Loving Lady Marcia (16 page)

Finn,
he noticed she called him after all this time, after what she’d been through.

Not
Finnian
or
Mr. Lattimore
. Not even
that man
or
that scoundrel
.

Finn
.

Duncan felt his annoyance rise. “I’m well aware of our situation, Lady Marcia.”

Her cheeks flamed red.

They glared at each other.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your day,” he said coolly.

“Good day to
you,
Lord Chadwick,” she said, her voice equally chilly, and strode to the back garden gate.

He watched her open the latch, her fingers fluttering in the same nervous way they’d done in the dressmaker’s shop. She was in a high emotional state about something.

Finn. It had to be.

“Lady Marcia,” he said.

She looked up.

He strode forward and caught her around the waist. One of the towering rhododendron bushes provided at least a little cover when he pulled her into the shelter of its leaves. Before she could stop him, he pulled loose the strings of her bonnet, let it slip down her back, and kissed her.

At first, she resisted, her palms pressed hard against his chest, but he persisted, his hands firm against her lower back. He challenged her with his mouth, his lips parrying with hers, until she began to respond, her mouth soft and hot against his, their bodies melding like clay in fire.

After a few heady moments, Duncan forced himself back and cradled her face in his hands. She looked so beautiful that way, her high cheekbones prominent, her mouth plump from kissing. “You’re very good at looking after people,” he said. “What I want to know is, who’s looking after
you
?”

For a few intense moments, he refused to let her gaze stray from his. Her eyes were large and soft and stormy, all at once. Framed by the green leaves, she was as pretty and beguiling as the naked Eve must have been in that long-ago garden.

“I look after myself,” she said after a few seconds, her eyes rebellious. “And I like it that way.”

“Do you?”

She bit her lower lip, and her expression clouded. She had secrets, obviously, that she didn’t want to share with him.

It was ironic, and rather poignant, that he knew of at least one of her deepest ones, and frustrating that he couldn’t comfort her about the matter.

But marrying her would be his way of—of
helping
.

He dropped his hands. “I’d like to take you on a drive in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour tomorrow, in my new curricle. Would you go with me? No more talk about Finn. We can discuss the Duke of Beauchamp and how we can win him over.”

“There is no
we
in the matter,” she said. “I’ll figure out a way myself to win him over, my lord.”

“But I promise I won’t do a bit of looking after you,” Duncan said, with a grin, “no matter what happens. Even if Lady Jersey gives you the cut direct for driving with me. Which she might.” He scratched the top of his head. “Not everyone approves of me, you know. I find it difficult to believe, as I’m so approvable, according to my old nurse, who’s ninety-two now, and my favorite horse, Samson, who loves me for all the apples I bring him—but that’s how it is.”

She put her hands on her hips and made an exasperated face. “You really
are
stubborn, aren’t you? And nosy about my affairs.”

“I don’t deny it. I told you I like you. I make it my business to keep track of the affairs of people I like.”

She tilted her head. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll join you in Hyde Park tomorrow. But only if I may be nosy, too.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Tell me exactly why not everyone approves of you.”

He felt a jolt of shock in his chest. “No,” he said, feeling his face heat. “It’s a private matter.”

“Yes,”
she demanded. “Tell me, Lord Chadwick.”

He gave himself the luxury of admiring her snapping blue eyes. “I have a son,” he admitted. “Have you not heard?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. But tell me something about him.”

“He’s very bright. And he loves tigers. He’s also fond of riddles.” It felt good to talk about Joe. Very good, indeed. And he especially loved that Lady Marcia’s eyes softened when he spoke of him.

“He sounds wonderful.” She bit her lip. “It must be difficult not to be able to speak of him in polite company.”

“Extraordinarily so. Which might be one reason I avoid polite company.” His tone was exceedingly dry.

“I’m sorry you were forced to endure it today at the House of Brady.” She spoke warily, a tilt to her chin.

He could see she was doing her best not to enjoy an easy conversation with him.

“I wasn’t forced to endure anything this afternoon,” he said. “I like your brother very much. And I’m honored to know your family. Sorry, too, that I’ve spent so little time with any of you over the past four years. Which makes my welcome in your home all the more appreciated.”

