My Wicked Earl by Kathleen Ayers

 

11

“I’m sure to be seated directly between Lady Cottingham and Lady Dobson, aren’t I?” I did not realize that searching for a suitable wife meant I was also to be tortured during dinner.” He greeted Cam, who along with Gray Covington’s guests, had stood at the announcement that dinner was served.

Cam snorted. “Then you misunderstood the nature of your request to my grandmother.”

“You don’t have to enjoy this so bloody much, ye smug pretty—”

Cam laughed at the insult and sauntered over to Lady Cottingham and her daughter. He bowed and extended out both arms to Lady Helen and her mother.

As Lady Cottingham took his arm she swayed a bit as if she would swoon.

Lady Helen assessed Cam with a somewhat lascivious turn of her lips.

Colin’s possible future countess was definitely not completely an innocent, if the look she gave the Marquess of Cambourne was any indication.

Ridley, ridiculous dandy that he was, took Miranda’s arm to lead her into dinner. He was looking down at her, lips pulled back from his teeth like a hyena or some other second-rate predator.

Colin longed to hit the man with his fist. What a satisfying crunch Ridley’s nose would make as it broke.

A stomp of a cane interrupted his plans for Ridley, followed by the feel of the cane as it whacked against his shin.

“You’ll escort me in, Lord Kilmaire. Do take that scowl off your features. Though I do not find you frightening, I would not wish you to scare the young ladies.”

“I am scowling because of the feel of your cane against my leg. Who knew a woman of your—”

“Do not say age, Lord Kilmaire or I shall swat you again.”

“I was going to say, demeanor.” Truthfully, he had been about to say age but the lady in question was wielding a weapon. Who knew the Dowager possessed such strength? He held out his arm and made a half bow, his eyes lifting a bit so that he could watch Ridley practically maul Miranda.

“Hhmmph,” she said, reaching for his arm. “I asked you to cease scowling.”

“Apologies, my lady.” Colin tucked her gloved hand through his arm and started forward, careful to measure his steps to hers.

Miranda and Ridley walked directly before him and the Dowager, so close that Colin could count the tiny satin clad buttons that wound down Miranda’s back. There were exactly twenty. He longed to undo each one of them. The sweet aroma of Ridley’s pomade met Colin’s nose, and he grimaced.

“Well?” The Dowager said in a low voice demanding his attention.

“You look lovely tonight, Lady Cambourne.”

Ridley’s nose appeared to be nuzzling Miranda’s neck.

“Don’t be obtuse, Lord Kilmaire. I’m in no mood for games though I appreciate the compliment. Between helping you find a bride and ensuring the eligibility of several gentlemen whom Sutton approves of for Miranda, I’m quite taxed. To the point of exhaustion.”

“Cam has implied that he doesn’t care for either of Miranda’s suitors.” I know I don’t.

“My granddaughter has a somewhat limited field from which to choose, but I feel certain that one of the gentlemen in attendance tonight has garnered her affections. I expect an announcement at any time.”

Blinding white jealousy shot through Colin. He lifted a brow waiting for her to elaborate.

The Dowager did not. “How did you find Lady Helen?”

“She seems rather attached to birds.” He almost mentioned Lady Helen’s behavior but decided against it.

The Dowager paused mid step and took the opportunity to smack him again with her cane. “I asked you not to be obtuse.”

“She’s quite lovely.”

“And Margaret Lainscott? Wealthy as well, but certainly no beauty. Rather plain but intelligent. Certainly there is also the appeal of saving her from the ministrations of her aunt.”

“A possibility. However, I think I may like Miss Lainscott a bit too much to do her the disservice of having her marry me.”

The Dowager’s brows wrinkled. “Marriage to you would not be a disservice. She’d be a countess for goodness sakes. Ranked higher than her aunt.”

Colin didn’t reply. Miss Lainscott was not interested in marrying him, he’d surmised as much from their sole conversation. He wasn’t sure that Lady Dobson would be able to force her niece down the aisle at all. The girl was not as malleable as Lady Dobson assumed.

“Well, if neither girl suits, there is also Lady Barbara Payne.”

“Who?” Colin watched Ridley brush his thigh against Miranda’s skirts.

“Lord Payne’s daughter. His estate borders Gray Covington. You met him and his wife years ago, but you may not recall Barbara. Lovely girl. I’ve invited them to join us tomorrow for an impromptu concert. Miss Lainscott will entertain us on the piano. I’m told she’s quite gifted.”

Colin listened with only half his attention. The other half was focused on Miranda, who chattered away to Ridley in a low, seductive voice. At least, it sounded seductive to Colin’s ears.

Ridley leaned in, his eyes not on her face but the tops of her breasts.

Bastard.

“Lord Kilmaire, are you ill? You look as if your stomach has soured. I do hope it doesn’t detract from the delightful repast we are about to enjoy. Alex tells me Cook is especially pleased with the pheasant.” She slowed a bit, and Colin automatically adjusted his stride.

“Perish the thought, Lady Cambourne. It’s the French wine. I find I don’t have a fondness for it. Is that Lord Ridley escorting Miranda? I don’t believe we were introduced.”

“Yes, Lord Ridley.” She cocked her head. “I supposed he’s handsome enough, but money seems to run through his fingers like sand. Horses, I believe.”

