A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4) (13 page)

And I’m falling in love with you.

“Well, you kept to your part of the bargain. I owe you my cooperation now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shrugged her shoulders and cast him a weak smile. “I’ve never been courted before.”

His hand was still upon her cheek. “Then I had better make it memorable for you.”

GRAELEM WASHED
AND DRESSED,
and then spent the morning hours dealing with the usual Moray affairs in the privacy of his bedchamber. As afternoon approached, he grabbed his crutches and was about to make his way downstairs to meet Laurel in the parlor, when she burst into his chamber without so much as an acknowledgment and rushed straight to his window. “Aha!” she cried, leaning precariously out of it. “I knew the twins were up to mischief!”

“Lass, be careful!” Graelem limped after her and then set aside his crutches to grab her by the waist. “What in blazes are you doing?”

“It’s what my sisters are doing that worries me.” He followed her gaze and saw the twins climbing up an oak tree in the Farthingale garden.

Obviously, they were attempting to sneak into an upper bedchamber in the townhouse, using that tree as their arboreal ladder. He watched with amusement as they crawled along the sturdy branches in their prim gowns, gangly stockinged legs exposed up to their knees. One branch touched against the house and was within reach of an open window. “What are they carrying? It looks like a large, carved head of some sort.”

He recognized Lily since she was wearing spectacles. Dillie, her partner in crime, clambered in through the window and then leaned out to help drag the enormous head inside. Laurel groaned. “Oh, dear. Lily read about an African fertility god discovered in the Upper Nile Valley. It’s presently on display at the Royal Society… rather, it
was
on display. Oh, dear,” she said again. “I’m not certain she has permission to take it.”

“She must have.” Graelem laughed. “She couldn’t have smuggled it out, could she? That fertility god is too big to sneak out under her pelisse or in her reticule.”

“Never underestimate Lily. She’s quite clever.”

He and Laurel watched the twins a moment longer. Graelem ran a hand through his hair. “How did they get the blasted thing home without anyone noticing? Did they take a carriage? I didn’t hear one stopping in front of your townhouse. They couldn’t have dragged the statue through the streets of London. Or could they?”

Laurel was still leaning precariously out the window, and he was still holding her by the waist to make certain she wouldn’t fall. She was soft and slender, and it took little effort on his part to keep her in his arms. No effort at all. Indeed, he already regretted the moment he would have to let her go.

She turned in his arms to glance at him. “Lily knows just how to manage these things. No doubt Dillie created a diversion while she carried that hideous thing out. Perhaps in a wheelbarrow. Is it important? They’ve stolen it and will be forever branded as thieves if they’re caught. I had better go help them… I mean hide it for them… I mean, you know what I mean…”

He didn’t. No matter. “I’ll help, too.”

“You will?” Laurel’s eyes rounded in surprise. “And what will you do if we’re caught and have to make a run for it?” she asked with a gentle laugh.

“I don’t know. I’ll count on Lily to think of something.”

She eased back inside so that he no longer had reason to keep his hands on her. He cleared his throat and quickly reclaimed his crutches. Laurel was now studying him, looking confused. “You’d help my sisters?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Why? They’re obviously petty thieves.”

“Because
you
love them and wish to protect them.” He returned her direct stare, not certain why protecting Laurel’s sisters suddenly seemed so important to him. But seeing her grief over her uncle’s probable capture made him realize that she felt things deeply. There was nothing halfway about Laurel.

“Oh, that was well said.” Her heartfelt smile reached into her eyes, those sparkling blue-green orbs gleaming like soft, aquamarine starlight.

She was making him realize how empty his life had been until now. Being tolerated by one’s relatives was not at all the same as being loved or accepted. Eloise was wonderful, of course, but he’d only spent a summer in his youth with her and his uncle, the Earl of Trent.

At the time, he’d been too young to understand what made for a rewarding family life or a happy marriage. He was learning fast in the little time he’d spent with Laurel. “And I like the twins. They’re clever and lively, never boring. I’ve never cared for empty-headed geese.”

“They like you, too.”

He chuckled. “As I said, they’re brilliant and obviously have excellent taste… except for that monstrosity they just smuggled into your house. I also like their sister,” he teased, referring to her, “although she delights in pouring water over my head.”

