Merry Widows 02: Just One Of Those Flings Page 8

  Beatrice smiled. "I shall have to get to know you better before I can say."

  "I look forward to it." His gaze became more intense, and Beatrice felt her knees go weak. She had to look away. She did not want him to misunderstand. It was not for herself she asked all those questions.

  "But on first meeting," she said, not daring to look at him, "it seems you have led a full life and have an impressive future ahead. Now, let me see what the duke is telling my niece about the ceiling."

  Thayne watched her walk away and wondered what had just happened between them. He was bewildered by his reaction to her. His thoroughly sexual reaction. She was a striking looking woman, to be sure, with the palest alabaster skin set off by hair the color of a Titian Madonna. But she had not been flirting with him. He was quite sure she was not. She was merely a tenacious chaperone looking to him as a suitor for her niece.

  He'd faced many a hopeful chaperone already this Season, but none who'd made his blood run warm.

  This would not do. He should be paying more attention to the beautiful Miss Thirkill, who already appeared to have the duke wrapped around her pretty little finger. Lady Somerfield engaged his mother in a discussion about the ball—a masquerade, of all things!—and how to set up the room, while her niece laughed delightedly at something his father was telling her. They were all of them conspiring to set her up as his future marchioness. He supposed he ought to feel apprehensive, that the situation had spun out of his control, but he did not. Not yet. He had no objections to the girl, after all.

  But as he watched the four of them, his eye was more often drawn to her aunt.

  Burnett had strolled over to join him and now stood at Thayne's side.

  "Well, what do you think?" he asked in a low whisper. His eyes never left Miss Thirkill. "I do believe the duchess has come through with a winner. Have you ever seen such a pretty girl?"

  Thayne followed his gaze. "She is very beautiful, to be sure. She knows it, too."

  "How could she not? She must surely look into a mirror now and then. You do not like her? You think she is too self-assured?"

  "No, she is quite charming."

  "She can't help being beautiful, Thayne. Such good looks must surely give her a degree of confidence other young women may lack."

  "Yes, and I think that is why the duke and duchess are so taken with her. She has the poise and confidence that suits a marchioness and future duchess."

  "She has thoroughly seduced them both," Burnett said as he watched her. "They will be wanting an announcement soon."

  "They will have to wait. I am not ready to commit myself to any young woman until I know her better." Thayne chuckled at the recollection of similar words from her aunt. "Lady Somerfield must agree. She quizzed me like a schoolmaster."

  "Did she? I would think your rank and fortune speak for themselves. What else does a hopeful mama, or aunt, need to know?"

  "I got the impression she was taking my measure, trying to determine what sort of man I am. She was almost impertinent. But I... I like her. It is somehow refreshing to think that she cares for more than my rank and fortune."

  At that moment, Miss Thirkill looked in their direction and smiled. She turned to speak to her aunt, who nodded, and then came tripping across the room to join them.

  "Lord Thayne," she said, bringing the full force of her smile on him, "I simply won't take no for an answer."

  "To what question, Miss Thirkill?"

  "To an invitation. My aunt is hosting a barge party on Thursday. We are going to sail—or whatever a barge does; they have no sails, do they?—down the Thames while having a leisurely breakfast. We're going to Kew, to walk around the gardens a bit. You must join us, Lord Thayne, you simply must. It will be great fun, I assure you."

  "It sounds delightful," Thayne said. "I shall be pleased to join Lady Somerfield's party."

  Miss Thirkill clapped her hands together. "Excellent! Oh, and you must come, too, Mr. Burnett. If you are free."

  "As a bird, Miss Thirkill," Burnett said, "as a bird. It sounds marvelous. I wouldn't miss it."

  "That's settled, then," she said. "We gather at the Palace Yard Stairs near Westminster Bridge at one o'clock on Thursday. I look forward to introducing you to some of my friends, Lord Thayne."

  "As do I, Miss Thirkill."

  "Of course, many of us will be at Lady Wedmore's rout party tonight. Will you be attending, as well?"

  "Yes, I have accepted Lady Wedmore's invitation. As did Mr. Burnett. We have planned to attend together."

  "Excellent! Perhaps I will see you there. I hope so. I believe we shall be arriving close to eleven o'clock. Who knows how long it will take us to reach the door, of course? It's bound to be a mad crush."

  Thayne took her message. Guests arrived and left at all hours at a rout because one never stayed very long. If he wanted to see Miss Thirkill, or honor her obvious wish to see him, then he now knew when to arrive.

  Miss Thirkill returned to her aunt's side, and the two ladies departed a few minutes later, with Burnett tagging close behind.

  And so it begins, Thayne mused as he watched them go. That young woman would publicly attach herself to him as early as that evening. Their names would begin to be linked. Soon enough, there would be expectations of a match. It was all happening rather more quickly than he'd expected, but perhaps that was for the best. He would satisfy his bargain with the duke by marrying the most beautiful girl in London.

