“Yes, I know.”
“I will see you in London?”
“Yes.” And often, I hope.
“Might I ask a favor?”
What could he possibly want? “What?”
“Don’t allow another man to court you.”
She drew back. “I don’t understand.”
He sighed and took her hands in his. “I think you know that I have come to care for you.”
Was he going to propose? “I care for you as well.”
“But I am not free to court you right now.”
Of course he couldn’t. He was leaving tomorrow to take that Frenchman back to London. “I’d hoped you’d wait for me until a time when I can court you properly and, if we suit, speak to your father.”
Giddiness bubbled up in her. This was what she wanted.
“I am afraid it may not be this year, or even next Season.”
The happiness died.
“You are too much of a distraction.” He smiled, leaned in, and kissed her again. “Will you wait until I am free?”
“But you may not be free for months, or maybe even years.” As much as she wanted to be with him, it wasn’t fair to ask this of her.
“I will do my best to get them married off as quickly as possible.”
So he wished to simply push his sisters off on some gentlemen. “I am afraid I can’t wait.” She stood and smoothed her skirts.
Marston jumped to his feet. “What do you mean?”
“First, I don’t approve of your idea to marry each of your sisters off to the first gentleman who asks.”
“I didn’t say that, exactly.”
“What of their happiness, their wishes? Would you ruin theirs so you could have what you want?”
“No, I didn’t say that.” He grasped her hands in his.
She yanked them back. She couldn’t think if he touched her. “Then you plan on giving them all the time they need to find the gentlemen they want, who will make them happy.”
“As long as it doesn’t take too long.”
Louisa anchored her fists on her hips. “Exactly how long is that?”
He stared at her and then blew out a frustrated breath. “A year, perhaps.”
“And if it takes longer, will you choose a husband for them?”
“Of course not, but I will encourage them to settle on someone.”
She relaxed for a moment. “I am glad you are at least going to let them have a say.”
“You still haven’t explained why you won’t wait.”
“Because, Lord Marston, whether it is you or some stranger I have yet to meet, I can assure you, I will be married before Twelfth Night.” With that she turned on her heel and marched back toward the house.
“Wait.”
She stopped and turned.
“What of us? There is a connection. I know you feel it.”
Louisa blinked back tears. “Yes, I do. But as long as you insist on waiting for your sisters to be settled, I cannot wait for you.”
“Then I will marry them off quickly.”
Louisa simply shook her head. “I will not have you sacrifice their happiness so you can court me. It is unfair to them. It is unfair to you, and it is unfair to me.”
“But there is nothing else I can do.”
A sad smile pulled at her lips. Marston would not be hers, and it pained her to admit it. But she could not wait for him. Grandfather would never allow it. “I am glad I made your acquaintance, Lord Marston. I am sure we will see each other in London. Have a pleasant trip.” Turning, she strode for the house. This time, she didn’t look back when he called out.
Louisa entered the drawing room, nodded to those present, and kept walking until she was in the foyer, then up the stairs and into her room, where she threw herself on the bed and let the tears flow. “How long does it take to mend a broken heart?”
One Week Later- London
Louisa paced inside the front parlor of her grandfather’s townhouse. None of her female cousins ever bothered to live here during either Season, and the unmarried male cousins all kept bachelor lodgings. Probably because they didn’t want the servants reporting back to Grandfather. It was such a shame to let the grand place go to waste.
Mrs. Meriwether was in the corner, a book open on her lap and her chin dropped to her chest. Her quiet snores were the only sound in the room.
Louisa sighed and leaned her forehead against the glass window and glanced outside. Goodness she was bored. Since she had met Marston, Louisa had not been able to concentrate on her stitching or reading. She would attend her first ball tonight and was anxious to see Marston, assuming they attended the same function, but she wished to avoid him as well. She needed to forget him and find a suitable husband, but it was impossible since he was all she thought about and he continued to invade her dreams at night. As much as she wanted to see him again, how could she possibly concentrate on finding a husband with him in the room?
A footman stepped into the parlor. “Lady Ainsely to see you, Miss Whitton.”
Ainsely? Excitement surged through her. “Moira,” she called and rushed from the room. “I am so glad you are here!” Louisa pulled her friend into the morning room. Even though Mrs. Meriwether was asleep, the woman may wake and Louisa did not want her to overhear her plans, lest a message be sent to Grandfather and Father before Moira left the house. “Did you get my letter?”
“Yes.” Moira settled onto the settee. She glowed with happiness. “It arrived the day we were to leave. I didn’t write back since I knew I would be seeing you.”
“You must help me,” Louisa insisted.
“Your situation sounded rather urgent. You want to find a husband before the month is out.”
“I must. When you put your mind to it, you found one quickly enough.”
A blush stole into Moira’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t recommend the betting book.”
Louisa laughed. “No, Grandfather would have an apoplexy.”
A footman entered, set a tea service on the table between them, then quietly exited, closing the door behind him. Louisa poured them both a cup, not bothering to ask Moira what she wished in her tea since she already knew, and dropped four sugars into the liquid before handing her the cup and saucer.
