Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance (13 page)

He had dressed for dinner in a fashion, donning a navy coat and clean breeches. They were not evening wear but it hardly mattered and he obviously had not been carrying an extensive wardrobe with him. No, she decided, the lack of evening clothes in no way detracted from Lord Hathaway’s charms. In fact, they merely increased them for he looked extraordinarily dashing, with a slightly disheveled air that could not help but lend to his overall appeal. She took herself in hand. She was ogling him and ogling would never do. The man would probably run for the hills if he suspected she found him attractive. She wondered if he was the kind of man who had affairs as he traveled, meeting women and then breaking their hearts when he moved on.

There was nothing in his behavior that indicated he harbored any such feelings towards her. Indeed, his behavior was extremely circumspect, something that tickled her vanity. His apparent indifference piqued her desire to make an impression on him. Why
wasn’t
he interested in her? She was an excellent candidate for a dalliance, was she not?

She recalled his question with an effort.

‘Nothing is really
wrong
. It’s just…’ she dropped her voice a little more. ‘I think my father might have formed a partiality towards Mrs. Gordon.’

One dark eyebrow rose. He glanced at the pair who was engrossed in playful conversation. Johanna was mildly annoyed that her father should even attempt playful. He was awfully bad at it. ‘I can see why that would be worrying you, all things considered.’

‘Truly,’ she agreed, appreciating his ready acknowledgement of her concern. ‘It’s not that I don’t want Papa to be happy, of course,’ at least, she hoped it was not that, ‘but I cannot say I care for Mrs. Gordon and you know my sentiments about her brother.’

Actually, Johanna’s feelings about Mordern would ensure that she abandon her father’s house as soon as practicable if he did indeed intend to marry. The idea that Lord Mordern might be in any way related to her made Johanna feel distinctly uncomfortable. So far, he had been there for a week (a very long week, as far as she was concerned) but if he could claim kinship they would never be rid of him and his manner was far too unnerving for her to ever feel easy with him.

Lord Hathaway was silent for a moment. ‘While I understand your concern, it may not happen. I get the impression that Lord Mordern is also unhappy about the possibility of such a union. No doubt he will talk to his sister.’

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed bitterly, ‘although he might decide not to if he sees that she has a greater chance of snaring a fortune than he does. I have made my dislike plain enough. Perhaps he will be content to leave the fortune hunting to his sister.’

A smile curved his lips. ‘You don’t mince words, I must say. No matter what, you can be easy about Mordern,’ he assured softly. ‘I will deal with him.’

She shot him a quick sideways look and was teased by a sudden desire to know what it would be like to be held in his arms and perhaps, even, to feel that well shaped mouth cover her own. It would be pleasant to introduce a little flirtation into their conversation but she had cast herself as the put upon heroine and flirting would be entirely out of character. What a nuisance… ‘Oh my lord, I would not want you to get hurt.’

‘Nor I,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Do not concern yourself, Miss Claybourn. I will manage.’

Somehow, she did not doubt it.

It was a difficult meal for Johanna. Her conversational partners were either Lord Hathaway to her left, or Lord Mordern to her right, for her father and Mrs. Gordon were paying little heed to anyone, Papa, extending ever more extravagant compliments to his female guest who laughed prettily, blue eyes fixed on her host’s face with flattering intensity. Presented with such a spectacle, Johanna barely tasted her food. Lord Mordern’s attitude did not help matters. He seemed to find Hathaway’s pointed dislike amusing and refused to rise to anything that was said. Johanna received the impression that, like herself, he was watching the interplay between his sister and her father rather closely. And that he did not like what he was seeing any more than she did. It was just an impression, for Lord Mordern was an excellent card player, as her grandmother would say, but she was prepared to swear it was true, nonetheless.

As they were a small group they had taken dinner in the lesser of the two dining rooms. Generally, Johanna would have found this a pleasant arrangement, especially as it allowed her to appreciate Lord Hathaway in a more intimate environment. The drawback was Lord Mordern but he seemed to be off his game this evening, absently charming, but apparently as preoccupied as she was by the spectacle of the unlikely couple across the table.