“Well, then.” She pulled her bonnet back up by the strings and tied it under her chin. Her guard was well back in place. “I shall see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes. I look forward to it.” He left a lingering kiss on her hand before stepping away and tipping his hat to her in farewell.

It was a good few seconds before he heard her grapple with the gate again and pull it shut behind her.

At the sound, he couldn’t resist letting his mouth curve up. If she were still thinking about Finn, then Duncan was an Arabian prince. Or a chimney sweep. Or anything but who he was right now—a man who wanted Lady Marcia Sherwood as much as he wanted air to breathe.

Chapter Twelve

The case clock in the entrance hall had just struck one in the afternoon, and it was Marcia’s second day of callers. Yesterday, the day after the Livingstons’ ball, had been busy enough. Busy with her first rush of callers, busy shopping, busy with kissing Lord Chadwick for the
second
time, and busy pretending she didn’t enjoy kissing him at all.

Today brought a new slew of curiosity seekers because this morning’s newspaper had reported not only on Lady Ennis’s departure to Cornwall to visit Kitto Tremellyn but on certain particulars of the Livingstons’ ball that had involved Marcia. There was also an updated version of the events that had brought her to London.

Of course, that update, while cringeworthy, was wholly inaccurate: “Marquess’s Daughter Not Chucked from School, After All.”

But it served Marcia’s purposes well.

Or so she thought.

“You’ll cut ties with that woman,” Daddy said at breakfast. “I don’t trust her.” He thrust a finger at the newspaper article. “She did chuck you, and very firmly. What’s this about your being a roving ambassador?”

“Just what it means, Daddy. I’ll be a friend to the school here in London, recruiting new students.”

“Why, dear?” Mama had a worried pucker on her forehead.

“So Lady Ennis won’t close the school,” Marcia said. “Firing me was only the beginning. She intended to shut everything down until I changed her mind the night before last.”

“The night before last?” Daddy asked her. “She wasn’t at the card party.”

Marcia bit her thumb. “I—I went to the Livingstons’ ball instead of going home.”

“You did?” Daddy thundered.

Marcia nodded meekly.

“Marcia,” Mama said softly. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Daddy glared at her. “I’ve a mind to send you to your room without any supper, except that it’s breakfast. What am I to do with you?”

She winced. “I’m so sorry. But it had to be done. And thank goodness I saw her because now we have a chance to keep the school open.”

“Oh, no,” Daddy chortled, his face red. “Not
we,
missy. You’re home to find a husband.”

“Daddy.”

“And the sooner, the better,” he said. “Look at you, flagrantly disobeying my rules and those of the society in which you live. Ladies don’t sneak off to balls!”

She slumped.

“You need to find a husband,” Daddy said. “Am I right, Caroline?”

“Yes, my lord,” Mama said airily.

Daddy threw down his fork on his plate. “Don’t be cheeky with me, wife. I’ve a right to be angry.”

“Of course you do,” Mama said. “But Marcia was only trying to help the school. Let’s forgive her this time, shall we? She’s a headmistress, remember. She’s gotten used to doing things her way.”

Daddy’s expression softened a tad. “All right then. But you get yourself busy finding a husband, missy.”

“I—I’ll try, Daddy.”

Mama blew him a kiss.

Marcia saw him soften even more. Which was a good thing. “Could I ask you a favor, please, Daddy?”

Good heavens. He was making eyes at Mama now. “What is it?” he said without taking his eyes off his wife.

“I need an introduction to the Duke of Beauchamp. Could you arrange it, please? His granddaughter is who I’m after. If we can get
her
to Oak Hall, then—”

Daddy scowled at Marcia again. “No, indeed.
Potential husbands
. That’s who you’re to seek. Not students for Oak Hall.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Michael, could you?” Mama asked him gently.

He stood, annoyance written all over his face. “I don’t even know the man,” he pronounced reluctantly, “but if you give me several weeks, I might be able to arrange something.”

“Oh, thank you, Daddy!”

“Until then,” he said, “you look for that husband.”

