Rhonda Woodward (8 page)

A doubtful frown furrowed her brow. “Indeed? But you are a peer of the realm. You have the means and the power to do whatever you wish.”

“I know it would seem so. But the harsher realities of life often interfere with the best-laid plans. For instance, my deepest desire had been to join the fight against Bonaparte. It went against my every instinct— my every desire—to stay home. As much as it stung, I stayed and took my seat in the House of Lords and managed my estates.”

She found it hard to believe that a man like the Earl of Haverstone had ever faced any kind of disappointment. He seemed so supremely confident and at ease with himself.

Nevertheless, the lingering disappointment in his expression told her clearly how difficult it must have been for him to stay home during the war.

“But surely you performed an extremely important service to our country?”

“It was what needed to be done,” he shrugged dismissively. “The troops needed clothes and food. War is expensive. I could never have ignored my duty and joined the guards, leaving my estates and all my tenants to fall into unproductive disorder.”

He lifted his shoulders briefly and continued. “I share this information only to show you that I do understand your views and that they don’t apply just to the fair sex.”

Mariah considered his words. Her judgment of him as an utterly selfish libertine no longer seemed to fit quite as well.

“It seems that none of us are truly free.” She spoke softly, looking back up to the portrait.

The earl did the same. “I believe that Alice had the right of it—we will find freedom if we strive to pursue the beauty and passion we desire, no matter what else life has in store for us.”

“I like the sense of that, my lord.”

A cozy, warm feeling spread through her body. It suddenly felt as if she and the earl were old friends sharing deep intimacies. She quite liked the feeling.

Now that she felt better, her earlier emotionalism embarrassed her. Wanting to clarify her statements, she spoke quickly. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I have anything to complain about. Indeed, I know my existence is more comfortable than most.”

The earl sent her a perceptive smile. “I have not forgotten that you have not answered my question about what has caused you to suffer. Maybe another time you will feel that you can.”

“I confess I did not think that you would be interested, my lord.” She kept her tone light.

“I am surprised myself,” he said. “However, you have brought up some interesting points of view. I own that I am curious as to how you have developed them—especially since you cannot be more than nineteen or twenty years of age.”

Mariah smiled, suspecting him of flummery. “I am almost four and twenty.”

“So old? A woman who admits to her real age is a rare creature.”

Mariah could not miss the dry tease in his tone and smiled up at him.

“I may not start lying about my age until I am as old as you, my lord.”

He sent her a look of feigned disapproval. “I am not yet one and thirty.”

“So old?” she teased back.

Their gazes met and held. A blatantly alluring smile slowly spread across his features.

Fascinated by the sudden change that came over him, Mariah felt her breath catch in her throat. How could she ever have thought, even for a moment, that they could be “old friends”?

The smile lingered on his lips as he gazed into her eyes. For no reason she could discern, Mariah’s heart began to thump heavily within her chest.

“You know, I believe I am quite pleased that you came out for a moonlit walk last night, Miss Thorn-croft.”

Shocked, Mariah glanced around, praying no one had heard his comment.

“You really are rather bad, aren’t you?” she stated softly.

“I would not think you know me well enough to make such a sweeping statement.”

Mariah almost snorted. “Maybe witnessing your liaison with a married woman has something to do with my hasty conclusion about your character.”

“That’s what has prejudiced you against me? And here I thought it was my lax table manners,” he drawled.

Mariah could not help finding him amusing, but she would much prefer that he did not know it. “Does it not matter to you at all that your behavior is quite beyond the pale?”

“Not at all. Besides, what am I doing that is so bad? I just do what’s expected of me.”

Mariah thought the grin he shot her said that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

She shrugged. “You do not strike me as the kind of man who does things just because they are expected.”

“You are correct. I should have said that I enjoy doing what beautiful women expect of me—otherwise I am quite willful.”

Meeting the mischief in his gaze with speculation in her own, she said, “I suspect that statement is not completely accurate. You enjoy doing what beautiful
married
women expect of you.”

He laughed. “How astute, Miss Thorncroft. I find the desires of married women much easier and more pleasurable to fulfill than the expectations of unmarried misses.”

“I should imagine so. All your married ladies cannot expect a proposal.”

“Well, not a marriage proposal at any rate.”

