Candice Hern (37 page)

Lord Bradleigh turned to Jack and raised his brows in question.

"I was commiserating with Sedge on the frustrations of having to seek a bride," Jack said, keeping his tone light. "The succession, you know." Though Bradleigh had long been as close a friend as Sedgewick, Jack was unwilling just now to confide in him regarding his financial problems. It had been difficult enough to open up to Sedgewick. He wasn't up to a second round of painful disclosure just yet. Besides, he would as soon limit the number of people aware of his situation.

"I know how you feel," Bradleigh said. "And I imagine you are going about it in the same cold-blooded manner I once did. No expectations of a love match?"

"None."

"I thought not. Be careful, Jack. That's how I ended up betrothed to Augusta Windhurst." He shuddered and a spasm of distaste crossed his face. "What a lucky escape that was." He poured himself another glass of claret. "Have you singled out anyone yet?"

"There are a few I am considering."

"I wish you luck." The earl offered a rueful smile. "It is not an enviable task. At least you don't appear to have an army of female relations acting as matchmakers."

"No, thank heavens," Jack said. "Mother is persistent, but she is not tossing candidates my way." He slid down a little in his chair, feeling mellowed by the wine. "I have, though, received assistance from the most unexpected quarter. A most extraordinary woman has become my champion. Lady Mary Haviland."

"Lady Mary?" Robert said, his eyes widening in surprise. "I know her, Jack. She and Emily are good friends. You must have met her at our wedding."

"Indeed," Jack said, "she claims I did, but I regret that I have little recollection of the event."

Robert laughed, and Jack gave a weary shrug. He had been reminded of his sins more than enough times for one evening.

"You are correct in finding Lady Mary extraordinary," Robert continued. "Apart from Emily, she is one of the most delightful women of my acquaintance. She has a home in Bath, you know, which is where she and Emily met. Lady Mary was often at Grandmother's house in Laura Place. So she is in Town now? Emily will be pleased. Where is she staying?"

"She has taken a house in Upper Brook Street," Jack said.

"We must pay a call on her," Robert said. "I am glad to hear you have struck up a friendship with her. She is a delight, is she not?"

"Indeed," Jack said, smiling as he thought of Mary. "She is a most unusual woman. I don't believe I have ever met anyone so genuinely open and unaffected. She is the most thoroughly cheerful person I think I have ever known. And her laugh," he said, laughing himself, "is positively infectious."

"Yes," Robert said, smiling. "Amazing when you think about what she has been through. If anyone has a right to be less than cheerful, it is Lady Mary."

"What's that?"

"You know," Robert said. "Her father and all that." He took another sip of wine and turned toward an outburst at the other end of the room, where one of the groups crowded around a faro table had become suddenly animated.

Ignoring the noise, Jack stared at Robert. What was that about Mary and her father? He was unaware of any problems in her life. But then he suddenly realized he knew very little about Mary. He knew he liked her, was quite fond of her, in fact. But he knew nothing about her background other than her being the daughter of the late Earl of Assheton. She never spoke about herself, and Jack was forced to admit he had never asked. They spent most of their time talking about him and his quest for a bride.

Robert turned his attention back to Jack. "I suppose all that money helps," he said. "I have often wondered, though, if Mary's current great wealth could ever really make up for the past."

Jack froze momentarily, the wineglass halfway to his lips.
All that money
? Her
great
wealth? Mary was wealthy? His little Mary was wealthy?

A smile spread across Jack's face as a new idea occurred to him.

* * *

Jack decided to walk home later that evening, after sharing a bird and a bottle with Bradleigh. He needed time to himself to contemplate the plan that his friend's words had triggered.

He whistled as he headed along St. James's Street and across Piccadilly to Bond Street, feeling well pleased with himself. He was hailed by a few friends loitering in front of Gentleman Jackson's saloon.

"Why the big smile, Jack?" one of them asked, poking him in the ribs. "New ladybird on the mount?"