  "By God, what a beauty!" his father exclaimed when they'd returned to the red drawing room. "What an excellent mother you have, my boy, to find such a delightful young woman for you."

  "I did not find her," the duchess said as she arranged herself in her favorite chair. "I never laid eyes on the girl before today. She came along to keep her aunt company while we discussed plans for the charity ball."

  "I think the countess is more shrewd than that," the duke said. "She knew precisely what she was about by bringing Miss Thirkill. I will admit that I had hoped for a higher match for you, Thayne, but the girl comes from good stock. She would make a perfect marchioness. What a lucky dog you will be to have such a beauty on your arm. I presume you have no objections to the girl?"

  "I have only just met her, Father. Besides her being a beauty, I know little about her."

  "What else is there to know? She has looks and breeding and is perfectly charming. Don't you agree, my dear?"

  "I was quite taken with her," the duchess said. "She has a well-developed air of assurance for one so young. I believe she would wear the coronet as well as anyone. I would certainly approve a match."

  "Last week you were singing the praises of Lady Emmeline Standish," Thayne said. "And Lady Catherine Villiers. And Miss Elizabeth Fancourt and a few others. Have they all been stricken from your list, Mother?"

  "They would all do very nicely for you," she said, "but I find myself quite partial to the lovely Miss Thirkill. She is the prettiest of the lot, to be sure."

  "She is indeed," Thayne said. "Well, then, I shall give her serious consideration. We attend the same rout party this evening, so perhaps I will be able to spend some time with her."

  "And observe how she behaves in public," the duchess said. "I have no doubt she is a pattern card of propriety. Lady Somerfield will have seen to that. But it is best to make certain."

  The mention of the countess reminded Thayne of the unwelcome stir of desire she had wrought in him. He had better get that desire under control if he was to seriously court her niece. How ridiculous it would be to court and perhaps marry the younger, more beautiful girl while harboring a foolish lust for the older woman.

  He supposed he should blame it on his unknown Artemis. She had not been a young girl whose sensual nature had needed coaxing and patience to awaken. She was a sexually experienced woman who had been thoroughly uninhibited in her desire, and in her response to his own passion. Since he had not yet found Artemis, he was no doubt seeing such potential in other attractive women. Like Lady Somerfield
.

  But if he was going to court her niece, then he would have to seek out some other woman and get the red-haired countess out of his mind.

  If only he could find Artemis, he could forget all about Lady Somerfield.

  Chapter 6

  "The Marquess of Thayne?"

  Emily watched her mother's eyes grow huge with excitement, and felt her own stomach twist into a knot of anxiety. If Mama managed to ruin this opportunity for her, Emily would surely die.

  Lady Thirkill was stretched out on a chaise in her sitting room with a mountain of pillows at her back and several paisley shawls draped over her legs. Even among family, she did not like to have her splinted leg on display. "The Marquess of Thayne!" She rubbed her hands together with glee. "And you had several minutes of private conversation with him?"

  A plate of almond biscuits had been placed on the small tea table between Emily and her aunt. Emily reached for one and said, "We were not alone, so it was not entirely private. But we did speak together several times. Probably for twenty minutes altogether." She was more than pleased with her first meeting with Lord Thayne and it was only natural that she should share the news with her mother. But it was best if she banked her own excitement in hopes that Mama would not feel obliged to "help" to encourage his lordship's interest.

  "Wonderful!" Her mother practically bounced on her chaise, her enthusiasm already too much to contain. She would likely have danced around the room if her leg were not broken.

  Please, please, Mama, do not ruin this for me.

  "You are to be commended, Sister, for doing your niece such a good turn. No other girl will have had the advantage of private conversation with him in his own home. And for twenty minutes!" Emily's mother fanned a hand rapidly before her face. "Bless me, I feel quite flushed. My daughter, a marchioness!"

  "Really, Ophelia," her aunt said, "that is quite a leap from a single meeting, don't you think?"

  Her mother lifted her chin at a determined angle Emily knew well. When Mama got a notion in her head, nothing could dislodge it. "I have heard the marquess is looking for a bride," she said. "Everyone says so. Who better than our Emily?"

  Though Emily was inclined to agree, she did not like to see her mother get too attached to the idea of Lord Thayne's courting her. One never knew what she might say or do to jeopardize the possibility of a match. Thank heaven she was confined to her couch, for she would surely dog the poor marquess until he ran screaming in the other direction. If all went according to plan, Emily would not introduce Lord Thayne to her mother until he had declared himself and it was too late to back down.

  In truth, she wished her mother had stayed in the country with Papa, where it would have been more difficult for her to interfere. But she had insisted on coming to town, to stay in their house on Bedford Square, even if she could not go about. "I must keep a sharp eye on things," she'd said, "and make sure your aunt does everything that is required." Mama had several friends who called on her frequently and kept her abreast of all the news. And every Tuesday afternoon, at her insistence, Emily and Aunt Beatrice paid a call on her and reported on all their activities. If they did not, Emily was quite sure her mother would have risen from her couch and somehow made her way to Brook Street to see for herself what was going on. When Emily had not found a husband in the first two weeks of the Season, her mother had begun threatening to take over the supervision of Emily's Season herself, broken leg or not.

