A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4) (19 page)

He frowned. “Who plans to stop me?” How many more threats was he bound to hear today?

“Not me,” she said with a menacing laugh, “but I shall heartily cheer your failure, knowing you stood at the altar and watched your hopes and dreams vanish like morning mist when your precious bride fails to appear. Laurel will make a laughingstock of you. She obviously has you fooled, pretending to be sweet and innocent. You’ll find out her true nature soon enough, but it will be too late for you by then.”

He didn’t know much about women. In truth, he knew almost nothing about them, but he did know about character and there was nothing lacking in Laurel’s. If she had a fault, it was that there was too much good in her character, for few women would have struggled so mightily with questions of loyalty and love and friendship as she had. “I’ll take that risk.”

“You’re a fool.” She tossed back her hair and sneered at him. “I can prove it to you. She’s written Devlin a letter agreeing to elope with him to Gretna Green. She handed it to me and asked that I deliver it to Devlin. I have it right here.” She motioned to the reticule dangling from her hand. “Care to read it?”

“No.” At one time, Laurel might have trusted Anne and considered her a friend, but Graelem knew it was no longer so. If there was a plot afoot, which he sincerely doubted, Laurel would have slipped the letter to Devlin herself or asked one of her sisters to do it for her.

Anne shrugged her shoulders and withdrew the missive from her reticule. “Then I’ll read it to you.”

Graelem didn’t like that they were standing in the doorway so that any passersby might overhear them, but the hallway still appeared to be empty, and in any event, he had no wish to be in the room alone with Anne. He didn’t like Devlin or Jordan and knew each had a plot afoot to undermine his wedding plans. They were obviously afraid of him and not likely to approach him again, but he was worried about what they might do to Laurel. Those toads were not above abducting her.

Bloody hell.
He really needed to get back to her.

“Very well,” he said finally and with marked impatience, “tell me what the bloody thing says.”

Anne proceeded, a look of triumph gleaming in her eyes. “Dearest Devlin.” She paused to smirk. “I have always loved you and that hasn’t changed. The situation is impossible and I fear my father will not allow me to end the betrothal. We have no alternative but to do as you suggest. I’ll meet you at the mews behind my house on Saturday next. Be there at midnight, but we must move quickly or my family will catch us before we reach Gretna Green. You have my heart for always. Laurel.”

He’d never heard worse drivel. “Do you expect me to believe that Laurel would betray her family’s trust?”

Anne smiled wickedly. “She would, for love. By now you ought to know that love is the most important thing to her.”

He took the letter from her hand to peruse it. “What did you hope to accomplish by revealing her so-called plan to elope? It seems to me that you would have been better served keeping your mouth shut and allowing them to run off to Gretna Green, if that were truly Laurel’s intention. I might have been angry enough, desperate enough to offer to marry you by Midsummer’s Day.”

The simple question seemed to stump her. Had she and Devlin really not thought through their scheme?

She appeared angry enough to spit at him. “I wouldn’t have you now. As you said, I can look higher than a mere Scottish baron. I don’t want you and neither does Laurel.” She snatched the letter from his grasp and then turned on her heels to storm back toward the exhibition rooms.

He shook his head as he watched her walk off in a huff, wishing the afternoon festivities would soon end. Unfortunately, they had just gotten underway. He glanced at the neatly aligned chairs, wanting to while away the long hours settled in them, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Was it possible Jordan, Devlin, and Anne had formed a conspiratorial circle to undermine his wedding plans? In any event, he knew for certain that Anne and Devlin were working together and would immediately plot further mischief now that their little note scheme had failed.

He didn’t care what those bounders did to him, but what they might do to Laurel concerned him.

He had to find her and stay close beside her for the rest of the affair. She might find his constant presence irritating, but he couldn’t risk her falling victim to another one of their ploys. Desperate people did desperate things.

Jordan and Devlin were certainly that. He wasn’t certain what Anne hoped to achieve, but it stood to reason that she desperately needed something. Probably money. It often boiled down to that.

As he was about to head back to the festivities, a light rustle from the neighboring doorway suddenly caught his attention. Had someone been listening? If so, how much had they overheard? Did it matter? Laurel wasn’t going to run off, and he would stay close to her for the rest of this party to protect her from these unsavory characters, some of whom she’d once considered friends.

But as he was about to continue down the hall, he saw the shadow of that person hiding in the next room, and it was a slender, female shape. He started toward it, then shook his head and reversed his course. Whoever this young woman was, it would do neither of them any good to be seen with each other. Worse, he’d only bring more trouble on himself if it turned out to be one of the supposedly proper young ladies he’d met at Eloise’s tea party. All three young ladies were here today and had already tossed him hungry looks.

