Page 23

And she would miss it if she had to leave. Yet now was not the time to grow maudlin. Her friends were coming, and anything could happen in a week. She tucked into her meal. There was no point in hurting Cook’s feelings. Kit was eating as well, and silence fell, but it was not uncomfortable.

Once she’d finished, Mary wiped the corners of her mouth with a serviette and searched for conversation. “Have you seen Phoebe’s little boy, Arthur?”

“Yes. I visited them before I left to travel here. He is the image of Marcus, but with Phoebe’s eyes.”

That told Mary nothing as she hadn’t yet met Marcus. “He must be a handsome little boy.”

Kit grinned. “The ladies think so.”

“I don’t doubt you are correct. I cannot imagine a baby of Phoebe’s not being beautiful.” Mary checked her watch brooch. “It is almost two. We’d better return to the house soon. ”

Kit sprung lightly to his feet, holding out a hand to her.

As she clasped it, warmth filled her, and she scrambled up quickly but none too gracefully.

When he didn’t release her, she glanced up and their gazes caught for a moment before he seemed to recall himself.

Something had lurked in his eyes. If only she had the experience to read them.

Her heart sped as he once again placed his hands on her waist and lifted her into the carriage. That . . . her reaction . . . had to mean something.

He strode around to the other side, climbed in, and took the reins. “I believe it is your turn to handle the ribbons.”

“I’d love to. It has been a long time since I’ve tooled an equipage this fine.” Joy filled her as she threaded the leather through her fingers. He released the brake, and she gave the horses their office.

They were moving at a brisk pace when a rabbit suddenly darted out from a hedgerow. One of the horses shied. In an instant, Kit’s arm was around her shoulders as she struggled to control the pair.

“Can you manage?” he asked, his tone on edge.

“I think so.”

“Let me know.”

Mary tried to ignore the feel of his large body touching hers from hip to shoulder. He had tensed, and his hands were ready to seize the reins if required. She was impressed that he hadn’t just taken hold of the ribbons. Most men would have assumed she couldn’t handle them.

Finally she got the team to a walk and Kit eased back. She wished he hadn’t. On the other hand, maintaining such close contact was not prudent. She liked it much too well.

“Excellent job.” His deep voice caressed her. “I’d let you drive any of my cattle.”

She didn’t even attempt to hide her smile as she slid a glance at him. “They are yours. The other pair was too old, and I had to put them out to pasture.”

“You don’t say?” A boyish grin appeared on his countenance. “I admired them earlier. If I’d known, I would have spent more time looking them over. I heard you got them from the rector. Did Mr. Doust help you with the two cover-hacks as well?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We didn’t know Mr. Doust well at the time. I bought them at the horse fair in Edinburgh. I did not think there would be much chance of meeting anyone there who knew me.”

“You are resourceful, and you’ve got a good eye for horseflesh.”

A rush of pleasure rose in her. “Thank you.” It was nice to be admired for her abilities. She feathered the turn onto the drive. “I do love driving.”

Her neck and shoulder began to tingle as his arm slid along the top of the seat behind her. She wanted him to touch her again, just a little, and she was surprised to discover how disappointed she was when he did not.

“I’ve had a wonderful day,” he said as they entered the carriage yard an hour later. “Please compliment the cook for me.”

Was that all he could say? A pout began to tug on her mouth, and she made herself smile politely.

Perhaps she was expecting too much too soon.

After all, his reputation was that of a perfect gentleman.

Yet did that mean he was passionless? She could not imagine living without passion. “I will. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

He jumped down and waved away her groom as he reached out for her.

Once again Kit’s large, warm hands circled her waist, lifting her to the ground.

Mary pretended to stumble, and he pulled her closer.

Less than an inch separated her chest from his.

The pulse beneath his jaw jumped. Did that mean he felt something for her after all? How was she to know for sure?

Phoebe, Countess of Evesham, stood on the bottom step of Robert and Serena Beaumont’s home in York with a list in her hand, ticking off items as they were loaded on the six large traveling coaches lined up in the drive. “I think this is the last of it.”

