Loving Lady Marcia (9 page)

“Falling in love,” Cynthia said in awe.

Marcia didn’t deny it.

Her two sisters shared knowing looks.

Cynthia giggled. “I can tell you’re still in love with him.”

“No I’m not,” Marcia protested. “He was a beau for a very short time. A matter of weeks. So he really didn’t count.”

But he had counted. Very much.

“Well, he should.” Cynthia’s eyes danced. “I’m in love with him already myself. It’s a pity I’m too young for him.”

“Yes, you are.” Marcia sent her a stern look, meant to be teasing, but part of her wasn’t teasing at all. Cynthia was perilously close to the age she’d been when—

She couldn’t think of that night and the whirlwind weeks that had led up to it.

There was a happy gleam in Janice’s eyes. “I’m glad you’re going out tonight, even if it is a dull card party. I was tempted to kick you under the table when you said you weren’t going to the ball, but thankfully, you didn’t completely put him off.”

“I did try to kick you but missed,” said Cynthia.

She was so shameless, all three of them laughed.

“Surely,” Janice said, “if he can’t get an invitation, you’ll see him about town the rest of the Season.”

That was Marcia’s dilemma. If she ran into Finn, she’d likely run into Lord Chadwick, too. She especially didn’t want to do that. Perhaps she could simply ignore the earl again. It was petty of her, she knew, but part of her was sorely tempted.

“I suppose I
will
see him.” She already regretted saying she’d go to the card party. She’d enough drama in her life, although she was doing her best to be levelheaded about her untenable employment situation.

But now she was over-the-top, neglecting to act like a headmistress. Around Finn, she couldn’t think clearly. She thought in single words like
love, passion,
and
forever
.

Cynthia sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “You’re lucky. I want to hear all the details when you come home from the card party. I’ll wait up for you.”

“He might not be able to get an invitation, so don’t bother,” said Marcia, feeling embarrassed and shy.

Exposed.

“But I will,” Cynthia insisted. “And I have a feeling everyone in London will be talking about you and Finn after this evening, too. I can see already that you’d make a perfect couple.”

Perfect?

Out of the mouths of babes …

Marcia looked around and saw all the occupants of Gunter’s still staring avidly at her. Would they never get back to their ices?

They, too, must have noticed that Finn had eyes only for her. She couldn’t help wondering if her youngest sister was right, and if so—

Good God, what had she gotten herself into?

Chapter Seven

First, Lady Marcia. And then Finn.

Duncan’s encounter, in one day, with two people he hadn’t expected to see had rattled him sorely. He’d barely slept. Upon waking, he realized that he could do nothing about Lady Marcia but attempt to put her out of his mind. But there was no way to avoid the inevitable disorder that would ensue now that Finn was back.

Containing the crisis of his brother’s return—for that was indeed what it was—had kept Duncan busy all day. The solicitors had been immediately consulted in the morning and letters sent to Richmond. Finn had admitted he’d left the property not only because he was bored but because he’d cuckolded the landowner next door and was in fear for his life.

“But it wasn’t my fault,” Finn had said the evening previous. “You have to believe me. This woman wouldn’t leave me alone. And then early one morning, when her husband was out hunting boar, she appeared at my door. What was I to do? Turn her away?”

“
Yes,
you idiot. But are you sure of all the details of that story?” Duncan had a difficult time believing anything Finn said.

“Quite sure.” Finn did his best to look hurt. “I thought you, of all people, would defend me.”

He should be on the stage,
Duncan thought. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. He should kick him out and recommend he roam about and find a theatrical troupe to join.

But he just couldn’t do it. He was Finn’s only relative.

At Tattersall’s, Duncan bought his brother a prime goer, a beautiful chestnut stallion that he didn’t deserve but Duncan would give him anyway. He reintroduced Finn to the staff at White’s, allowed him to stay an hour to reunite with old friends while he partook of a meal and conversation in the next room. After they left White’s, Duncan arranged for the apartment at Albany, a coveted address among London bachelors. Most of the day had been spent getting Finn settled there, which included procuring the services of an elderly woman who would serve as both housekeeper and cook. A trip was made to Bond Street to secure a few items of clothing to complete his wardrobe, as he’d packed rather hastily when he’d left Richmond.

