Page 11 of A Simple Marriage (Millionaires of Mayfair #2)

Never in his life had Hugh felt like such a brute. Perhaps a better description was a careless oaf. With his jealousy and self-centeredness, he’d hurt Pippa. He’d never truly stopped to think how difficult it must be for her personally to go through this husband-hunting business. But the selfish truth was that he didn’t want her to see Stanhope as the perfect man to marry.

With her nestled in his arms, it felt as natural as riding his stallion Eros. Not that he was comparing Pippa to a horse. He and Eros had been together for over fifteen years. They practically knew how each other would move when they went for a ride. That type of familiarity was something priceless.

He felt that same sense as he held Pippa in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Tenderly, he rubbed his hands down her back, tracing her vertebra one at a time. She was exquisite, a true treasure.

She pulled away, and he wanted to roar like a wounded lion at the loss of her in his arms. Instead, he smiled slightly, hoping to convey his remorse.

“I’m sorry as well.” She rubbed the tender skin under her eyes. “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”

“No?” He cocked his head. “Not outside of that one tear?” Egad, what if she’d shed more tears over this? He felt lower than the earth beneath his feet.

She shook her head. “We’ve been gone long enough that everyone will wonder where we’ve been.”

She walked toward the door, then turned around. “Are you coming?”

Without a word, he followed.

Outside in the hallway, laughter rang clear and bright. It was coming from the sitting room. As soon as Pippa and he entered, it was easy to tell everyone was in jolly good spirits and that they hadn’t missed either of them. His great-aunt leaned near Stanhope as if he were her best friend. His mother positively sparkled with the smile that creased her lips. Lady Grace was even giggling at something Stanhope said.

When Hugh glanced at Pippa, she was smiling because of Stanhope. He could see her being happy married to the viscount. He would make her a priority in his life and keep a smile on her face while he did it. The scoundrel would probably support her dream of buying Mademoiselle Mignon’s dress shop.

When he thought of Stanhope coming to her at night, Hugh’s stomach roiled. A vision of the viscount slipping into bed with Pippa made him suck in a deep breath. He could not think such thoughts. It hurt worse than plunging a knife into his own chest.

“My word, what is so funny?” Pippa strolled to the group and sat down.

His aunt howled with laughter. “Stanhope was sharing with us how his little sister had stolen the dessert that had been prepared for their father’s birthday. She ate as much as she could, then hid the evidence in his bedroom.”

Hugh’s mother wiped a tear from her eyes as she continued to laugh. “Tell them what happened next, Adrian.”

Adrian? Since when did the man give them leave to call him by his Christian name? Hugh’s gaze bounced between the four ladies. This was worse than he imagined. Stanhope had not only charmed Pippa but his own family as well, along with Lady Grace.

Stanhope offered a loveable sheepish smile. “Well, she hid it under my bed. At dinner that night, when our butler was beside himself because there was no dessert, my sister confided that I was the one who had stolen it. She smugly told them that it was in my room.”

“Why would she be so cruel to you and your father on his birthday?” Pippa cocked her head.

Rightly so. Hugh wanted to shout, “Hear, hear.” What kind of family would steal from one another, then blame the others for their misdeeds?

“It was her favorite dessert. Cream cake,” Stanhope said.

Hugh wanted to roll his eyes. The man even shrugged charmingly.

“Sure enough, we all found half of the cake in my room. My father ordered everyone out except me. I knew I was in trouble. As I tried to tell him that it wasn’t me, my father put his hand on my shoulder and told me that he knew that. He’d seen Penelope take the cake into my room. He didn’t want to punish her because she’d been sick all day from eating so much cake.”

“What happened next?” Hugh asked, then wanted to kick himself. Even he was becoming invested in the story.

Stanhope shook his head with a smile. “My father and I ate the remaining cake in my bedroom.” He looked away for a moment, then turned to Hugh. “We pretended to be two spies who had figured out where the missing cake was.” He waggled his eyebrows, then he grew nostalgic. “It was one of my fondest memories of him and me together. I miss him.” He smiled slightly.

Hugh’s mother stood and went to Lord Stanhope’s side. “I miss Ravenscroft’s father every day.”