He wasn’t so full of himself that he believed any of these women truly desired him. What they wanted was a hulking, muscled male to perform the naughty deeds they’d never consider doing with their unappealing husbands in the marriage bed.

Laurel had teased him about his so-called sexual prowess. If he were so damned competent, he’d know how to deal with the likes of Dora Pertwhistle, Lady Jane Hardwick, and Lady Katherine Lowesby. But he wasn’t a rakehell or practiced seducer of women. He wouldn’t know how to decline an invitation without insulting them, and he certainly wasn’t about to accept.

No, better to avoid them and let them find some other fool to accommodate their sexual fantasies.

To them, marriage was a cold business proposition.

Laurel was different. To Laurel, marriage was the perfect expression of her heart.

He started down the hall and once again heard the light rustle of a gown. No, he wasn’t going to find out who it was. Finding Laurel was more important.

Still, it troubled him.

Who was the young woman and how much of Anne’s theatrical reading had she overheard?

GRAELEM RETURNED
TO
the exhibition hall to find it even more of a crush than when he’d left twenty minutes before. Even so, it didn’t take him long to spot Laurel standing beside the twins and Hortensia. Another young man stood beside them. The lad looked so much like George Farthingale, it could only be the son George had spoken of with much affection during his visits to examine Graelem’s healing leg.

Laurel’s eyes brightened and a genuine smile crossed her lips as he approached.

Lord, he’d never tire of her smile.

“There you are,” she said, eyeing him up and down with obvious concern, no doubt noticing his limp was a little more pronounced than it had been earlier. “I don’t believe you’ve met my cousin William yet. He’s George’s son,” she said.

He and the young man exchanged pleasantries. Like all the Farthingales, William seemed to be clever, jovial, and not one to put on airs. However, he was a young man—not that Graelem was all that much older—and his gaze kept straying away from his cousins to survey the other young ladies in attendance. By the expression on his boyish face, he was enjoying what he saw.

Laurel rolled her eyes and playfully nudged William. “Must you be so obvious? Have you settled on any little dove in particular?”

He grinned. “No, they’re all too lovely. I don’t think of them as little birds, but as tasty bake shop sweets. A soft creme caramel, or a hot cherry pie, or a delightful strawberry crumpet. It’s hard to choose, so I shall remain the carefree bachelor for now.”

“You’d better not bring any of your
tarts
to the house or I shall box your ears.” Hortensia arched an eyebrow. “A carefree bachelor, what nonsense! Why, only a year ago you were a boy in knee pants.”

William looked appalled. “I was not!” Then he relented and chuckled. “It’s been almost two years since I’ve worn knee pants, Aunt Hortensia. Leave me a little dignity, won’t you? Besides, every man ought to sow his wild oats. Nothing wrong with a little exploration before one decides to settle down.”

His aunt shook her head and sighed. “Women like a man of mystery, not a young pup with his tongue rolling out of his mouth.”

“Can’t help it. As I said, they’re all so lovely. Like little pastries in a bake shop, and I aim to sample as many sweet treats as I can before
the
young lady of my dreams comes along and puts an end to all my fun.”

Hortensia gave him a gentle smack on the arm. “True love is the best fun of all, you dolt.”

“I know. I know. That’s why we Farthingales only marry for love. I wouldn’t think of breaking with the proud family tradition. We all… except for…” His face turned crimson as he stared at Laurel and realized his
faux pas
. Although everyone knew Laurel had been forced into this betrothal, he’d been ungraciously about to state it aloud.

“Yes, we do marry for love,” Laurel said, turning her gentle gaze on Graelem and placing her hand on his arm. He silently thanked The Fates once again for leading him to this beautiful girl. If she was deceiving him, as Anne had suggested, then she had to be the best actress in all of London. She took a step closer, her hand still perched on his arm.

William stared at her, contrite. “Well, you didn’t like him at first. Admit it, Laurel.”

“You’re a nuisance,” she muttered. “Run along and sow your wild oats. Just keep your wits about you. There are devious mothers out there just looking to reel in unsuspecting bachelors for their daughters.”

Graelem’s mind wandered to his own wild oats days. He’d sown a few, but he’d never been the sort to womanize or undertake nightly excursions to the seedier men’s clubs, except in furtherance of his espionage duties. Between fighting Boney’s armies and trying to keep the Moray holdings running profitably, he’d had little time to spare for such activities. And he had no use for them now that he had Laurel beside him.