Suppressing her laughter at his outrageousness, Mariah said, “Do I need to remind you that I am a gently reared young lady? I am unused to speaking so plainly on such indelicate subjects.” Her voice was not as firm as she would have liked.

“I would apologize if I thought that I had offended you. However, I will confess that I have never had such frank discussions with an unmarried young lady.”

“I won’t say that I am flattered, my lord,” Mariah said, doing her best to keep her expression severe.

“You really are bad, aren’t you?” he said, laughingly using her words against her.

Just then, the butler entered, his sonorous tones carrying throughout the gallery. “Luncheon is served, my lord.”

The earl had not taken his eyes from Mariah’s during this pronouncement. “We must continue this fascinating discussion another time, Miss Thorncroft,” he said, a slight smile still on his lips.

Mariah only nodded. For some reason, she was finding it difficult to speak above the racing of her heart.

Chapter Eight

That evening, as he dressed for dinner in his sumptuous green-and-gold bedchamber, Stone found himself in a most inexplicable mood.

He had almost finished tying his neckcloth when Stolt approached with his black dinner jacket and helped his master on with the snug-fitting garment.

“That will be all, Stolt. Thank you,” he said, wanting a few moments of privacy before joining his guests.

“Very good, my lord.” Stolt, his features impassive, bowed and left the room.

Stone frowned at his reflection in the cheval mirror. Again he asked himself the same question that had been rattling in his brain all day. What had possessed him to share such personal information with Miss Thorncroft?

Never had he spoken so frankly to anyone, much less a young woman he had only just met.

His frown deepened as his long fingers worked the intricate folds and knots of his neckcloth. The foreign feeling of embarrassment pricked him anew.

He again went over what had occurred in the gallery earlier. When he told her the story of his ancestor, he had witnessed a startling change come to Miss Thorncroft’s eyes. The intensity in her gaze and voice had resonated with something unidentifiable within him. The profound emotion gripping her for those few moments had made him want to reach out to her in some way—to let her know that despite the differences in their backgrounds he understood how she felt.

His hands stilled. Why did he care what Miss Thorncroft thought or felt? Something was definitely wrong. Had he grown so bored of late that an unsophisticated, sarcastic little nobody could cause him to behave in this completely uncharacteristic manner?

After their encounter last night, his only intention regarding Miss Thorncroft had been to engage in a mild flirtation. Nothing serious in the least—he had never developed a taste for sullying virgins. So how had flirting turned into something else entirely? He did not deny that he found her attractive and intelligent, and he enjoyed trading quips with her, but that did not explain his completely baffling behavior. Even though it made very little sense to him, those few moments in front of the portrait of Alice of Surrey had felt more intimate than kissing Felicity Walgrave in the garden.

Again, embarrassment sent a faint flush up his neck when he recalled telling her how he had hated staying home during the war. Why bring that up? The subject was one that he had spent little time mulling over of late. He had thought that he had set aside his disappointment some time ago.

He did not like the idea of Miss Thorncroft being privy to such personal information about him, but unfortunately he could not take his words back.

From this point on, he must behave with much more circumspection around Miss Thorncroft. His inexplicable foolishness could easily give her the wrong impression. He certainly did not need three women vying for his title this month, he thought with a humorless smile. Somehow, this attempt at levity did not improve his mood. It was not that he did not wish to marry; he would just prefer it to be later rather than sooner. He intended to follow his father’s example and hold on to his very satisfying bachelorhood for many years to come.

The wisest choice would be to keep a polite distance from the disarmingly charming Miss Thorncroft. Since she seemed to have an odd effect upon him, he did not want to chance baring any more of his deepest thoughts to her.

Shaking off his frown, he finished tying his cravat and left his bedchamber.

***

Tossing one last glance at her reflection in the large looking glass next to the dressing table, Mariah readjusted the drape of her blue-green India silk shawl before declaring herself satisfied with her appearance.

“The gentlemen downstairs would have to go a long way before finding another young lady with your looks,” Harris stated, standing back to admire her mistress.

Sending her maid a wry smile, Mariah picked up her reticule from the bed. “You are certainly biased, Harris, but thank you. I will confess that I feel like a plain sparrow compared to some of the ladies here. They are as lovely as swans.”

“Humph. Sometimes being too modest about your looks won’t help you find a husband.”

“Oh, Harris, you sound like Mama,” Mariah called over her shoulder as she left the room.

Heading down the hall toward the grand staircase, Mariah took a deep breath and chided herself for her nervousness.

