A Kiss for Lady Mary (4 page)

Almeria raised her brows in an expression of surprise. “Of course not. I would never do anything to harm the poor lady.”

After she’d ascertained that Diana was packed and ready to leave early the next day, Almeria repaired to the writing desk in her chamber.

 

Constance Bridgewater and her dear friend Lucinda, Dowager Viscountess Featherton, were sipping tea in Constance’s parlor when a knock came at the door.

“Your Grace.” The footman bowed. “This came for you by messenger.”

Constance flashed a grin at her friend as she took the proffered message. “Thank you.”

Once the young man left, she broke the seal off the letter.

Lucinda moved to the edge of her chair. “Is it from Almeria?”

“Yes.” Constance read the letter out loud, then handed it to her friend. “I knew Mary would carry it off.”

“Yes indeed.” Lucinda glanced up. “This is excellent news.
Have
you heard anything about the ogre?”

“No.” Constance shook her head slowly. “I spent most of the autumn and winter leading Gawain Tolliver a merry chase. Eunice’s children have reported seeing a strange man around who answers Gawain’s description.”

“How are they taking Eunice’s absence?”

“Most of them think she is with me. Even if they don’t, they may be dull, but they are not at all stupid. They know Mary has been persecuted by that cousin of hers and something is afoot. Eunice has had her correspondence sent to her solicitor, who forwarded them on.” Constance sat back in the chair. “Have you told your son yet?”

“In a roundabout way. Well,” Lucinda gave a sly smile, “truthfully, not everything. In fact, none of the details. I merely said I was looking for a good match for Kit. Although Featherton is in agreement that Kit must marry, and soon, he is fond enough of me to allow my folly, as he calls it.” Lucinda took a sip of tea and sighed. “My poor daughter-in-law would not be at all happy if she knew we were arranging a match. She would be extremely angry if she knew the details. I believe she is better left in the dark for the time being.”

“I take it she still doesn’t know the part you played in her marriage?” Constance chuckled. “I understand. I don’t think Barham has figured out that I arranged his nuptials. Fortunately he didn’t ask why I needed a few of his larger footmen in addition to mine. Ha! They all want to make their own love matches these days, but they will see. We old women know what we are about. An arranged marriage with love is the best option of all.”

Once again a knock sounded at the door. “Another letter for you, Your Grace.”

Constance took it. “From Eunice.” She perused the contents. “Mary plans to come to Town to husband hunt. Eunice will stall her as long as possible, but we need to send Kit up there sooner rather than later.”

“I agree.” Lucinda bit into a small cake. “I cannot wait until Kit and Mary realize they are just the thing for each other. I do think this is the best match we’ve planned so far.”

“Indeed, my dear. After all these years, finally our two houses will be connected by more than friendship.” Constance smiled to herself. “As soon as Almeria returns, we’ll spring the trap.”

K
it stood motionless as his valet, Piggott, adjusted the back of his jacket. Easter had come and gone, and the Season was in full swing. Kit barely had a moment to himself these days, and still not one likely marriage prospect in sight, nor had he seen hide nor hair of Lady Mary despite diligently searching Polite Society’s entertainments without arousing unwanted interests. He heaved a sigh.

“Busy day, sir?” Piggott asked.

“Not as bad as some. I’ll take luncheon at my club, after which I am promised to my grandmother. She’s expressed a desire to be driven in my new curricle.”

“The dowager, sir? In your curricle?”

The corner of Kit’s mouth twitched in an attempt to curve into a smile. He was certain Piggott’s jaw would have dropped, were such a display not beneath any valet of quality. “Don’t sound so scandalized. She’s not a day over seventy. Been full of fun and gig her whole life.”

“Yes, sir. So I’ve heard.”

Kit cracked a laugh. “M’father swears he’s the only man he knows who got gray hair from his mother instead of his children.” He grew suddenly tired of Piggott’s fussing. “Finish up. I must be on my way. I don’t wish to be late for my engagement. After I see my grandmother, I’ll be at Dunwood House, then I have two balls to attend this evening. One is Lady Bellamny’s.”

“Everything shall be ready, sir.” Piggott handed Kit his gloves, hat and cane.

Kit opened the door into the corridor to find one of his father’s younger footmen getting ready to knock.

“If you please, sir, his lordship requests you attend him immediately.”

How odd. He’d seen his father just the other day. Kit frowned. “Has anything happened to one of my brothers or sisters?”

The lad shook his head. “Don’t think so. I was told only to come and get you.”

“Yes, sir.” The footman dashed down the stairs and out the front door. “I wonder what could be the matter.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Piggott, send a message round to Lord Evesham telling him I’ll be a bit late.”

A quarter hour later, Kit entered his father’s study. A decanter of brandy and a half-full glass sat before Papa on the desk. Kit had never known his father to drink this early in the day. At least not brandy. Something must be terribly amiss. “What’s wrong?”

Papa ran a hand down his face. “You might want to sit, my boy.”