But Duncan had yet to talk to his brother about the most crucial aspect of his return: his dealings with Joe.

So that evening, before going out to the Livingstons’ ball, he sat down with his brother in the library and spelled out the rules: Interfere with his rearing of Joe in any way and lose all access to the family coffers.

“God,” Finn said, raking a hand through his hair, “do you think I’m stupid? Would I come all the way back here to be saddled with a brat?
No
.”

He paced about the room, clearly agitated.

Duncan sat quietly watching him, knowing he couldn’t trust him but attempting to gauge his sincerity anyway. “Good,” he said. “Because I’d wring your neck if you told him anything about his parentage before I think he’s ready. Which would make your accessing the family coffers a moot point, wouldn’t it?”

Finn stopped and stared at him. “That was cold.” The fire flickered behind them as they locked gazes. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But she was only a servant—”

Duncan stood and grabbed his brother by the lapels. “She was a gently bred tutor from a fine Italian family, and she died giving birth to the boy I call my son. Don’t disparage her ever again.”

“Calm down.” Finn twisted away and looked at the fire. “It’s a shame she died.” There was a beat of silence Duncan refused to break. Finn turned to face him again, his manner sheepish, apologetic. “I’m only teasing you for being the doting father. I meant no harm.”

And that was the problem. Finn’s remorse always came too late, and he usually didn’t intend any harm. He simply didn’t
think
. Mainly, he didn’t think about anyone or anything beyond himself. He was the most exasperating, selfish person Duncan knew.

“Right,” he said, feeling weary. “It’s time to meet Joe. Remember what I said.” He opened the library door and waved him through.

“You don’t have to worry,” Finn muttered on his way out.

Duncan sure as hell hoped he didn’t.

In the drawing room, Finn seated himself nonchalantly in an armchair. His carefully arranged evening clothes and distinct air of indifference gave him the appearance of a jaded king waiting for his lowly subjects to arrive.

When Joe’s face peered around the corner of the doorway, the worry that had been plaguing Duncan all day gripped him hard. The truth was, he’d been dreading this moment since he’d laid eyes on Finn last night.

Joe was Duncan’s son. But what would happen now that his natural father was back? Finn was unpredictable and immature. Duncan had always been able to clean up behind the disasters he’d created. But could he ensure no new disasters of Finn’s would impact upon Joe?

He must stay vigilant, now more than ever.

Aislinn appeared behind the boy, her hand on his shoulder.

“Come in,” Duncan said warmly.

The maid’s smile was tentative when she ushered Joe in. It seemed the whole house was unsure of what to think of Finn’s return, especially the servants, like Aislinn, who’d never met him. She didn’t exactly push Joe toward Finn but gave him a little prod and a murmur of encouragement.

After she left the room, Joe swallowed and stood still, gazing at their guest with wide eyes.

Finnian and Joe had the same golden hair and amber eyes. But the boy’s mouth, wide and expressive, was clearly his mother’s.

Finn laughed and leaned forward. “Come here, you. I won’t bite.”

Joe took a few cautious steps forward and came to stand before the new arrival, his arms poker-straight at his sides. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He inhaled a great breath. “Welcome back to England.”

Duncan’s chest swelled with fatherly pride and affection. Joe had practiced that modest speech with Aislinn all day long, and he’d done very well.

Finn chuckled. “You’re a handsome little rascal, aren’t you? Perhaps I’ll show you my new bachelor quarters tomorrow. I’ve got a shark’s tooth from America this big.” He spread his fingertips several inches apart. “But you must call me Finn to see it.”

Joe’s eyes widened, and he moved a step back, behind Duncan. His index finger hung like a hook from his mouth.

Finn was reeling him in, indeed.

“Finn’s my brother,” Duncan reminded Joe in soft tones. “You can call him Finn. He’s family.”

Family
.

Duncan had decided that was how he’d refer to him, rather than use the easy but incorrect term
uncle
. When Joe was older and able to grasp the significance of the events that had brought them together, Duncan would tell him the truth, that Finn had fathered him but had been too immature—too young and penniless, he’d say out of kindness to both Finn and Joe—to take care of his newborn son.

