"I cannot thank you enough," she breathed. "We cannot thank you enough. Can we, Snowball?"
His eyes darted to where she was bestowing kisses on Snowball, and he felt a moment's jealousy at the animal receiving kisses that were his due as rescuer. But then he got a closer look at the "kitten" and nearly laughed aloud.
He had expected an adorable ball of fur, small enough to fit in a young miss's hand, able to steal a tender heart...or make her launch a foolhardy rescue in a garden of thorny rosebushes. Instead, Snowball was a feline of rather advanced years, and sizeable girth. She had also managed to lose an eye at some point in the past, but even with the one remaining, the look she gave Miles was undeniably petulant, as if he had spoiled her plans for the afternoon.
Still, he was no fool. Snowball might have many faults, but she was beloved by her mistress. He would strive to find Snowball just as adorable if it meant he could continue his encounter with the enchanting miss.
He lifted Snowball's paw, gratified when the animal did not attempt to scratch him. "Mademoiselle Snowball, I am pleased to have been part of your liberation."
The young miss grinned, and gave Snowball another heartfelt squeeze. "She has been quite naughty. I wish I could say it was unusual behavior, but I would be struck down for uttering that falsehood."
"Perhaps she can redeem herself by introducing us?"
"Of course. Although she seems little interested in redemption, wicked thing." She bestowed another wondrous smile, completely stealing his breath. "I am Gemma Seton."
"It is a pleasure to meet you." He bowed over her hand. "Miles Colborne, at your service."
"Indeed, you have been most—" Her face flushed. "The Dowager is your aunt."
Miles could see her trying to recall precisely what she might have said about him. He was so enchanted with her that he could not bear for her to feel a single moment of distress. Best he pretend that her reddened face was due to the midday sun.
"Perhaps we should return to the house. We cannot have Snowball melting in this heat."
"It would be a fitting punishment," she answered, though her indulgent tone, and another round of kisses on the cat's head belied her words.
Once again Miles felt an undeniable urge to do whatever was needed to keep her smiling and laughing. After dreading this house party, now he was eagerly anticipating the upcoming activities, including the ball he knew the Dowager was planning. He would see to it that he was seated next to this charming miss at dinner, as well.
"You do not appear to be afflicted by these temperatures," he commented. He held his arm out, surprised Snowball did not bat it away in annoyance. Gemma placed her hand on his forearm, and the light touch was a headier experience than he had anticipated.
"I spent some of my youth in Egypt," she said, "with my father, who is positively mad about antiquities."
"Egypt?" Miles could not keep the shock from his voice. "I have just returned from there."
"How delightful! I cannot wait to hear more of your travels." She beamed. "I have not been there in years, and rather miss it. My husband never really cared for the place—"
His heart sank. Of course a delightful creature such as this would be wed. How had he not considered that possibility before now?
"That is a shame. Do you think you will ever persuade him to return?"
Her lips twitched. "It is not likely, as he died three years ago."
His heart began pounding at a furious rate. She was not wed. He did his best to hide his elation, donning a sympathetic expression. "I am so sorry," he murmured.
"He much preferred the cataloging of artifacts, not the travel needed to acquire them. I realize now how opposite we were in that regard." Her brow wrinkled with consternation. "He never quite took to Snowball for some reason, either."
Miles choked back a laugh. Snowball was obviously the key to this burgeoning romance. Not that it was a romance. No, it was more of a diversion, and possibly an enjoyable liaison while he evaded his aunt's misguided schemes.
He reached over and scratched the cat's ears until the animal began to purr loudly. Yes, he would see to it that they remained allies for the upcoming fortnight, no matter what might occur.
***
Gemma strolled along with her handsome savior, somehow keeping her breathing level, when in reality she was struggling to maintain a calm demeanor. She had found his voice so soothing and reassuring when that was the only contact she had had with him.
How could she have guessed that he was one of the Dowager's nephews? She bit back a laugh. Clearly he had a sense of humor, not only during her highly unusual situation, but when she had described the very ordeal he was soon to undergo. It was an admirable trait, being able to handle any sort of circumstance with grace and compassion.
Nor could she discount his delightful acceptance of her beloved Snowball. He had completely charmed her when he had bowed over Snowball's paw, as if her unruly cat was descended from royalty.
She cast another admiring glance at Mr. Colborne. While he was stylishly dressed, it was clear he spent his time in more exotic locales. His rakishly long hair was streaked with highlights from constant exposure to the sun. The golden tones of his skin proclaimed this was a man who was outdoors at every opportunity, and relished the adventure it provided.
In another time and place, he would be the very sort of man who could turn her head. Fortunately, she had her sights set on something else: the generous stipend the Dowager had promised if Gemma was successful at this matchmaking venture. It was an amount that could finance a journey Gemma had only been able to dream of until now.
And there was no doubt she was tired of dreaming. It was long past time for an adventure of her own.
They were nearly at the house when they noticed a flurry of activity. People were bustling along the edge of the pea-gravel driveway, and then a rather worn carriage stopped at the front entrance, followed by shouts of "The doctor is here!"
