A Kiss for Lady Mary (11 page)

Kit had been in the middle of taking a sip of sherry when she asked. He swallowed. “We were in Eton together. Afterward he went on to Cambridge, and I attended Oxford.”

“Yes, he was always more interested in the sciences. In some ways he is very like Uncle Hector.” She paused, still attempting to make sense of the change in her uncle. “Until my father died, and Uncle began insisting I wed his son.”

Kit gazed at her steadily as if he too knew something was wrong. “Tell me more about your uncle.”

The line creasing Lady Mary’s forehead deepened, and Kit wanted nothing more than to smooth it. Truth be told, he’d just as soon take her in his arms and kiss her witless.

“He was always very kind, but absent-minded. His primary love is for rocks, the large ones that one finds in circles. He’s a well-known petrologist, but he is also extremely good with numbers and investing. Papa told Barham that our fortune would not be nearly so large if it weren’t for Uncle Hector. I do not understand what has changed him so.”

Kit wondered if his father knew Hector Tolliver; at least having the uncle’s name and interests would aid in finding the man. “It does sound as if something is not right. I understand Barham has not spoken to him?”

She shook her head. “Uncle Hector is never available. All communication is through letters. Although I’m quite sure he is the one egging Gawain on. Who else could it be? My cousin didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to me until after Papa died.”

That’s the other thing Kit must do: find this Gawain and put an end to his persecution of Mary. “If you will tell me what your cousin looks like, I shall ensure he can no longer bother you.”

She stared at Kit for several moments. “How can
you
stop him? No one else has been able to.”

“Believe me, I have my ways.” He tried but failed to keep his tone light.

Lady Eunice and Doust entered the drawing room just ahead of Simons. She had the look of a well-kissed woman, if Kit knew anything about it, and he did. The urge to pull Mary into his arms, taste her lips, and kiss them until they were plump surged through him again. How long would he have to wait before Mary had the same appearance?

During dinner it appeared as if they were all focused on keeping the conversation light. Doust was encouraged by the ladies to tell them about Ireland and the horses.

“Mr. Featherton had already guessed who you are.” Mary smiled shyly. “I think it was clever of him.”

“Indeed it was.” Doust saluted Kit. “It has been a very long time since anyone put two and two together.”

Kit smiled and accepted the compliments. He was more interested in knowing if Mary’s accolade meant that she was softening to him. He hoped so. They could not go the way they had been much longer. To-morrow, on the picnic, he’d make his first concerted effort to claim her affections and her hand.

T
he next morning, wanting to ensure all was perfect for his outing with Mary, Kit awoke as the sun crested the tree tops. Not a half hour later, he strode to the stables on the other side of a macadam courtyard. Even here he could see Mary’s handiwork. The semi-hard finished surface had not been there previously. The last time he was at Rose Hill, it was mostly dirt and mud. Roses that must have been replanted from another location, scrambled up the wall, creating the impression the stables were part and parcel of the house. The roof and outside of the building were in pristine condition. A low “moo” drew his attention to the other end of the long structure that now stretched to a stone barrier, incorporating what had once been separate smaller stables. All in all it was a vast improvement, and she’d only been here a few months.

Damn, the woman was a wonder. Exactly the sort of wife he needed. He must take care not to step over the line and frighten her away. He would not make the same mistakes some of his friends had.

Last evening, he had found himself touching her whenever possible. Kit would have to keep his growing attraction for her under control. To do otherwise would dishonor her. Marriage before lust.

All he’d have to do is keep repeating that mantra.

Dent called a greeting. “Looky what I found. Two of the most beautiful steppers I ever seen.”

Kit ran his hand over one of the matched, dark-bay geldings harnessed to his carriage. “What handsome gentlemen. They must be out of Lord Marnly’s stables in Ireland.”

“Ain’t no doubting it. Her ladyship’s groom told me they got them from the rector.” Dent scratched his head. “Found two good hacks as well. Someone other than the rector has a good eye for horseflesh. Don’t suppose you got a hankering to add to the stables? We got plenty of empty stalls.” Dent gestured with his chin in the direction of the stone wall. “Dairy and buttery’s down that way, and the coach house is now the first building ye come to from the drive.”

The whole arrangement was pleasing to the eye as well as sensible. “I just may discuss additional cattle with the rector, but for the time being, I should inspect the estate. Did you get the hamper from the cook?”

He pointed under the curricle’s seat. “Right there. I was just gettin’ ready to bring it around.”

“I’ll go back in the house and fetch her ladyship.”

“Ah, sir?”

Kit turned to his groom. “Yes?”

“It would mean a lot if you kept on her ladyship’s good side. Mrs. Gregson, the cook, keeps a fine table, but our fortunes are tied to yours.”

Wonderful. All Kit needed was more pressure. After having met the woman, he could see her attempting to get back at him through his servants. “I’ll do my best. By the way, make some inquiries about a Mr. Gawain Tolliver. He is a sort of relation to Lady Mary. I want to ensure he’s not been around.”

