The Training of a Marquess (26 page)

“It isn’t polite to stare, Kensington,” Lady Anne said.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and he scowled at her. Yes, indeed, whatever was going on in Claire’s mind, his little mother was in on it up to her glittering eyeballs.

“Earlier, I asked Smithfield if I was invisible. He assures me I am not, at least to him. Perhaps I’m only invisible to certain people. Can you see me, Claire?”

She cocked her head. “I see you perfectly well, my lord.”

My lord? “Stop lording me.”

Her lips twitched before she bit down to keep from smiling. Well then, she now owed him two kisses. Rest assured, he would collect what was due him, but he puzzled over the almost smile. Was she playing some kind of game and if so, what and why?

“I see you, Father,” Harry declared.

“I can, too,” Bensey said.

He arched a brow at his mother, the only one left to assure him he was visible.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Kensington, I also see you.” She stood. “Claire and I will leave you gentlemen to your port and lemonade. We’ll be in the drawing room when you’re ready to join us.”

They left the room and a few seconds later he could swear he heard his mother giggle. He turned to the twins. “Do either of you know what’s going on between those two?”

“No, Father,” they answered.

“May I go upstairs and get Lady Claire’s picture?” Bensey asked.

“Yes. Harry and I will wait for you here so we can go to the drawing room together.”

Chase put his mind to Claire’s strange behavior. She was clearly ignoring him, but why?

****

Claire managed to hold in her laughter until they reached the privacy of the drawing room. She and Lady Anne fell onto the sofa before giving into the mirth bubbling inside them.

Lady Anne gasped for breath. “He asked Smithfield if he was invisible. Can’t you just see it?”

Claire wiped her eyes. “Poor man. I feel guilty doing this to him.”

“Oh, dear heart, you must continue with your plan. If he’s this out of sorts after only one day, just imagine after a week of it. You’ll have him following you around like a lost puppy, just as I predicted.”

“I don’t want him tamed, you know. I like his arrogance and self-confidence. I love him just the way he is.”

Lady Anne cradled her tiny hand on Claire’s cheek. “I know, my dear, and I’m pleased to hear it.”

Claire closed her eyes. She leaned her face into Lady Anne’s palm, pretending for a moment it was her mother. Was there ever a time when her mother showed any sign of affection in her touch?

She lifted her face away from the comforting warmth of Lady Anne’s palm. “I just want him to forget his foolish plan to find me a husband.”

Footsteps approached in the hallway and they set about assembling serious expressions on their faces. The twins entered ahead of Chase. Bensey held a rolled canvas in his hand. As seemed to be his habit, Chase took the chair closest to her. She didn’t look at him, but sensed his attention on her. Her skin prickled in response. Would he always have this effect on her?

The boys squeezed onto the sofa, Harry on the other side of Lady Anne and Bensey next to Claire. Lady Anne wrapped her arm around Harry, pulling him against her side. Claire longed to do the same with Bensey.

“There now, I have my grandson right where I want him,” Lady Anne said. “Did you talk to your horse today, and of more interest, did he talk back to you? If he did, I must know what he said. Was it something like, ‘Good morning, Harry, did you bring me an apple?’ Ever he speaks to me, I’ll just swoon right where I stand, but I’m sure you’re made of sterner stock than me. Well, don’t keep me in suspense, dear boy, what did Victory say?”

Harry laughed. “He said you are a funny grandmamma, and that he loves you ever so much.”

“He said all that, did he? What a wonderful horse he is. You must tell him that I love him ever so much, also.” She peered past Claire. “And you, sweet Bensey, what did you do today?”

Bensey twisted the canvas he held, darted a shy glance at her and then at his father. Chase gave a slight nod, and Bensey handed her the rolled up paper. “I drew this for you, Lady Claire. Father said it may make you cry happy tears, but I won’t mind.”

She took the canvas from Bensey and unrolled it. Of all the things she might have expected, it was never this. “Andrew,” she whispered. Oh, God. Her precious baby boy forever recorded on paper.

