A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (105 page)

Hence his next overreaction. “Step
back, if you will. I say, allow me to pass.”

A few muttered grumbles came from one
side of the crowd, where bodies seemed to be parting in a less than
comfortable wave. One gentleman lost his footing, Jane could only
imagine from being shoved from behind, and fell into another
gentleman.

“
Miss Matthews! I am coming
to rescue you, ma’am. Kindly let me through, please.”

Finally, enough people moved to the
side (likely in order to avoid being unceremoniously shoved about)
to allow Lord Eldredge to rush through to her side and assist her
to her feet.

“
You’ve given me quite the
scare, Miss Matthews. I’ll return you home immediately.”

She brushed the dirt and leaves off
her walking dress and frowned at the small tear along the hem.
She’d have to fix that before Meg caught sight of it. “That will be
quite unnecessary, my lord,” she said off-handedly. “I intend to
stay until I’m certain young Laura will recover.”

The girl had only just come around
again and seemed to have no serious injuries. Still, Jane had no
intention of leaving just yet.

Lord Eldredge took her by the elbow,
however, and attempted to lead her away from the throng. “I must
insist, ma’am. His Grace is counting on me to ensure your safety.
You must be returned to your chaperone at once.”

By this point, they had reached the
far edge of the gathering. Jane pulled her arm free from the
over-eager man’s grasp. “My safety, sir,” she said with far more
force, not to mention volume, than she intended, “might have been
better looked after if you had assisted me with rescuing that
girl.”

Several pairs of eyes turned in their
direction, obviously making note of every word she uttered as fuel
for the gossip mill. Drat, she had gone and made a cake of herself
again. But she’d already built up a full head of steam, so there
could be no stopping now.

“
My safety would surely
have been better ensured had you, a gentleman who has clearly had
more experience working with horses than I have, been so thoughtful
as to have done the rescuing yourself. But you did not, sir. You
ran for cover and watched while I took matters into my own hands. I
rather think my safety is quite fine without your assistance. Good
day to you, Lord Eldredge.” She spun on her heels and marched back
toward the crowd around Laura, many of whom stood gawking at
her.

“
But Miss Matthews—” He put
out a hand in an attempt to stop her progress again, but she shook
him free and continued her forward progress.

“
But who will see you home,
madam?” His voice sounded weak, almost pathetic, to her
ears.

Lord Pottinger stepped out from the
crowd and bowed low to her. “My companions and I would be delighted
to see you home at your convenience, Miss Matthews.”

From the other side of the gathering,
Patience and Theodora Marlborough moved into a clearing. “Miss
Matthews, my sister and I were hoping to visit with Lady Sophia and
Lady Charlotte this afternoon. It would be no trouble at all to add
one more to our party.”

Several others of her brief
acquaintance made similar offers, thereby nullifying Lord
Eldredge’s arguments. With a crestfallen, dejected look, he stepped
back from her and inclined his head. “Very well. I see you’ll be
quite well looked after, ma’am.” He made an awkward bow to the
group as a whole, and backed away, heading toward some bushes off
to the side. “Good day to you.”

How odd. The bushes moved, as though
something had disturbed them, but there wasn’t even a slight breeze
this afternoon. Jane shook her head. She must have imagined
it.

Well. Perhaps she
had—finally—convinced Lord Eldredge to seek a match
elsewhere.

Gracious, it had taken a
lot.

Chapter Nine

Yet again, down the hall from Peter’s
library, something was causing a stir. Devil take it. As it was,
he’d resorted to using trickery with his mother in order to
accomplish some of his business matters. Only that very afternoon,
in fact.

He needed to meet with Yeats again,
somehow, in order to discuss the problems at Carreg Mawr. In all of
the time Peter had devoted to poring over the books, meager as that
amount of time may be, he had discovered nothing—nothing!—out of
place. Not one crop had gone unaccounted for, not one wage seemed
out of line. There was seemingly no reason for the
discrepancies.

But still, there must be some
explanation.

Carreg Mawr had always produced far
more income than was required in upkeep. Even before he’d taken
over the running of the old castle and estate from his father and
introduced new crops to the home farm, it had proven itself quite
profitable.

So Peter had gone to visit with Yeats
at his London office to discuss receive a report from a new
worker—or rather someone investigating matters for Peter, while
under the guise of being a new worker—in Wales. He’d allowed Mama
to think he was paying social calls to some unnamed females he
might consider courting in order to gain the bit of freedom to
accomplish his task. What she didn’t know, after all, wouldn’t hurt
him.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. But it was
most decidedly an omission of the truth. Blast it. Something as
relatively minor as neglecting to tell his mother the full truth,
even at his thirty-two years of age, grated on his last
nerve.

So he’d taken care of his business and
allowed Mama to think what she would. At least he had until he ran
into Miss Matthews on his way home, out for a stroll in Hyde Park
with Eldredge.

Why was he so blasted envious of the
man? Peter couldn’t possibly want to spend more time with that
woman than he was already forced to spend. There was no reasonable
answer for the ugly mass of envy that had snaked its way through
his body at the sight of Miss Matthews on Eldredge’s arm. Jealousy
had consumed every fiber of his body when he found them with her
hand holding his arm. It had burned through him so fast, he was
amazed his curricle hadn’t burst into flame right there on the
street for the entire world to see.

He had wanted to throttle the minx,
too, when she’d refused to come home with him like a reasonable
lady after she’d fainted. Damnably independent, that one was. He
would be glad to be rid of her. Eldredge seemed to be eager to snap
her up, so perhaps Peter would be rid of Miss Matthews sooner than
expected. That should make his life a bit more normal at
least.