“And if he has?”

“We’ll find another place for him to be.” Kit would not tolerate the scoundrel’s harassment of Mary. How no one else could get rid of the man was beyond him. Barham might not want to be ruthless with Tolliver, but Kit had no such compunctions.

He made his way to the front of the house where a neat trellis of yellow roses was just coming into bloom. Mary stood in the doorway speaking with Simons. “Good morning, my lady.”

Smiling, she gracefully descended the steps and held out her hand. “Good morning to you, sir.”

Kit thought he saw the butler’s lips tilt up the tiniest bit but couldn’t be sure. No matter, soon he and Mary would be wed, and the staff would have no cause to worry about her. Simons entered the hall, leaving Kit alone with her. “Allow me to help you into the carriage.”

She started to place her foot on the step when he suddenly gave in to the need to lift her into the carriage, depositing her gently on the seat.

Her eyes widened. “Goodness. No one has ever done that before.”

He had never done that before either, and in future he’d ensure no other man ever had the opportunity. “I hope you don’t mind my groom appropriating your horses. Would you like to drive?”

Mary settled her skirts. “Thank you for asking, but maybe later.”

“Ah, you are going to assess my skill. I do not suppose you’d be impressed if I told you I am a member of the Four Horse Club?”

“Are you really?” she asked in an amazed tone. “Barham has wanted to be a member for years. Unfortunately he’s a bit ham-handed. My father was a member, though.”

“Yes.” Kit coughed. Should he tell her he’d been one of those blackballing poor Barham? “I am aware of your brother’s attempts.”

“Oh no!” Mary’s light laughter filled his soul. “I know it’s terrible, but even his wife won’t allow him to drive her. He sulked for days when she agreed to allow me to tool her around in my phaeton.”

Kit threaded the ribbons through his fingers. “In that case, I definitely wish to see your skill.”

As they drove around the estate, she introduced him to his tenants. Everyone, it seemed, knew he was here and took their cues from her. Once they saw she was friendly toward him, their skepticism turned to acceptance. From the way all and sundry were acting, he could not imagine either the Rose Hill servants or his dependents believing he and Mary were not husband and wife. If he didn’t soon win her agreement to wed him, there would be the devil to pay.

Toward midday, he directed the carriage to a wooded area by the river. After unhitching the pair, he led them to a shaded spot where the horses could drink and munch on the spring grass.

He took out the hamper and blanket and carried them to a flat area near the water. Mary helped him spread the blanket out on the ground and soon the food was unpacked. Cook had given them enough for days: Cheeses, bread, hothouse grapes, cold beef, and chicken made up the meal.

“This is my favorite spot on Rose Hill.” Mary gave a small sigh as she settled elegantly on the blanket.

He reclined on the other side of the dishes, finally able to relax a bit. It appeared his plan to woo her was working. “That is what I was given to understand.”

A light pink colored her face. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” He accepted a piece of cold chicken from her and bit into it. “This is excellent.”

Her blush deepened. “Do you like it? It’s an old receipt I found. The chicken is soaked in herbs over night.”

“I have never had chicken that was so delicious.” He didn’t know any other woman, not even his mother or grandmother, who knew as much about cooking as Mary appeared to.

As she nibbled on a piece of local cheese, Kit couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to her lips. A sudden and almost overpowering urge to push her down to the ground and kiss her senseless coursed through him.

Which was exactly what he should not, could not do.

He was not a barbarian. Thus far he’d successfully ignored the fact that Mary slept mere feet away from him, that he could hear her sing when she was in the bathtub and naked. He couldn’t ruin everything now. Mary may have to wed him, but he would court her properly.

Her small, even teeth bit into a piece of bread, and the tip of her tongue licked a crumb from the corner of her lips. His heartbeat quickened, and Kit stifled a groan. When had eating become so erotic?

Reaching over, he grabbed the jug of wine and removed the cork. “Would you like some?”

She sat up straighter, cleaning her fingers with a serviette. “Yes, thank you.”

Rather than actual glasses, the cook had packed old-fashioned pottery wine cups. He filled one for Mary, bending sideways to place it next to her. At the same time she moved to take it. Their fingers brushed and their lips were only inches apart. She stilled, her eyelashes fluttering down.

Kit’s heart thudded as he backed up slowly, attempting to get his baser instincts under control. No matter how much he wanted her, there would be no sampling the wares. Everyone around her was trying to manage her life. He must allow her to make her own decisions . . . to a point.

Mary waited and waited as time seemed to stand still. Kit was so close. She’d been sure he was going to kiss her. Then he moved away. She could have screamed with frustration. This was so unfair! The first time she wanted to be kissed, and the blasted man didn’t even try. How was she to determine if she could love him if they didn’t kiss?