If this had something to do with him, Kit thought he would rather not. “I believe I’ll stand.”

His father took a sip, then leaned back in his large, dark leather chair. The exact same position Papa had taken the few times Kit had ever been in trouble. His father cleared his throat. “I realize you have been reluctant to marry. One might say you’ve been avoiding choosing a bride. Is there a particular reason you have been so hesitant?”

Other than not having seen Lady Mary, the only woman with whom he could consider living the rest of his life, for a long time, no reason at all. It occurred to Kit that he’d never realized how important his marrying was to his father. Perhaps he should have been more assiduous about finding a mate. He would do so this Season.

He shrugged lightly. “Why?”

After taking another sip of the brandy, his father stared at him. “I want you to tell the truth. I do understand youthful indiscretions. We went through more than a few with Crispin. Too many of them, to be honest. You have not caused anywhere near the worry he did. In fact, your behavior has been exemplary, and I promise neither your mother nor I will be upset. We’ll find a way to make the best of it.”

Make the best of what? Why was Papa bringing up his dead brother? Unlike Crispin, whose behavior had been nothing short of scandalous, Kit had made a point of never courting any type of scandal at all. He would never willingly put his parents through that sort of anguish again. “Sir, I think you’d better just tell me what it is you’re talking about, because I haven’t the least idea.”

“Kit, are you already married?”

His breath stopped as if one of Jackson’s punches had landed square in the middle of his stomach. Hell and damnation. “
Married!
What the deuce gave you that idea?”

His father poured brandy into a second glass, pushing it across the desk to him. “You’d better have some of this.”

Kit took a sip, then set the tumbler down. This was no time to have his brain muddled. That would come later when, for only the second time in his life, he would drink himself into a stupor. “Where did you get the idea I had wed?”

“Lady Bellamny was in Northumberland to fetch her goddaughter’s daughter, whom she is sponsoring for the Season. While she was there—”

The hairs on the back of Kit’s neck prickled. “Where in Northumberland?”

“Rosebury.”

Rose Hill
.

His father raised a brow. “May I continue? This will go much more quickly if you allow me to tell you what I know, and then ask questions.”

A flush crept up Kit’s cheeks. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“As I was saying . . .” Papa took another drink. “When Lady Bellamny was there, she met a female calling herself Lady Mary Featherton who is residing at Rose Hill. That’s the property you inherited from your great-aunt, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.” That told him nothing. Mary must be the most common name in England, if it was indeed her real first name, which it probably was not. That the impostor had used the name of the woman he wished to wed made him want to strangle her. A dull ache began in Kit’s jaw and he unclenched his teeth.

“Have you been up there recently?”

“No, but that will change.”
Immediately
. “When did you speak with Lady B?”

“I did not. She told your grandmother, who was typically cryptic when she spoke to me, after which your mother did a very good job gleaning all the pertinent facts from Lady B. I, therefore, felt no need to approach her.” Papa took a sip of brandy. “I take it the lady is not, in truth, your wife?”

“Is she a lady?”

“From what I was told, there is no doubt.”

Who the devil could she be? Kit couldn’t think of any
lady
who would engage in such an outrageous stunt, and he certainly didn’t want to think of the scandal this would cause if it got out. Particularly now that his sister appeared to have decided on a suitor at long last. “How do we contain the news until I can meet with the woman and discern what game she is playing at?”

“I’ve been assured Lady Bellamny will not mention it to anyone.”

All well and good, but what about the girl she was sponsoring? Young ladies were known to blurt out almost anything going through their heads. What if he were introduced to the young lady that evening? Or someone mentioned him and she happened to mention the person at Rose Hill? Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he imagined the scandal. He pushed aside the brandy and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall make arrangements to leave on the morrow at the latest, though I shall try to cancel my engagements for the next few weeks and depart this afternoon.”

His father nodded. “You may take my new traveling coach and use the horses I have posted along the Great North Road.”

He bowed. “Thank you. I’ll have Piggott send word when the trunks are ready.”

“Oh,” Papa said. “Before I forget, your grandmother cried off from her ride with you this afternoon.”

Now that was a surprise. Kit couldn’t keep his eyes from narrowing a bit. “Did she give a reason?”

“I believe she knew you’d want to depart as soon as possible, and Lady B requires assistance in rigging out the young lady.”

Relief swept through him, and he grinned. “Ah, yes, shopping over a carriage ride. Tell her it would be my great pleasure to tool her around when I return.”

“Kit.”

He focused on his father’s grim countenance.

“Let me know if you need assistance.”

“I will. Thank you.”

He strode out of his father’s office and house. How the hell could a woman just move in and pretend to be his wife? Well, she wouldn’t be there for long.

Seething with anger, Kit clenched his fists as he left Featherton House and made his way to Brooks’s, where he was meeting Marcus, Rutherford, and Huntley for luncheon. The footman led Kit to their usual table tucked into the far corner of the dining room, where their conversation was unlikely to be overheard.

