A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4) (24 page)

“My mother,” the earl said, turning to Eloise, “adores you and your sisters. I see her admiration is not misplaced. My nephew chose well. We look forward to welcoming you into the Dayne family, although I know under the circumstances, it won’t be right away.”

That Graelem had no intention of moving on, and had already told his family as much, left her elated but at the same time saddened. “Yes, well…” She didn’t know what else to say.

Would Graelem grow to resent her if they married?

After all, she was the reason he would lose his inheritance.

LAUREL AND
GRAELEM
walked out of Eloise’s house and turned onto Chipping Way just as a carriage drew up in front of the Farthingale residence. There were several sleek black carriages already drawn up there, but she recognized this one as belonging to Lord Kirwood. She placed her hand on Graelem’s arm to hold him back.

“What’s he doing here?” Graelem muttered, a growl of displeasure escaping his lips as a footman opened the carriage door and Devlin descended. He stood off to the side, staring at Laurel’s house as though he were inspecting it for its riches and stamping his kid leather gloves impatiently against his thigh while one of the Farthingale footmen assisted his parents.

Laurel liked Lord Kirwood and his wife, but they’d certainly indulged their only child. Lord Kirwood, closer in age to Eloise, had married late in life to a much younger wife and had not expected ever to have children. Devlin was a surprise and joy to them, a more elegant version of his good-natured father who enjoyed the simple country life. Unlike his father, Devlin enjoyed the fashionable salons and bustle of London.

Since they’d been good friends and neighbors for as far back as Laurel could remember, the Kirwoods were considered family, so their condolence visit was not at all out of place. However, she knew Devlin had another purpose in paying the call. Now that Graelem couldn’t possibly marry her in time to save his inheritance, Devlin would no doubt offer again to marry her. After a suitable mourning period, of course.

She studied him from a distance. He seemed quite confident for a man in bad financial straits. Did he believe that he could still win her over? He belonged in Bedlam if he did. She would never accept him. “Let’s wait until they’ve gone inside. I don’t want them to see me.”

Unfortunately, The Fates were conspiring against her. Devlin’s father dropped his monocle and as Devlin turned to one of the footmen to command that he retrieve it—Devlin would never stoop to do it—he spied her standing beside Graelem.

He frowned at her and shot Graelem a menacing scowl.

Oh, dear.

Both of them looked ready to come to blows again. She couldn’t allow it. “Don’t you dare raise your fists to him, Graelem.”

His gaze was trained on Devlin and remained on him even as he responded to her. “I won’t. I’ll just kill him.”

Ordinarily, she might have enjoyed watching two suitors vie for her hand and might have taken Graelem’s comment as a jovial, possessive jest. But Graelem wasn’t one to jest about this sort of thing. She trusted him not to launch the first blow, but he’d make certain his was the last. “Don’t hurt him, Graelem.”

“I won’t. He’ll die painlessly.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Ugh, men! Go home before this escalates into war. I’ll stop by once our guests have all left. We can check on Brutus then.”

“What about Devlin? I don’t trust him. I’m coming with you.”

She turned to him and rolled her eyes. “You mustn’t. I have every faith that you’ll act the gentleman, but Devlin won’t. My household is in mourning. I won’t upset my parents more than I already have. You know what will happen the moment you and Devlin are in the same room. You’re a lit match to his gunpowder.”

Graelem frowned at her, but she knew he was merely frustrated. He didn’t want Devlin sniffing about her. His protective instincts were on alert. “Don’t let him get you alone. He’s a desperate man.”

How desperate could Devlin be? He might be heavily in debt, but he was a handsome baron and there were other wealthy families who would gladly trade a hefty dowry for a noble title. “You needn’t worry about him. The house is filled to the rafters with Farthingales. There isn’t so much as a mouse hole that isn’t occupied. I’ll be quite safe in my own home.”

She left Graelem’s side and started toward the house, wishing that Devlin would follow his parents inside and not wait for her to reach him. But Devlin was too busy glowering at Graelem to bother keeping up with his parents or show any consideration for the somber occasion.

“You’ve been crying,” he commented, hurrying to keep up with her as she whirled past him on her way inside. “Has the brute upset you? No doubt he’s broken off the betrothal now that there’s to be no wedding by Midsummer’s Day.”