Her husband, Marcus, shook his head. “This reminds me of setting off for France with Serena. Have you warned Lady Mary we’re coming?”

“Of course.” Phoebe pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I still cannot believe their grandmothers did this. It was all I could do not to give them a piece of my mind. How unfair to both Kit and Mary. I only wish I had known how desperate the situation with Mary had become. If she wants out of this arrangement, I shall do my best to find a way.”

“What about Featherton?” Her husband’s tone was gentle but firm. “He’s just as trapped as she is, and his reputation is equally at risk. ”

Phoebe gazed at Marcus and became distracted by his turquoise eyes. He grew more handsome every year. Tucking her hand in his arm, she said, “We shall help both of them.”

“And pray to God their interests are not opposed.”

Phoebe sighed. Now wouldn’t that be a pickle. “Indeed.”

“Mamma, Papa.” Almost two years old, Arthur broke away from his nurse and pelted down the steps.

Marcus caught him, throwing the child up in the air as Arthur squealed. “Are you ready for a journey?”

Arthur burrowed his head in Marcus’s shoulder. “I ride with you.”

“Only if you behave.”

His son nodded. “I be good.”

“You do realize,” Phoebe pointed out, “Ben will now wish to ride with Rutherford.”

Marcus shrugged. “I doubt Anna will object.” A wicked glint shone in his eyes. “In any event, Rutherford probably needs the practice.”

The other two couples who were traveling with Phoebe and Marcus—the Rutherfords and Gervais and Caro, Earl and Countess of Huntley—made their way down the stairs, followed by Robert and Serena Beaumont. Rutherford held his son Ben’s hand. Huntley had his arm around Caro’s ever-increasing waist.

“I so wish we could accompany you,” Serena said, hugging Phoebe. “You’ll let us know if we can help.”

“I shall.” She embraced her cousin. “Take care of my goddaughter.”

Serena glanced over at Robert, who was holding the baby. “I don’t think you need to worry.”

Marcus grinned. “I’m trying to figure out who’s more besotted.”

“You’re jealous,” Robert retorted, “because I have two beautiful ladies and you have only one.”

A few moments later, three horses were brought round. Marcus settled Arthur on a large roan before swinging up behind him and attaching the belt Marcus used to fasten his son securely to him.

“Papa, I go with you,” Ben demanded, holding up his hands.

Rutherford heaved a sigh. “Very well, but I’m not changing your clout.”

Once Anna and Caro were settled in the lead coach, Phoebe allowed herself to be handed up. “Sam,” she called to her coachman, “we’re ready. ”

She settled back in her seat, and Caro asked, “Have you heard from Mary?”

Phoebe shook her head. “Only the one letter welcoming us and letting me know all would be ready.”

“Well”—Anna turned from the window—“we shall simply have to wait and see what we have when we arrive. Caro, you know her the best of all of us, do you not?”

“Most likely.” She rubbed her hand over her stomach. “We grew up on neighboring estates and kept in contact after I left for Venice. The two things she always looked forward to were the Season and a love match.”

For at least the hundredth time in a week, Phoebe shook her head. “I cannot believe her grandmother did this.”

Caro raised a brow. “I can. According to my godmother, Horatia, the Dowager Duchess of Bridgewater has arranged all her children’s and most of her grandchildren’s marriages. Albeit she has been extremely cunning about doing so, and many times the couple wasn’t even aware they had been matched.”

“In that case,” Anna said, “I’m surprised at how ill they handled Mary and Featherton.”

“I’m sure it is due to the cousin.” Caro’s brows furrowed. “I remember him as a child and didn’t care for him then. Loose fish doesn’t begin to describe the man.”

Phoebe glanced at her friends. “In that case, we shall ensure that Mr. Gawain Tolliver doesn’t get anywhere near Mary.”

“I do not doubt we’ll have plenty of help from the gentlemen for that.” Caro frowned. “My concern is for Mary and Kit.”

“I am positive,” Anna said, giving Caro a reassuring smile, “we’ll think of something.”

“I hope you’re right.” She rubbed her stomach again. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be easy.”