The Marriage List (9 page)

Iona blinked up at him and swayed, a reaction May found only too interesting.

“Ladies, please. I have not even had the opportunity to greet our long-suffering hosts.”

In the hushed moment he’d created, Lord Nathan reverently greeted Aunt Winnie, sketching a bow suitable for a queen. Winnie appeared quite taken by Lord Nathan’s cheery smile and square, masculine features. Iona sighed, making May wonder whether her friend could be even more charmed by his flowery praises of Winnie than Winnie herself.

“I hope we won’t be forced to linger long,” the only too perfect Lillian said not nearly loud enough for anyone but May to hear. Lillian and May had never rubbed along well. From their first meeting Lillian had made it abundantly clear how she, like most of society, disapproved of May’s pedigree. Lillian did have the training and manners of a lady, though. She paid her warmest respects to Aunt Winnie.

The chit even went as far as to sit beside Winnie and begin a long discourse on how she had convinced her father to purchase the extravagant bonnet sitting askew on the top of her head. Three bright pink ostrich feathers bobbed as she prattled on about how she couldn’t do without the feathered bonnet now that she was being actively courted.

“You see,” Lillian said in that mild voice of hers, making her sound ever so harmless, “the Viscount Evers has set his cap for me.”

A sharp prick of jealousy turned in May’s chest as she felt drawn to listen.

“Mamma says I am well suited to be a wife for a man of his social standing. Just think of the balls and teas I will host in his London townhouse. Mamma says I will get along well and become the rage of London. Ladies of the highest rank will be panting for an invitation. But do not fear. I will of course invite you, Lady Winifred, to every single event. You may bring your silly companion along as well.”

“That is very kind of you, dear,” Winnie said coolly while Lord Nathan choked on a short fit of laughter.

He winked at Iona, who immediately returned the gesture.

Such curious behavior. Something devious was definitely in the works between the two. May prayed she would soon have the free time to be included in whatever mischief they were plotting. Perhaps they were planning to teach Lady Lillian a lesson in humility.

Curse the sky
, May scolded herself. She had no right to wish ill on Lady Lillian. The viscount deserved all that was beautiful and perfect, including Lillian.

Jealously was an emotion better suited for a lady with the status and social acceptance to compete with such lovely perfection. May had nothing to offer the viscount besides a fouled family name and an empty purse.

Besides, she didn’t have the time or energy to waste on impossible dreams. Everything in her life was so topsy-turvy at the moment, she doubted she’d have time to read the latest gothic novel, much less try and indulge in a little mischief with her best friend.

Still, her unruly curiosity was again peaked when Lord Nathan and Iona slyly maneuvered themselves toward the parlor door and chatted privately while May and Aunt Winnie listened politely as Lillian prattled on and on about her plans for Lord Evers’ future.

“We will naturally live in London most of the year. But we will wish to follow The Prinny to Brighton in the summer, don’t you agree? Bath has its benefits—I have never seen Mamma’s stomach so calm—but the social life can be so tiresome with the lower classes putting on airs just because they have a few shillings to spend. I hear Brighton is not at all the same.”

Winnie nodded and smiled fondly at the young woman, patting her wrist occasionally. A trembling hand rose to her lips as she stifled a yawn. May guessed her aunt had long stopped listening and was fast growing exhausted.

“Shall I ring for tea?” May asked when Lillian paused for breath. Sending for tea was the proper thing to do, but that was not why May had suggested it. Lillian would never willingly come visiting here. Iona must have veered them away from their true destination to inquire after May and Aunt Winnie’s health. The fastest way to get them moving again—not that May cared to rush anyone but Lillian away—was to offer to start the process of heating tea.

Lillian reacted exactly as May had predicted. She leapt up from the chair as if fire had struck her. “Tea? Oh, no. We couldn’t. We really couldn’t. I must apologize, but Lord Nathan is escorting me to call on Lord Evers, you see. All above board, of course, with such a large crowd of us and with Lord Evers’ mother in residence.”

My, Lillian’s tongue ran unfettered. May nodded, her feigned smile beginning to pain her.

“Evers has purchased a new horse. A young filly,” Wynter calmly explained on the heels of Lillian’s excuse to leave. “His own prized stallion served as stud. You can understand how he is naturally excited about the horse’s arrival today and is intent on showing off his newest acquisition to Lady Lillian.”