Hugh braced himself to run to her. He could tell by the red in her eyes and the wobble of her mouth that she was about to lose her composure.

Aunt Edith batted her eyes, completely at ease with what was happening before them all. “I think you both are lucky to have had such fine men in your lives. You should celebrate.”

“Wise words, Lady Edith,” Lord Stanhope took Hugh’s mother’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you for your solace.”

A blanket of silence rested over all of them. That was why Hugh never wanted to marry. He’d fall in love, and inevitably, it would crush him.

“That’s a lovely story.” Pippa reached over and patted the viscount’s on the arm. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”

When Stanhope placed his hand over hers and squeezed, it took every ounce of restraint Hugh possessed to keep from catapulting over the sofa and tackling the menace to the ground.

“Lady Pippa, might I ask if you’d accept my company for a ride tomorrow through Hyde Park?” He smiled, and the look was entirely too enchanting for Hugh’s tastes.

Pippa blinked several times as if she couldn’t understand what he’d asked.

Which proved Hugh’s point. The man mumbled way too much.

“How delightful.” Pippa finally smiled.

It was a smile that reminded Hugh of the sun slightly cresting the morning horizon promising a dazzling display of warmth and light.

God, he hated when he possessed those thoughts. He sounded like a love-sick poet.

But there was no time to consider his metaphors. He had to rectify the situation with Stanhope. There was no way under Hugh’s watch that he’d allow that young pup to squire Pippa around without an escort.

His great-aunt’s gaze caught his. Her eyes had widened as if she thought the viscount was a bit too forward. Hugh wanted to reach over and hug her. She was of a like mind. If he knew his aunt, she would be the first to tell Stanhope how inappropriate it was to ask Pippa without first seeking permission from her chaperone if Pippa could attend.

Stanhope turned to Lady Grace. “If that meets with your approval and you can attend?”

Lady Grace beamed at the viscount. “I can certainly make myself available.”

For the love of heaven, the man must have been reading Hugh’s mind.

Hugh’s aunt leaned back against the sofa and addressed Pippa. “It will be such a lovely day for a ride. I’m glad you accepted.”

Aunt Edith was a traitor.

“I have an idea,” Stanhope said as he let go of Pippa’s hand.

That simple moment allowed Hugh to finally breathe again. He’d been gripping the back of the sofa where Pippa sat, and for a moment, he thought he’d ripped part of the upholstery.

“Why don’t you all come to my house tomorrow evening for dinner? My sister and her husband will be there. Along with my mother.” He looked around the room like an eager puppy begging for treats.

“No,” Hugh announced.

“Of course, we’d be delighted,” his Aunt Edith said at the same time, then swirled her head his way. “Are you not available tomorrow?” She tsked for a second, then discreetly winked at him.

The saucy wench. Good thing he didn’t say it aloud.

“We’ll miss your company, my boy,” Aunt Edith added, then turned around to Stanhope and inquired about the details.

Pippa glanced at him with a worried brow. “Can’t you join us?”

“Let me check my schedule when I return home. Perhaps I have the wrong night for my appointment.”

There was no way he’d miss Stanhope’s impromptu dinner party for the world.

The next night, Pippa stood in the entry of Stanhope’s home. She stole a glance to see if a certain marquess had made an appearance or not.

“Mother, allow me to introduce Lady Pippa,” Stanhope had her arm wrapped around his. As soon as she and Grace entered the home, the viscount had been there to welcome them.

The middle-aged woman who stood before them gave a shocked look to her son and then turned back to Pippa with her brown eyes dancing. “Lady Pippa, welcome.” She took Pippa’s hand in hers and squeezed. “Stanhope has told me so much about you.”

“Thank you. You have a beautiful home.” Pippa couldn’t help but smile at the bubbly warmth in Lady Stanhope’s voice. “Whatever Lord Stanhope shared, I hope most of it was good.” She pretended to whisper, but she made sure that the viscount could hear her.

“Lady Pippa, it was all wonderful,” Stanhope laughed, but the resulting smile on his face raised his prominent cheekbones.

For a moment, she couldn’t help but stare. He was far more handsome than she’d first thought.

