Mad About the Earl (6 page)

Cecily’s scowl deepened. “If I were a man, I’d run him through. Do you think Captain Lauderdale will challenge him to a duel? I’d like to see that.”

Rosamund bit her lip. Like everyone else, Cecily thought Rosamund was in love with Philip Lauderdale. Guiltily, she acknowledged the misunderstanding was all her fault.

Despite her whirlwind success in her first season, when another year passed leaving her unwed, there’d been a constant, underlying question in everyone’s gaze. Why didn’t her betrothed claim her? Was there something amiss with Lady Rosamund that others couldn’t see?

The Westruther ladies commiserated that she should be landed with such an uncouth beast for a fiancé; her male relatives had proposed several increasingly violent ways of bringing Griffin to heel.

Even her brother had offered to fix the matter. She’d no doubt Xavier would do it, too, in a manner so subtle and diabolically clever as to be worthy of the duke himself. Of course, one word to her former guardian, the Duke of Montford, and all would be settled.

But Rosamund didn’t wish her family to intercede for her with Griffin.

She wanted Griffin to
want
her.

And then along came Philip Lauderdale, a dashing cavalry officer. The most honorable, handsome gallant any girl’s heart could hope for. He adored her. Everyone said so. Not only that, he was intelligent, amusing company, the kind of man who cast all others into the shade.

Despite Rosamund’s longstanding engagement and her insistence that she could give him no hope, Philip remained flatteringly persistent. He was so ingenious at cutting out his rivals that it soon appeared to everyone that Rosamund favored him.

That had not been her intention. She’d tried to show no preference for any gentleman, for the last thing she desired was to be labeled a flirt. But by the time she realized how particular her friendship with Philip must appear to the world, the damage was done.

Far from dubbing her a flighty miss, the ton had been captivated by these star-crossed lovers. Everyone murmured what a pity it was that the Duke of Montford remained adamant, a travesty that the exquisite Rosamund must be paired with the boorish Tregarth.

Rosamund—vain, stubborn fool that she was—made no real attempt to correct society’s assumption. It was pleasant to be wanted by a gentleman whom all the other ladies fawned over. Philip’s determined attentions were so soothing to her pride.

Pleasant. Soothing.

Hmm …

With all his myriad stellar qualities, she
ought
to be in love with Philip Lauderdale.

There was just one giant, rude, infuriating reason why she was not.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Duke of Montford paused on the threshold and raised his quizzing glass to examine the motley assortment of relatives ranged around his breakfast table.

Rosamund and Cecily were there, of course. And he’d rather expected Xavier, Rosamund’s brother, to join them this spring. Understandable in the circumstances, if not altogether welcome at this delicate juncture.

Andrew, on the other hand …

“Good God,” said Montford faintly. “You here, Lydgate?”

Andrew Westruther, Viscount Lydgate, smiled at him, sleek and self-satisfied as a cat. “Delighted to see you, too, Your Grace.”

Xavier, Marquis of Steyne, said nothing, either by way of greeting or explanation. One side of his mouth twitched at his cousin’s facile pleasantry, but his blue eyes remained hard and bright.

Had Montford wished to needle Xavier, he might have quizzed him about the reasons for his presence. It happened that Montford saw no benefit in doing so. At least, not this morning. The marquis could remain at Montford House as long as he wished, provided he didn’t interfere with Montford’s plans for his sister.

With a glance at Rosamund, Montford took his plate from the head of the table and moved to the sideboard to make his selection.

He decided to tackle Andrew first. “To what do we owe this pleasure, Lydgate? Pockets-to-let?” Andrew had yet to reach his twenty-fifth year, upon which he would inherit the full sum of his fortune. Until then, Montford held his purse strings.

Not too tightly, however. It disturbed him just how enterprising Andrew could become when in need of ready cash.

“How can you think it, sir?” returned the young viscount, his tone a mixture of amusement and indignation. “You know the business that has occupied me these past months.”