She curled her hands into fists but held them behind her back to keep from poking him in the nose. His was an elegant nose attached to a handsome face, but one she was growing to detest. How had she not seen his petty and insolent nature before?

Devlin continued before she could respond, which was a good thing since he would not have liked her answer to his impertinent question. “But you needn’t fret. I’ll marry you, Laurel. You know it has always been my wish,” he said with such sincerity she might have believed him had she not noticed his gaze straying toward Daisy, who was standing alone by the staircase holding what seemed to be an unopened letter in her hand. A condolence note from a friend? Or more mischief plotted by Devlin?

“Say you’ll marry me, Laurel.”

“What?” She drew back from him with a scowl. “I’ll say no such thing. I’m sorry, Devlin, but I won’t. I will
never
marry you. My decision won’t change, no matter what happens between me and Lord Moray.”

She strode away from him before she gave in to the urge to do him bodily harm. After taking a moment to calm down, she meant to join Daisy. Where did she go? Her sister was no longer standing by the stairs.

Before Laurel had the chance to look for her, Hortensia clamped a hand on her elbow and drew her forward to greet more close friends and family. “We weren’t supposed to have any callers until tomorrow, but seems people are stopping by anyway. I’m going to check on Mrs. Mayhew and her staff. They’re scrambling to put out refreshments. You need to stay by your mother’s side. The poor dear, she’s exhausted and stretched to the end of her patience.”

“Of course.” She’d find Daisy later.

Laurel hurried into the parlor and groaned softly. Her mother was attempting to pour tea for their guests, but her hands were shaking so badly that Laurel feared she’d drop the teapot. “Let me help.”

She settled beside her mother and began chattering to distract everyone as she took over the hostess duties.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” her mother whispered, now seemingly back in her usual good form.

Laurel turned her attention to Julia, who hadn’t eaten since yesterday and appeared so gaunt and pale that Laurel feared she would faint in front of everyone. And not one of her usual theatrical fainting spells, where she happened to land gently upon the soft sofa pillows with balletic grace.

A few hours later, her fears were realized. Julia’s face turned ashen and her eyeballs rolled upward so that only the whites were showing. She dropped like a stone, her head aimed straight for the marble edge of a small table, and would have done serious damage to herself had Laurel not caught her in time.

But Julia’s limp body was too much for her to handle on her own and she began to fall backward, her own head about to hit the marble edge. Thankfully, Uncle Rupert caught both of them in time. “Bloody hell, she wasn’t faking this time,” Rupert muttered. “Laurel, are you all right?”

She nodded and managed to mumble a sincere thanks.

Rupert shook his head and sighed. “Hortensia will tend to her. You had better go back to helping your mother. She’s nibbling her lip. Something is amiss.”

The unexpected bit of excitement now over, Laurel saw that her uncle was correct. Her mother was fretting again. “Where are the twins?”

Laurel went in search of them. They couldn’t have slipped out of the parlor very long ago. She ran upstairs and looked in their room. Not there. She checked all the bedrooms and then searched throughout the house. “Crumpets,” she muttered under her breath. They weren’t hiding in their favorite tree or anywhere in the garden either.

Had they sought refuge with Eloise? She hurried next door. “Good afternoon, Watling.” She cast Eloise’s stoic butler a hesitant smile. “I do hate to be a nuisance, but we seem to have misplaced the twins. Are they here by any chance? Mother’s quite worried about them.”

“Good evening, Miss Laurel,” he corrected, for it was almost eight o’clock in the evening. She’d been so busy that she hadn’t realized it was so late because the days were longer near Midsummer. Their endless stream of guests, none of whom were expected to visit until tomorrow, had kept her distracted. But Uncle Harrison was beloved, not only by his family but by the many whose lives he had touched. They would not be kept away from paying their respects. “The girls are here. You are never a nuisance. Do come in.”

She released the breath she had been holding. “Thank goodness. We aren’t afraid for them, so much as for others who accidentally get in the way of their mischief.”

A gleam of amusement shone in Watling’s eyes. “I completely understand.”

He led her through the parlor and into the rear garden, where the twins were seated with Eloise and Graelem. Lemonade and ginger cakes had been set out for them. The twins smiled at her, obviously unaware they’d thrown the household into an uproar.

Graelem rose to offer his chair, but she politely declined. “I can’t stay.”

“The ginger cakes are delicious,” Dillie said. “You must have one.”