How had Bensey known what Andrew looked like? She’d been so afraid she would forget him, but now, she never would. She traced his face with her finger and the tears came, blurring her son’s features.

“Are they happy tears, Lady Claire?” Bensey asked.

She handed the portrait to Lady Anne, and then gave him a fierce hug. “Yes, they are the happiest tears ever.”

At first, he was stiff in her arms. Then he tentatively leaned into her and patted her back with his beautifully talented hand. Claire let him go, not wanting to overwhelm him with her touch.

“Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me. How could you possibly have known what he looked like?”

“Father said you were afraid you would forget. He took me to see a baby this morning so I would know how to draw one.” His eyes shifted to the painting over the fireplace. “If I didn’t get him right, I can try again.”

Claire took the portrait from Lady Anne and studied her son’s face. “No, you got him perfectly right. Thank you. Thank you so very much.” She looked at Chase. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

His lips curved in a half smile and he shrugged. She wanted to crawl onto his lap with her picture and have him wrap his arms around her while she cried for her lost son. As if he knew she needed to be alone, he asked Lady Anne if she would mind seeing the twins to their room.

Lady Anne leaned over and kissed her cheek, then stood. “Come along, you two. How would you like me to tell you a bedtime story?”

“Pray don’t tell them the one about the Highlander,” Chase said.

“Trust me, son, I learned my lesson on that one.” She left with the boys, pulling the door closed behind her.

The room suddenly seemed too quiet. Claire didn’t know what to say to him. It had been such a strange day, first wondering where he had taken off to this morning, and then by ignoring him as much as possible. Now the beautiful drawing of her son.

“I miss him so much,” she said as the tears came.

Without saying a word, Chase moved next to her and pulled her onto his lap. He gently took the canvas from her hands, setting it on the table. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her while she cried.

He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her tears. His gentleness touched her deeply and her tears turned to body racking sobs. He held her until she cried herself out. When she finally quieted, he handed her his handkerchief.

She dried her eyes and wiped her nose. “I suppose you prefer I keep it,” she said with a trembling laugh. Her head was pressed against his chest and she couldn’t see his face, but she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yes, please, although Anders is going to begin to think all my handkerchiefs have grown little feet and are walking off to parts unknown.”

“Thank you. I know the portrait was your idea and you can’t imagine what it means to me.”

“I think I do.” Chase had spent the past year wondering about his child. Had it been a boy or a girl? Would it have favored him or Teresa?

“Mrs. Fisherman would be appalled at your mother’s idea of a chaperone’s duties,” she said.

He leaned his head to the side so he could see if there were tears still in her eyes. Her small smile pleased him. “What made you think of that?”

“I was just thinking that Lady Anne left us alone here, behind closed doors.”

“So she did. Mama has always marched to her own music. Society has never been sure what to make of her.”

“I like her tremendously.”

“As do I.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Claire, why are you ignoring me?”

Her cheeks flushed, and there it was, another kiss she owed him.

“That’s three,” he said.

Her thumbs made circles around each other. “Three what?”

“You were biting your bottom lip. That is the third time today so three kisses you owe me. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” He lowered his mouth to hers.

All day, he had ached to touch her. Every time he’d caught her violet scent, every single damned time she’d brushed past him as if he wasn’t there, he’d hungered for her—had bloody burned for her. He’d make sure she knew he existed.

Chase slipped his arm around her waist so she couldn’t escape and deepened the kiss. Her hand stole up to the back of his neck, her lips parted and he slid his tongue into the sweetest mouth he had ever had the privilege of tasting. Once he was certain she wouldn’t try to bolt, he trailed his hand down to her bottom and pulled her tighter against him. He rested his other hand against a breast, but couldn’t feel her because of the bloody corset. He grunted his displeasure.

She pushed away. “No,” she said, surprising him.

Her eyes, dark with desire, said she didn’t mean it. “Yes.” He captured her lips again.

Her resistance melted and she pressed against him, finding his mouth again. He had decided not to bed her again until he asked her to marry him and she said yes. But he was angry with her for ignoring him, and his male pride overpowered his good intentions.

