles his daughter’s nerves. He is such a kind man. The others are biddies, spiteful and competitive. Lord Corkindale is very much a gentleman and understands fair play. He told me he can see Lord Lyon has developed a fondness for Sophie. He was regretful his lordship didn’t favor his daughter, but it is what it is.”

  “Lord Corkindale said this?” Thea repeated in disbelief.

  “He was very supportive. Told me to have my daughter let the troche dissolve slowly in her mouth. And it did settle you down, didn’t it, Sophie? Of course, what we didn’t know is that she was taking frightfully ill. Maybe I should have asked him for another to give her.”

  And maybe Lord Corkindale had dispensed with his daughter’s competition along with that troche.

  Thea forced a smile. “Please let us know if there is anything you need, Lady Sophie.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Martin,” the girl said, but then added, “have they returned from the picnic yet?”

  “They have not yet returned, Lady Sophie. However, don’t be anxious. Lord Lyon’s character is not a shallow one,” Thea said.

  “But he is male,” Lady Carpsley said. “They can’t help themselves. Even that one,” she finished, rolling her eyes in her sleeping husband’s direction. She sighed. “No, I prefer to put my faith in you.”

  Thea did not appreciate the subtle reminder of what was at stake if Lyon failed to offer for Lady Sophie. She left the room. As she was coming downstairs, the picnickers were just returning.

  Lady Lila had her hands, both of them, around Neal’s arm, and her father appeared very happy.

  The Montvales stormed up the stairs past Thea without so much as a passing glance.

  Plastering a smile to her face, Thea greeted those in the hallway. “I take it you enjoyed yourselves?” Thea asked.

  “I believe we did,” Neal answered. “How is Lady Sophie?”

  Thea’s smile grew tighter. “She might be joining us for dinner.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Lady Lila said with a sweetness that had to have been false. There was nothing “sweet” about her at all. In fact, Thea had chosen her for her callousness.

  Lord Corkindale came up to their group. “That was an excellent adventure. I’m ready for my supper now.”

  Mrs. Pomfrey came up beside Thea. “The ruins were nothing special,” she said dismissively and then turned to Lady Lila. “I hope that chafing on your cheeks improves. The sun can be so harsh on a lady’s skin.”

  “My cheeks aren’t chafed,” Lady Lila countered.

  “If you were my daughter,” Mrs. Pomfrey said, putting a motherly tone behind her words, “I would advise you to run upstairs quickly and have your maid rub cream in them without delay.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord Corkindale answered, growing blustery. “My daughter is the picture of health. Ruddy cheeks is good on a girl.”

  “Ruddy?” Lady Lila repeated.

  “I mean you have some good color to your face,” her father tried to explain, but the damage had been done, and Mrs. Pomfrey didn’t hesitate to capitalize on it.

  “Well, if you were my daughter . . .” She let her voice drift with the obvious implication.

  Lady Lila pretended to shrug off the suggestion, but a beat later said, “I really should go upstairs and dress for dinner.” She turned to Lord Lyon, gave him a dreamy smile. “Thank you for your help this afternoon, my lord. I am in your debt.” Honey dripped from every syllable.

  “It was nothing, my lady,” Neal said. She smiled at him again and went upstairs, the sway of her hips a beckoning call—and Thea had an irrational urge to charge right up behind her, grab her arm and give her a shake.

  “Harumph,” Mrs. Pomfrey said as if echoing Thea’s sentiments.

  With the exit of his daughter, Lord Corkindale’s attention turned to a more important matter. “I say,” he said, addressing Osgood, “where might I find a healthy draft of something to wet my palate?”

  “Where is Miss Susanne?” Thea asked, just realizing Mrs. Pomfrey was without the rest of her family.

  Mrs. Pomfrey’s lips pursed in disapproval. “She and my husband are coming.” She forced a smile. “You will wait for her, won’t you, my lord?”

  Before Lyon could answer, the door opened and Mr. Pomfrey e
ntered, followed by his daughter and Sir James, who were both chatting in an animated way. In fact, Sir James was looking years younger, and Miss Susanne’s face glowed with the most becoming flush.

  Mr. Pomfrey’s eyes met his wife’s with a resigned look. He’d obviously failed at an assigned task, which, Thea assumed, had been to nip a budding romance. Her assumption was affirmed when Mrs. Pomfrey took charge. “Susanne, you need to dress for dinner.”

  Miss Susanne didn’t take her eyes off Sir James when she said, “Actually, I’m not ready to dress yet, Mother. It is such a lovely day, and Sir James and I thought we’d take a turn around Lady Palmer’s garden.”

  “I suggest you dress for dinner” was her mother’s reply.

  “I will,” Miss Susanne said, already starting down the hall with Sir James.

  The lawyer threw over his shoulder, “I shall see that she returns with plenty of time to dress for dinner.”

  “Well.” Mrs. Pomfrey’s exclamation seemed to hover in the air, but only Thea and Lyon heard it. Mr. Pomfrey had caught wind of Lord Corkindale’s interest in a good dram or bottle of wine. The two were already walking toward the sitting room, where Osgood promised to bring them two glasses and a sampling from the late Lord Palmer’s highly respectable liquor cabinet.

  Mrs. Pomfrey stood puzzled a moment and then retreated. “I believe I’ll dress for dinner,” she announced. “If you will excuse me?” She didn’t wait for permission from Thea or Lyon but went up the stairs as fast as she could.

  Thea turned to Neal. “It appears Mrs. Pomfrey has found a match for her daughter.”

  “And she can’t ask for anyone better than James. He’s one of the finest men I know and is besotted. I’ve never seen him this way around a woman. It was a marvel to watch romance bloom. The rest of us could have just as well not been there for all the attention they paid us.”

  “And you have been close with Lady Lila.”

  Thea had not meant to say anything. Certainly she hadn’t meant to sound slightly caustic.

  He frowned, looking tired. “This morning you informed me I was paying too much attention to Lady Sophie and needed to spread my attention around. You can see James has captured Miss Pomfrey’s attention. What should I do? Ignore Lady Lila?”