“Oh, yes.” Lillian’s cheeks glowed. “He is having the filly delivered here, to Bath, instead of to his stables in Northhamptonshire, at a great cost just to view her. We really must be going. I would hate to be late.”

“You are welcome to join us, Miss Sheffers. Evers does enjoy showing off his ability to pick the finest horseflesh.” Wynter shared a merry look with Iona.

Despite her suspicions about her best friend’s motives, May’s heart jumped at the temptation to accept. Silly, really, to want to spend time with a man who was destined to wound her heart. She’d be wise to keep her thoughts focused on the rational, the logical.

That is precisely what Mary Wollstonecraft would have done.

“Thank you for the kind invitation, but I must refuse.” May took a step toward Aunt Winnie as if searching for support in that quarter. “I am ever so busy, you see. And my aunt is not at all feeling up to snuff. I should worry something terrible if I were to leave her.”

“But May, you simply must come.” Iona tugged on her arm. “I will be unforgivably sore with you if you refuse.”

May cast a silent plea in Aunt Winnie’s direction. The older woman yawned into her hand and mumbled something about wanting to nap all day.

Lord Nathan even joined in the persuasions with a tempting offer to treat all the women to chocolates on the way.

Only the willowy Lady Lillian supported May’s reasonable decision. “La, let her stay, Iona. It is her occupation to care for Lady Winifred, is it not? We should not pretend she is something other than what she is.”

“And what is that?” Iona was quick to inquire, though there had been no need. May had recognized early on how most society ladies treated her no differently than a servant.

Aunt Winnie rose from her chair and quieted the room with a single clap of her hands. “May, you spend too much time with ladies and gentlemen far older than yourself. It is unhealthy. A young gel needs the companionship of fellow youngsters. You will go.”

Not even Lady Lillian dared object to such a royally presented command. She turned up her nose before latching onto Lord Nathan’s arm again.

“You weren’t teasing, my lord, were you?” she cooed after saying her farewells to Aunt Winnie. “You will treat us to chocolates?”

Lord Nathan murmured some placating words and let himself be led from the room.

May kissed her aunt on the cheek and promised not to stay away long while Iona hurried May out of the parlor in pursuit of Lord Nathan and Lillian.

Since the decision had been taken out of her hands, and it would have been rude to disagree with her aunt, May decided to enjoy the afternoon outing . . . even if it meant risking her untested heart.

Chapter 9

Radford eyed the cane sitting on his tiger maple desk in the study and brooded while waiting for Bannor to arrive. He had so many reasons to feel anxious. His stable manager was due to arrive within the hour so Radford could see firsthand the young filly he’d purchased from the Duke of Grafton, for one thing. The filly would only stay in Bath for a few days before the stable manager returned home to his stables in Northhamptonshire.

Ever since the accident, Radford had avoided his horses. He even left the sole care of the pair of playful and perfectly matched grays he used for his carriage to the able hands of the young groom he’d brought with him to Bath. So today his eagerness to finally meet this new horse, bred from one of his own stallions, was tinged with bittersweet anticipation. How would it feel to see her and know he would never be the one to ride her? He would never again learn a horse’s personality firsthand in the vast fields and woods of his estate.

Such concerns were reason enough to brood. Why then did he insist on blaming the stubborn Miss Sheffers for the bulk of his nerves?

On the way down Beechen Cliff, she had insisted he use her as a prop. Her, a dainty woman, no less! He’d been humiliated. Mortified. Never should a man be so betrayed by his body that he’d be compelled to depend on a woman.

Ah . . . but her assistance had lessened the sharp pains worrying his calf and foot. That couldn’t possibly be the reason he’d spent the past fifteen minutes studying his cane, could it?

“You wouldn’t push a horse with a lame leg,” he grumbled to himself. A horse needed time and a goodly amount of pampering to heal. He spared no expense to coddle his horses to keep them healthy. So if he knew what it took to heal an injury, why should a woman’s scolding be necessary?

That stubborn and utterly forgettable elf-like creature had called him foolish. She’d gone beyond that and proved his own foolishness by insisting he lean on her arm.

He was no horse, but he was flesh and blood just the same. May was right. If he wanted to heal he’d need to take the expense and pamper himself for a while.

Damnation! He must be a fool . . . for he wanted nothing more than to send for her and lavish poetic sentiments of gratitude on her dainty head. Worse, he dearly wished to have her standing by his side to feed him her courage when he went out to see this new horse of his.