The delicate blush on Laurel’s cheeks turned into a crimson stain. “I’m sorry about that. You were defenseless and I allowed my frustration to get the better of me.”

“Lass, I’m never defenseless.”

“I suppose.” She smiled at him again, casually propping her shoulder against the window and crossing her arms over her chest. She wore a dove gray day gown that covered her up to her neck, but there was no hiding her splendid curves or the lushness of her breasts. “My parents will be furious when they realize what Lily has done.”

“We’ll find a way to get that statue back to the Royal Society without anyone finding out. Eloise holds sway with the Duke of Lotheil. He’s the chairman of their board, and though he’s a dangerous man to cross, he has great respect for my grandmother. She’ll make certain the twins aren’t clapped in irons.”

Laurel leaned her head back and let out a merry laugh, the first truly unrestrained moment of joy he’d seen in her. “Oh, my goodness! Can you imagine them locked away in the Tower? I’m sure it would take Lily all of five minutes to wriggle out of her chains, free Dillie, and then proceed to dismantle stone by stone this monument that’s stood for almost a thousand years.”

He laughed along with her, feeling a contentment he’d never experienced before. In this moment, he realized Laurel meant so much more to him than securing the Moray inheritance. She was someone with whom he wanted to share his life. All of it. The joys and tears. The good times and bad.

‘
Til death do us part.

He knew what her sisters had advised. They’d told him to let her go, to release her from the betrothal. They’d assured him that she would come to him of her own accord. If only he could trust that she would. Even if she didn’t run straight to Devlin, she was smart and beautiful enough to catch the attention of a marquis or duke, and an English one at that.

She had no need to settle on a cripple with little to offer but a Scottish title, so why would she ever choose him?

No, he couldn’t let her go, not yet. He’d given her too many reasons to dislike him, but she was softening toward him, of that he was certain. Could she ever love him? Perhaps, in time. But Midsummer was looming and there remained one problem he couldn’t overcome in a few, short weeks.

She still had too strong a bond with Devlin.

* * *

Laurel heard her mother’s shriek, and she knew that Lily’s fertility god had just been discovered by the poor woman who had a houseful of unruly relatives in residence for the season and a hundred guests about to descend on her for the Farthingale party in less than an hour.

Since Laurel was already dressed and her hair was done up for their party, she hurried next door to the room shared by the twins. Her mother was fanning herself with the pair of evening gloves held in her hand and backing toward the door as though that scowling head were alive and threatening to eat her. “What is that thing? Never mind. Dear heaven, I don’t want to know! Just get it out of here now.”

“But Mama, it has historical signifi—”

“Lily, it’s hideous!” The bejeweled pins in her dark hair glistened as she shook her head in vehement dismay. Her usually rosy complexion now was as pale as the ash gray of her elegant silk gown. Laurel felt a pang of remorse. It was a wonder that she and her sisters hadn’t turned their mother’s hair completely white by now.

“I don’t know how Dillie hasn’t had nightmares over it,” she continued, obviously distressed. “That
thing
belongs in the dustbin, not in your bedchamber.”

Laurel placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder to calm her down. “Actually… it’s quite valuable. The Duke of Lotheil won’t be pleased to learn that it has been tossed out with the table scraps.”

“What has he to do with any of this?” Her mother’s startled gaze moved from the twins to Laurel and back to settle on Lily.

Lily cleared her throat. “Well, it could be that he owns this relic. It could be that he loaned it to the Royal Society for a featured display.” She cleared her throat again. “And it could be that it was shoved into the back of the display so that no one would notice when it suddenly disappeared.”

“Oh, dear heavens!”

Laurel thought her mother’s face couldn’t turn paler. She was wrong. Her cheeks were now as white as alabaster.

“And it could be,” Dillie chimed in to defend her twin, unaware that the woman who had carried them in her womb and shown them nothing but love from the moment they’d entered this world was about to faint, “that it has legendary properties that are worth exploring, only those fossils at the Royal Society have no appreciation for its importance, and so it was up to us to—”

“Don’t tell me you were involved in the theft?”

Dillie glanced down at her toes. “Very well, I won’t tell you that… but I was.”

