A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (111 page)

“
Should be? Meaning you
aren’t?” How could he ever be so fortunate?

“
I’m not,” she replied,
“but only because I can see there is something beneath the surface
between the two of you.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “You, my dear
son, are developing a
tendre
for her.”

This time, he spat the lemonade from
his mouth in shock. “I most certainly am not.” Ridiculous notion,
that.

“
You are,” Sophie chimed
in. “Denial won’t change anything.”

“
Mind your own affairs,” he
growled. “You should be finding yourself a husband, shouldn’t you?
How many offers have you declined so far this Season,
hmm?”

“
Leave her be,” Char piped
in. “She’s only stating what is perfectly obvious to the rest of
us.”

“
Perfectly obvious to a
group of unmarried hens, you mean? I think I’ll trust my own
judgment, if it is all the same to you.”

“
Listen to him growling
like a wounded bear,” whispered Char in fascination, oblivious to
the murderous scowl he cast in her direction.

“
What would you know about
how a wounded bear sounds?” Sophie asked. “You’ve never seen a bear
in your life.”

“
What does that matter?”
Charlotte asked. “He’s clearly only stinging because we can see
straight through him.” She took another scone and popped it into
her mouth, not bothering to chew and swallow before she continued
with: “Just like we always could.”

“
You all think you know so
much about me, but you know nothing,” he said. “Nothing at
all.”

“
Stop berating your sisters
voicing the truth you have no desire to hear,” Mama said in a
brook-no-nonsense tone.

Peter rose, prepared to deliver them
all a blistering set-down and leave, when he heard the scream. A
scream that threatened to rob him of all his breath and stop his
heart from beating. Sarah. His baby girl.

“
Sarah!” he called and
rushed in the direction of the sound. Not seeing anything. Not
realizing that his mother and sisters were right behind him,
running as fast as they could.

She was around the corner of the house
and off a distance further. The sound was slightly muffled, perhaps
by tree branches.

He flew, brushing past bushes and tree
branches. Her cries carried him forward. “Sarah?”

Then the sound changed. Was it
squealing? Giggles?

Finally, he arrived where his daughter
was, in a heap on the ground beneath a too-tall branch, buried in a
pile of bodies. And she was laughing.

Because Jane was leaning over her and
tickling the breath out of her, along with Josh and the damned cat,
too. In fact, all of them were laughing, even if the laughter was
coming through tears in Sarah’s case. Well, perhaps the cat was not
laughing. Could cats laugh? He doubted it. But it was squarely
involved in the fray, nuzzling up against Sarah’s chin while she
squirmed and squealed.

Peter came to a dead stop, moving
again only when Char and Sophie ran into him from behind and pushed
him forward. After sending them a ducal glare, he asked, “Sarah?
Are you all right? Sweetheart, I was so worried when I heard you
scream.”

But his daughter was in such a fit of
giggles she couldn’t answer him if she tried. Not that she
tried.

Jane took pity on him, though. “She
took a good fall from the tree there. Sarah thought that since
Joshua could climb it, she should be able to as well. I wasn’t fast
enough to catch her, I’m afraid.” She rose and straightened her
gown about her legs, leaving the children and the cat where they
lay. “But I’ve checked her all over, and there are no broken bones.
I imagine she’ll be fit as a fiddle again in no time.”

“
I see.” But of course, he
didn’t. “And do you profess to be a doctor, then, Miss
Matthews?”

“
We’re back to Miss
Matthews and Your Grace, then are we?” she spat back at him. “No,
sir, I’m nothing of the sort. But I know how to find a broken bone.
You should just be thankful I was here to help her.”

“
Thankful?
Thankful
! I can promise
you, ma’am, I shall be thankful the day you have married and are no
longer living beneath my roof. And not a day sooner.”

She leveled him with an icy stare.
“Well, I’ll do my best not to disappoint, then. Good day to you.”
The minx spun on her heels and marched back to the house, ignoring
Sophie as she followed behind.

“
Papa,” Sarah said, “why
are you angry at Jane? I’m not hurt.” She looked up at him with
wide eyes, still brimming with unshed tears.

“
Never mind about that,” he
said and gently moved both the cat and Joshua off of her before
lifting her into his arms. “Mama, please have Spenser send for a
doctor. I want Sarah thoroughly checked over for breaks and
bruises.”

He waited for no response, and carried
his princess back to the house, to Mrs. Pratt in the nursery. No
expense would be spared when his daughter’s health was at stake.
And he would not trust the word of a silly spinster who treated a
cat like a human and was scared of horses on such a
matter.

Preposterous.

~ * ~

Vauxhall was an unexpected treat. Yes,
of course Jane had known she would be going—that wasn’t the
unexpected part. It was the gardens. They were so lush and
inviting, so green and colorful, so filled with vitality, she felt
sure she would burst with the excitement she felt just from walking
through the gates and traversing the walks until they reached Lady
Veazey’s supper box.

Even having Peter along would not
spoil her mood. Not tonight. She simply wouldn’t allow it to
happen. There was far too much for her to enjoy, and she wouldn’t
allow anyone to ruin it for her.

The supper box slowly filled with the
other invited revelers, all of whom Jane at least had an
acquaintance. The two Miss Marlboroughs were present, as was Miss
Lily Fairfax. Lord Sinclaire had joined the group, along with Lords
Pottinger and Eldredge—the latter of whom passed Jane a kindly
smile, but made no other effort at conversation, much to her
relief, and Mr. Derringer, a kindly, older gentleman who remained
unmarried. Of course, the elegant and petitite Lady Veazey was
present, alongside her devilishly handsome husband. Finally, there
were all of the Hardwickes and Jane. Somehow Cousin Henrietta had
even wrangled Neil into accompanying them, as well.