Perhaps it is nothing more than a flirtation
, she thought uneasily
. Perhaps she is ensuring that one of them secure a relationship that will be financially beneficial. Mrs. Gordon must have realized by now that I don’t like her brother in the least. If the daughter is recalcitrant, might not the father do just as well?

Unfortunately, it seemed it might for Celine was playing up to her host shamelessly, laughing merrily at his sallies, complimenting him on his taste and generally behaving like a woman who is vastly impressed by the wit and humor of her companion.

Johanna resolved to speak to her grandmother the moment she could escape upstairs. Grandma was an excellent judge of character and usually had something insightful to say about most people. She knew her grandmother did not care for Mordern, for all his exquisite politeness, but she had yet to pass judgment on Mrs. Gordon, at least out loud. Surely she would not support such a silly union? Katherine Howeth was nobody’s fool. She would undoubtedly set her son-in-law straight about the pretty widow and Papa  would listen, just as he always listened to her. She would no more want Sir Antony to fall prey to the charms of an adventuress than Johanna did.

After the meal was over, they retired to a drawing room, the gentlemen deciding to forego the usual postprandial port. Johanna deposited herself in a chair, wishing that it was just Lord Hathaway they were entertaining tonight. She wanted to pry some information out of him, personal information that might reveal a little of the man. Mordern came to stand by her chair, however, bending towards her courteously.

‘Miss Claybourn, you look a little flushed. May I get you a glass of ratafia?’

‘No thank you,’ she returned politely.

He took a chair nearby. Not unexpectedly, Lord Hathaway stood watchfully close by. Mordern ignored him. ‘Your father seems in very good spirits tonight,’ he observed quietly.

‘As is your sister,’ she observed, a little more acerbically than she’d intended. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was only gone eight-thirty, surely too soon to excuse herself? She dearly wished to speak to her grandmother and if she delayed too long she would be asleep.

‘Very true.’ It gave her a pang of satisfaction to hear that almost imperceptible note of annoyance in his voice. She had not been mistaken; he was far from happy about Celine’s sudden fascination with their host. It was all to the good. Perhaps he might be able do something about his sister and she could, perhaps, do something about her father. Because, if things continued on in this fashion, there was likely to be an announcement before the end of the week and that would never do! She glanced at Lord Hathaway and smiled. ‘Won’t you sit down, Sir?’

Inclining his head, he sat, taking the chair beside her. It might be too much to hope that some kind of innocuous conversation might ensue but Johanna sincerely hoped that Lord Hathaway would not try and pick a fight with Mordern immediately. Tomorrow would be soon enough, surely and right now, her head was beginning to ache. She knew she was wasting valuable time, that the opportunity to fix Lord Hathaway’s interest was limited but the circumstances were far from favorable and with Lord Mordern as an attentive observer, Johanna was flummoxed for a topic of conversation.

Happily – or not, depending on one’s viewpoint – Mrs. Gordon must have realized that her behavior might be considered a trifle inappropriate and she laughingly drew Johanna’s papa into the small, glum circle. The addition of the two hardly lightened the atmosphere.

‘Honestly, Miss Claybourn,’ the woman smiled, settling onto the settee, ‘I am so selfish, monopolizing your father’s time. Can you forgive me?’

Johanna was sorely tempted but she restrained herself with an effort. ‘My father seems more than happy to be monopolized,’ was all she replied, giving her father a reproving look. Disconcertingly, he did not look the least bit repentant.

‘I’m sure the young people are doing very well without me,’ he said jovially, before adding with considerable haste. ‘Not that you are not young as well, my dear Mrs. Gordon. I did not mean to imply anything of the kind, I can assure you.’