Nothing she did seemed to dispel the odd feeling fluttering in her chest since her conversation with the earl. Now a keen sense of anticipation warred with a feeling of dread regarding the evening.

She hated feeling so nervous. She had even changed her mind about which evening gown to wear, something she had not experienced since her first Season. Finally, she decided on her new cerulean blue gown with the pin-tucked sleeves that capped her shoulders. She also wore the demi-parure of diamonds and aquamarines set in silver that her parents had given her for her eighteenth birthday.

Instead of taking the wide staircase down, she continued along the corridor to the other side of the house.

A sturdy young maid carrying a tray was coming out of George’s room as Mariah approached. “I am just going to peek in and say good night to my little brother.” Mariah knew she was really telling herself this to justify delaying her next encounter with the earl.

The middle-aged maid curtsied. “The young man has just finished his dinner and is playing with some of his lordship’s old toy soldiers before going to bed.”

Mariah thanked the maid and pulled open the door. The room, handsomely appointed in deep blues and browns, was large and held sturdy, comfortable-looking furniture. She found George, already dressed in his nightclothes, sitting on the rug before the fireplace and putting little toy men into formation.

“Mariah! See what I have?” he said, lifting up a soldier as soon as he saw her.

“Yes. You look as if you are enjoying yourself.” She sat in a low chair next to him.

“Oh, I am. Is not Heaton fun? Home is not like it is here. I could stay forever.”

Mariah laughed at his enthusiasm and leaned forward to affectionately tousle his sandy hair.

George grinned and peered at her attire. “You look pretty, Mariah. Are you going down to dinner?”

“Yes. I just wanted to say good night before you went to sleep.”

“I wish I could stay up and have dinner with the earl. Don’t you think he’s a rum ’un?”

Mariah smiled at his cant and said, “He is a very nice gentleman, especially to let you play with his little soldiers.”

“I know. I am practicing for when I am in the guards,” he said, moving around some of the toys.

“Has Mama been in?”

“Yes. She said I could play in the stables tomorrow if the earl says that I may. I want to see the earl’s horses.”

“It sounds as if you will be having another full day. Do not stay up too late, scamp.”

“I won’t. Have a good dinner.”

He rose from his knees to kiss her on the cheek, then scrambled back to the soldiers.

Leaving the warmth of the cozy fire, Mariah smiled down at her brother. Sometimes he could be very sweet, she thought fondly. Reaching the door, she turned back at his call.

“You do like the earl, don’t you, Mariah?”

The anxiety in his large eyes caught at her heart. “I really don’t know him very well. Why do you ask?”

“Because if we like him and he likes us, maybe he will invite us back.”

A tender smile curved her lips at his hopeful little face. What a blessing to see the world in such an uncomplicated way.

“Maybe he will, scamp. Sleep well.”

Slipping out of the room, she shut the door behind her and walked back down the hall.

Pausing before the staircase, she frowned. Thinking of the earl left her bewildered and strangely agitated. She told herself their earlier discussion and his generosity toward George did not change what she had seen in the moonlight. Besides, rakes
had
to be charming. And one as successful as the earl most likely had more than his fair share of allure.

Trying to shake off her doubt, she went down the stairs, a vague feeling of trepidation still lingering. Catching a glimpse of herself in the large gilt-framed mirror next to the bottom of the staircase, Mariah admitted to herself that her gown and shawl were extremely fashionable and her simple hairstyle flattered her large eyes and heart-shaped face. She felt grateful for this much-needed boost to her confidence.

Checking her posture, Mariah took a moment to steady her breathing before nodding to the footman to open the door.

Upon stepping into the warm, wood-paneled room, she was enveloped by the sound of happy chatter. She was greatly relieved to find that dinner had not yet been announced.

Pausing, she scanned the guests for her mother and Steven. Her gaze alighted on the earl first as he stood with the widows and Lord Mattonly. The fluttering in her chest sped its tempo at the sight of his tall, lean frame and dark hair.

He really was devilishly handsome, she thought as he smiled at something Lady Charlotte said.
I’ve met any number of handsome men. There’s no reason to get the vapors,
she cautioned herself.

Her heart continued to be uncooperative. Could the moonlight somehow have enchanted her last eve? This flight of fancy caused her to smile as she dragged her gaze from the earl.

