The Genuine Article (30 page)

"Reginald is a damned stubborn independent bastard. If hitting him would do any good, I would have done so long ago, but it only makes him worse," Charles spoke consolingly, holding the marquess's arm in a firm grip. "Lady Marian, if you would, please tell your cousin what he wants to know before someone gets hurt."

"You always did play dirty, brother mine. It's unfair to ask my betrothed to go against my wishes. It puts her in a damned awkward position, and you know it."

Reginald straightened his cravat and glared at the hooded figure still prepared to attack him once unrestrained. "I didn't realize the wretch was your brother. He doesn't exactly have the family resemblance."

The marquess relaxed warily. "Fortunately for him, he resembles our mother instead of the damned dark hot-tempered Lawrences. Excuse me, Marian, you are the exception that makes the rule. It is good to know that the blood runs to beauty in the ladies of the family. Now, what have you done with Michael?"

Thoroughly unsettled that she had still another cousin, one who was a thief and a valet, Marian glanced to Reginald for reassurance. At his nod, she admitted, "We tied him up until Reginald could get back to him."

The marquess uttered a curse that Marian had never heard before, shook off his captors' hands, and started for the ballroom door. "Tied him up! Damnation, the house will no doubt be in flames, or flying off on the wings of pigeons before I get there. Tied him up!"

He continued muttering and cursing as he threw open the doors and plowed his way through the glittering company, his black cloak flapping behind him.

The sight of this Gothic phantom striding through the room, muttering madly, sent the ladies shrieking and gentlemen backing out of his way. The marquess seemed completely unaware of the erupting chaos. Still hooded, he stalked through the room, trailing the duke and the others behind him.

As it became apparent that Reginald and Marian meant to follow in his path, Charles hastened to intervene. "I'll go with him. You two stay here. You've caused enough scandal for one evening. Someone has to stay and explain this scene to the satisfaction of the gossips."

He gestured, and they woke to the astonished expressions all around them. Lady Grace was attempting to push through the crowd to her daughter. Jessica and Darley were waiting near the steps for some signal to indicate what they should do. The rest of the guests whispered and stared at the caped phantom now striding briskly up the stairs to the exit.

Reginald gave his brother a resigned grimace. "Hurry, then. Don't let him out of your sight until you have the necklace in hand. Jasper will help you."

Charles rushed after the departing marquess, giving a word of explanation to the duke as he left.

Marian just clung to Reginald's hand and shook her head. "It's not worth it. None of this is worth it. I could wish I had never set eyes on the thing. His
brother
?" She turned incredulous eyes to her escort.

He ought to be frustrated by his inability to follow the action, but Reginald preferred staring down into her bewildered face and wishing they were on the balcony again. As people clustered around them with a dozen questions, the musicians struck up a waltz. He squeezed Marian's fingers between his own. "My dance, I believe?"

Eyes widening, Marian glanced to her family. They and Darley had nearly caught up with them. Lady Jersey was patting her on the shoulder and offering to lead her to a retiring room to recover. Darley's mother had caught Reginald's right arm and was pelting him with questions.

The rest of their acquaintances were adding their observations as to the identity of the mysterious cloaked figure, the ladies admiring his physique while the men protested his rudeness and speculated about his dangerousness.

And Reginald wanted to dance?

That sounded fine to Marian. She slid her fingers around his arm. "Lead on, MacDuff," she purposely misquoted.

"'And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!'" Reginald finished for her as he steered her through the curious crowd.

Thrilled beyond speaking that he knew the reference, Marian merely floated into her betrothed's arms when he held them out at the dance floor. Gaze fastened on his face, she scarcely cared where her feet were as he guided them skillfully into the crowd. The knowledge that she had actually found a man who knew Shakespeare held her rapt as he swirled her in circles around the room.

Eventually, however, she became aware of the heat of Reginald's hand at her back and the warmth of the gaze he was returning, and she began to blush.

"I didn't mean to stare," she murmured helplessly.

"That's quite all right, as long as you are not staring at a piece of grape between my teeth."

"I cannot imagine you ever having a piece of grape between your teeth."

His eyes danced. "Straw, then. Braying jackasses most likely keep straw between their teeth."

Marian's lips twitched with the effort to hold her smile. "You will never forgive me for that, will you?"

"Ummm, maybe in a thousand years, give or take a hundred or so. Do you think once we are married my life might return to some order again, or is it your intention for us always to live amidst chaos?"

Marian felt a nervous palpitation of the heart at the way Reginald was looking at her. She still had not quite grasped the reality of marrying this man. They scarcely knew each other. Yet she knew the pressing intimacy of his mouth against hers, and the way it made her feel, and she could think of no other man with whom she would share that sensation. Shortly, they could be sharing their meals together, living in the same house... she blushed when she came to the idea of sleeping in the same bed together. Surely not.

"I would like to know what thought led to that charming bit of color in your cheeks, but perhaps I am better off not knowing. The dance has ended. Do you think if we stand here like this long enough, they will take pity on us and begin another?"

She was still in Reginald's arms in the middle of the dance floor while all others around them broke up to return to their various places among the guests. Marian discreetly stepped from his embrace and tried not to stare at him again.

