The Training of a Marquess (16 page)

Claire wanted to shout at the woman to give over, that there was a better chance of falling through a fairy ring than Chase marrying Rhonda. Her heart went out to the girl, and she wished there was some way she could help Rhonda and Bobby. When the back of the Fisherman’s carriage finally disappeared from sight, she went inside to find the traitorous rat that had jumped ship and abandoned her to the clutches of a determined Mrs. Fisherman.

“You may enter,” a cautious voice responded when she knocked on the door, and then she was certain she heard a muttered, “As long as you are not Mrs. Fisherman.”

If only she had the gift of mimicry. It would serve him right if she could impersonate Mrs. Fisherman’s voice. She opened the door and entered, preparing to tell him how she felt about his abandonment. Before she could speak, he gave her a boyish grin and her eyes fixated on his dimple.

“You are here to chastise me for leaving you alone with the dragon and rightly so. I’m sorry, Claire, but I just couldn’t take any more. It makes me angry every time she’s rude to you. I had to leave before I spoke my mind.”

Warmth spread through her. No one had ever cared enough to get angry on her behalf. All right then, maybe he wasn’t a rat. And she really did like his dimple.

“Apology accepted.” Grinning, she added, “She really is awful, isn’t she?”

He shuddered. “Indeed. Have a seat and visit with me for a few minutes.”

Since she wasn’t at the Ignore Him stage, she accepted his offer. “I feel sorry for Rhonda.”

“As do I. She’s the shyest girl I’ve ever met, but she seems nice enough.”

Claire nodded. “She is very sweet. You do know Mrs. Fisherman is determined to have you for her daughter.”

Another shudder. “Not in this lifetime. It doesn’t appear to me Miss Fisherman agrees with her mother, or is that only wishful thinking on my part?”

“No, you’re right. You scare Rhonda nearly to death. She’s in love with Bobby, the blacksmith’s son. He’s as shy as she, but he finally found the courage to ask Mr. Fisherman for her hand and was denied. It’s too bad, really, as they suit each other very well.”

“Why don’t they elope to Gretna Green then? That’s what I would do if I were them.”

Claire hadn’t considered such a thing. In their world it would be a scandal, but for Bobby and Rhonda, it was the perfect solution. “Mrs. Fisherman would be furious, but I don’t think the vicar would be terribly upset. I think he only denied Bobby because of Mrs. Fisherman.”

Claire chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the merits of dropping a few hints to Rhonda and Bobby.

“Don’t do that,” he said gruffly.

She looked at him in puzzlement. “Do what?”

“That thing you do with your lips.”

“It bothers you?” Well, this was interesting. Unfortunate for him she had this new knowledge.

“You might say that.”

She suppressed a smile and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Claire.”

The growl of his voice sent heat to places she hadn’t given much thought to before. She’d never known a man’s voice—the right man’s voice—could make her want things she had never thought to want.

Giving him a reprieve for now, she asked, “You told Mrs. Fisherman your mother was arriving tonight. Is she?”

“No, tomorrow as I said. I only told the dragon that to keep her from moving in.”

“Will she like me, do you think? Your mother that is.”

“I assure you, she will. Lady Anne has little patience with the Mrs. Fisherman’s of the world and will, believe me, extinguish the dragon’s flame. You she’ll like, so stop worrying about my mother.”

Of course, she would worry about his mother. It might mean the end of her plan if Lady Anne didn’t like her. “I hope you’re right. I had best go have a room made ready for her before I meet Bensey for tea.”

“Claire,” he said when she reached the door.

“Yes?”

“Take that ugly cap off. Burn it and change your gown.”

She walked back to him, leaned down and gave the arrogant lord a quick kiss. “Thank you for everything.”

****

What the bloody hell did Claire mean by everything? Chase sincerely wanted to know so he could continue doing whatever everything was. This new need to see her happy concerned him. Did it mean he was developing feelings for her?

With Teresa, it had been love at first sight—for him, anyway. That hadn’t turned out so well. If there was something developing between him and Claire besides lust, then he wanted to take it slow until he was certain he could trust her.

She wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, but then neither had Teresa wanted to. He was only now reaching the point where he could think of his wife without feeling profound grief or deep anger. The urge to pack up the boys and race back to London warred with wanting to put a claim on Claire.

She might believe she felt something for him, but he was the first man in her life to give her attention and treat her with respect. Therein was his problem. She had been practically a child when she married and had never had a Season. How could she know her true feelings without having the experience of having other men dance and flirt with her? She’d never been courted, never admired.

Well, he admired her and desired her, that much was certain. Could he come to love her? Probably. If he offered for her, what would happen the first time he took her to Town?

What if she found her true love? The pain of loving a woman who loved another was something he never wanted to experience again. If Claire was developing a tendre for him, how could he know for certain it wasn’t only a passing infatuation?

There was only one solution. He would take her to London when her mourning ended and would court her while giving her the opportunity to experience the attentions of other men. Not only did he need to be sure of her, but she must know beyond doubt she wanted him for a husband.

The fact that he’d like to pummel those faceless men into the ground was telling, he supposed. Fortunately for him, he had the advantage of several weeks to begin his campaign. And begin it he would, starting tonight. His lips curved into a smile as he headed upstairs to find his sons.

They had a party to plan.

The twins bounced with excitement over the surprise for Lady Claire. Chase sent Bensey off to the conservatory at four with his promise not to reveal their secret. “I’ll come down in thirty minutes, and you will excuse yourself so you can complete your project. No hints to Lady Claire, mind you.”

“I won’t, Father,” Bensey said and left.

Chase sent Mr. Edwards off with instructions for the housekeeper and the cook. Anders left to talk to Claire’s maid. Chase sat next to Harry and they went to work on their part of the plan.

****

“Have you ever been to Kew Gardens?” Claire asked Bensey, amused when he launched into the history of the gardens. He proved to be quite entertaining and she was enjoying their time together. He paused long enough to take a drink of his lemonade before continuing his story of how Fredrick, the Prince of Wales, had begun to design the gardens in 1730.

He trailed off and gave her a shy smile. “Father says I sometimes get carried away, Lady Claire. I don’t mean to, but I like talking to you.”

“Thank you, Bensey. I like talking to you, too. It’s perfectly all right if you get carried away when we are together. I didn’t know the story of Kew Gardens and find it fascinating.”

She couldn’t imagine a sweeter boy. Although the servants couldn’t tell them apart, Claire had no trouble knowing which was which. Bensey had a soft sweetness to him, and Harry had a worldly edge that was missing in Bensey.

“I forgot to answer your question, Lady Claire. I have never been to Kew Gardens, but I have a book about them and it has pictures.”

“That’s good, but it isn’t the same as seeing the gardens for yourself. You’ll have to get your father to take you sometime.”

“I’m to take him where?”

The deep masculine voice teased her senses and gave her heart a reason to beat faster. Chase came to stand in front of her, smiling down at her.
It’s only a dimple
, she told her silly, thumping heart.

“Lady Claire said you should take me to Kew Gardens, Father.”

“Did she now? Would you like that?”

“Oh yes, I would like it very much.”

“Then we’ll have to go someday. Perhaps Lady Claire would also like to see the gardens.”

Bensey turned hopeful eyes her way. “Would you, Lady Claire? I could tell you all about the gardens. Lady Claire said she doesn’t mind if I get carried away, Father.”

Claire glanced at Chase to see laughter in his eyes. Did mothers and fathers share these intimate moments when their children amused them? Never having witnessed her parents doing so, she wouldn’t know.

She turned back to Bensey. “I would love to see the gardens with you.”

He jumped up in excitement. “When? When can we go?”

Chase rested his hand on Bensey’s head. “I don’t know, son. We’ll talk about it later.”

“When later?”

“I don’t know that either, but soon, all right? There are things you need to do. Are you finished with your visit?”

When he gave Bensey a meaningful look, Claire wondered what message had just passed between them.

“Yes, Father.”

“Then thank Lady Claire for inviting you to tea.”