Jack joined in the general laughter that followed, shared a few ribald remarks, and then continued on his way. He received stares from several passersby as he headed up Bond Street with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. It was all too deliciously easy. He felt as though a goose had deposited a golden egg right into his lap.

Mary was rich!

He still could not believe it. Nor could he believe how stupid he had been not to have considered it as a possibility. But then he had never thought of Mary in that way. In fact, it was strangely disappointing to begin to think of her in that way now. He had found it unexpectedly pleasant, comfortable even, to have a purely companionable relationship with a woman. He thoroughly enjoyed the times he spent in Mary's company, despite—or perhaps because—there were none of the usual sexual undertones to which he was accustomed. He did, though, enjoy teasing her with suggestive comments for the simple pleasure of hearing her laugh.

Nevertheless, he was willing to forgo his comfortable friendship with Mary if her fortune recommended a more serious relationship.

As he dined with Bradleigh, he had discreetly probed for information on Mary's situation, hopefully without giving away his having been unaware of it himself.

"She don't exactly flaunt her wealth," Jack had said when the earl had returned to the subject of Mary. He tried to keep his tone indifferent, affecting an attitude of fashionable ennui.

"No," Bradleigh said, "she doesn't, does she? She lives well enough, but you certainly never see her dripping in diamonds or parading around in flashy carriages with showy horseflesh. Emily thinks that Mary sees her fortune only as a means to provide her the freedom to live exactly as she pleases. Beyond that, it is of little interest to her."

Jack cocked a brow in an attitude of casual disbelief, struggling to disguise his interest.

"Perhaps she doesn't fully appreciate the extent of it," Bradleigh continued. "She only became aware of it very suddenly, after all."

Jack had been puzzled by this part of the conversation. He had not been able to get much additional information from his friend, who did no more than imply that the fortune had come to Mary upon her father's death. He had seemed more inclined to discuss some trouble with her father, but Jack had not paid much attention. He was more concerned with the subject of money, but he had felt uncomfortable probing any deeper. He had not wanted to arouse Bradleigh's suspicions.

But surely, as the late Lord Assheton's only child, Mary had always known of her expectations. Why should it come as such a surprise to her to inherit? He pondered this question as he turned onto Conduit Street and then George Street. He knew very little of the late earl, who had kept much to himself. Never, however, had he heard that the man was terribly wealthy. Perhaps he had been one of those eccentrics who had lived like a hermit but hoarded a fortune. That could explain why Mary may not have known of her expectations.

The fact was, he did not care how it had come about, he thought as he playfully kicked a pebble down the street. He could have Jessop look into it if it really mattered. The important thing was that Mary was as prime a candidate as any other woman on her list. Indeed, she was a far superior candidate because she had no father or brother or guardian controlling her fortune. Apparently, if Jack correctly interpreted Bradleigh's implications, Mary had complete control. And that she was older and quite plain could be seen only as an added advantage. By God, but she would be easy pickings!

Fortunately, they were already on very friendly terms. He believed she was fond of him. However, he could not help but recall her deep, throaty laughter each time he had teasingly suggested a liaison between them. And on their very first meeting she had made clear her position on marriage.

I am quite happily and comfortably on the shelf
, she had told him.

Nevertheless, Jack felt confident he could change her mind. After all, he thought with a wicked grin, he had had years of practice in wooing women of all types. Surely, a plain little thing like Mary could not help but be flattered by an offer from him. Jack was reasonably certain that she had no particular admirers. She was not, after all, the type of woman to generate that sort of interest. And it would likely be the only such offer she would ever receive, so why should she refuse him? She liked him well enough, didn't she? Well, if she did not, Jack was willing to seduce her if necessary. He thought briefly of how he might actually enjoy it. Though tiny, Mary appeared to be soft and round in all the right places. In fact, she was a perfect little Pocket Venus.

Yes, he thought, grinning to himself, he might just enjoy this after all.