Chase broke the kiss, found her neck and trailed kisses over her skin, then took her earlobe between his teeth. His mouth curved in a satisfied smile when she shuddered. He moved his lips to her ear and whispered the question she still hadn’t answered.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

She stilled, then pushed herself off his lap and backed up to the corner of the sofa. With a little shake of her head, she stood and picked up Andrew’s portrait.

“I’ll tell you, but not tonight,” she said and turned to leave.

“Claire.”

“Yes?”

“You still owe me one more kiss.”

A mysterious smile appeared on her face. “Good night, Chase.”

He waited until she reached the door. “And, Claire.”

She peered at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“It would probably be a good idea to lock your door.”

Her only response was another secretive smile before she left. He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

What the bloody hell just happened?

****

Returning to Hillcrest Abbey after his visit with Bobby and his father, Chase was pleased with how well it had gone. He had Mischief at an easy lope, enjoying the crisp spring day. The closer it came to leave for town, the more tempted he was to call the whole thing off and stay at Hillcrest. If he married Claire and never took her to London, he wouldn’t have to worry about losing her to another man.

“I can’t hide her away forever,” he told Mischief.

Mischief’s ears flicked back. It was one of the things he liked about his horse. Mischief was always interested in what he had to say and never ignored him like certain other people.

“So, I’m committed to my plan.”

Mischief snorted.

“You disagree then? That’s easy for you to say, it’s not your heart at risk.” He’d always known how to relate to women, had understood what each wanted from him. Even with Teresa, he had known she was fragile—that it was his responsibility to take care of her, to protect her.

Then along came Claire and he was suddenly adrift in a big ocean with no rescue in sight. It appeared he’d forgotten everything he ever knew about women, no wiser than a boy just out of leading strings experiencing his first infatuation. It was frustrating. It was exhilarating. Chase hadn’t felt so alive in a very long time.

As Hillcrest came into view, he nudged Mischief into a gallop, anxious to see Claire and tell her about his visit with Bobby. Having missed luncheon, when he entered the abbey, he asked Smithfield to have the cook send something light to his room. In his chamber, he found Anders busy folding neckcloths.

“Good, you’re here. I want to clean up a bit and change my shirt.”

He didn’t want to see Claire while smelling like horse. Although to her, horse was probably the sweetest of scents. After eating and freshening up, he went looking for her.

The blasted woman was nowhere to be found. No one had seen her recently and she wasn’t in any room of the house. Finally, a footman coming in from outside said he had seen her walking up the path to the family graveyard. Chase had not been there, so after getting directions, he set out to find her.

The path disappeared into a stand of trees, but was well marked and easy to follow. The quietness of the woods as he followed the shaded trail was peaceful. In a few minutes, he came out of the trees into a clearing. Chase stilled and took in the sight before him.

Generations of Derebournes were buried here, some of the headstones hundreds of years old. He would come back alone one day and walk among the dead, reading their names, the dates and inscriptions. But today, he was here for Claire.

She sat on a stone bench with her back to him. She was speaking, but too softly for him to hear the words. With his gaze locked on her, he walked toward her. Her head cocked slightly at his approach, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

The portrait of Andrew was open on her lap, and he was glad he had thought to have Bensey paint it. She moved over, giving him room to join her on the bench.

Taking a seat next to her, he looked at Andrew’s headstone. Andrew Charles Landon Tremaine, Viscount Waverly. Too many names, it seemed, for a two-week-old boy. Chase read the inscription.
My Beloved Baby, Now in the Arms of the Angels

Sadness permeated from her. He took her hand and clasped it in his, wanting to give her comfort. But what comfort was there for a parent who had lost a child?

“I was telling Andrew about Harry and Bensey.” A tear fell on the picture, and she brushed it off. “I need to have this framed before I damage it by too much handling. Do you think Bensey would draw a smaller one I could carry on my person?”

“I’m sure he would. Why don’t you ask him to paint a miniature that you can put on a chain and wear around your neck or carry in your reticule?”