Marcia smiled. “I will. I promise.”
Sort of,
she added in her head. Meaning, she’d go through the motions. It was the least she could do.

“Pah,” said Daddy. “You women always get your way.”

Mama and Marcia both stood and kissed his cheeks at the same time to restore him to good humor before he left for his office at Whitehall.

Marcia had barely recovered from that episode when they received an early influx of callers.

“Good morning, everyone,” Janice said to their visitors. She looked just as a debutante should in her pale yellow and white muslin frock with dainty capped sleeves.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Marcia, garbed in a more sophisticated navy blue stripe, looked round at everyone and smiled. She didn’t recognize a single soul as a close friend. But she did see the Jensen sisters, the ones who’d so enjoyed the trifle at the Davises’ card party.

Mama made all the appropriate introductions.

One older woman, Lady Thornton, held up her quizzing glass. “It was in the paper this morning that you’re back for good,” she said to Marcia, “and that all the flurry of gossip about how you’d been dismissed out-of-hand from your job is horribly wrong.”

Marcia did her best to maintain a calm, pleasant demeanor. “Yes, it
is
wrong,” she lied, and didn’t feel a bit guilty. Oak Hall’s future was at stake.

“I don’t understand why you ever went to work in the first place,” Lady Thornton went on. “I told your mother it was a waste of a good debutante. Teaching and becoming a headmistress seems like folly to me when you have a marquess for a father.”

There were murmurs of agreement all around, except for one young man in a canary-yellow waistcoat.

He cleared his throat. “I must disagree. Lady Ennis was quoted as saying that Lady Marcia was the most beloved headmistress the school had ever had and that everyone would miss her deeply.”

Thank God for
that
young man.

Of course, Lady Ennis’s motive for speaking so highly of her had had nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with self-interest.

“The viscountess also said that the noblest service Lady Marcia could offer was to take on the role of roving ambassador for Oak Hall,” one of the Jensen sisters remarked.

“My goodness, what an honor,” said a matron with red cheeks and three feathers in her hair.

“I’m in London to do my duty by my family,” Marcia said. “If I can serve as a diplomat for the school in my spare time, what’s the harm?”

“Indeed, what’s the harm?” at least five people echoed after her.

“So Lord Chadwick is a family friend?” asked one woman.

“And his brother, Mr. Lattimore, is as well?” asked another in innocent tones.

“Yes,” Marcia replied, and sipped her tea. She’d give no further details.

“I hear they’re both mad for you,” said Lady Thornton. “The papers claim each brother paid you assiduous attention at the Livingstons’ ball.”

Marcia reddened. “I wouldn’t know if they’re …
mad
for me. As for assiduous attention, I would hardly call it that.” She tried to suppress the memory of Lord Chadwick’s kissing her that night. And the way Finn had whispered warmly in her ear, his mouth almost tickling hers.

“They quarreled over her,” someone else said. “At least that would explain Mr. Lattimore’s swollen jaw, split lip, and drunken claims at the ball that Lord Chadwick was jealous of him.”

“There was a while there when no one knew where Lady Marcia was,” a joker of a Corinthian said. “
Or
Lord Chadwick.”

“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers,” Lady Brady said in faint tones.

“Indeed.” Marcia glared at him, her palms sweating profusely.

“Then why did Lord Chadwick pay an extended call on the Sherwood household the day after the ball?” asked another woman.

“If you’re asking whether she’s caught in a love triangle with Lord Chadwick and Mr. Lattimore, she’s
not
,” said Janice hotly.

Marcia threw her a grateful smile. Her sister was always rather direct.

The room fell into silence, everyone apparently disappointed.

But Marcia couldn’t care. Her head swirled with thoughts of the drive she would take that day in the park with Lord Chadwick. She resisted dwelling on his kisses and how they’d made her feel: wanton, quite depraved, actually.

She’d never felt that way with Finn. She’d felt
in love
.

It was as if she were ill. Against her will, she kept imagining what would have happened if she and Lord Chadwick hadn’t been in a rhododendron bush by her parents’ house or a cramped sitting room filled with flowers off the Livingstons’ ballroom. What would have happened if they’d had complete privacy with no chance of being discovered while they were kissing?