"We had best go back to my mother. We have no doubt made a sufficient spectacle of ourselves for one night."

"I have never had any particular desire to attract attention, but I find myself caring little if we do. Darley is heading this way and I mean to tell him no if he thinks to draw you away from me." Reginald held her hand firmly clasped in his.

"What has come over you?" Unable to help herself, Marian turned her gaze back up to Reginald's starkly handsome face. The determined jut of his jaw made her heart leap. The arrogant man she had first met was becoming someone she liked and understood much too well.

Reginald had the grace to return her an uncertain smile. "I don't know. I think it must be that gown. I have this strange urge to ask your mother for a bill of sale so I might take you home with me."

Marian didn't know whether to laugh or scold at this reluctant admission. Darley's arrival interfered with either.

"I have been nominated to drag the pair of you off the dance floor before you can make utter cakes of yourselves. You would be doing me a great favor if you can make some show of complying to my authoritative orders."

Reginald masked a look of irritation and, offering his arm, escorted Marian in the direction of her mother. "How are we to ever come to know each other if we cannot be left alone for even two minutes?" he asked rhetorically, for no one bothered to explain.

"Lady Grace can be quite a tartar when she gets her dander up. You're about to be raked over the coals, or I miss my guess," Darley said genially.

"Perhaps I ought to see how Charles is faring," Reginald mused as they drew closer to the lady in question.

"Craven," Marian taunted as they came to stand in front of her mother. She wished she could bottle the look that Reginald gave her in return. It contained a confused frustration that she thought never to see in him and would no doubt never see again. It was good to know there were a few things that the lofty Reginald Montague could not deal with entirely on his own.

"Mama, did you know that the marquess has a brother, and that he has been serving as Reginald's valet all this time?" A direct attack usually served to divert Lady Grace's intentions.

Surprise lifted her eyebrows, but Lady Grace still maintained a frosty look as she kept her gaze on her daughter's intended. "Then we shall have to invite him to the wedding, I suppose. You are not planning a long betrothal, I trust?"

"I don't think there will be any difficulty obtaining a special license, my lady. I would like Marian to meet the rest of my family, of course, but you may set the date at any time you wish," Reginald answered a trifle stiffly.

"Very good. I think the first of the month will suit. We would not wish anyone to think there is need for haste."

Before Lady Grace could say more, she was distracted by a cry from her younger daughter. Jessica was watching the entrance, where a small crowd of people gathered. Many of the guests had drifted off to the supper table since the musicians had retired, but a few stragglers had found some new entertainment.

"He had a dove, Mama. It flew away. Did you see it?" Delighted by the show, Jessica was already drifting in the direction of this new distraction.

Marian looked to see what her sister saw, but she could only discern a small crowd of people laughing. Taller than she and better able to see above heads, Reginald was frowning at whatever spectacle was there. She tugged on his hand. "What is it?"

Offering an arm to Lady Grace while Darley hurried after Jessica, Reginald led them toward the stairs and the lingering company. Perhaps the duke had arranged some form of entertainment for the supper break. Marian was in no hurry to join the crowd at the banqueting tables. She hurried to keep up with Reginald.

His frown deepened as they drew closer, and he made no apologies as he pushed his way through the onlookers. Marian clung to his arm rather than be left behind. She was beginning to think perhaps this wasn't some innocent entertainment after all, judging by Reginald's scowl. She scanned the crowd for the source of their interest.

A man in black beaver hat and tails similar to those of all the male guests stood at ease near a pillar pulling a string of colorful scarves from his coat pocket. At Marian's approach, he smiled broadly, swept off his hat, and bowed low. When he stood upright again, his hand held a bouquet of flowers he held out to her.

Astonished, Marian looked up to see his face before accepting the offering. His smile widened with her eyes.

Michael O'Toole, the valet. Her cousin.

Chapter 25

Marian clutched the magical bouquet of flowers and laid a restraining hand on Reginald's arm. She didn't know how Mr. O'Toole had escaped the bonds holding him. There hadn't been time for the marquess and Charles to free him.

But he was her cousin, and he hadn't run away when given the opportunity. The marquess had said Michael had his own sense of justice, and something told her that this particular cousin could not be judged by ordinary standards. She waited to see what he would do next.

Casually elegant in his formal clothes, O'Toole—as she knew him—leaned against the pillar, put his hand in a pocket suspiciously large for evening wear, and produced a second bouquet of flowers. He handed them gently to Jessica instead of flourishing them, as if aware that any extravagant gestures would frighten her. Jessica cooed in genuine delight and generously shared the gift with the ladies around her.

While part of the crowd was distracted with Jessica and her prize, O'Toole straightened, opened his coat as if to look for something inside, and a flock of doves suddenly took wing, sending the majority of the onlookers stepping backward and out of the way. Under cover of this commotion, O'Toole bowed to Lady Grace, reached into her elaborately coiffed hair, and came away with a tiny enameled box which he held out for her.

Lady Grace released Reginald's arm to accept the gift wonderingly, patting her hair as if to ascertain there were no further surprises to be found there. Pleased with the box itself, she admired it rather than look for the opening. O'Toole solved the problem for her, snapping his fingers with a quick wave that caused the box to pop open.