Moira grinned. “Thank you.” She stirred then took a sip. “Do you have a particular gentleman in mind yet?”
Marston’s name was on the tip of Louisa’s tongue, but she didn’t offer it.
Moira narrowed her blue eyes on Louisa. “Who is he?”
“He?” Louisa asked innocently.
Moira rolled her eyes and set her cup and saucer on the table. “I have known you my entire life. There is something different about you, and I want to know who he is.”
“Different?” She didn’t feel all that different, and did kisses really alter a person?
“You were always calm, relaxed.”
“I am now,” Louisa defended.
Moira laughed. “No, you are agitated.”
Louisa had to admit Moira was correct. “With each day that slips by, I am closer and closer to Christmas and my grandfather’s orders.”
Moira dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. “I am sure Danby has the perfect vicar for you.”
She narrowed her eyes at her friend.
“I know you don’t want to be a vicar’s wife.” Moira laughed. “But you would make a very good one.”
Yes, she would, Louisa admitted to herself. But she didn’t want that existence. There was no excitement in living in the same small parish all of your life, knowing the secrets of everyone in the community and never going anywhere except for an occasional trip to Yorkshire or London. She wanted to travel, be free to do what she wished. “Do you know of any eligible Scotsmen?”
Moira lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, but why Scotland?”
“Anywhere but here.” Where she could run into Marston at any time. She would move to another country if necessary.
“Who is he?” h
er friend asked again.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Moira huffed. “You’ve never considered living anywhere else but England, and despite the fact that you don’t want to be a vicar’s wife, you would never move far away from your family. Only a gentleman could cause such a drastic change.”
Louisa sighed and set her cup on the table. For the next ten minutes, she told Moira everything about Marston, his sisters and the kisses shared. Everything except for the fact that he was a spy of course.
“You fell in love.”
Tears sprang to Louisa’s eyes. “For all the good it does me.”
Moira ginned. “You have my word that before this Season ends you will be Lady Marston.”
“How are you going to manage that?” Oh, if only it were possible.
Her friend tapped her fingernail against her lip. “I am not exactly sure yet. Give me a bit of time and I am sure I will come up with a plan.”
Devlin’s stomach turned as he glanced at his sisters sitting with him in the carriage. How was he to keep them safe? They had no idea of the dangers they faced when they stepped into the ballroom. Innocent young ladies who knew nothing about what gentlemen actually thought about or wanted. How could he keep them from making rash decisions? He glanced at Miranda. Her back was rigid, hands clutched together on her lap, and glaring at him.
Penny stared out the window. “It is going to be so grand. I hope to dance each and every one.”
How could he make sure they danced with only honorable gentlemen? Or find a gentleman who would appreciate them for who they were?
“I would prefer not to have my toes trounced on all evening,” Calista murmured. He worried about her the most. Her heart had already been broken once. Would she risk love a second time?
He glanced back at Miranda, who still held a mutinous expression, and sighed. He had concerns about her too, but for a completely different reason.
“I don’t want any of you wandering off.”
They each looked at him. Calista pursed her lips resignedly, Miranda rolled her eyes, and Penny grinned.
How had his father managed it? Perhaps he should find a companion for each to give him some peace of mind. But, he wouldn’t shirk his duty. His sisters were his responsibility, and he would keep them out of trouble if it killed him.
The carriage stopped before the home of The Earl of Stockton. A footman opened the door, and Devlin exited before assisting each of his sisters. With a deep breath, he turned them toward the entrance. As they made their way down the receiving line, his nerves mounted with each step. He hadn’t been this bloody scared in his life. Well, perhaps when that Frenchman had held a gun on Louisa.
No, he wouldn’t think about her now. He needed to concentrate on his sisters, and he could not do that if he was thinking about Louisa.
Lord, he missed her. She was all he thought about since he left Bentley Manor, awake or asleep. She haunted his dreams, and he hadn’t had a full night’s rest since.
The four siblings halted and looked into the ballroom from their place at the top of the grand staircase as their names were announced. The ladies in the room barely acknowledged them, but every male turned and their eyes scanning his sisters. There were expressions from innocent adoration to unadulterated lust. He glared at one particular rakehell. Nobody was allowed to lust after any of his sisters.
He should probably make sure his dueling pistols were clean and ready. Louisa would make an excellent second, if she weren’t a lady.
What the hell was he thinking? A lady did not belong on a field of honor. He hadn’t seen her in a week, and she still muddled his brain.
His sisters glided down the stairs and were probably oblivious to all the looks they received. Penny smiled happily, Calista assessed the throng in her thoughtful way, and Miranda strained as if she were looking for someone in particular. Devlin bit back an oath. That man had better not be here. He had enough to worry about.
They barely found a place to stand before his sisters were surrounded by admirers and handing over their dance cards. Well, at least they would be too busy dancing to get into too much trouble.