  And that was the very last thing Emily wanted.

  She hated to harbor such disloyal thoughts, but Emily knew she was better served by her mother's absence from the Season. Aunt Beatrice not only had better connections but was well respected and admired. Everyone liked her. Mama, on the other hand, could sometimes be too loud, too excitable, too shrill. Her social skills were not as polished. Aunt Beatrice was sometimes overly concerned with proper behavior, but Mama seemed sometimes to have no discretion at all.

  Though God may not approve, Emily nonetheless thanked Him every night for the injury that kept her mother confined to her couch.

  "You must find an excuse to call on the duchess again soon," her mother said, wagging a finger at Aunt Beatrice. "And you must somehow contrive to attend all the same functions as the marquess. It is imperative that we throw these two young people together at every opportunity."

  "There is no need to fret, Mama. Lord Thayne has accepted an invitation to join my aunt's barge party on Thursday. And he will be at Lady Wedmore's rout party tonight, so we may see him there, as well. Rest assured that I shall make the best of each opportunity. I am as anxious to bring him up to scratch as you are, Mama."

  "Do whatever it takes to secure his interest, my girl. Whatever it takes."

  "Ophelia!" Aunt Beatrice scowled at Emily's mother and shook her head.

  "She will not likely have such an opportunity again," her mother said. "Wealthy marquesses do not grow on trees, you know."

  "You're right, Mama. But don't worry. I have every intention of succeeding. I will be the most charming girl he has ever met. He will not be able to resist me."

  Aunt Beatrice continued to frown. Emily did not understand what had upset her. Surely she wanted Lord Thayne to court her? She had said as much several times before they arrived at Doncaster House.

  "Just be sure you behave with strict propriety with him at all times," her aunt said. "One false step and the duchess will withdraw her approval."

  Propriety! It was a constant litany with her aunt. "Of course, Aunt Beatrice. You need not worry on that account."

  Her mother harrumphed and Aunt Beatrice shot her a look. Emily wished she understood what her aunt was so worried about. "The duke and duchess both seemed to like me," she said. "I did my best to charm them."

  "You did indeed, my dear," her aunt said, and smiled again. "I declare, the duke was quite smitten with you. They both questioned me rather thoroughly, Ophelia. Emily's rank is significantly beneath Lord Thayne's, and they clearly wanted to be sure she was worthy of him. I gave a glowing report, of course. The duke has read some of Sir Albert's articles, by the way, and seemed to approve of his archaeological endeavors."

  "Well, that is something," her mother said. "You don't suppose they will look too closely into . . . certain matters, do you?"

  "What matters?" Emily asked.

  "Simply matters of connections and such," her aunt replied, reaching over to pat her affectionately on the knee. "Nothing of any consequence. And they seemed quite satisfied with what I told them, Ophelia. I spoke with the marquess myself for some time, as well. He is excessively proud and rather too haughty, if you want my opinion. Emily will have her work cut out for her to pierce that steely reserve. But I did notice he warmed up a bit when talking of his travels in Asia. You might keep that in mind, my dear."

  "Then I shall ask him all about it," Emily said. She did not need to be told that men liked to talk about themselves. She had learned that trick when she was still in the schoolroom. "And I shouldn't be concerned about his haughtiness. He's the heir to a duke, after all. Who has a better right to be haughty?"

  And once she married him, she would be equally haughty. Why should she not be? She would have snared the matrimonial prize of the Season.

  If only Mama didn't manage to ruin things.

  Thayne was looking for Miss Thirkill and her aunt when he saw her. Artemis. He had found her. Here at the very crowded Wedmore rout, he had found her at last. He was quite sure of it.

  The large town house was teeming with guests. The rooms had been emptied of furniture and were now filled to bursting with people. If there was food or drink, Thayne hadn't seen it. Just throngs of people coming and going, moving from group to group, talking and laughing. It had taken him almost half an hour to make his way up the stairs.

  And that was when he saw her. She was standing near one of the windows of the drawing room. She had very fair skin and very dark hair set in soft waves and gathered at the back of her neck. Her eyes were the purest blue. She mo
ved with an unconscious grace, a gentle sway of hip and shoulder that was very like the attitude of his elusive huntress. She even wore a yellow silk gown that fell softly over the curves of her body. Her arms were covered, though, to his disappointment. The tops of her gloves met the edges of her sleeves, so not a hint of flesh could be seen. But he was sure they were her arms. His Artemis.

  Who was she?

  "Do you see the woman in yellow?" he asked Burnett, who stood several inches taller than anyone else in the room and would have a better vantage. "Do you know who she is?"

  Burnett craned his head in her direction. "Can't say that I do. Pretty woman, though. Hold on. You think she might be . . ."

  "I feel sure she is. Everything about her is right. It is her, I tell you."