An Unlikely Father (13 page)

Whatever was the matter with her? She wondered. First his grandmother had seemed to take her in dislike, and now, so it would seem, had the marquess as well. Then that dark thought was lost as she remembered the exciting feel of the earl’s hands at her waist and the way the blood had rushed in her ears. She reminded herself that the gentleman was an accomplished rake. Doubtless the moment had affected him little.

Perhaps it was just as well that others had come. It would keep her from being too much alone in his lordship’s company and that might be the safest thing for her own well-being.

“I am displeased with your conduct, Hawksworth. That woman should be on her way to wherever it is she resides. It is an insult to my daughter that you—”

“My lord”—the earl’s back stiffened at the rebuke, his face becoming a frigid mask—“I think you forget that whatever plans you and my grandmother have laid are just that—yours. I am fully prepared to admire your daughter and give my grandmother’s wishes due consideration. Beyond that I make no promises. My first consideration at this time must be my wards and seeing them comfortably settled in their new home.”

Oliver felt a brief twinge of guilt to be using the children to dodge his grandmother’s plans, but in truth, he knew he had come to care about their welfare.

The marquess’s face grew red. “Do you have any—” At that moment the library door opened and Sam stepped in, butterfly net in hand. “Sorry, my lord, didn’t know you was in here. Just came to—” Seeing the birds back in their cage, he bowed. “Miss Collins got them creatures back where they belong. She’s a right ’un.”

Hawksworth, not wishing a prolonged argument with his guest, moved to the doorway. “Sam, see that my papers are picked up and put back on my desk.” Looking back at the marquess, the earl added, “I think we have said all we need to for now. Shall we go to the drawing room and await the ladies, my lord?”

A glowering marquess marched past his host out of the library. “Think I’d best see how my daughter’s health is after the journey here.”

Halcomb wasn’t happy with the earl’s declaration, but he was not prepared to give up. Cora had her heart set on being a countess and that was what she would be. He knew that with a little luck and the dowager’s help, they would still see an engagement before they departed Hawk’s Lair.

Eight

Lady Cora Lane was a Diamond of the First Water. It had been an acknowledged fact in the
ton
these five years. Guinea-gold curls framed a heart-shaped face of porcelain-white skin. Her aqua-blue eyes were large, with long brown lashes and delicately arched brows, her ruby lips full above a tilt-tipped nose. There were few who did not own that the marquess’s daughter would have rivaled the goddesses of legend. Unfortunately, upon closer acquaintance, there were few whose opinion of the lady could be found to be as high as her own.

She’d arrived in London at the tender age of eighteen with the advantages of birth, beauty and fortune. Alas for her marital hopes, her sharp tongue and arrogance soon drove all but the most desperate fortune hunters to seek out the lesser lights of the Season.

Lady Cora had gone home from that first Season unbetrothed, but convinced it was only because of the paltry number of eligible candidates. Yet the results of successive Seasons had ultimately been the same.

Having reached the advanced age of three-and-twenty unwed, the lady’s desperation had added a shrewishness to her manner. Her father had begun to fear that his beautiful daughter would be left on the shelf, which meant she would be under his roof, wreaking havoc on his peace, for a lifetime. Then salvation had come in the form of the Dowager Countess of Hawksworth, who’d hinted of arranging a marriage of convenience with her raffish grandson.

Lady Cora knew of the earl’s unsavory reputation, but his wealth and impeccable lineage made him a perfect husband in her opinion. In truth, she was completely content with the notion that he would keep a mistress and not bother her, so she’d made up her mind that the thing she wanted most was to be Countess of Hawksworth.

Presently the lady was lounging on a day bed in her elegantly appointed room in the west wing, attempting to recover from the rigors of the journey south. Her maid, having just returned from below stairs with tea and toast, was unpacking the numerous trunks and imparting all the gossip she’d gleaned from the castle servants about his lordship.

Lady Cora was now aware that Hawk’s Lair was a bit topsy-turvy because of the arrival of several children and females from India, some relations of the earl. Certain that these people had nothing to do with her, she put the matter from her mind.

A sharp knock caused Maggie to fall silent as Lady Cora signaled her to the door. Lord Halcomb entered his daughter’s room and ordered the maid gone in a gruff voice.

Lady Cora sat up, taking note that her father’s face looked a thundercloud. “Whatever is the matter, Papa?”

“Why are you not dressed, child?”

“There is no rush. Besides, I thought to make an entrance in my new blue sarcenet gown with the white beading. The cut of the dress complements my—”

“Don’t be talking about your fripperies, girl. I just spoke with Hawksworth, and matters are not as settled as the dowager would have us believe.”

Lady Cora’s cheeks blanched white. “What do you mean? I am to be the countess. You said so. I demand you keep your promise.”