If only the thought consoled him as it
should, instead of making him want to rip Eldredge apart, limb from
bloody limb.

But how could she be so afraid of
horses of all things? He shook his head, remembering how she’d
paled before him as she’d watched his pair, just before collapsing
into a heap beside her escort.

An escort who
ought
to have caught her.
Bastard.

Good lord, Peter needed to
get her out of his head. Maybe he should take up a mistress, or at
least avail himself of the services so freely offered to him by one
of several widows about town. He merely needed a woman—any
appropriate woman other than
that
particular woman—to slake his desires.

She was as thoroughly inappropriate as
any lady could possibly be.

He should never have kissed her. Just
the thought of what would have happened if someone had caught them
when he kissed her was enough to send him into a mild state of
panic. They would be well on their way to the altar by now, if not
already married.

Honestly, could any female in Town be
less prepared to become his duchess? Peter held serious
doubts.

A peal of laughter rang through the
halls again, so he decided to do what any reasonable man would
eschew—he went to the drawing room to discover what could possibly
have the females of his home so excited.

When he arrived, not only had Miss
Matthews returned—sans Eldredge, he noted with a touch more glee
than he ought to have had—but the Misses Marlborough had also
joined the melee.

The elder Miss Marlborough was in the
midst of recounting some delightful—or dreadful, depending on who
was making the determination—adventure from the day. Not a soul in
the room had noticed Peter’s presence, and he had no asinine (to
borrow Miss Matthews’s term) desire to alert them of his
appearance, so he leaned against the door frame and listened to her
rapturous tale.

“
And
then
—Sophie, I declare you won’t
believe this part, but on my honor, it is entirely true—then Jane
dashed in front of the horse! The poor girl had taken a faint in
the saddle and fallen from it, but her foot was trapped in the
stirrup, and Jane somehow convinced the wild horse to stop long
enough for her to work the girl’s ankle free. No one else dared to
go near the animal in fear they would be trampled.”

A chorus of shocked gasps filled the
humming air of the drawing room.

Obviously she must be speaking of some
other Jane than Miss Matthews. Peter racked his brain to remember
if there had been some other young lady at Hyde Park who might be a
Jane, but he remembered no ladies at all save the one in
question.

He must be even more distracted than
he thought.

But it was impossible for her to have
done anything of the sort. For Christ’s sake, she had fainted dead
away herself only moments earlier, simply from the sight of his
pair.

He refrained from snorting aloud in
derision and returned his attention to the young woman’s
tale.

“
And when Lord
Eldredge
rushed
to
her side—long after any need for his assistance had long since
passed, I might add—he tried to drag her away before she could
ascertain that the girl was all right. Of course, our Jane let the
odious man know in no uncertain terms that she could see herself
home quite well, thank you very much, and then bade him good
day.”

Our Jane?
But, how?

“
You did not, Jane!”
Charlotte said, clearly scandalized by the thought. “But he is
sweet on you. Have you no care for his sensibilities?”

“
What utter nonsense,”
Sophie interjected. “Why should Jane concern herself with
his
sensibilities
when
he
clearly
didn’t care one whit either for her safety or for that of the poor
girl?”

“
Honestly,” Miss Matthews
said, lifting her hands as though to deflect attention, “I could
not care less if the man is sweet on me, or if I have hurt his
tender sensibilities, or anything else.”

“
Of course you care,” his
mother said. “He’s quite eligible, Jane, you mustn’t forget that. I
do hope you’ve not ruined your chances—”

“
Ruined my chances? Good
gracious, if rescuing that girl is enough to ‘ruin my chances’ I
think I’m far better off being ruined. Particularly if Lord
Eldredge is the sum total of my chances!”

The orange ball of fluff that was so
often planted upon her lap chose that moment to jump up and resume
its customary position. The animal’s purrs reached Peter’s ears
from across the room. Gracious that animal could be loud when it
wanted to be.

“
Jane,” his mother
admonished. “You
are
here to find a husband, you know.”

“
But must I accept the
first man who makes an offer? Even if he is entirely
unacceptable?”

Makes an offer? Peter perked up at
that. Had the cad already proposed without first speaking to
him?

“
You don’t think he’s so
terrible, do you?” a bewildered Charlotte asked. “He is rather
handsome, I believe, and he would be a fantastic match for nearly
any lady—quite advantageous.”

“
You feel that every
gentleman you see is rather handsome,” Sophie countered.

“
Well, he
is.
And he is a viscount.
His peerage is one of the oldest and most respected in the kingdom,
too, and has been in the same line for an age. He could hardly be
better respected. And he’s dashingly handsome on top of it
all!”

“
There are far more
important matters to consider than how good looking a gentleman is
when choosing a husband,” Sophie said cut in quietly.
“
If
one must
choose a husband at all.”

“
Which,” Mama interrupted
with a raised brow, “any reasonable young lady must. You might take
note of that yourself, dear.” She gave Sophie a rather pointed
look.

And then received six pairs of eyes
rolling up toward the ceiling in return.

“
Well you must. It’s simply
how it is done. But,” Mama said, allowing a pregnant pause to fill
the room, “I suppose it
would
be best for you to still be available on the
marriage mart when your come-out ball arrives, Jane. It simply
would not do to immediately follow that with an engagement ball.
Or, heaven forbid, to have to put on the engagement ball
before
your
come-out.”