Assuming he truly had Laurel.

Was she too perfect to be true? Beautiful, passionate, and in love with him? He didn’t know what he’d done to merit such bounty, but it was a hell of a lot better than the cold, lonely years spent at Moray, and he wasn’t ever giving her up.

Even her imperfections were perfect.

She had a strong will, but he didn’t mind. He wanted a wife with fire and determination, not one who faced him each morning at the breakfast table with cool disinterest.

The gentle warmth of Laurel’s hand upon his arm brought him back to the present. He thought of her marriage list and one of her more delightful demands, share a bed.
Oh, yes.
That was at the top of his list, too.

And he intended to take full advantage,
if
he were ever fortunate enough to have her in his bed. Or rather,
when
he had Laurel in his bed, which would be soon if the light blush now staining her beautiful cheeks was any indication.

While Hortensia lectured William and the twins were momentarily occupied teasing the poor lad, Graelem eased back for a private moment with Laurel—as private as one could be with two hundred people milling about them.

“You appear to be in pain,” she said with sincere concern. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “I tried to find a quiet spot to sit down and elevate my leg, but there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to hide in this enormous building.”

She glanced at Lily and grinned. “My sister can show you where to go for solitude. She knows all this building’s secrets.”

“Not all,” Lily assured her, hearing her name mentioned and hopping to their side. So much for his quiet moment with Laurel. “I’m sure there are a few secrets that I haven’t found out yet. Isn’t this a grand place? So many interesting artifacts brought here from around the world. Can you imagine?
Around the world.
And we’ve never been farther north than the Lake District. Never even been across the Scottish border, much less into the rugged highlands. Did you know that Edinburgh is situated on an extinct volcano? One would certainly hope it remains that way.”

Hortensia groaned. “Lily, dear. While I adore your lively mind, you’ll have to learn to keep it well hidden from your suitors when you eventually have your come out. No man wishes for a wife who’s smarter than he can ever hope to be.”

Graelem wanted to come to the girl’s defense, but Hortensia was right. Few men would encourage Lily’s brilliant thirst for knowledge, but he hoped for her sake that the right one would come along for her. The right man
would
come along. These Farthingale girls were special, not cut from ordinary cloth.

“Oh, there’s Ashton,” Lily said, craning her neck to peer at a slender young man with thin blond hair who was now talking to the Duke of Lotheil. “He’s asked me to help him on a monograph he’s writing.” Her eyes were now glistening with excitement. “And I’m developing an idea for a monograph of my own about the habits of baboon colonies. Did you know—”

“Oh, crumpets! Not that monkey blather again, Lily. It’s all you speak of lately.” William rolled his eyes.

She playfully stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m going off to converse with someone who appreciates my monkeys. Ashton will listen to me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Dillie said and scampered off with her.

“Oh, dear,” Laurel laughingly muttered. “The twins off on their own again? I’m not sure that’s a very good idea. It won’t take them long to cook up some new mischief.”

Hortensia shook her head and sighed. “You’re right, of course. Come along, William. You and I shall see to it that these imps cause no more trouble.”

As the two of them went off, Graelem was finally and truly left alone with Laurel. Her pretty brow suddenly furrowed and she pursed her lips. “Speaking of trouble, have you seen Daisy? I couldn’t find her earlier and I’m a little worried.”

“Let me see if she’s in the hall.” Since he was taller than just about any man present, he had no difficulty searching the crowd. “There she is.”
Damn.
“She’s speaking with your friend Anne.” What was the girl telling Daisy? No doubt spouting the same drivel about Laurel and Devlin and their plans to elope. The thought crossed his mind that Daisy might have been the slender shadow he’d noticed earlier when Anne had been reading the letter to him. Indeed, a bad situation if Daisy believed its content to be true.

Laurel’s frown deepened. “Anne and I were good friends once, but she’s changed so much this past year. Or is it that I never noticed her mercenary qualities? Would you mind if we joined them? I don’t think I like her talking to Daisy alone.”

Neither did he. “Not at all. Take hold of my arm. I’ll part the crowd for us.”

Anne had disappeared by the time they made it across the room. He and Laurel came upon Daisy standing alone and looking perplexed. “Something wrong?” Laurel asked her.

Daisy glanced up with the guiltiest look in her eyes, but she shook her head in denial and quickly averted her gaze. “Nothing,” she said, gazing at her toes instead of at her or Graelem. “All’s well. Ribbons and roses.”