"Oh, dear. I hope it is nothing serious," Gemma said. "Do you think the Dowager—"
"I would not fret." He squeezed her hand where it remained on his arm. "She is hale and hearty, not to mention determined to find brides for me and my cousins in these next weeks."
She frowned at his comment, until she saw his tight smile, and the worry he was trying to conceal.
"Let us see who is in need of a physician," she replied, "and how we might provide aid."
He nodded and sped them across the lawn towards the house. In the next instant, the Dowager and another young woman exited the front door, ushering the doctor inside.
***
"Come, Miss Lockhart," the Dowager instructed. "The patient is over here."
While the Dowager led the procession into the parlor, Miles kept Mrs. Seton close by, to prevent her being trampled by the people crowding into the room. He saw a young woman, presumably one of the debutantes, prone on a chaise, looking rather wan.
"The poor thing," Mrs. Seton said, an expression of genuine concern on her sweet face. She set Snowball down, and the cat scurried away, while Mrs. Seton left Miles's side and placed herself near the ailing miss.
The woman his aunt had addressed as Miss Lockhart was clad in a rather plain gown and carrying a physician's bag, which she set on the Aubusson carpet next to the chaise. She tenderly brushed some strands of hair from the girl's forehead, then rested her palm against it.
"I thought you sent for the doctor," Richard commented.
Miss Lockhart turned and gave him a dismissive look. "My father is attending a very difficult birth, so he sent me to deal with—"
"This trifling society affair," Richard finished, his eyes dancing with mischief.
Miles wanted to warn his impish cousin not to needle the woman further, especially when he saw how she became even more prickly as Richard's smile broadened.
"I am able to handle all manner of medical emergencies," she said tartly. "But my expertise does not yet extend to difficult childbirth. When it does, be assu
red I shall send him here in my place."
Richard's eyebrows lifted slightly, and he gave her a quick nod, as if acknowledging her direct hit. Not that she saw it, for she had returned her attention to her patient, while Mrs. Seton offered assistance.
William suddenly appeared from nowhere and whispered, "I believe the doctor finds you quite detestable."
Richard merely grinned. "Who knows? Perhaps this shall turn out to be love at first slight."
"The poor woman shall have no peace now," Miles said with a groan. "Surely you can fix your attentions elsewhere."
"I still might," his cousin said. "Possibilities abound this week."
"The Dowager will have your skull if you trifle with someone she cares about," William added.
"Why must you believe I mean to trifle with her?" At their disbelieving scoffs, he tipped his head back and laughed. "Fine. Believe what you wish."
Miles tossed a glance in William's direction, but got a shrug for a response. Neither knew precisely what Richard might do. At times, it was the height of amusement. This time? He was not so sure.
"She is merely overcome from the heat," Miss Lockhart finally said. "A cool compress and a quiet room is all she needs."
"I can see to that," Mrs. Seton said.
They both assisted the young woman to her feet, and Mrs. Seton chattered in a cheerful fashion while they left the room. Miles could see the young miss had been embarrassed by the entire situation but was visibly relieved by Mrs. Seton's pronouncement that she had nearly succumbed to the heat too.
His lips quirked up at the blatant untruth, clearly designed to provide comfort. Why did he find that so charming? Almost as charming as—
"Miles," Richard said smoothly. "You have something to tell us?"
How had he forgotten his cousins loved needling each other nearly as much as they loved tormenting the Dowager? His moon-calf gazing after Mrs. Seton had given them ammunition he did not wish them to possess.
William laughed. "There is no need to extract a confession. Miles has never been any good at hiding his emotions."
"Perhaps not, but I am excellent at keeping secrets." He gave Richard a pointed look. "If I tell the Dowager about her lorgnette, she may have mercy on William and me, deciding to focus all of her efforts on finding a bride just for you."
Richard's grin broadened. "You shall have to try harder than that to strike fear into my heart."
"He has a heart?" Miles asked.
"I am not certain," William answered with a grin. "There is little evidence of it."
Before Richard could retort, he was calling out to Miss Lockhart, who was heading their direction, preparatory to leaving. "Please, allow me to accompany you to your carriage." He extended his arm, fully expecting her to latch her hand onto it.
Her eyes gave him a quick onceover, as if trying to determine if he was mocking her in some fashion. She finally gave him a brief smile. "Thank you. I am quite able to find it on my own."
"But it will deprive me of your company," Richard protested, as if devastated by the notion.
She laughed, a genuine one this time. "It shall also deprive me of yours."
She swept out the door, leaving Richard gaping. Miles and William collapsed in laughter.
He could not remember when Richard had ever suffered a set-down before. Perhaps they should thank the Dowager for providing them with such wonderful entertainment.
He would definitely express his gratitude that Mrs. Seton had been included in the festivities. After just one encounter with the delightful young widow, he was already looking forward to more.
Yes, this was turning out to be an interesting party indeed.
Chapter 3
Miles glanced around the crowded room, impatient to find Mrs. Seton. Normally he would have enjoyed lingering over port with his cousins and the other gentlemen present. This evening, however, he had been completely distracted, eager for another encounter with the spirited young woman who had captured his thoughts.