Stamping down her annoyance, she took a sip of chilled white wine. She would be reasonable. They’d only known each other a few days. Perhaps he thought it was too soon, yet Grandmamma had said men always took what was offered and sometimes what wasn’t. Mary remembered catching Barham kissing his wife during the house party at which they had met. They hadn’t thought it was too soon.

Maybe Kit had not wanted to kiss her. Perhaps he was willing to wed her only to stop a scandal. He could go jump in the river if he thought that.

Mary opened her mouth to ask, then shut it again. She would wait a while longer, but if he didn’t do something by next week, she’d call this courtship off. There was no point in being wooed by a gentleman who didn’t truly want her.

She tried not to frown as he tossed off his cup of wine and immediately poured another. She hoped he did not always drink so quickly. She’d never heard of him being a drunkard, but some hid it well.

Perhaps it was something else. “Kit, is anything wrong?”

“No.” He set his cup down. “I was merely distracted by the view.”

Trees lined the area in which they sat, framing the vista across the narrow river. On the opposite bank was a meadow dotted with sheep, across the fields to the hazy blue hills beyond. “It is beautiful.”

And she would miss it if she had to leave. Yet now was not the time to grow maudlin. Her friends were coming, and anything could happen in a week. She tucked into her meal. There was no point in hurting Cook’s feelings. Kit was eating as well, and silence fell, but it was not uncomfortable.

Once she’d finished, Mary wiped the corners of her mouth with a serviette and searched for conversation. “Have you seen Phoebe’s little boy, Arthur?”

“Yes. I visited them before I left to travel here. He is the image of Marcus, but with Phoebe’s eyes.”

That told Mary nothing as she hadn’t yet met Marcus. “He must be a handsome little boy.”

Kit grinned. “The ladies think so.”

“I don’t doubt you are correct. I cannot imagine a baby of Phoebe’s not being beautiful.” Mary checked her watch brooch. “It is almost two. We’d better return to the house soon.”

Kit sprung lightly to his feet, holding out a hand to her. As she clasped it, warmth filled her, and she scrambled up quickly but none too gracefully. When he didn’t release her, she glanced up and their gazes caught for a moment before he seemed to recall himself. Something had lurked in his eyes. If only she had the experience to read them.

Her heart sped as he once again placed his hands on her waist and lifted her into the carriage. That . . . her reaction . . . had to mean something.

He strode around to the other side, climbed in, and took the reins. “I believe it is your turn to handle the ribbons.”

“I’d love to. It has been a long time since I’ve tooled an equipage this fine.” Joy filled her as she threaded the leather through her fingers. He released the brake, and she gave the horses their office.

They were moving at a brisk pace when a rabbit suddenly darted out from a hedgerow. One of the horses shied. In an instant, Kit’s arm was around her shoulders as she struggled to control the pair.

“Can you manage?” he asked, his tone on edge.

“I think so.”

“Let me know.”

Mary tried to ignore the feel of his large body touching hers from hip to shoulder. He had tensed, and his hands were ready to seize the reins if required. She was impressed that he hadn’t just taken hold of the ribbons. Most men would have assumed she couldn’t handle them.

Finally she got the team to a walk and Kit eased back. She wished he hadn’t. On the other hand, maintaining such close contact was not prudent. She liked it much too well.

“Excellent job.” His deep voice caressed her. “I’d let you drive any of my cattle.”

She didn’t even attempt to hide her smile as she slid a glance at him. “They are yours. The other pair was too old, and I had to put them out to pasture.”

“You don’t say?” A boyish grin appeared on his countenance. “I admired them earlier. If I’d known, I would have spent more time looking them over. I heard you got them from the rector. Did Mr. Doust help you with the two cover-hacks as well?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We didn’t know Mr. Doust well at the time. I bought them at the horse fair in Edinburgh. I did not think there would be much chance of meeting anyone there who knew me.”

“You are resourceful, and you’ve got a good eye for horseflesh.”

A rush of pleasure rose in her. “Thank you.” It was nice to be admired for her abilities. She feathered the turn onto the drive. “I do love driving.”

Her neck and shoulder began to tingle as his arm slid along the top of the seat behind her. She wanted him to touch her again, just a little, and she was surprised to discover how disappointed she was when he did not.

“I’ve had a wonderful day,” he said as they entered the carriage yard an hour later. “Please compliment the cook for me.”

Was that all he could say? A pout began to tug on her mouth, and she made herself smile politely. Perhaps she was expecting too much too soon. After all, his reputation was that of a perfect gentleman. Yet did that mean he was passionless? She could not imagine living without passion. “I will. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

He jumped down and waved away her groom as he reached out for her. Once again Kit’s large, warm hands circled her waist, lifting her to the ground. Mary pretended to stumble, and he pulled her closer. Less than an inch separated her chest from his. The pulse beneath his jaw jumped. Did that mean he felt something for her after all? How was she to know for sure?