Lord Halcomb eyed his daughter warily. The one thing he didn’t want was a tantrum for all to hear. “And so I shall, my little dove, if I have anything to say about the matter. But remember, you have never formally met the earl, nor he you. He seems to feel there should be a period of acquaintance before anything definite is decided. Problem is that he’s just acquired his brother’s children and seems much involved in his role as guard
i
an.
”

“Children!” Lady Cora said the word as if she spoke of some vile affliction. “You know how I dislike them, Papa. The noise, the dirt, and their flying about from one mischief to another. Why, I had to cut Lady Albina from my acquaintance due to her forever wishing to display those dreadful boys every time one paid a visit. I simply cannot abide children.”

In truth, it had been the baroness who’d ceased to invite Lady Cora after the young lady had remarked on the children looking rather like monkeys with all that dark hair and forever climbing about in the trees outside the drawing room.

Halcomb wagged his finger at his daughter. “You will not only abide these children, my dear, you will convince the earl they are the dearest things in nature, if you take my advice. I would never have thought it, but London’s most notorious rake seems to actually like the little monsters.”

“But, Papa, I cannot!” The lady rose from the daybed, a hint of tears filling her lovely eyes.

The marquess was not the least bit swayed, for he’d seen such a display over as simple a matter as his refusal to purchase a new fan. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “You must be guided by me, child. None of your high-in-the-instep manners or ill-advised tantrums here. You must be all politeness to the earl and his guests.”

A look of horror crossed Lady Cora’s beautiful face. “But Papa, Maggie says there are several hurly-burly females presently staying at the castle just returned from India without so much as a gentleman to escort them. Not to mention a barbaric Scotsman. You cannot think I should unbend myself to take notice of such inferior sorts.”

“Do you wish to be a countess?”

She gave a vigorous nod of her head, her blond curls bouncing.

“Then you will condescend to make yourself agreeable to Hawksworth’s guests and his wards. There will be time enough after the wedding to have things to your own liking. Now get dressed at once. There is no time to waste.” With that the marquess left the room.

Oliver lifted the cut-crystal top off the decanter and poured out a good measure of brandy. Taking his glass, he moved to the window of the drawing room to stare out at the darkness, which seemed to perfectly reflect his present mood. What had he been thinking to agree to his grandmother’s suggestion of a marriage to a female he’d never been introduced to? If the surly Lord
Halcomb was any indication, he was likely to take a dislike to Lady Cora on sight.

He swirled the amber liquid, knowing that due to the dowager’s interference, he must at least give the lady a fair chance. While he’d made no declarations, his promise to his grandfather still hung over him like an executioner’s sword. No doubt Lady Cora was as suitable as any female and had the advantage of birth and fortune, which seemed so important to his grandmother.

Then his thoughts turned to another female. He remembered the feel of Miss Collins’s slender waist as he’d lifted her from his desk and his lusty response. There had been such a rush of desire that he’d had to resist the urge to pull her to him and kiss her lovely mouth.

Abruptly he put down his brandy. He’d promised his grandmother to give the idea of marrying Lady Cora a proper chance. He had no business having thoughts about Miss Collins when his mind should rightly be turned to the matter of his prospective
fiancé
e.

To the earl’s relief, the door to the drawing room opened, and Sir Ethan stepped into the room. The men fell into idle conversation until the next guests arrived. As the marquess and his daughter entered the room, Oliver felt the muscles in his stomach tighten, although he wasn’t certain why.

As the introductions were made, he took his first good look at the woman his grandmother had deemed a suitable match. There could be no denying that she was a beauty. Her blond curls were drawn away from her lovely face and decorated with two small blue plumes complementing her aqua eyes, which surveyed him frankly. She would certainly be a woman that a man would be proud to have on his arm. Then the memory of the violent quarrels between his father and stepmother flooded his mind, and Oliver knew there was much more to marriage than social appearances.

“My lord,” Lady Cora said, offering her hand as she smiled up at him engagingly. “I hope you will forgive my positively hagged appearance, but I fear the journey from London rather shattered my nerves.”

Oliver was certain she could have little doubt about the excellence of her looks and was forced to suppress a frown as he wondered if she was the kind of female always fishing for compliments.

“If you were any more lovely this evening, Lady Cora, the very angels in heaven would weep.” Oliver kissed the proffered hand, but found that he said the words mechanically, without the least attraction to this veritable goddess.

The lady twittered girlishly. “I do believe all I have heard of you, sir, is quite true.”

“Heard?” Oliver asked warily.

“That you are charming as well as handsome, my lord.”

Sir Ethan, well aware of the earl’s dislike of toadying, remarked, “Bless me, lass, if that’s all you’ve heard of my friend, he can count himself lucky.”

Oliver frowned a warning at the baronet, then ushered the marquess and his daughter to a sofa near the fireplace. They were soon joined by Lady Hawksworth, dressed regally in dark red, then Mrs. Keaton and Miss Collins, both lovely in varying shades of pink.