For now, however, Finn would be simply Finn.

And life, Duncan hoped, would roll on as it always had, with as little disruption as possible.

*   *   *

On the way to the Livingstons’ ball, Finn sat on the opposing seat in the carriage, his legs stretched out before him. “You really don’t have to go tonight, you know. The fellows at White’s tell me you rarely make the social rounds beyond the club when you’re in London. They don’t say you’re a curmudgeon exactly—”

But Finn was implying he was. It was his favorite dig.

Duncan quashed his annoyance. “Why shouldn’t I make the social rounds with you? I haven’t seen you in years.”

Finn shrugged. “I know you’re doing it to keep an eye on me. You’re obviously not looking for a wife. Who of any standing would have you anyway? Everyone thinks it’s either terribly eccentric or scandalous of you to harbor your own by-blow out in the open.”

Oh, the irony. He’d said it as if he’d already forgotten he’d been responsible for Joe’s presence in this world. Which was a good thing, actually.

“Don’t call Joe a by-blow,” Duncan reminded his brother carefully, without heat. The less Finn resented Joe the better, so he’d do his best to teach, not scold.

“Sorry,” Finn said breezily, managing to put no apology in the word.

“I might be considered notorious by some, but I’m not beyond the pale. My title and wealth assure that. Someone will have me. It’s time I do look for a wife, quite frankly.”

Finn looked at him, wide-eyed. “Really? You?”

“Of course. I have a duty to.” It had been made clear to Duncan since he was old enough to speak. And now it was painfully obvious he couldn’t risk leaving the title and family wealth in Finn’s hands. He needed an heir.

“Poor sod,” Finn said. “But it wouldn’t be the end of the world. You were raised a gentleman. You saw how Father handled his
amours
. You’d be equally discreet.”

“I’ve no interest in betraying my marriage vows.” Duncan’s tone was bitter. “Father wasn’t discreet at all. And look how he hurt Mother.”

It was why he’d been reluctant to marry himself. He wanted no part of the duplicity and grief he’d witnessed growing up.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to get legshackled.” Finn raised an amused brow. “If I do, it’ll be to a rich chit who’ll marry me because I look good squiring her about. I’m the second son, after all. No title. No prospects.”

“As I recall,” Duncan said dryly, “your prospects were rather good. You were given a sprawling estate only five miles outside of Richmond.”

“It’s all in the eye of the beholder. There was nothing to
do
there.”

Except run an extensive working estate under the tutelage of an experienced overseer—and create a bright future for himself in a young, exciting country. But Duncan bit his tongue. “You could always join the church or the army.”

“Me?” Finn snorted. “A man of the cloth? Or an officer leading a regiment? I saw Charlie Ramkin today. He said he despises writing sermons. And Ward Howe got his arm blown off when he accidentally walked in front of practice cannon fire. This afternoon I had to hold his cards for him while he slurped from his brandy glass.” He grimaced. “Neither of those occupations appeals to me in the least.”

He’d also been sent down from Oxford too many times to count before they’d finally given up on that route to success.

“I want you to become a
man,
Finn. A man doesn’t make excuses. About
anything
.”

Finn bowed his head.

“You’re already made mistakes with women,” Duncan reminded him. “Joe is a happy result, but think of the price paid by people other than yourself to get him to the comfortable place he is today. You must start taking responsibility for the choices you make, and that includes for the women you’ve bedded.”

“I know.” Finn’s face looked gaunt for a moment. He was lost in a memory of one of those women. Surely it was Joe’s mother, who’d died as a direct result of their affair.

“Start anew,” Duncan said. “From this day forward, try to be … decent. That way, you won’t have regrets. I can see that you do. Don’t you?”

Finn looked up. “Yes, actually.” He gave an embarrassed little laugh.

Duncan gazed steadily at him. “When you’re remorseful and committed to change, I want to help you. But God forbid that you’re not, because I’m not stupid, and I won’t tolerate any more dishonorable behavior—if you want to remain in England, that is.”

“All right.” Finn didn’t look away, and Duncan felt some hope.