“I hardly think so.” A flicker of alarm sprang into Laurel’s eyes. “You were talking to Anne.”

Daisy blushed. “Oh, that. Yes, a… a moment’s chat with your friend, Anne. Dull conversation. Very dull, indeed. Almost put me to sleep. Not interesting at all.”

Laurel put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “She hasn’t behaved much like a friend to me lately, so beware of what she tells you. Stop fidgeting and tell me what you two were talking about.”

Daisy was obviously still flustered, which told Graelem all he needed to know. Anne had been spouting that elopement nonsense again, Daisy might have been the one to overhear them earlier, and now she believed that fable. But what did Anne have to gain by convincing her? It would take nothing for Daisy to talk to Laurel and straighten out any misunderstanding. After all, she and Laurel shared a bedchamber and could easily chat at length in the privacy of their room.

The short hairs on the back on his neck were standing on end again.

No, he didn’t like what was going on at all. He’d speak to Daisy, but didn’t intend to do it here. There were too many people standing close by, including Eloise’s busybody friend Lady Withnall. That tiny termagant had ears like a bat, able to pick up whispers from here all the way to Coventry. He didn’t need more rumors than were already circulating in the scandal rags about him and Laurel.

Lord, he hated those insidious gossip sheets.

He didn’t care what was said about him, but they’d been particularly cruel to Laurel, calling her “the baron’s biscuit” and other appellations that would make a barmaid blush. Damn. He had much to atone for with Laurel. His only saving grace was that she seemed to have fallen in love with him despite all that had happened between them.

He’d make things right with her, but first they had to deal with Anne’s mischief. What had she told Daisy?

He glanced once more at Daisy. Her cheeks were stained with a pink blush and she appeared sincerely distressed. The wonderful thing about Daisy, indeed all the Farthingale girls, was that they were dreadful liars. “Oh, look!” she said, her features suddenly brightening. “The duke is about to give his speech. Shall we go listen?” She took off without awaiting their answer.

Laurel shook her head in confusion. “What was that about?”

Graelem held her back when she was about to start after Daisy. “I think I know.”

“You do?”

As the crowd began to move toward the back of the hall where a dais had been set up beside what would be the new wing, Graelem took the opportunity to step to the side and sit in one of the chairs along the wall that was now left empty. “Sit with me, love. In truth, my leg won’t hold me up much longer.”

“Oh, dear.” Laurel’s hands were already on him to lend comfort as he sank into the closest chair.

She took a seat beside him. “I’ve grown used to us spending our afternoons together. In truth, this party has upset my schedule. Although I chatted with acquaintances and studied some of the exhibits, I wasn’t enjoying myself very much. My thoughts kept returning to you.”

He laughed and shook his head. “My thoughts never left you, lass.”

“But you’re not going to like what I must do next.” She began to nibble her lip and glanced toward Devlin, who happened to be standing at the back of the crowd, looking sullen. “I’ve disappointed him terribly. I must speak to him. I owe him that much.”

Graelem shifted uncomfortably in the chair that was too small for his large frame. “You don’t owe him anything. He and Anne already have a new scheme to interfere with our betrothal. Anne showed me a letter you supposedly wrote to Devlin.”

“A letter?” She shook her head and frowned. “I wrote him several in the days immediately following our first encounter. But they were mere apologies for why I couldn’t meet him in the park or at a particular ball or musicale. I did start to write him an important one the other day, explaining my feelings for you, but I never finished it.”

She paused to cast him a pained glance before continuing. “Everything was happening so fast and I honestly didn’t know how I felt about you… or how you felt about me. It’s still sitting in my writing desk. I never got beyond the first few sentences.”

He’d shaken her comfortable existence by claiming her for his own and giving no thought to her wishes. He was still doing it, the only difference being that she was more accepting of it now. Still didn’t make it right. “The letter Anne showed me says you plan to meet Devlin this Saturday at the mews behind Chipping Way.”

“At midnight?”

He nodded. “You knew about this letter?”

“No, but that’s what Devlin asked me to do several days ago. Well, it was more of a demand, and I must say, I didn’t like being ordered about. No, not one bit.” A sadness suddenly stole into her eyes. “Just as I don’t like being forced to marry you. You and he are both in the wrong.”

He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “I know.”

This was the undercurrent that coursed through all of their conversations. He had tricked her into the betrothal and she was bitterly hurt by it. That was bad enough, but he was making it worse by still refusing to allow her out of it.