Chills (6 page)

“He would be perfect for you. He practically lives at Oxford year round, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the pompous idiot spouting his nonsensical ideas. His mother is sweet and never leaves Parkwood. You could live there and we could see each other every day.”

As enticing as Virginia made the match sound, Pixie had never felt comfortable with Lord Hallam. He was far too serious a man to encourage more than the barest affection. Acceptance, perhaps. She accepted that he was large enough to make three of her, he could argue in circles until she had no idea what the original point had been. He made her head hurt.

No, not a good choice.

The happy zeal drained from Virginia’s face as if she remembered something disturbing. Constance moved to support her if needed, but Virginia smiled brightly, shrugging off whatever thoughts she might have had.

“As much as I would love to see you every day, I doubt Lord Hallam and I would suit. He is far and away more arrogant than even your brother.”

“Well, there is nothing else for it. We shall have to make sure you marry for money
and
love. Surely there is a well-positioned man somewhere you could feel more than just a passing affection for.” Virginia’s exhalation sounded a little relieved to Constance.

“Let us hope so.” Constance prayed for that.

“Come, I want to write that list of names. At least you can be armed with a little information before we begin our search.”

“Virginia, I didn’t come to London to find a husband. I came to see you.”

“And I am very happy you are here. It was good of you to spend your holiday with me.”

“Well, I’m glad you persuaded me to come,” Constance assured her as they climbed the front steps. Constance had missed her friend so much over the past years. Her letters had left her aching for more than the stilted conversations of hurried notes. But given the marquess’ bad mood over the guardianship, she hadn’t wanted to press for a visit. She had waited and waited to be invited.

“How did I persuade you? You’re always welcome.”

“In your letter. Don’t you remember?”

Virginia frowned. “My letter? Oh, of course I remember. Pixie, would you excuse me for a moment? I have forgotten something that requires my attention upstairs. I will join you in the drawing room as soon as I can.”

When Virginia hurried off, Constance stripped off her pelisse and handed it to the waiting butler. She watched the stern retainer and amused herself by wondering what Parkes might look like if the bushy brows he sported suddenly caught fire. If the butler ever wore an expression that wasn’t entirely proper and respectful, she would probably faint.

~ * ~

Jack glanced up as the door to his bedchamber banged open. “Sister, what an unexpected pleasure.”

 
“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

The startling fury in Virginia’s voice surprised him. Jack tugged the ruined cravat from his neck, and tossed it onto the dresser. “What, specifically, is it you think I did? The list could be very long.”

Instead of chuckling, Virginia strode toward him and stopped a bare inch away. “Did you or did you not write to Pixie as if you were me.”

“I may have. You would need a man of experience, expert in the art of detecting forgeries, to prove it though.”

The truth was bound to come out sooner or later. But did his former ward realize he’d been corresponding with her as Virginia these last years? She wouldn’t be happy when she learned.

Yet he couldn’t be sorry. Appearances had to be maintained. As they had aged, Jack’s handwriting had remained similar to his sister’s. All it required was a little effort on his part and the use of the correct phrases in order to make a convincing replacement.

His sister scowled. “You deceived my best friend. How could you, Jack?”

“Very easily. You needed her here.” Inviting Pixie to London had been one of his better ideas, if her presence could transform his sister into this hissing viper. God, he had missed Virginia. “Is Miss Grange aware?”

“Oh, will you stop calling her that. I know you remember her nickname.”

“Yes, of course I know her name, but I won’t be using it. Does she know I wrote the letters?”

“No. And I’m certainly not going to tell her. She’d be so embarrassed to realize the truth.”

When Virginia scowled, Jack bit back a crow of triumph. “That is for the better.” He didn’t need another reason for Pixie to be irritated with him this week. It would be better to let her ire subside before she got any other distressing news. “In case you have failed to notice, Miss Grange is not particularly pleased with me of late.”

“She said you were arrogant.”

Old and arrogant. The list grew daily. “She has a right to her opinions, Virginia.”

“But you could change her mind.”

Jack raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly uncomfortable that the subject had switched to him. “Leave matters as they are. She is your friend, and she is here for your comfort. How she feels about me is beside the point.”

Virginia scowled but there was a look about her eyes, as if she was assessing him and his current state of happiness. He hoped she didn’t consider him for too long. He was not very good at lying to his twin especially if she questioned him point blank about why he hadn’t done his duty and married to produce an heir. He was trying very hard to avoid that subject.

Virginia snatched up his cravat and hurled it at his head. “Don’t think I shall forgive you for this, brother. You owe me.”

Jack caught it. “I look forward to it.”

Virginia’s swift exit left him with a sense of relief. He almost had his sister back, and all it had taken was one visit from a very small Pixie.

~ * ~

Constance glanced at the drawing room clock again and grimaced at how late it was. Surely, the marquess wasn’t going to sleep the day away. He really was a beast—a cold-hearted beast. She hated calling people names, but the man deserved it. He must know she was anxious to learn how large the debt really was.

“Well, there it is,” Virginia announced as she sanded the paper she had just written, holding it for Constance to see.

The close-written sheet held a lot of names.

She took the list and read each one. She didn’t know any of the gentlemen listed after the first one. To her considerable discomfort, Virginia had ignored their earlier conversation and started the list with Lord Hallam’s name.

“This is just the beginning. If you are to make a good choice, you need to learn as much as you can about them all. I shall make sure to introduce you to as many of the gentlemen on the list as I see at the Huntley Ball. And we can add or subtract other names after each entertainment.”