Johanna rolled her eyes inwardly and cursed the spell that seemed to have been woven around her all too susceptible sire in the space of an afternoon. At breakfast he had been attentive and anxious to please but now… well now he was acting like one of her foolish suitors; worse, for he at least had some encouragement in Mrs. Gordon’s silvery laugh and flirtatious glances. Johanna never encouraged her suitors, knowing it would be pointless to embolden interest that could have no satisfactory outcome.

She settled back in her chair and counted the minutes until she could escape. At least she would not have to feign a headache. The vague ache was turning into a proper thudding and the prospect of giving up on the entire night and retreating to her bed was suddenly very appealing.

She would just have to make the most of tomorrow, when her curiosity about Lord Hathaway could be properly pursued. If she were very clever, she might be able to think of a way to lead him off from the others. He would object, of course, for he seemed unusually preoccupied with her reputation, but if she went about the matter sensibly then she could surely work something out.

A tingle of excitement slipped through her at the idea of being alone with Lord Hathaway. She would see how indifferent he was to her charms when she had him on her own terms. He was only a man, after all and she intended to be entirely irresistible.

Marcus had spent the evening alternately wondering how he had allowed himself to be pulled into this ridiculous household or brooding on the best way to deal with Lord Mordern. Instinct and common sense had been at war ever since he had come downstairs and had laid eyes on that mocking, watchful countenance. Instinct told him to pick the fellow up by the scruff of the neck and toss him through the front door. Common sense suggested a more rational approach. The man was, after all, here by invitation and such an overt act of hostility was likely to garner the man some sympathy, especially as their host seemed to have taken leave of his senses.

Even so, there had been no mistaking the predatory way the man was eyeing Johanna Claybourn, who had looked radiant in a pretty green dress that reminded him of spring. Miss Claybourn seemed unusually distracted but that was only to be expected. She must have been living in considerable anxiety these past few days and Marcus was astonished that her father had been oblivious to her distress. Although, he reflected, as the night had progressed and he had seen how his host was absorbed by Celine Gordon, there was probably good reason for that. The flirtation bordered on shocking. Indeed, at most dinner tables such behavior would have been looked upon with considerable disapprobation. What the devil was the man thinking, making up to the woman like that?

As the meal had progressed he had felt Miss Claybourn’s mounting distress, although this time the source of her concern had obviously not been Lord Mordern. And while there didn’t seem a great deal he could do about Sir Antony, Mordern was a different matter.

He would have been delighted if the man had said something that would cause offence. Hell, he would have been happy to catch him out in an improperly whispered word to Miss Claybourn but Mordern’s manner was faultless, which annoyed Marcus all the more. A snake who concealed his fangs until the moment he was alone with his victim was just that more contemptible but he suspected Mordern was an old hand when it came to this kind of game, damn him. He was the sort that thought all young, innocent females were fair game. By one means or another, a libertine was intent on persuading – or, if this did not work – on forcing a seduction. That Mordern was prepared to offer marriage did not change the situation, especially as Johanna Claybourn was unwilling to entertain his suit. Marcus would just have to watch and wait. If Mordern grew desperate and saw his prize slipping away from him, there was no telling what he might do.

As he had been fairly confident that the only reason he had stayed was to assist a young lady in distress, he was therefore surprised by his reaction to the girl when Miss Claybourn had turned and spoken to him at the dinner table. For some reason he had experienced a curious tightness in his chest. It was not pain, but more a sensation of warmth. She really was impossibly pretty and he had to admire her spirit. No wonder Mordern thought that he had discovered a treasure in the girl. It was not often that looks and money combined together so delightfully. She was the perfect target for fortune hunters. The only reason she had not been besieged by a great many other importunate men was that she had apparently not gone about very much in Society. There was something to be said for a quiet life in the country. If Johanna Claybourn did indeed go up to London to enjoy a Season, it would be quite another matter. She would quite likely become the Season’s hit, especially if they kept her grandmother back in Yorkshire. Although even a relative in trade might be able to be overlooked for such a peerless creature. This business with Mordern was just the precursor of what was to come, if Marcus was any judge.