“He told me you were lovely, but now I know he wasn’t being truthful,” his mother confided. “You’re beautiful.”

While his mother greeted Grace, Stanhope escorted her into the salon where everyone else had gathered.

Pippa glanced at Lady Edith and Lady Ravenscroft who were on the other side of the room talking with a man who had to be about Ravenscroft's age. She continued to smile, but her gaze swept the room, looking for Hugh. Apparently, he did have an engagement this evening.

A lady approached with a smile on her face.

“Lady Pippa, this is my sister Penelope.” Lord Stanhope murmured loud enough for his sister to hear. “She’s the cake thief.”

“Guilty as charged.” Penelope laughed with true affection that brightened her eyes.

They all three laughed.

“I enjoyed that story.” Pippa nodded. “And it’s lovely to meet you.”

Penelope pressed her hand against her chest. “Stanhope has been quite out of sorts since he invited you to our weekly family dinner.” She leaned forward as if divulging a secret. “It’s the best china, and he’s serving a rare vintage of wine.”

A crimson blush spread like an ink blot across the viscount’s cheeks. He studied the ground as he shook his head. “Penelope,” he warned.

“It’s true,” His sister planted her hands on her hips, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Did he tell you that we’re twins?”

“No,” Pippa exclaimed. “How wonderful. You both must have never been lonely growing up.” The idea of always having a sibling around sounded like heaven to her. Many times, she’d been lonely during her childhood when Pelham had been sent to university and Honor had been sent to finishing school. That left Pippa at home with their parents and their games.

The two siblings shared a look of affection.

“Indeed. I’m the oldest by five minutes.” Stanhope straightened a bit and looked around the room. He pointed to the man talking to Lady Edith and Lady Ravenscroft. “That gentleman is the lucky man who swept Penelope off her feet.”

“That’s my husband Lord Michael Garrison.” Penelope waved at him when he caught her gaze and smiled. “We all three grew up together.” She turned back to Pippa. They always tried to include me in their games when we were younger. When Michael returned from university, he asked me to marry him.” Her eyes flashed with humor. “It was inevitable.”

Pippa stole a peek at Stanhope. He truly was a kind man. What would it be like to wake up every day living with him? His nature was gentle, and the love he shared with his family was precious. Any woman would be lucky to have him as a husband.

If they married, would Stanhope hold her like Hugh did with a hunger so powerful it could devour her?

What was she thinking? She could not be considering Ravenscroft as a husband-husband for her marriage partner. A husband-husband was someone you fall in love with. She had to remember that she only wanted a husband. Someone whom she could share her life with, but under no circumstances would she lose her heart. Frankly, the idea was not as brilliant as she had once thought, not since she and Hugh had been intimate. She closed her eyes. Hugh had kissed her with such fervent longing that she didn’t know which way was east, west, north, or south. Frankly, she loved being lost in his arms even if it made her a wanton.

“Shall we go in for dinner?” Stanhope announced.

By then, everyone had joined them ready to stroll to the dining room. When she turned to leave, she stopped abruptly.

Hugh leaned against the wall next to her with a glass of whisky in his hand. That explained why she didn’t see him. He was staring at her with an air of haughty insouciance. When he straightened and came near, he wore a look of pure aristocratic arrogance, the type designed to make someone quiver. Little did he know that she’d seen that look a thousand times before. The best weapon against such haughtiness was kindness, the kind that killed a person or, at least, their attitude without them ever knowing how you charmed them.

She stole a quick glance around the room. Everyone was trailing off to the dining room. Stanhope warmly smiled her way, and she returned the smile. He didn’t seem to mind that she was staying behind to talk to Ravenscroft.

Oh, how tangled webs are woven and all that other Shakespearean nonsense.

She had nothing to feel guilty about. Ravenscroft was a family friend who was close to her and her brother.

But she was lying to herself. He was more than a family friend to her. She straightened her shoulders. She’d already decided tonight that she would focus on Stanhope. Thinking of Hugh Calthorpe, the Marquess of Ravenscroft, was a fool’s errand. She didn’t want him, and he didn’t want her.

But none of her reasoning explained why a thousand protesting butterflies were fluttering in her stomach.