Devlin scanned the room. He could not see very well from this point. There was one exit that led to the garden and the other, up the stairs. He took Penny’s arm and nodded for the others to follow. If he stood by the doors, he could make sure nobody tried to sneak off with one of his sisters, and from this vantage point, he could see if any of them went up the stairs. As long as he kept them in this room, all would be well.
“Why don’t you ask someone to dance, Devlin. We shouldn’t be the only ones having fun,” Penny said.
“I can’t.”
“He won’t because then he can’t guard our every move and breath,” Miranda bit out.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled at his younger sister. “Exactly!”
“Lord Henry Whitton and Miss Louisa Whitton,” the footman announced.
Devlin’s heart skipped a beat when Louisa paused at the top of the stairs on the arm of her father. Her golden hair shone in the candlelight, forming a halo around her head, just as it had done when he found her stitching. Her gown was a light blue silk, the exact color of her eyes, and the bodice hugged her breasts in a way that made him salivate.
She glanced around the room, and then she saw him. The smile froze on her lips. What was she thinking? Had she missed him? Did she long for him as much as he did her? Would she now be willing to wait until he was free?
Louisa then glanced to each of his sisters, and her smile changed. It was warmer. Had she not believed he had sisters? Blast, he wished he knew what was going on in that pretty head of hers.
“Devlin?” Penny’s voice intruded on his thoughts, and he glanced down at her.
“Do you know her?”
“I met Miss Whitton last week at Bentley Manor.”
“She is quite lovely,” Calista observed.
“Yes, she is,” he whispered as he drank in the sight of Louisa descending the stairs. Perhaps if he spoke with her father an arrangement could be made. Certainly Lord Henry could appeal to His Grace not to marry her off to anyone else.
“I think I found the perfect distraction,” Miranda quietly murmured to Calista.
Oh no, this was exactly what he feared and why he could not court Louisa now. He turned toward Miranda. “I will not be that easily distracted and will be watching you very carefully.”
She frowned at him and turned back to Calista.
Almost as many men approached Louisa as had done his sisters. This was not good. He could not have her snatched out from under him. He would not allow it!
Thankfully she was not far away, and he would be able to watch her as closely as his sisters. If any gentleman appeared to be more favorable to her, then he would act. For now, he would simply watch and figure out how to keep his sisters safe until he married them off.
He closed his eyes and groaned as a headache began at the base of his skull. This was going to be a very long night.
“Come with me.” Moira latched on to Louisa’s arm.
“Excuse me, Father,” Louisa called over her shoulder as Moira pulled her away. Moira led her up the stairs and down a hall until they entered the large area set aside for the ladies’ comfort. There were chairs and chaises for ladies to relax. At the end of the chamber was a long table with chairs lined up before mirrors so one could repair one’s hair. In a corner, a maid sat with a sewing basket in case a rip needed to be re-sewn. Another maid sat beside her, presumably to assist any lady who needed to reset a curl or pin up those that had fallen. At the moment the room was vacant of any guests. Moira pulled Louisa down onto the settee furthest away from the maids, leaned in, and whispered, “I know what to do.”
Hope surged in her breast. “Thank goodness you have thought of something.”
Moira leaned forward. “Just find a gentleman who appears interested in courting and marrying you and Marston would be forced to act.”
&
nbsp; This was all well and good, and the plan may have merit, but without the perfect gentleman it would never work. “But who?”
Eleanor entered a moment later holding her skirt slightly off the floor. A ripped flounce swished behind her. Madeline followed. They paused as they noted the Louisa and Moira. “I am sorry. Would you like us to come back later?”
“No, of course not, Eleanor, Madeline.”
“I have a few suggestions,” Moira said after the ladies moved to the other side of the room. “I hope you have other names to add.”
Louisa nodded for her to continue.
Lord Lydell was Moira’s first suggestion.
“He is too desperate for an heiress and I don’t want to accidentally be caught by him.”
“Lord Garrison?”
Louisa frowned. “He is younger than I am, and also broke.”
“Berkswell.”
“I don’t know him, only of him and he doesn’t strike me as the type of gentleman that would assist in this scheme.”
“Lord Harrison Casemore?” Moira suggested as an alternative. “He is Berkswell’s younger brother and maybe a better candidate.
Louisa churned the idea over. “Possibly, but let’s see who we else we can come up with.”
“Albert Potsdon,” Moira giggled.
“I don’t think anyone, especially Marston, would consider him competition.”
“I could ask Lord Acker. He is a dear friend of mine,” Eleanor offered from the other side of the room.
Louisa and Moira turned to her.
“You are trying to find the perfect gentlemen to force Marston’s hand, am I not right?”
Louisa’s face heated. “Yes.”
Eleanor walked over and took a seat with them. “I am rather surprised this is necessary. I expected Marston to have offered for you already.”
Louisa did not want to explain the reasons why. “He is not in a position to make an offer at the moment, or to court me.”
“It’s our fault.”
Louisa jerked and looked toward the door. Marston’s three sisters stood at the entrance. Goodness, how much and exactly what had they heard? Would they tell Marston? Mortification was not a strong enough word for the emotion that engulfed her.
A Season To Remember Page 7
