Judith sank onto a chair. “You never told me why, Mama. He’s a perfectly acceptable suitor, as far as I can tell.”
“He is too old for you, and a rake to boot.”
“He’s not that old.” She actually had no idea how old he was and had no response to the rake accusation, so she changed the subject. “The weather is lovely today, Mama. Have you gone out in the garden?”
“No, I have not, and I know what you’re trying to do. You may not see him, Judith. I forbid it.”
“I am nineteen, Mama. I can see whomever I like,” she said, in another unusual act of defiance. Whatever was coming over her?
“No, you can’t. Not if you want to live under my roof.”
Judith huffed out an exasperated breath. “This is ridiculous, Mama. Please tell me what is wrong with him. Why don’t you want him to court me?”
“Because he will break your heart, like his father did mine.” Lady Grangemore’s voice was gruff, thick with emotion.
Judith’s mouth fell open in surprise. Her mother had a history with the Earl of Longley?
“What?” She moved to her mother’s side, took her hands in hers. “Tell me.”
Lady Grangemore’s eyes glazed over as if she were staring into the past. “My debut year. Longley had inherited the title the year before, and he was so handsome. He had every deb eating out of the palm of his hand, including me. He sought me out at every ball, went riding with me in Hyde Park. We spent a lot of time together, talking. Flirting.” She smiled, remembering. “He danced with me three times at Almack’s, all but declaring he would offer for me. And then he disappeared for a fortnight. No one knew where he had gone, but when he came back, he was married to some red-faced Highland shrew. He never said another word to me. To this very day I don’t know what happened.”
Judith was quiet for a moment. What did one say to such a revelation? “I’m sorry, Mama. It must have been very painful.”
Lady Grangemore released Judith’s hands, wiped away a tear. “It was. And every time you mention that man’s son, it hurts all over again. Please, Judith. Stay away from him. I would spare you a similar experience.”
“But it all worked out for the best, didn’t it, Mama? You loved Father, didn’t you?”
An awkward silence fell when the countess failed to answer right away. Finally, she shook her head, sadness coming off her in almost visible waves. “I settled for your father, truth be told. I was fond of him, yes, and he gave me three wonderful children, for which I am forever grateful. But he was not the love of my life. Longley was.”
“Oh, Mama.” Judith slumped back against the cushions. This revelation was worse than the first. No wonder her mother always seemed unhappy. She’d spent her entire adult life in the company of a man who couldn’t make her happy, since he wasn’t the one she wanted. It was unbearably sad.
She embraced her mother on an impulse, Lady Grangemore’s jasmine scent curling around her nose. She held her close for a minute. “I didn’t know, Mama. I’m so sorry.”
Her mother hugged her back, then eased away. “You couldn’t possibly have known, my dear. It was the scandal of the season, but it was thirty years ago. Nevertheless, I hope you will think about what I’ve said. Your season started only two days ago. You will meet plenty of other men, and I would like you to consider any one of them.”
“Very well, Mama. I will.”
“Good girl.” Her mother patted Judith’s hand. “Now go get cleaned up. We have the Greenbriar Ball this evening.”
“Yes, Mama.” Judith rose and went upstairs to her bedchamber, where she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She would consider other suitors, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to stay away from Lord Caxton, should he want to pursue her.
****
Peter spent the remainder of the evening at his club, uninterested in attending two balls in as many days and unwilling to be treated to another lecture on the mysterious unsuitability of Judith Leslie. Sadly, he discovered he had merely been postponing the inevitable. The next morning at breakfast, his father informed him they would be making a call this afternoon.
“A call? On whom?”
His father did not answer the question, but fixed Peter with a glare. “Because you failed to attend to the matter of your matrimonial future with diligence, I must take this upon myself.”
“What are you talking about, Father? Despite what you said yesterday, I know I have found my perfect match.”
“Not Grangemore’s daughter again,” Lord Longley said, exasperated. “She’s not at all suitable.”
“Why not?”
His father exhaled slowly, every minute of his sixty-odd years etched upon his face. He rubbed a hand through his thinning hair. “Peter, is there any chance you could accept my decision on something? Just once? I do not approve of your marrying her, and that’s that.”
“Are you quite well, Father? You don’t look it.”
“No, I am not. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t know. Unless she’s somehow your illegitimate offspring, I see no reason why you should object so strenuously.”
His father winced but did not respond. He rose from the table, bones creaking. “I cannot tell you more. I shall expect you in the front hall at one o’clock. If you bear me any affection or respect, you will do as I ask.”
Peter sighed. “Very well, Father. I shall be here.”
“Thank you, son.” He shuffled out of the room, seeming far older and more careworn than Peter had ever seen him. But Peter had no desire to stop seeing Judith Leslie. Their carriage ride the previous day had left him with a burning need to see her again. She was without doubt the only woman of his acquaintance who didn’t bore him silly. And he certainly wasn’t going to let his fascinating feline go without determining why.
****
As instructed, he met his father in the afternoon, and they made their way across Mayfair to the extravagant London home of the Duke of Bothwell.
“Why are we calling on Bothwell? You detest him.”
