Page 14 of Falling for the Earl (Improper Ladies #2)

“W ill you marry me, Miss Kershaw?”

Lucy’s throat tightened. Mr. Nash had actually proposed. They were walking in the park with the maid, Maisie, looking bored, trailing behind them, when he’d led her to a wooden bench. After a quick glance at the dusty path, he sat beside her, apparently deciding not to risk the knee of his yellow pantaloons. She was glad of that, for he would only feel more foolish when she refused him.

He had voiced the opinion that as husband and wife, they would make a striking couple, so Lucy had expected this and was prepared. While aware it left her in a difficult position once her aunt heard of it, she gently refused him.

He looked shocked. “Have I been too hasty?”

“Not at all, sir. It’s just that I don’t believe we’d suit,” Lucy said, relieved that he didn’t attempt to seize her and try to kiss her, or declare he would die without her. In fact, he had not mentioned love at all. “We are so very different,” she said gently.

He ran a hand through his fair hair, evidently perplexed, then, squinting in the sunlight, replaced his hat. “We are? In what manner?”

“I enjoy reading. By your strong arms and broad shoulders, it is obvious that you are an athletic gentleman who prefers to be outdoors.”

He nodded, seemingly slightly mollified by her flattery. “Yes, I prefer riding and fencing to reading. To be truthful, I had enough of books at Eton. But I fail to see it as a problem.”

“I fear I should bore you,” Lucy confessed, when in essence it was she who would find marriage to him tedious.

Subdued, when he’d taken her home, he made no further argument.

Lucy arrived grimly, prepared to face her aunt, and entered the house. Puzzled and alarmed by the sound of loud sobbing, she hurried into the drawing room. Aunt Mary lay prostrate on the sofa, with Mr. Rattray leaning over her, patting her arm and uttering soothing words.

Jane, who hovered nearby, turned to Lucy with tears in her eyes. “Viscount Howe sent word that Anabel has run away with her lover, a Mr. Connor.”

“And who is he? Certainly, no one of importance! We are ruined!” Aunt Mary shrieked. “I can never show my face in London again!”

Deeply upset for her aunt, Lucy hurried over to her. “How distressing, Aunt Mary. When Anabel sees the error of her ways, I’m sure she will return. I hope few learn of it. How long have they been gone?”

“Several weeks,” Jane said. “According to Lord Howe, she left a note. She traveled to Ireland with Mr. Connor.”

Lucy glanced sympathetically at her aunt. It appeared impossible to avoid a scandal.

“That heathenish country,” Aunt Mary wailed. “Why on Earth would they go there?”

“Mr. Aidan Connor is Irish,” Jane explained. “Lord Howe has made it clear he will not take her back.”

“I’ll never see my little girl again.” Aunt Mary sobbed, her voice muffled by the handkerchief. “What if something happens to her? How will I know?”

“Once she’s settled, she is sure to write.” Lucy recalled how unhappy Anabel had appeared. Didn’t Jane say that Howe had taken a mistress? Yet he would suffer no condemnation from his peers. How unfair life was to women.

“Miss Kershaw is right,” Mr. Rattray said soothingly, nodding his approval at Lucy. “Your daughter is sure to miss her mama.”

This seemed to make things worse for Aunt Mary, who burst into a fresh fit of sobbing. “And I won’t be with her!”

“Mama, please come upstairs and lie down,” Jane said. “I’ll tell Maisie to bring you some tea and put a warming pan in your bed.”

Unsteady, Aunt Mary stood, assisted by Mr. Rattray’s arm. “Yes, I will lie down. I am quite weak and giddy.”

Jane led her mother from the room.

Making no attempt to leave, Mr. Rattray remained with Lucy.

She moved quickly to the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Rattray, thank you for your kind attentions to my aunt. We are grateful for your discretion. I must go up and see if there’s anything I can do.”

He moved to open it for her, then stood too close as she passed through into the hall. “I think it would be wise for your aunt to leave London and spend a pleasant few days in the country. I shall mention it to her when she is calmer.”

As Mrs. Boyce, the housekeeper, was with her aunt, and young William, their man-of-all-work, nowhere to be seen, Lucy saw Mr. Rattray to the front door, just as Mr. Nash’s phaeton pulled up.

“I see you have a visitor,” Mr. Rattray said dourly. “Shall I send him away?”

She stiffened at his impudence. “No, thank you. I shall see the gentleman.”

Mr. Rattray donned his hat and walked away, as Mr. Nash, carrying a glove, joined her at the door. He glanced at Mr. Rattray’s retreating figure. “You dropped this, Miss Kershaw.”

“Oh, so I did. Thank you for returning it.” She had been in such haste to leave him that hadn’t noticed.

He hovered. “I wondered if you might have thought things over and had a change of heart?” He eyed the door behind her. “It was a little rushed. We might talk about it.”

“I see no point, Mr. Nash. My mind is made up. I cannot invite you to have tea. My aunt received distressing news. I should go up to her in case she needs me.”

He lifted his shoulders with a heavy sigh. “So that’s that, then.”

Lucy’s stomach churned. “I am sorry,” she repeated. “I really must go to her,” she said, a hand on the door latch.