Marcus glanced at Kit and waved him to a chair. “I ordered for you. I take it something is amiss?”

Kit pressed his lips together for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell his friends. “You could say that.” He sat back as the waiter poured a glass of claret for him and refreshed the other men’s glasses. Once the servant left, Kit said, “It appears I’ve picked up a wife without my knowledge.”

Raised brows and silence answered him.

Rutherford took out his quizzing glass. “Indeed?”

Kit relayed the story, then said, “I’m off as soon as may be.”

“Would you like me to give Phoebe your regrets?” Marcus asked.

“No, of course not. I want to meet Wivenly’s bride, and would not miss seeing Beaumont and Serena’s baby. Will Phoebe mind if I don’t stay long?”

“Give me leave to tell her what has happened and she’ll have your trip planned for you before your man can pack.”

Low chuckles went around the table. Phoebe Evesham was a formidable lady, and a good friend. She’d never met her match, though, until Marcus had returned. Still he’d had his work cut out for him. Kit didn’t ever want to have to work as hard to convince a lady to marry him as his friend had. All of his friends, it seemed, had spent an inordinate amount of time courting the ladies who were now their wives. Although they’d grown up together, Rutherford had had a devil of a time convincing Anna to wed him. Kit shuddered when he thought of what Huntley had gone through to make his forced marriage to Caro work. Kit wanted only to fall in love and wed without all the attendant drama.

Beefsteaks arrived for the table, and they spent the next hour or so discussing what they’d been doing during the winter and their plans for this Season. When they’d finished, Kit made his excuses. “I’ll see you shortly.”

He strode north on St. James Street, then turned right onto Jermyn Street. His rooms were in the center of the block. Taking the stairs two at a time he bellowed, “Piggott, get packed, we’re leaving.”

Wiping his hands on a cloth, Piggott stepped from Kit’s bedchamber into the main room. “For how long, where are we going, and when do we depart?”

“About three weeks, perhaps more. Northumberland. It’s going to take a week to get there. You will leave as soon as you’ve packed my father’s traveling coach. I must stop by Dunwood House first. I’ll find you on the road. I’m taking the curricle.”

Piggott’s jaw dropped. “All that way, sir?”

“Damned if I’ll be cooped up in a coach for a week. No one would be able to bear me, not even myself.”

“May I inquire as to the rush?”

“I’ll tell you later. At present, I must cry off from all my engagements. Pack me a bag with what I’ll need if we get separated, including my buckskin breeches. No need to wear Town togs while traveling.”

Sitting at his writing table, Kit removed his gloves. Well, at least this got him out of Town and freed him from bride hunting. Guilt attempted to take hold, and he shook it off. Who the devil would have the unmitigated presumptuousness to pose as his wife? If she were not an actual lady—and it was difficult to imagine a member of the aristocracy behaving in such a way—she must be awfully talented to fool Lady Bellamny, and no matter what her background, the woman would have to be a bold piece. The sooner he got on his way, the sooner he would have the answers to his questions. Perhaps he would run down Lady B and try to pry more information out of her. On second thought, that would involve her more than he wished. She was trying enough. He certainly did not want her meddling in his affairs. Despite what he’d said to his mother, Kit did not wish anyone matchmaking on his behalf, nor did he want to run the risk of meeting the young lady residing with her.

He wanted to punch something or someone. It was a shame he did not have the time to go to Jackson’s. He could not believe a lady was masquerading as his wife—only an experienced charlatan would be able to pull off a deception like that. Not to mention that no lady would demean herself so, and take such a risk with her reputation. Whoever she was, she wouldn’t be there for much longer.

As he sealed the last missive, the clock chimed three. Piggott had departed at least half an hour ago. Kit would be another hour leaving London, but they’d travel until it was almost dark.

His groom, Dent, knocked on the door and entered. “All’s ready, sir.”

Kit picked up the notes and his bag, and followed the groom out to the street, where his curricle was waiting. After leaving the messages with his father’s butler, he drove to Dunwood House in Grosvenor’s Square, where the Eveshams lived during the Season. Dent jumped off as Kit drew the horses to a halt before climbing down. “I won’t be long.”

As soon as he entered the house, he could hear voices and laughter, high and low, coming from the back.

“My lord.” Wilson, the Dunwood butler, bowed. Kit was shown to a large, noisy drawing room filled with parents and children. Who would have thought his friends would be so prolific?

Phoebe took him by the arm, leading him into chaos. “Kit, I’m so glad you were able to come. Marcus told me you must be on your way soon.”

“Yes, forgive me, but it is unavoidable.”

She smiled. “It’s no matter. If you need anything, send a message. Come and I’ll introduce you to Eugénie Wivenly, and you must see Serena and Robert’s little girl. She is adorable.”

Kit hadn’t realized how tense he was until the thought of Beaumont with a daughter made him want to laugh again. Eugénie, Lady Wivenly, turned out to be a stunning young French woman who obviously had Wivenly wrapped around her slender fingers. Kit had never thought to see his friend so besotted.