And to kiss her . . . oh yes, kiss her. He had been greatly tempted to cover her lips with his when she dared call him a fool. The temptation hadn’t diminished. He still wanted to kiss her and, Lord help him, perhaps do a little more.

“My lord?” Bannor stood in the doorway, his expression a gaping depiction of bald embarrassment. “I had knocked,” he quietly explained.

Radford realized suddenly that he’d picked up his accursed cane and had been beating it against the floor while silently berating himself. He’d no right for feeling those damnable soft feelings for an ordinary bird like Miss Sheffers. She was not at all suitable for marriage to him—the blasted list had already proved that. His time would be better spent contemplating how best to please his Lady Lillian or reviewing business matters with his man-of-affairs.

With a quick toss, the cane clattered to the floor. He cleared his throat. “Before we begin going over the books,” he said, “I have some matter of business to ask you about.”

Bannor nodded as if seeing his employer in a royal rage were a common occurrence. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and took his regular seat opposite Radford’s desk. His nimble fingers plucked a quill pen from its stand and blotted it, very precisely.

Bannor did everything with precision. Radford’s father wouldn’t have hired this man to serve as his estate’s man-of-affairs if he had been anything but the model of perfection.

“What is this matter of business, my lord?” he asked once he finished his lengthy ritual of setting up his papers at the desk.

“That young lady renting number twelve Sydney Place.” Radford kept his tone purposefully neutral.

“Number 12?” Bannor fiddled with his papers. “Ah, yes, Miss Margaret Sheffers. Although the back rent has been paid, there is no sign that she or her elderly aunt will be able to produce any future payments. They should be out by the end of the month.”

“Yes.” Radford negligently waved his hand. “About that. Don’t evict them. If they wish to leave on their own accord, we naturally cannot stop them. But I will not have you push them out.”

Bannor dropped his pen. Ink splattered on his ledger. “But, my lord. We are not a
charity
.”

“Nor will this be a regular practice. Tell me, what do you know about the lady?” Although he had promised her he wouldn’t pry into her affairs, Radford could not curb a nagging feeling that he was duty-bound as a gentleman to take some action. She was considering marriage to an old codger, for Heaven’s sake. Miss Sheffers had to be at the end of her rope.

“I spoke with her banker. He told me her account had been seized by the courts. I do not know the reason.”

“And her family? I suppose she is related to the Earl of Redfield?”

“That is her uncle,” Bannor supplied, though Radford already knew as much. “Her mother, I believe, was the earl’s youngest sibling. Miss Sheffers cares for her aunt, who is the earl’s eldest sibling. I sense a strained relationship between the earl and his sister, however. I imagine that is one reason why the pair of hens were allowed to flounder for so long.”

“Very good.” This told Radford nothing new. “Find out whatever you can about the two women as soon as possible. I want deep, dark secrets if there are any to be had. Understood?”

Bannor swallowed hard and adjusted his glasses. “You-you aren’t planning to coerce the young lady in some disgraceful manner, are you?” he whispered the question.

“On the contrary, Bannor. By gathering this information I hope to keep someone else from doing just that.”

Bannor breathed a long sigh of relief.

“And Bannor? That was an impertinent question. In the future, be advised I will not tolerate such questions against my character. If it happens again, you may find yourself needing to search for employment elsewhere.”

Bannor nodded furiously and colored a bright crimson. “You must forgive me, my lord. I meant no insult. Truly, I didn’t.”

“Shall we review the books?” Radford said, hoping to move past the awkward moment as soon as possible. He had a day crammed with awkward moments to look forward to and no desire to dwell on any of them.

* * * * *

Try as she might, May could not keep her stomach from fluttering nervously as the viscount’s butler, the long-faced Jeffers, slowly opened the heavy door. He gave a start when he found himself staring down upon her and the smiling Lady Iona.

Lord Nathan grunted at the shocked pause, not taking notice of either the speechless Jeffers or the mortified May. He brushed past the butler and led the group into the parlor. With shocking brashness he announced himself and the ladies to the frail-looking woman lounging on a velvet sofa.

The woman sat up slightly and, smiling all the while, scolded Lord Nathan for his unconventional behavior. Her hand rose in the air for him to kiss. She was dressed in layers of the most diaphanous fabrics and her silky brown hair was peppered with gray.