Ah. Yes, indeed. Montford knew all about Andrew’s latest scheme. Or one of them. They would not discuss it in front of the others, however.

He gave a slight smile. “Then what can I say but that I am honored?”

The duke returned to the table with a full plate and a sense of anticipation. One might find the presence of one’s extended family a little trying at times. One could not complain, however, that life was uneventful with them around.

“If only Beckenham and Jane were here, we’d be one big happy family,” said Cecily, clasping her hands at her breast with mock soulfulness.

Xavier looked up at that. “Bucolic bliss must have kept them at their respective estates this spring.” He sipped from a tankard, his eyes glittering. “But then, Beckenham lost his taste for London, didn’t he?”

An infelicitous remark that no one cared to answer. Montford reflected that Xavier had always possessed the curious talent of halting a conversation in its tracks.

Andrew carved himself some ham and transferred it to his plate. “I doubt we’ll see dear Cousin Jane before her confinement.”

Rosamund turned her head to frown at him. “What is this? Jane’s not increasing.”

Andrew snorted. “She will be.”

A general snicker greeted this statement. Montford was aware that such ribald talk ought not to be encouraged in front of Rosamund and Cecily. He let it pass, however. He’d never believed in sheltering young ladies from every stray innuendo.

He didn’t doubt that Andrew was correct. The excessive passion between Jane and her new husband would probably bear fruit before too long. Montford wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about that.

The answer came to him:
old.
But then, the guardianship and care of six children tended to age a man, didn’t it? Regardless, he absolutely refused to act the role of grandfather to Jane and Constantine’s progeny. Damn it all, he was in his forties, not his dotage.

Montford’s correspondence awaited him at the table, as did a crisp, pressed copy of
The Morning Post
.

He leafed through the large stack of letters and cards. “Hmm. I wonder what threats I shall receive from Tregarth today.”

The earl’s demands that Rosamund marry him forthwith had become a running joke in the family. All eyes fixed upon Rosamund.

“We are out of chocolate,” she said, lifting the lid of the silver pot to peer inside. “I’ll ring for more.”

Before she could rise, Lydgate demanded, “Tregarth? What’s the fellow got to say for himself now?”

Sinking down again, Rosamund sighed. “He commands me to travel down to Cornwall so that we can be married.”

Montford observed her keenly. Rosamund’s face, however, remained a beautiful blank.

“
Commands
you?” Xavier’s sleek black brows rose. “One might suppose the man to be deranged.”

“Not deranged,” said Montford. “Rather … lacking in polish, perhaps.”

“Which is quite as bad in its own way,” murmured Xavier.

“No matter,” said Rosamund. “I have told the earl he must come to Town and court me properly or I shall have nothing to say to him.”

“Quite right, my dear.” Montford was in no hurry to lose Rosamund. Certainly, it would be to everyone’s practical advantage for her marriage to proceed, but until Rosamund had schooled her affianced husband to her liking, Montford was prepared to wait. He’d rattled deVere’s cage to see if he might move the process forward. However, he had no intention of terminating this betrothal if Rosamund was content to have the Earl of Tregarth.

It rather baffled him that the new earl had remained recalcitrant when every other red-blooded male in Rosamund’s vicinity tumbled over one another to worship at her feet. Yet Tregarth had ignored her for nearly three years.

Montford didn’t believe in love within marriage, but he did believe in loyalty and respect between spouses. Until Griffin could show Rosamund those things, Montford would not countenance their alliance. He was not unduly concerned, however. He did not doubt Rosamund’s ability to bring Griffin to heel.

The duke leafed through the various invitations and some correspondence to do with the Ministry of Marriage, which he set aside for later.

He sniffed one elegantly addressed missive, grimaced at the cloying sweetness of its scent, then handed it to Lydgate. “Do you mind telling me why your billets-doux are addressed care of my house?”