Several matrons stood off to the side
of the box along with the dowager, providing ample chaperonage for
all of the unmarried ladies and gentlemen.

As the supper box filled to
overflowing, Char brought two glasses of lemonade over to Jane. “I
hope Lady Veazey is unaware of her
faux
pas
. She has one more young lady present
than she has eligible gentlemen. It just isn’t
done
.”

A cursory glance around the party
proved Char’s observation correct. But was it truly a mistake?
“Perhaps an invited guest was unable to attend at the last moment,”
Jane murmured, keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t attract
anyone else’s attention to the uneven numbers.

But then Lord Utley, smiling like the
rogue she knew him to be, strode across the walk and stopped
directly before the entrance to Lady Veazey’s box. Drat. He must be
the final member of the party.

“
A lovely evening, isn’t
it?” he called out, inclining his head to their host and hostess
and let himself inside.

“
So glad you were able to
join us, my lord,” Lady Veazey called out to him, “and at such late
notice, too. I was simply devastated when Sir Jonas Buchannan sent
word he couldn’t attend.”

Before Jane could ponder the matter
any further, Peter stormed across the box to stand beside her, the
fierce look in his eyes enough to send her shaking to the corner,
had the look been intended for her. “Charlotte. Jane.” His brusque
tone sent shivers across Jane’s bare upper arms beneath the small
capped sleeves of her gown. Thankfully, she could imagine his scowl
to be intended for none other than Utley at that moment.

Peter’s rather large frame was so
close to her side, she couldn’t move without brushing against him.
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, almost daring the
newest member of the group to draw near.

Utley made his rounds, speaking
briefly with each of the various smaller groups which had gathered
in the supper box before moving on to the next. Sophie stood with
Lord Eldredge and Miss Marlborough when Utley arrived at their
group. Their voices were too low for Jane to make out anything they
said, but Sophie’s eyes never lit up, nor did she ever break into a
smile as long as the cad remained with them.

Finally, after conversing with every
other group, Utley moved to stand before Peter—who made no effort
whatsoever to make the man feel welcome.

“
Somerton,” Utley drawled,
his voice unctuous and ingratiating. “Pleasure to meet you, as
always.” His nose crinkled a touch, though he fought to conceal the
action. “And of course, Lady Charlotte and the delectable Miss
Matthews. It is always a joy to discover one is in the company of
such lovely ladies.”

“
Utley,” Peter clipped off,
low and almost menacing. “I am almost surprised to see you out in
company. Why, no one has seen you since the first ball of the
Season, from what I understand.”

“
I have had to make a brief
foray into the country to see to one of my estates. Sadly, at
times, business must take precedence over pleasure. Of course you
would know all about that, wouldn’t you? But now I’ve returned, and
Lady Veazey was delighted to discover my availability for this
evening when we met on Curzon Street this afternoon.”

“
Is that so?” Peter asked,
deceptively mild in his query. “Did you also, perhaps, visit your
brother in Wales?”

“
Wales? Egad, Somerton.”
Utley laughed, a nervous, fractious sound. “That is quite a trek,
especially while so much is happening in Town. No, I haven’t been
to Wales in months. Perhaps longer.” He passed a pointed look in
Jane and Charlotte’s direction. “But really, aren’t we boring these
lovely ladies with our discussion of business affairs?”

Before Peter could answer, and despite
his obvious attempt to issue a response, with his mouth gaping
open, Lady Veazey interrupted them all. “Dinner will not be served
for another hour. I believe it would be lovely if we all broke into
pairs or small groups and went for a walk through the pleasure
gardens. Gentlemen, would you be so kind?”

Lord Veazey took up her arm and led
her from the box. They paused at the gate and looked over their
shoulders to be certain that none of their guests were left
out.

Utley turned to Jane with a triumphant
look upon his face. But before he could even open his mouth to ask
if she would allow him to escort her through the gardens, Peter
took hold of her elbow. “Come with me,” he muttered and tugged
against her, practically dragging her forward.

She gasped, but was secretly pleased,
not to mention grateful that she would not have to spend any time
alone in the man’s presence. With a quick look over her shoulder,
she saw that Lord Eldredge and Neil were escorting Charlotte and
Miss Theodora Marlborough out of the supper box, and Lord Sinclaire
was only a few paces behind with Sophie. Miss Marlborough and Miss
Fairfax promenaded one on either side of Lord Pottinger, leaving
the matrons to form a group to take a leisure walk together—leaving
Utley on his own. Lord Veazey gestured to him to come along and
walk with himself and his wife—obviously not what the man wanted,
but it suited Jane’s mood just fine.

Peter was still tense as he held onto
her arm, guiding her more than only a bit faster than necessary
through the lamp-lit trees lining the various walkways. She wanted
to say something—anything, really—but dared not upset him further.
In truth, she wasn’t certain why he was so intensely angered by
Lord Utley’s presence. Not that it mattered. Jane was more than all
right with being whisked away from the man with all due
haste.

Her last encounter with the man had
been one she would have preferred to have forgotten...and almost
had.

Almost. But not quite.

And because of that, she had no desire
whatsoever to spend any more time in the man’s presence than
absolutely necessary. No time at all in his presence would suit
Jane rather well, thank you very much.

Utley’s arrival at Vauxhall left her
unsettled, to say the least.

She must have been huffing for breath,
because Peter suddenly slowed his pace and inclined his head to
her. “I must apologize. I seem to have lost my manners.”

By this point, they had outpaced the
other revelers by such a distance that she couldn’t even see them
when she peeked over her shoulder into the distance. Peter led her
through twisting walkways that were now less well-lit than the
earlier ones—paths whose arch of trees overhead largely blocked the
moonlight from illuminating their trail.

“
There’s no need to
apologize.”