“He has a daughter who has recently debuted. It would be an advantageous alliance.”
“Why would he agree to such a match? She would be marrying beneath her.”
“Not by much, and His Grace is severely short of funds. He needs to marry her to a titled man of means, and quickly. There is a distinct shortage of marriageable dukes and marquesses this year.”
It was at times like these that Peter was all too clear on why Society called the Season “the marriage mart.” He felt like a horse at market. He bared his lips over gritted teeth. “Shall I show him my teeth?”
The earl frowned, his dark brows coming together in a single busy line. “Don’t be impertinent, Peter. In a man of your years, it’s a most irritating trait.”
Peter forbore from further comment, impertinent or otherwise. They passed Grangemore House, and he peered out of the carriage window just as Judith and her mother emerged from the front door, chatting animatedly. Beside him, his father stiffened and leaned back, as if he didn’t want to be seen.
Peter glanced from his father to Lady Grangemore and back. Perhaps there was something there—the earl was roughly the same age as Lady Grangemore. Perhaps his adverse response to Judith had far more to do with her mother than with the girl herself. He stowed the information in the back of his brain for later review.
All too soon, they had arrived at the Bothwells’ residence. It was a magnificent Georgian structure, built less than a century before. It was ostentatious in the extreme—the Dukes of Bothwell had ever been ones to wear their wealth on their sleeves—and just walking through the heavy front doors made Peter itchy.
They were led into a sitting room that immediately stung Peter’s eyes. From the drapes to the walls to the painfully busy Oriental rug, every surface was covered in gold. Peter had never seen anything quite so ugly in his life.
His discomfort only grew at the sight of the young woman his father wa
nted him to meet: Lady Cassandra from the day before. She resembled even more the bird of prey today, dressed in a rust-colored gown with a feathery headdress perched atop her blonde hair. Her eyes widened when she saw him, then narrowed as if he were her next meal. It clearly had not escaped her that he was the man in the curricle with Judith, a woman who had all but delivered Lady Cassandra a cut direct.
“My lord,” she said, dipping into a respectful curtsy. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I believe we may have seen each other before, however.”
“The pleasure is mine, my lady, although I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He bowed over her hand. He had not told his father he’d gone out with Miss Leslie. He prayed Lady Cassandra would not pursue the subject further, but her expression bore a resemblance to the greedy, slightly fierce expression of a dog with a meaty bone, and he doubted she would let it go for long.
“Please do sit, my lords,” Cassandra’s mother, Lady Bothwell, said. They perched uncomfortably on a delicate settee designed more for appearance than for comfort, especially for a pair of gentlemen of their size. Lady Bothwell’s gaze traveled down Peter’s body and then up again, lingering on his groin as if she were calculating his physical prowess.
“How are you enjoying the season, Lord Caxton?” Lady Bothwell asked. “I have not seen you at many soirees thus far.”
“I hope to attend many of them, Your Grace. In fact, I hope you will save me a dance at your own ball tomorrow evening?” He flashed his most charming smile, which had the desired effect and halted further questions. The woman simpered and waved a well-manicured hand in the air.
“I would be delighted, but you should save that dance for Cassandra.”
He’d rather choke, but he said, “Of course. Lady Cassandra, will you put me on your dance card?”
“Certainly, Lord Caxton.” She leaned back slightly in her seat and fixed her gaze upon him. “I believe you are acquainted with Miss Judith Leslie?”
“Yes, we have met,” he said cautiously. This visit was about to go badly awry.
“Now was it you I saw driving her about in the park yesterday? You do look so like that gentleman.” Before he could respond, she waved her hand in an exact mimic of her mother. “Oh, but it couldn’t have been. You would certainly never countenance such rude behavior.”
His father and Lady Bothwell turned as one to glare at him.
“I am terribly sorry, Lady Cassandra, but although I did ride with Miss Leslie in Hyde Park yesterday, I am unaware of rudeness on anyone’s part. Miss Leslie did not mention you,” he lied. “I can only assume she did not see you, or surely she would have greeted you. She is a most correct young lady.”
“Hmph.” Judging from her pinched expression, Lady Cassandra was unimpressed with his response. She could not directly contradict a gentleman, however, even one she knew was lying, without being accused of the very rudeness she sought to condemn.
“His lordship must be right, Cassandra. She must not have seen you,” her mother said, dismissing the entire incident.
Peter avoided his father’s eye for the duration of the excruciating interview. For all her beauty, Lady Cassandra was every bit the nasty shrew Miss Leslie had suggested. He’d rather join a monastery than marry her.
In the carriage afterwards, Lord Longley turned to him. “You neglected to tell me you’d gone driving with Miss Leslie.”
“I was unaware I was required to share my schedule with you. We were in my curricle, open for all to see. No declarations were made, and nothing untoward occurred.”
“I don’t recall accusing you of impropriety, Peter. I merely wondered why you hadn’t told me.”
“Because I knew it would upset you. As it obviously has.”
His father took a deep breath then changed the subject. “What did you think of Lady Cassandra?”
“Do you want my honest opinion?”
“Of course,” the earl said. Peter refrained from saying he’d never asked for it before.