“Horses?” Colin replied mechanically, watching Ridley’s hand linger on Miranda’s trim waist as he led her to her seat.

“Yes. Not buying them, of course, not like your father. Ridley is always betting on the beasts, and he’s a poor judge of horseflesh. Very poor.” Her lips thinned. “And he’s rather extravagant, though I don’t suppose it will matter if he has Miranda’s dowry. Money will cease to be an issue for him.”

“I doubt it,” Colin hissed as he caught sight of Ridley’s fingers gliding up Miranda’s gloved hand. Then realizing the harshness of his reply he said, “Those who bet on horses rarely have money.”

“True, Lord Kilmaire. While part of Miranda’s appeal for Ridley is her dowry, I think he does bear her some affection. Enough so that she may be happy.”

A pain lodged and throbbed in Colin’s chest. How could any man want Miranda purely for her dowry? She was beautiful. Intelligent. Kind. Maddening.

“Perhaps,” he started, knowing how ridiculous he sounded, “they share an interest in Egypt.”

The Dowager said nothing for a moment. “I’d forgotten how much the ancient world intrigued her. I’m surprised you remember. At any rate, Ridley does indulge her visits to Thrumbadges, the bookseller. I believe she’s joined a small group of like-minded blue-stockings, women more interested in studying archeology than attending balls. I expect that should she and Ridley marry, he’ll allow her to continue to do so.”

Allow her?His eyes flew to the dandy next to Miranda.

“I must give Ridley credit. He has accompanied her to several lectures, more out of duty than interest, of course. Miranda tells me he tends to snore through most of them.”

The Dowager shrugged. “Sutton has given her leave to decide her own fate, so if it is to be Ridley, we must accept that choice. At least Lord Hamill can speak intelligently on many matters.” Her tone left no doubt that she assumed Ridley could not.

Colin gently eased the Dowager into her seat towards the head of the table, all the while contemplating how best Ridley could meet with an unfortunate accident. It would ruin the house party, of course, if Ridley were to perish at Gray Covington, but Colin was certain Cam would forgive him.

“Ah, and there’s Lord Hamill. Where you introduced?” The Dowager asked.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I find him a bit too elderly for my dear Miranda. After all Hamill was only a few years younger than my husband.” She laughed and shook her head. “He’s quite important in Parliament and is responsible for many crucial reforms. And as I mentioned, he is at least possessed of a more scholarly constitution.”

“So I’ve been given to understand.” Lord Hamill walked with an odd, sideways step, seeming to lean more on Lady Dobson than he should. He looked a bit addled, probably from imbibing too freely of his host’s brandy.

“An injury from the war I believe,” the Dowager whispered, noting his interest of Lord Hamill. “Miranda is most sympathetic. A politician’s lifestyle would suit her, for Hamill may travel to the continent to represent England’s interests. Miranda has always wished to travel abroad.”

Colin found he didn’t care for the idea of Miranda traveling abroad with Hamill. At all.

“There’s also Lord Carstairs and Lord Welles.” She nodded towards Welles who escorted Alex. “Lord Welles I fear is a bit of a rogue, though a rather handsome one at that. Carstairs would be an indulgent husband and make few demands on her, though I fear her mind would atrophy.”

“ONE OF THESE men has Miranda’s affection?” Colin bit out before he could think better of it.

“Why yes, Lord Kilmaire, I do believe one of the men at this table is the man my granddaughter will marry. I thought for the longest time that she would become a spinster, but after the birth of her niece and nephew I believe she decided she would like a family of her own. Miranda is quite determined.”

“I wonder then that she did not marry Lord St. Remy.” He hated that the words left his mouth with a jealous edge to them.

“St. Remy?” The Dowager gave a short bark of laughter. “Why would you ever think she intended to marry Lord St. Remy, or rather the Duke of Langford? He’s inherited, you see. At any rate, Langford was never in contention for Miranda’s hand, except in her mother’s mind. Jeanette adored Langford.”

He nearly told the Dowager that her granddaughter had intended to marry St. Remy, as she’d sent him a note. And returned his ring. But, just then, Ridley raised Miranda’s fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss upon her knuckles.

Mine.

“I do hope you enjoy dinner, Lord Kilmaire.” The Dowager bestowed a brilliant smile on him. She sounded amused.

His assumption about his seat location had been correct. Lady Helen sat to his left, Lady Dobson on his right. Much to his dismay, Miranda faced him across the table, flanked by Ridley and Hamill.

He couldn’t wait for this bloody meal to end and it hadn’t even begun.

COLIN UNFOLDED his napkin with a flick of his hand and tried to stem the rise of possessiveness at the sight of another man pawing Miranda.

Mine.

Sitting in the darkness of his study at Runshaw Park, it was far easier to pretend he didn’t still want her. At Runshaw Park he couldn’t see the glossy black of her hair, nor hear the musical sound of her voice. Nor smell lavender and honey. Alone at his estate his heart didn’t feel as if it had cracked, bleeding feeling back into his body. For too many years Colin had pushed aside the depths of his feelings.

Mine.

Taking a deep breath, he motioned for the footman to bring him wine, wishing he could ask for whiskey. It would take a great deal of wine to blot out the sight of Ridley and Miranda before him.