Especially after his plans to be her partner at dinner had been thwarted. To his dismay, he had been seated between a pair of debutantes who were painfully tongue-tied throughout the meal, despite his efforts to draw them into conversation.
He shook his head. What had ever made the Dowager believe she was a matchmaker? She was usually a more formidable adversary, but her choice of dinner companions made him wonder if she was losing her touch.
Miles's gaze swept the room once more, and when the crowd parted, he saw Mrs. Seton seated near the fireplace. It was lit even at this time of year because his aunt swore it was necessary to keep the dampness out of the air. Other young women fanned themselves furiously, and he guessed there were likely to be at least one or two swoons more before the evening had concluded.
Mrs. Seton, however, beamed, the epitome of happiness, completely content by the extra warmth. He was by her side in no time.
"I hope I might be permitted to join you," Miles said.
"Oh, please do." She gestured towards the seat next to her. "I am eager to hear more of your most recent expedition. It must have been quite thrilling."
"I did enjoy it," he admitted. "I am so used to spending my time out of doors, and sleeping in tents, it takes time to become accustomed to rooms, and actual beds. Of course I also miss lounging about on the boat while it is gliding down the Nile—"
She sighed, surprising Miles, since it was the first time she had ever seemed out of sorts.
"What troubles you? Tell me, and I will do all in my power to correct it."
"You have such grand adventures, and I am filled with envy, which is not a trait one should admit to possessing." She smiled. "But I hope it is outweighed by the fact of my complete honesty."
Miles could feel his lips twitching with amusement. "I believe your honesty has nullified whatever failings you believe you possess. And how can you possibly discount your grand adventures here, in this hive of activity? I cannot wait to hear what you have learned from the prize-seeking females while we were separated."
Mrs. Seton laughed. "Do you wish to hear what they are saying about you?"
"There is no need. I can guess it already." He placed the back of his wrist against his forehead and affected a higher-pitched voice. "I swear he loves those pagan ruins more than anything. How could I ever be content with such a globetrotting scoundrel?"
"That is a fairly accurate portrayal," she said with a smile. "I just hope you do not use that knowledge to thwart your aunt's schemes."
"I am duty bound to do so. She expects nothing less, from all three of us. But I wish to know what you have heard about my cousins. I am sure that will prove enlightening."
"Mr. Hayward, where is he?"
Miles scanned the room until he saw Richard, surrounded by several young ladies, obviously regaling them with some amusing tale. "He is over there in the midst of a bevy of admirers."
"Ah, of course." Her eyes lit up. "He was described as the most resistant to marriage, which naturally made him the most irresistible to the marriage-minded women here."
"I have no doubt he knows that," he said with a grin. "It might be kinder if we warn the poor females to save their efforts for a more likely opponent."
"But at the cost of our enjoyment of the spectacle?" She laughed. "I must advise against that."
Miles prayed nobody else attempted to join their conversation just then. If any young man, especially his scoundrel cousins, showed even a hint of interest, Miles would be compelled to steer them away with a fierce glare and sharp shake of the head.
"What have you heard of William?" Miles asked. "Mr. Travers."
"The artist."
"Yes."
"Well, he has been the cause of a great deal of heartfelt sighs." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Miles was forced to lean in closer to hear her next words. "There have also been several unkind remarks about his attentions to your aunt's companion."
"Indeed?" He glanced around until he saw William, sitting next
to Mrs. Beaumont. The woman was doing her best to keep to herself, clearly reminded of her position as companion, yet it was easy to see she was intrigued by the sketches his cousin was creating right then.
"I told you it would be a fierce hunt this week," she teased. "It shall make my task a great deal easier, thankfully."
Before he could respond, the Dowager sailed over, dropping into a nearby wing chair. "Gemma, I cannot thank you enough for assisting with my event. I only wish your father had come, too."
"I was thrilled to receive your sum—er, invitation. And Father sends his regards, but there was no chance of removing him from London while he is preparing for the upcoming exhibition."
The Dowager frowned, and Miles suspected it wasn't because the man had declined to attend the party. When her gaze landed on him, he had no doubts what her next words would be.
"I hope you have some suitable young women in mind for this scoundrel."
"Of course." Mrs. Seton wore the most solemn expression, but Miles could swear her eyes were twinkling with mischief. "I have been drawing up a list and I am confident you will be pleased with my selections."
Miles donned the most solicitous expression he could muster. "Shall I see to publishing the banns, Aunt, or will you?" He turned to Mrs. Seton. "What name shall I list for the bride?"
The Dowager scowled, but Mrs. Seton covered up a most indelicate snort, so it was definitely worth experiencing his aunt's displeasure.
"See to it that he dances attendance on as many as possible." The Dowager patted Mrs. Seton's hand and then stood. "I shall check with you tomorrow, to see what progress you have made." She clucked her tongue, shaking her head at Miles as if convinced he was a hopeless cause. A moment later, she waved to some hapless soul across the room, chasing them down before they could elude her entirely.
"I am astounded, Mrs. Seton. I had hoped my rescuing you today would exempt me from my aunt's matchmaking plans. But you have just agreed to assist her."
Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone? Page 2