At that instant, Mariah saw her mother waving from her stance by the fireplace. Moving across the room, Mariah greeted some of the other guests before reaching her mother’s side.

“Gracious, Mariah! I thought you would never come down. I’m sure dinner will be announced any moment.”

“I am sorry to be so late, Mama.”

“You are forgiven,” Mrs. Thorncroft said quickly. Mariah now caught the twinkle in her mother’s eyes and the flush on her cheeks.

“What has you in such high color, Mama?” Mariah hoped her mother was not hatching another match-making scheme.

“I am so excited about what I have just heard! Some of the ladies have persuaded the earl to have dancing after dinner! As we speak, the grand salon is being prepared. Is that not wonderful?”

Dancing did indeed sound wonderful to Mariah. “I wonder what we shall do for music. Perhaps one of the ladies is proficient at the pianoforte.”

Mama waved her fan impatiently. “Do not be so provincial, Mariah. The earl keeps a small orchestra for just such spontaneous occasions.”

“Of course he does. How silly of me,” Mariah responded dryly, wondering how much longer the earl would be able to maintain such extravagances.

“I am so glad you are not too late, Mariah, for I would have another word with you before we go in to dinner.”

“Yes, Mama,” Mariah said in a distracted tone, for she had just noticed Steven standing nearby with Lady Davinia and Mr. and Mrs. Spence-Jones.

“I wish you to converse with Lord Stothart if you are seated next to him at dinner again.”

“Lord Stothart?” Mariah turned back to her mother in alarm. “Heavens, why? He barely looked in my direction last night. In truth, I do not find him the least bit appealing.”

“Do not be silly, Mariah. I am sure he noticed you. Just now, before you came in, he asked after you.”

“Did he? Perhaps that was because you managed to slip the size of my dowry into the conversation?”

Mariah watched her mother’s eyes go wide with offended innocence. “Of course not! Not right out, anyway. However, a subtle hint cannot hurt. After all, I am no longer in the least hopeful of securing the earl’s interest in you, so we must move on to other pastures.”

Mariah laughed. “What a dreadful thought, Mama. I was never
in
the earl’s pasture. But why are you suddenly casting your hopes for him aside?”

Frowning, Mrs. Thorncroft sent a quick glance around the room. Satisfied that they were relatively private, she explained. “I have been hearing some rather wild stories about him, even worse than his gambling away such vast sums. And Lady Charlotte shared certain things with me this afternoon that leave me to suspect that they will be making a match of it soon.”

“Really?” Mariah did not believe it for a moment. Even if she did not have firsthand evidence of the earl’s dalliance with Lady Walgrave, she had seen how dismissive he was of Lady Charlotte’s fawning. Nevertheless, she would not enlighten her mama, for if she would leave off trying to throw her daughter at the earl’s feet, then so much the better.

“Even so, I have no interest in Lord Stothart,” Mariah said flatly.

“I am fatigued with your protests. He is a perfectly wonderful young man. Smile at him this evening. And after dinner, when the dancing begins he will have all the more reason to admire you, for you are such an accomplished dancer. I can just see you, snug and happy in the baronial splendor of his estate, Tilton. I understand that the rents alone are seven thousand a year!”

At that moment the butler opened the double doors that led to the dining room, saving Mariah from having to respond to her mother.

Trailing behind the others, Mariah hoped to avoid Lord Stothart. To her dismay, the guests sat in the same places as they had last night, leaving Mariah no choice but to be seated next to him.

Taking her time unfolding her napkin, Mariah kept her eyes on her lap. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Stothart watching her closely.

“So, Miss Thorncroft, do you enjoy whist and piquet?”

Before she could answer, the footman stepped forward to fill her wineglass. “Not particularly, sir.”

His pale brows rose high. “Eh? Why not? Nothing better than a good game of cards.”

“So I have heard. Nevertheless, I never developed a taste for cards. Although I do enjoy chess.”

“Chess?” he snorted. “Dashed dull game, if you ask me. To each his own, I guess. I understand your father owns a mill of some sort.”

Nonplussed at his quick change of subject, Mariah took a sip of wine before replying. “Yes, sir, a woolen mill.” She was not about to add that Papa also owned herds and herds of sheep.

“Excellent, excellent.” He raised his glass and finished off the wine in two gulps. The footman stepped up to refill it a moment later. “And I understand your father quite dotes on you?”