She didn’t frown or admonish her sisters, for her own behavior this past month had been much worse… well, except for the commotion surrounding Lily’s fertility god. But Lily hadn’t almost killed anybody or caused a brawl in the middle of an elegant party. “Mother was worried about you. She didn’t know where you were.”

The twins lowered their heads in contrition.

Lily spoke up first. “We didn’t think anyone would notice. Everyone was so busy and…”

“We only meant to stay a few minutes.” Dillie glanced longingly at the platter of cakes. “Then Watling brought these out. We couldn’t be rude and refuse Eloise’s generosity.”

“Indeed not,” Eloise added with a chuckle. “But run along now and let your mother know you’re safe. Laurel, are you certain you can’t stay? You look tired, my dear. Rest here a moment and I’ll follow the girls to make certain they head straight home.”

Laurel wasn’t tired so much as overwrought. She offered little protest and collapsed into one of the chairs vacated by her sisters, glad for a moment alone with Graelem. “It’s all spun out of control. You would have been proud of me. I was the responsible one for a change. Patient, amiable. Tolerant.”

He chuckled lightly. “Blessed Scottish saints. What have you done with the hellion I’ve come to know?”

She grinned at him. “You mustn’t fret, she’s still here. Just subdued for the moment.”

He shook his head and reached for her hand. “Lass, I should have gone home with you earlier. I was worried about you. Is Devlin still there?”

“No, he and his parents left about an hour ago. His parents are quite nice, but I was glad to see them go. They were hoping for a marriage between the families and are terribly disappointed that it won’t happen. Anne stopped by earlier as well.”

He glanced upward at the sky. “Heaven protect us from bored debutantes who create mischief for their own amusement.”

She laced her fingers between his, liking the gentle strength of his touch. “In that moment I wished I were a twin so that I could keep watch on both of them. They were prowling like predators around the edges of the parlor and then splitting up to walk into the dining room, or entry hall, or who knows where else, then returning to the parlor. A little chill ran up my spine each time I caught them staring at me. They’re plotting something.”

He sat up in his chair and frowned. “Damnation, that settles it. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“You’ll find no argument from me. They have me worried.” She released his hand and clasped her own hands together as they suddenly grew cold. “I think I know what Devlin’s planning. He means to harm Brutus. It would explain why Brutus has been so skittish lately.”

Graelem held her back when she rose to leave. “Laurel, where are you going?”

“To the mews, of course.”

“Not without me. In fact, let me go instead of you. If he’s nasty enough to hurt Brutus, he won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

She regarded him with astonishment. “Devlin wouldn’t dare. He wants to marry me, or rather, he needs to marry me to fund his gaming habit.”

“He’s foolish and desperate. He’d dare anything, though I doubt he plans to harm Brutus. There’s nothing to be gained by it. He could have been scouting out the stable though.”

“To what purpose? Oh, dear! He wanted to elope with me at midnight tomorrow night. I was supposed to meet him at the mews… er, not that I ever agreed to his plan. I didn’t. Not even in the beginning when I didn’t like you. Do you think he’s still hopeful?”

“The idiot. I hope not, but he may be determined to carry out the elopement with or without your consent.”

Laurel shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Are you suggesting that he plans to abduct me?”

“It’s a possibility.” His gaze turned cold and hard, and his expression lethal. “He won’t succeed. I’ll kill him first.”

“No, it’s too ridiculous.” She shifted uncomfortably, not liking the direction of their conversation. She’d known Devlin all her life. He might be petty and spoiled, but he wasn’t evil.

Graelem gathered his crutches and rose. “I hope I’m wrong.”

So did she. “What a mess. I still don’t understand why you want to marry me. I seem to be nothing but trouble for you. We may as well walk to the mews together. It’ll be safe enough with Abner and a dozen other coachmen hanging about there. Only a fool would try anything now. If Devlin has a plan, he’ll wait until nightfall when all our visitors are gone and Abner has retired for the evening. How would his plan work? Even if he lured me out, I still wouldn’t go with him.”

“You’re assuming he’ll be alone. Gentlemen don’t like to get their hands dirty. He’ll hire some dockside ruffians to do the deed, while he’s off making certain that he’s seen elsewhere.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “No doubt he’ll have my cousin’s help. They both gain in preventing our marriage from taking place.”