With a flashing grin, the young man took the note and tossed it down beside his plate without so much as glancing at it. “Oh, didn’t Rundle tell you? I’m moving back in.” He shrugged. “Why keep rooms in Town when I’m never there? Dashed expensive practice.”

“I see,” said Montford. “Instead, you intend to live at my expense.”

“Well, you did tell him he should economize,” said Xavier.

Montford’s lips twitched. “I have only myself to blame, in fact.”

Truthfully, he welcomed Lydgate’s company. But that was something he preferred to keep to himself. Lydgate’s conceit was part of his charm, but Montford saw no cause to inflate that quality further.

Montford turned his attention to Rosamund. “My dear, are you at liberty this afternoon?”

“I am promised to Mama,” said Rosamund. “Do you wish me to send my apologies?”

He could imagine the marchioness’s reaction. “No, no. You must not disappoint Lady Steyne.” He glanced over at Xavier, who looked more like a satyr than ever. “Do you accompany your sister to Steyne House?”

“No.” Xavier’s face—never expressive at the best of times—seemed to slam shut.

“I myself am engaged this afternoon.” Montford pursed his lips. “Someone ought to go with Rosamund.”

“I would, but I am not out yet,” said Cecily.

“Thank Heaven for small mercies,” Xavier murmured, earning a gurgle of laughter from her.

Montford looked pointedly at Lydgate. “That leaves you.”

“Eh?”
Lydgate sat up straighter, alarm written across his classically handsome features. “Now, look here, sir.…”

“Tibby will accompany me,” said Rosamund quietly, touching her napkin to her lips. “You needn’t put yourself into a stew, Andy.”

Tibby was formerly the girls’ governess, now their companion. A quiet yet strong-minded woman who was more than a match for Lady Steyne. Montford nodded. “Very well. That’s settled, then.”

Cecily’s dark eyes challenged Lydgate. “Coward.”

Between his teeth, Lydgate said, “I have another engagement.”

“
I
know why he won’t escort Rosamund to see her mama,” pursued Cecily, her black ringlets bobbing with certainty. “It’s because Lady Steyne makes love to him with her eyes.”

“Nonsense, Cecily,” snapped Andrew. “I’m practically her nephew.”

“Only through several marriages,” she countered.

Abruptly, Xavier rose, threw down his napkin, and strode to the door.

“Damn it, Cecily!” hissed Andrew as he pushed back his chair, his mouth turned down in disgust. “That’s his mama you’re talking about, and Rosamund’s, too.”

With a stricken glance at Montford, Cecily said, “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“No, that’s quite all right, dear,” said Rosamund. She gave Cecily’s hand a quick squeeze, but her gaze was fixed on the door through which her brother had left. With a forced smile, she added, “Mama is … incorrigible. I’ve always known it.”

Montford said, “Lydgate’s right. You go beyond the line of what is pleasing, Cecily.”

Cecily bit her lip. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll apologize to Xavier.”

“No,” said Lydgate. “Leave him be.”

Silence reigned, punctuated only by the clink of cutlery on china, while Montford perused the rest of his post and the others pretended to eat their breakfast. Finally, he came to a missive that made his eyebrows climb.

“Ah,” he murmured. His gaze flickered to Rosamund. “It seems you have won the first skirmish, my dear. Your betrothed is on his way to London.”

Rosamund choked on a morsel of toast and hastily grabbed Cecily’s coffee to wash it down. Her hand shook as she replaced the cup on its saucer.

He was coming for her? Apprehension seized her, mushrooming into fully blown panic.

Oh, how foolish! She’d demanded Griffin’s presence in London, hadn’t she? But she hadn’t thought he’d give in so soon—or at all! Despite her ridiculous longing for him, she was totally discomposed by his sudden capitulation.

“He’s coming?” she managed. “Here?”

“Yes.” Montford fixed his penetrating gaze upon her. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”