Now that Virginia had a purpose ahead of her, she was embracing her return to society with great enthusiasm. Unfortunately, Constance had lost hers. Panic filled her as she contemplated marrying for money. She had always despised the women who did. “I don’t understand how my life could get any worse.”

“Why such maudlin thoughts so early in the day, Miss Grange?”

The marquess slid into the chair next to Constance and she glanced across at his gleaming boots. Was the man always perfectly turned out? She didn’t bother raising her eyes to his, but glanced back at the list. “Some of us started our day hours ago.”

“Ah, well, you will soon get used to Town hours. Everyone fresh from the country has trouble adapting at first.”

Constance gritted her teeth at the condescension in his tone, struggling to keep a rebuke behind her teeth. She really didn’t want to argue with him so soon. She had many more problems ahead of the marquess’ little irritations.

“Are we hosting a party? It looks like quite a guest list.”

Constance folded the list without comment. He didn’t need to know what she planned. Given how hard his sister had been pursued before her marriage for her dowry alone, Ettington had a well-known scorn for fortune hunters. With horror, she realized she was now of that same class of scoundrel. Albeit, the female kind.

“When is it to be?” The long-legged man settled himself more comfortably, seeming excited by the prospect of entertaining.

“Oh, there isn’t a party in the planning, brother. The list is for something else entirely. Pixie has thought of a way around her financial difficulties and has asked for help. Actually, since you owe me a favor, you shall help with our scheme as well. We will need your expertise.”

Constance hadn’t wanted to involve the marquess with this plan to save herself. “Virginia, I’m sure you shouldn’t waste your favor on me. You should make sure you get a greater benefit than this.”

The marquess twisted to face Constance. His knee brushed briefly against hers as he turned. “I shall admit I am intrigued. What is going on?”

Embarrassment flooded Constance’s face with heat.

Virginia chuckled. “Give him the list, Pixie. Let us see if my brother can work it out on his own.”

Constance’s hands shook as she turned the paper over and over between her cold fingers. She didn’t want to show him. He would laugh. She started to shake her head, but his annoying, long-fingered hand snatched the list before she could stop him. He stood, opened the paper, and began to read. He took a few steps toward the window and then his lean body grew rigid.

Constance closed her eyes, waiting for him to say something that would embarrass her, but the silence grew deafening. She risked a peek. He stared out the window, but one hand clenched and unclenched over the paper.

She switched her gaze to Virginia and found her pale. What was it she could see from her position?

The marquess raised the list, now crushed in his fingers. “This is utterly unacceptable. How could you involve yourself in this folly, Virginia? I thought you had better sense.”

Virginia’s chin dropped. “It is the only way. With your support, her lack of dowry will not matter and men will flock to propose.”

Constance stood. “It was my idea, not Virginia’s. Kindly direct your venom toward me.”

The marquess advanced, bristling with rage. He tossed the list onto the table between them. “So you’ve finally tossed out the notion of marrying Brampton, in favor of marrying for money. How practical of you. Enjoy your list, but bear this in mind. It takes a very wealthy man to afford you. There are only a handful in Town that have sufficient funds.”

He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

She spun back to face Virginia, but her friend’s expression wiped away her rage over the marquess’ rudeness. Virginia’s hand fluttered at her throat, panic evident in the gesture.

Constance crossed the room and managed to get an arm around Virginia before the older woman burst into tears.

Oh, the marquess was a horrible, cold-hearted monster.

When she realized Virginia was not going to stop crying anytime soon, Constance turned her and held her close as she sobbed against her shoulder. It felt strange to be the one to comfort Virginia. It had more often been the other way around.

“Dearest, don’t cry. He’s angry with me, not you.”

“You don’t understand.” But Virginia said no more than that. Perhaps a good cry was what she needed. So Constance held her, soothed her, and let her have her cry. When her sobs had lessened, she fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, and pushed it into Virginia’s hands. All the while, however, Constance planned exactly what she would say to the insufferable brute about his temper.

A prickling up her spine warned her they were no longer alone.

She glanced around Virginia toward the door and saw Jack standing there.

He stared at Constance, and her unease increased. Yet, she knew that Jack felt his twin’s distress very keenly. They were so close that they always knew when the other was in pain.

Despite her own feelings on the matter, she nodded, ready to call a truce until Virginia calmed.

As Jack reached them, Constance turned her friend in to his embrace. When he spared her a brief glance with unspoken thanks in his eyes, his eyes had darkened to an intense blue. Shocked, she took a pace back.

Goodness, he was moody.

She looked on as Jack apologized, speaking a jumble of words she didn’t fully understand. She caught the odd French word, some Italian, and perhaps Latin but soon gave up. What the twins shared was private, but Constance had never felt disturbed by how close they were.

Jack scooped his sister effortlessly into his arms and strode from the room. Constance followed along, wanting to be of help. She lagged behind on the stairs, unaccountably fascinated by the sight of Jack’s leg muscles outlined by his tight fitting breeches.

The marquess was as well-made a specimen as any man she’d imagined. But she blushed at thinking of him that way. He’d been her guardian—a role so close to that of parent that she’d always tried to please him. Thinking of the limbs beneath his clothing was simply scandalous.

Jack strode through Virginia’s sitting room to the bedchamber and settled his sister on the bed. As Constance dampened a cloth at the washbasin, she struggled to suppress her ridiculously inappropriate thoughts about her friend’s brother.

Once steady again, she crossed to the bed and handed Virginia a cloth to press to her face. When the cloth was warm again, Virginia handed it back.