“I think she’s a shrew who’d make her husband’s life a living hell.”
The earl uttered a cough-laugh. “Perhaps not that honest.”
Peter shrugged. “You asked. Besides, I doubt very much she’ll have me. Miss Leslie all but gave her the cut direct yesterday, and she knows I know it.”
“So you lied to her today?”
“Of course I did. It would have been rude to do otherwise.”
“I suppose, but it was badly done. You may be correct about Lady Cassandra’s inclination, but unfortunately…” He paused, wearing the same somber expression a doctor would use to tell a man he was dying. “…the duke and I have already agreed on terms.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. “You did what?”
“You will marry Lady Cassandra in two weeks’ time.”
His gut lurched, the cucumber sandwiches he’d eaten at the Bothwells’ threatening to make a return appearance. He bit back the bile in his throat. “I don’t believe this. How could you? I’m no pimple-faced lad you can order about!”
“I’m sorry, Peter. Had I known how much you’d dislike her, I would never have agreed to the match, but unless she rejects you after today’s meeting, the deed is done.”
Peter threw up his arms, nearly taking off his father’s head in the process. “But what about what I want? Did you never consider that?”
The earl tried a placating tone. “I didn’t think you cared one way or the other. And I certainly didn’t think you’d react so strongly.”
“You told me I had to start courting. Why did you say that if you’d already agreed to marry me off?”
His father was obviously losing patience, his eyes narrowing and his face turning red. “I hadn’t already agreed to marry you off. The duke called on me unexpectedly that afternoon.”
There weren’t enough words in the English language to fully express Peter’s outrage and dismay. He was to throw over Miss Leslie for Cassandra? He couldn’t bear it. “What about Miss Leslie? What is so wrong with her that you choose this path for me as an alternative?”
His father was quiet for a moment. “I have a history with her mother. It did not end well.”
Peter sat back in the carriage and stared at his father. “What does that mean?”
“I all but promised to marry her, and then, well, I was forced to marry your mother.”
“Why?”
The earl’s shoulders hunched, and he looked away. “Because I had ruined her.”
Peter stiffened. “You ruined Mother?”
His father stared into the distance, suddenly lost in memory. “She visited Longley Hall during a country weekend, and we had a dalliance. One of those things, caught up in the moment, and all that. She was, shall we say, experienced in such matters. It was all in good fun; she was promised to another and wanted an adventure before she settled down. Or so she said.”
Peter shook his head. “Good God. Stop, please.” The very idea of his sainted mother, a woman of loose morals.
His father ignored him, as if now he had started relating the tale he didn’t dare stop. “She returned to Scotland. I traveled to London and proceeded to look for a wife. Within weeks I had found one, in Miss Leslie’s mother, Lady Margaret. I was prepared to offer for her, but before I could do so, I was summoned back to Durham and confronted with a newly enceinte Lady Constance MacNevan and her irate father.
“We had to marry, obviously. And I never spoke to Margaret again.”
Peter’s brain reeled, trying to understand how his parents could have done such a thing. He slumped against the side of the carriage. “I had no idea.”
The earl laughed without a trace of mirth. “How could you? It is not something one tells one’s children. And if the ton noticed you were born a mere seven months after we married, no one spoke of it. At least not in my hearing.”
Peter was silent for a moment, listening to the clip clop of the horses on the pavement below them. Finally he said, “Do you regret marrying Mother?”
He remembered the conversation they’d had a few days before.
“I will always regret hurting Margaret. But your mother was pleasant enough, I suppose, and we always got on well in the bedchamber.”
The sandwiches flipped in his gut again. “Oh, God,” he groaned. “Please don’t say any more.”
Lord Longley chuckled, in better spirits now he’d disgorged his appalling tale. “In any case, your mother was terribly jealous of Margaret, because she knew I had been in love with her and suspected I never stopped. It would displease her greatly were you to marry her daughter.”
“She’s dead, Father. She is well past caring.”
“It matters not, my boy. Neither of us had the life we wanted. I owe her that much.”
Peter sighed. “That’s ridiculous, Father. She would want me to be happy.”
“Perhaps. Nevertheless, you will abide by my wishes, and marry Lady Cassandra.”
It was useless to argue further, at least for now. The rest of the way home he stared out the window, seeing nothing but a curl of auburn hair framing gorgeous green eyes.
Chapter 5
Although she didn’t disobey her mother and seek out Lord Caxton, Judith couldn’t stop herself from watching for him at every ball and soiree. She had fully expected to see him at the Bothwells’ ball, but Cassandra, with an annoyingly knowing air, had said he was indisposed and had sent his regrets.
Every knock upon her front door raised her hopes he had come to call, but she was constantly disappointed. She wondered whether his father had forbidden him to see her. Did Lord Longley even remember jilting her mother? Did he regret it? If they had married, neither she nor Lord Caxton would exist at all. And she certainly wouldn’t be mooning over him.
Her mind continued to turn over these random thoughts as she danced with Lord Dimsdale at his sister’s ball. He was nearly a head shorter than she, and she had to continually remind herself not to lead.
Treasure Her Heart Page 3