As he passed by St. George's Chapel, the site of the most fashionable of
ton
weddings—a subject which, for the first time in fifteen years, did not have him quaking in his boots—he considered how best to make the move from friend to suitor. Though he was anxious to proceed, it was best that the change in their relationship seem gradual and natural. He did not fear that it would appear too unlikely, since they were often seen in one another's company. It was true that Mary was not his usual type; but the
ton
did not expect one to marry the same sort of woman with whom one might choose to dally. Anyway, he liked Mary. Everybody liked Mary. So much so, in fact, that a marriage to her would probably help to reestablish his credibility with the
ton
to a degree he could never have accomplished on his own. The more he thought about it, as he reached Hanover Square, the more perfect the whole thing began to sound.

He laughed aloud as he flung back the elaborate ironwork gate at the entrance to Number 26, elated at this surprising but delightful turn of events.

Chapter 6

"What do you think, Olivia? The green lutestring or the bronze silk?"

Mary alternately held up each dress in front of her as she surveyed her reflection in the full-length pier glass. She was partial to the shimmery effect of the bronze silk.

Olivia eyed her employer's reflection in the glass, then spun her around to look at her directly. Mary continued to hold up the bronze evening dress while her companion scrutinized it with a knotted brow. Finally, Olivia looked up and smiled as she reached for the dress.

"This is certainly beautiful, my dear," she said as she laid it carefully on the bed. "But I really do not believe the shade is quite right for you. Your pale coloring is, I think, better set off by this rich green." She held up the other dress against Mary, turning her back around to face the mirror. "Besides, the subtle vertical pattern of the fabric ..."

"Will increase the impression of height. I believe you are correct, Olivia." Mary smiled as she studied her reflection. "I shall wear the green."

She handed the dress to her maid, who took it away for a last-minute pressing. She sat down at her dressing table and began to rummage through her jewel case, at last removing a simple pair of emerald earrings and a matching pendant suspended on a gold chain. Mary's collection of jewelry—all bought by herself within the last three years—was modest and unostentatious. Though she certainly had the means for much more, her tastes were simple. Besides, she always felt that, because of her small stature, any elaborate style of dress or accessory only made her look like a child's doll.

She laid the emeralds on the dressing table and began to unpin the braids coiled high in a crown on the top of her head. The long braids, being waist-length, toppled into her lap, and she began to carefully unbraid them.

"And what shall you wear this evening?" she asked, catching Olivia's eye in the glass as she seated herself on the end of a nearby chaise. "Oh, I know just the thing!" she exclaimed before Olivia could open her mouth. "That lovely pink satin with the darker rose underskirt."

"Oh, Mary. I do not think so ..."

"Come now, Olivia. This is something of a special occasion. Jack is bringing his uncle tonight, you know."

"I know." Olivia gave a profound sigh.

"I am so excited to meet Mr. Maitland! I have heard he has led a very adventurous life. He must have wonderful stories to tell."

"No doubt," Olivia mumbled.

"Mr. Maitland will act as your escort, my dear, while I take Jack's arm." Mary spoke with increased animation as she continued to unbraid her hair. "Is it not sweet of Jack to invite us to the opera tonight?"

"He is most generous," Olivia replied with something less than enthusiasm. "But, all things considered, Mary, I really wish he had invited a larger party. Only four of us! It seems so ... so ..."

"Intimate?" When Olivia shrugged in resignation, Mary threw back her head and laughed, one side of unbraided hair falling in brown waves over her shoulder. "You mustn't be so priggish, my dear. I believe Jack wishes only to express his gratitude for our help in his search for a bride. This singling out of us is merely his way of showing his appreciation. You know, I truly believe he is close to the sticking point with Lillian Carstairs!"

"Do you?" Olivia arched an eyebrow. "And yet lately he seems to spend more time in your company than in hers."

Mary looked up to catch Olivia's wary eye in the glass. It was true. Jack had almost become a permanent fixture in their drawing room during the last week. But Mary was sure that was only because he felt especially at ease in her company, could lounge comfortably in chair by the fire, and speak on any subject without fear of offense. Her drawing room appeared to offer him some solace from the rigors of
ton
propriety. She was pleased to be able to offer him that respite.