“Lady Pippa.” He said her name with a slightly mocking tone in his deep baritone. He bowed, and when he captured her gaze, his normally mischievous grin was missing. He looked as if he were ready for battle, and she was the one he wanted to go to war against.

She dipped a curtsey. “Lord Ravenscroft. I see you could attend the dinner party after all. How wonderful for all of us.”

His eyes narrowed. “As you can tell, I’m practically giddy with excitement.”

The low rumble of his voice vibrated against her chest, making everything inside of her tremble with anticipation. With his wide-legged stance and flaring nostrils, he looked like Zeus, ready to throw a thunderbolt directly at her.

“How was your afternoon with Stanhope?” His gaze locked with hers.

“Fine.” She demurely clasped her hands in front of her. “It was more than fine. It was wonderful. He is a gentleman, and I enjoyed his company.”

“Did you ask what his thoughts were about his wife working in trade?” He lifted a mocking brow.

“No.” She looked at the guests, who were still enjoying each other’s company. Aunt Edith was charming Stanhope, and Lady Ravenscroft and Lady Stanhope seemed to earnestly enjoy each other’s company. She swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat, then turned to attention back to Hugh. “Why would I? There’s not a marriage proposal yet.”

“I told you he was a pup.” He stole a peek at Stanhope, then studied her.

“He’s a year older than I am,” she argued softly.

“You should pursue the next name on your list of acceptable husbands.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked. It was a rhetorical question, but she wouldn’t put it past him to answer it.

“Because whatever this is with Stanhope has no chance of success. Excuse me.” He nodded his head, then left her to attend his great-aunt who was motioning him forward with a wave of her hand.

“Of all the nerve,” she mumbled as she clenched her fists. The arrogance of the man. As if he knew what was in her best interests more than she did. She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. She would not allow him to upset her any further. Stanhope would never challenge her like that. That was why he was perfect for her. They could have the type of marriage she craved. One of respect without the highs and lows of emotion that defined her own parents’ marriage.

As Pippa stood alone, gathering her scattered composure, she took a good look at the group of people before her. Everyone seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Grace laughed with Penelope and her husband. Aunt Edith still commandeered Stanhope, but Hugh was by her side, grinning at something she had said. No doubt, it was outrageous. Lady Ravenscroft had her arm wrapped around Lady Stanhope and they had their heads bowed together like best friends sharing secrets. Naturally, her gaze drifted back to Hugh. The dratted man had ingratiated himself with Stanhope who had an adoring smile as he nodded at something Hugh had said. Then Stanhope’s laughter rang through the air as he slapped Hugh on his back. Everyone came to his side, and he made room to include them. Everyone belonged.

Except her.

She felt like the proverbial little girl looking into a candy shop or a bookshop—or even better, a fabric shop—who couldn’t go in because she didn’t have any money. Of course, she had money. She was even rich if you counted her trust fund. But she didn’t have the riches a family brought to a person’s life.

Her eyes blurred with tears, and she shook her head slowly to push the emotion away. She would not cry. She had her brother and her sister always. Though they had their own lives, they would be there for her if she needed them. Yet, what she craved was the scene before her.

She wanted all the love that these two families and their friends represented. She wanted to be a part of a large, loving family with a husband who doted on her. She would dote on him in return and think her life was rich beyond measure.

She couldn’t deny it any longer. Perhaps, she should consider a marriage with a husband who would kiss her for no reason, would warm her at night, then whisper secrets and murmur sensual words in the dark.

For heaven’s sake, what had she done? All of her rational thinking of having a simple marriage had been destroyed. And she’d allowed it to happen. One night with Ravenscroft had ruined everything. Now, she’d allowed all her hopes and dreams to transform into something she’d always declared she never wanted.

Love from a man.

And it was all Ravenscroft’s fault.

Then and there, she vowed that she could not, for her own sake, spend any more time with him. And if that meant she couldn’t enjoy Lady Edith’s and Lady Ravenscroft’s company anymore, then so be it.

She did not want a husband-husband.

She would finish the gowns she had promised hem. Once the final fitting was done, she would not allow herself to visit them ever again.

It was too risky. For her own peace of mind, she must avoid Ravenscroft at all costs.