Bensey dutifully thanked her and was gone before she could respond. Chase took the seat Bensey vacated. “There will be no peace until I take him to Kew Gardens. Each time he starts in on it, I’m going to send him to you as the blame for it rests squarely on your shoulders,” he said in an accusatory voice, then ruined the reprimand by waggling his eyebrows and grinning.

Playing along with the game, she sighed. “You are a hard man, my lord.”

His eyes gleamed with devilish glee. “Oh, Claire, if you only knew how hard I am.”

She sensed there was an insinuation in his words, but had no idea what. At her puzzled expression, he burst into laughter.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” she said, which caused him to laugh harder. His mirth was contagious and she joined him. She just wished she knew why.

“Ah, Claire, such innocence. It really is quite appealing. Perhaps I’ll explain it to you some time, but not today. Did you enjoy your visit with Bensey?”

“I did, very much so. Your sons are wonderful. I never knew children could be so interesting.”

“Harry and Bensey are not your typical children, and I think they are more interesting than most their age. But then, I’m their father and I’m supposed to think so. It pleases me that you like them.”

Actually, she loved them—wanted to claim them as hers. “I like them very much. It’s amazing how they look exactly alike, yet are so different from each other.”

“Thank God,” he said with feeling. “Can you imagine two of either one, especially Harry?”

Recalling she was in the Advance and Retreat stage of her plan, she slid her hand over his. “Heavens, no, but they are perfect as they are.”

His gaze followed the movement of her hand before lifting and colliding with hers. Time stilled as they stared into each other’s eyes. There was such heat in his that it was a wonder she didn’t burn to ashes where she sat. Warmth pooled in her stomach, and then to lower parts—her most private parts—making her ache. Her gaze fell on his mouth, lingering there.

“Claire,” he whispered.

She chewed on her bottom lip in indecision. Advance or Retreat?

“I warned you not to do that.”

What was she doing? He stole her ability to think about anything but surrendering to him. It was time to retreat until she could find her mind again. A mistake now and her campaign would be lost. She gave herself a mental shake and stood. He rose, blocking her escape route.

“Are you leaving?”

She nodded, afraid if she spoke she’d beg him to kiss her, maybe nuzzle her neck.

“Not before I do this.”

“Do what?” Her voice sounded raspy, not hers at all. Perhaps she was getting sick.

He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek. “This.”

His mouth touched hers, and she slid her eyes closed as she swayed toward him. This wasn’t their first kiss, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was an intensity from him that was new. He settled his hand on the curve of her hip, the heat from his palm seeping into her skin. Claire grabbed onto his waist to keep from sinking into a boneless heap at his feet.

A low hum sounded in his throat and he pressed his tongue between her lips seeking entrance. She craved his taste—wanted it more than anything—but the small amount of brain still working screamed at her to retreat.

“No.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed away.

“My apologies, I thought you were agreeable” he said and stepped aside.

Because there was hurt in his eyes, she offered an explanation. “I was…I am, but it occurs to me this isn’t the time or place.” She smiled and added, “It was a very nice kiss, and I’m not sorry so no apologies are necessary. Thank you, my lord.”

As she walked away, she made a little wager with herself that he would have something to say by the time she reached the doorway.

“Claire.”

She stopped and put her hand on the door, but didn’t turn. “Yes?”

“Stop lording me.”

“As you wish, my lord.” She grinned and left before he could reply.

Returning to her room, Claire found Maggie waiting for her, a warm bath at the ready. “What is this?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “A bath, my lady. Surely, you have seen one before.”

Claire rolled her eyes right back. “You well know what I mean.”

Maggie handed her a piece of paper and Claire unfolded the note.

Lady Claire,

Stop questioning Maggie. Follow her instructions and prepare for a special evening.

Chase, Bensey and Harry

She read the note again. If it had only been signed by Chase, she might have melted into a puddle. Bensey and Harry had also signed their names, so this wasn’t the beginning of a seduction by their father, but something else entirely. Intrigued, she put the note on her vanity.

“Do with me what you will, Maggie.”

Maggie nodded. “I thought you might agree, my lady. Turn around and let me unbutton your gown so we can get you into this bath. It’s violet scented by order of Lord Derebourne.”