Their mother began to shake, and Laurel suspected it was out of a mix of horror, frustration, and fear that her youngest daughters had turned into hardened criminals. “You needn’t worry.” Laurel tried to assure her by giving her still-shaking shoulders a light squeeze. “Lord Moray has agreed to help the girls. He’ll return it to its proper place without mention of their involvement.”

“But how—” Dillie’s thought was interrupted by a nudge and an imperceptible shake of the head from her twin. “But how… kind of him to put himself out for us,” she said in a rush instead of asking her real question, how did he know they’d stolen the statue?

To reveal the answer also meant revealing their escape route along the sturdy tree that stood just outside their bedchamber. That tree would be cut down by their father’s own hands this very evening in front of their hundred guests if he ever suspected.

“You can thank Lord Moray when you see him shortly,” Laurel prompted, steering her mother out of the bedchamber and down the hall. “He’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is welcome our company and enjoy the party. You’ve outdone yourself this evening,” she continued as they walked downstairs and Laurel inspected the beautiful transformation of their home. “The house looks magical.”

She meant it. The house was filled with flowers, shining crystal, and softest amber candlelight. A professional orchestra had been hired to provide music for those who wished to dance, and the tables in the dining room were bowing under the weight of the fish, game fowl, and ice carvings on display.

The opulence and elegance was nothing to the feeling of warmth and welcome one immediately felt upon entering their home. Laurel was proud of her mother. No one threw a better party than Sophie Farthingale.

Were it not for the fact that both Devlin and Graelem were expected to be in attendance, she would have looked forward to this soiree. She needed to speak to Devlin as soon as possible. Of course, they would have no privacy here. But they only needed a moment to confirm when and where they next would meet.

If her father ever chopped down that tree outside the twins’ bedchamber, she’d have to find another escape route, but she couldn’t worry about that now.

She had no more time to think about Devlin or Lily’s fertility god as their guests began to arrive and she was caught up in conversation with friends and acquaintances. One of her best friends, Lady Anne Hollings, an auburn-haired beauty also in her debut season, approached. “Is he here?”

“Do you mean Dev?”

Anne rolled her eyes. “No, silly. I mean Lord Moray. Isn’t he the man you wrote about in your letter to me? Will you introduce us tonight? If he’s half as good-looking as you indicate, I’ll be happy to take him off your hands. Unlike you, I don’t give a fig about marrying for love.”

“You don’t?” Her friend’s views on marriage suddenly seemed awfully cold. “But we used to chat and giggle about finding our handsome dukes and earls and making love matches.”

“Love matches? You did. Not I. No, indeed. I agreed with finding a wealthy duke or earl to marry. Love never entered into my thoughts.” She shook her pert, auburn ringlets. “My parents have been perfectly happy living apart these past twenty years. I haven’t suffered for it either. We get together for the holidays and other occasions, and they’re most cordial to each other. Never any fighting or tears or hurt feelings.”

“Oh.” Why did that sound so cold and empty to her?

“Father sends us our allowances promptly on the first of the month. I suppose his solicitor attends to it because Father spends most of his time in York with his mistress. His current mistress, that is.” She leaned close and smirked. “However, I believe he’ll soon be spending more time in Devonshire. Not that he ever tells me of his amorous adventures, but Lady Withnall seems to know all. I pry information out of her every chance I get.”

The problem wasn’t to pry Lady Withnall’s mouth open but how to plug it up. Laurel stifled her dismay. Until this very moment, she had always thought Anne charming, clever, and a good friend. Well, perhaps she did possess all those qualities as well as beauty, but she was shockingly cynical about marriage.

The realization unsettled Laurel, and she thought it quite sad that a daughter should rely on the town gossip for information about her own father. Laurel’s father was quite the opposite, always available to his daughters and filled with love for all of them no matter how much they vexed him, something Laurel did far too often.

Anne’s gaze shot to the entry hall. “Mother in heaven! Who’s that?”

Laurel swallowed hard. “The gentleman I wrote to you about. Lord Moray.” He’d just walked in with Eloise, and although he was on crutches, hardly anyone noticed for the fine figure he cut in his evening clothes. He was tall and muscular, and the black of his jacket suited him to perfection, giving him an air of power and elegance that made him stand out among the crowd.