Lady Cora, after condescending to offer two fingers of her hand for the ladies to shake at being introduced, soon dominated the conversation. She paid scant heed to anyone but his lordship, announcing that she found everything at the castle to her liking. Then she went on to inform them that it was only matched by the splendor of her father’s manor in Surrey.

During the lady’s rambling discourse, the marquess closely watched Hawksworth’s reaction to both his daughter and Miss Collins. He liked neither look. For Cora there was mere polite interest, but for Miss Collins there were intimate smiles.

Oblivious to all but herself, Lady Cora began to discuss the latest
on-dits
in Society, but Lord Halcomb stepped in to change the direction of the conversation. He determined to drop a flea in his daughter’s ear about letting her tongue run on wheels.

“What are your plans for your wards, my lord?” The marquess gave the countess a conspiratory smile, knowing from their earlier conversation that the lady was still dedicated to the proposed match.

“Plans?” Oliver frowned at Halcomb.

“Are they to remain at the castle, to be sent to a proper school or do you intend to bring them to London?”

Very aware of Miss Collins’s intent gaze upon him, the earl replied, “I believe they have had enough upheaval in their lives this year. For the present they will remain here. I intend, with Miss Collins’s help, to interview several applicants for the position of governess.”

“Miss Collins!” The voices of Lord Halcomb, Lady Cora and Lady Hawksworth echoed together.

Emily felt her cheeks warm at the hostile looks turned in her direction. She suddenly wished she were anyplace but in his lordship’s drawing room. Why ever did they all dislike her so?

Coming to the lady’s defense, the earl said, “Both Miss Collins and Mrs. Keaton have been generous with their time, helping me settle the children in the castle, assisting with new wardrobes for the cold weather and caring for the children while I find proper servants. Guardianship of very young ones is not a matter most bachelors handle easily.”

At that moment Bedows arrived to announce dinner. The party moved to the huge dining room, where painted cherubs looked down upon the gathering. Emily was glad they were mere wood and paint, for she felt certain that otherwise they too would be hurling arrows at her.

She found herself seated between the scowling marquess and the unfriendly dowager. She couldn’t have been less happy. It was a struggle to down the surprisingly elaborate fare of the new cook.

Her thoughts went to the possibility of leaving Hawk’s Lair. After all, the countess was here to advise the earl, and clearly the lady seemed to think Emily was pushing herself forward in an improper manner. But when the notion of leaving left her feeling unhappy, she attributed it to the fact she would miss the children. It had nothing to do with the earl.

Just then she glanced down the table to see Sir Ethan and Delia conversing with great pleasure. Emily wondered if she would spoil her companion’s chance for a possible match with the delightful baronet if they left the castle. Remembering what a dreadful first marriage Delia had suffered, Emily didn’t want her friend to miss an opportunity to capture the heart of such a kind man as Sir Ethan. Despite Lady Hawksworth’s hostility, Emily decided they would stay a while longer.

Emily was startled from her musings when the countess addressed her.

“Have you been enjoying your stay at Hawk’s Lair,
Miss Collins?” The dowager’s grey eyes narrowed as she awaited Emily’s answer.

“It has been a bit hectic, my lady, getting the children settled. But yes, it has been enjoyable to be home in England.”

“Then I shall make certain Hawksworth invites you for the wedding.”

Emily’s hand trembled as she laid down her fork. “There is to be a wedding?”

A satisfied smile tipped the countess’s lined mouth as she looked down the table at the marquess’s daughter. “Did you not know? My grandson is soon to become affianced to Lady Cora. That is why we have come. Finding my great-grandchildren at the castle merely adds to my joy on this momentous occasion.”

Lady Hawksworth, glancing back at Miss Collins, watched a dull glaze settled in the young lady’s brown eyes even as she said all the proper things. One might almost feel sorry for the girl—but not one who had made plans for her grandson that did not include a marriage to a veritable nobody.

The countess would have been greatly surprised if she’d been privy to the thoughts in Miss Collins’s head. Her initial disappointment was great at hearing the news of impending nuptials. But Emily determinedly put thoughts of the earl aside. While he was a handsome man, there had been little between them except matters pertaining to the children, and after all, he was a rake. That was something she reminded herself of every time she found his gaze resting upon her with interest.

She decided that her primary concern must be for the children and what role Lady Cora would play in their lives. In effect, the lady would be the children’s new mother. Emily peered down the table at the young woman. There was no denying that she was beautiful, a fact that Lady Cora seemed well aware of, but was there compassion and caring beneath that seemingly vain exterior?

Would she be one of those ladies who spent all her time in London in the social whirl? Would Lady Cora undo all that had been accomplished with the earl’s growing attachment to his wards? The very thought made Emily’s blood stir in anger.