“Very well. I’ll return in a few days and see how things are.” He donned his hat and bade her a reluctant goodbye.

Lucy forced a smile and waited until he’d taken up the reins and driven off. Then she slipped back inside and shut the door with palpable relief. She hoped he’d think twice about calling again.

Climbing the stairs, she wondered if Mr. Rattray meant to marry her aunt and carry her away to the country? If that were the case, Lucy would have to return to Bath. The thought of leaving brought Lord Dorchester to mind again. Had he returned safely from his trip? She hoped to hear from Sarah soon.

The next day, Aunt Mary remained in bed. She moaned in distress. It upset Lucy to see her aunt so troubled, but there was little she could do other than try to make her comfortable.

Lucy was halfway up the stairs to see if her aunt needed anything when horses’ hooves and the jingle of a carriage sounded on the road outside. She groaned. Was it Mr. Nash calling again? When the knocker sounded, she paused, a hand on the banister, trying to think of a way to deter him. William appeared from the direction of the kitchen, busily chewing, and went to open the front door and admitted Lord Dorchester.

So relieved to see him, Lucy hurried down, suffering the overwhelming desire to throw herself into his arms. The way he looked at her made her catch her breath, sure he could read the effect he had on her in her eyes. “It is good to see you, Lord Dorchester.” She stepped down onto the hall floor. “Did you have a good journey, my lord?”

He handed his hat and gloves to William, then turned to observe her once more, searching her face. For what? Signs of poor sleep? She hadn’t slept well because of Mr. Rattray’s announcement, and there was Mr. Nash, who didn’t seem prepared to accept her refusal, to contend with. She was sure he didn’t love her. Was her rejection a blow to his vanity?

“Thank you. It was successful.” He smiled at her approvingly. “No need to ask how you are, Miss Kershaw. You look in the pink of condition.”

So she was horribly flushed, she thought, annoyed. “I am a little flustered,” she admitted. “We are at sixes and sevens here.” As William had left them, she led Lord Dorchester into the drawing room. “Do please be seated. Would you care for a libation?”

“No, thank you.” He sat on a chintz-covered armchair and leaned forward, his hands on his muscular thighs, drawing her eye there and making her aware of their pleasing shape. “I’m sorry to hear that. What has occurred?” he said.

They were alone. Where was her aunt? Seated opposite him, she wondered if Aunt Mary would approve if she told him, or think Lucy dreadfully remiss. But Lord Dorchester would be discreet. He had already shown he was well able to keep a secret. “My cousin, Lady Anabel Howe, has left her marriage and run away with a gentleman. My aunt is very upset.”

He frowned. “I’m sure she would be, poor lady. Can you tell me more?”

“Anabel has fled to Ireland with Mr. Aidan Connor, who is unknown to us. My aunt is heartbroken. She believes she will neither hear from her daughter again, nor know how she fares. Aunt Mary is concerned that Lord Howe might seek a divorce.”

He leaned forward, concern in his blue eyes. “Would you like me to look into the matter? I might discover their precise destination. Would that bring your aunt some comfort?”

She feared she was coming to depend on him. And that could only end badly. “I believe it would, especially if she learns Anabel is happy and well. But really, is that even possible? They have been gone for weeks.”

He stood. “Let me see what I can do.”

Lucy rose too. “You are so very good, Lord Dorchester.”

His smile was enigmatic. “Am I?”

She laughed. “You must know it. I am constantly indebted to you. How can I ever repay you?”

He held out a hand to her and smiled. “I wouldn’t feel too downhearted. Something might come up.”

What did that mean? Did he see her in his future in some way? Deciding to worry about that later, she placed her hand in his elegant, long-fingered one, twice the size of hers, the palm edged with a roughness, which she liked. It showed he didn’t live an idle, pampered life like so many gentlemen she’d met. For a moment, they stood while she fought to concentrate, disturbed by their closeness and his suggestion of a future relationship, whatever that may entail. Her heart thudded so fast in her chest, she feared she would collapse into his arms. Their eyes met, his so blue, they made her breathless. “I am most grateful, my lord, and I know my aunt will be.”

“It’s no trouble for me to make a few inquiries.” He released her hand, and with a slight bow, walked to the door.

Lucy thought otherwise. She was sure he was a busy man, but she didn’t like to argue with him. She could only be grateful.

He picked up his hat and gloves from the hall table, and she opened the front door. Because William had disappeared into the kitchen once again where delicious aromas wafted out. The cook must have been baking.

Once he had driven away, Lucy hurried up the stairs to give Aunt Mary the news. Just knowing Lord Dorchester might be able to help would give her aunt some hope.

A hand on the bedchamber door latch, Lucy suddenly wondered why she’d never asked him why he’d called. Whatever the reason, it must wait until she saw him again. It thrilled her to think that she would. There seemed no end to her foolishness.

*

It had been the wrong time to broach the subject of Mr. Rattray, Hugh quickly realized. Lucy had looked so worried about her aunt. It was all he could do not to draw her into his arms and comfort her. If he could provide some information which might ease her aunt’s anxiety, he would certainly do so. He intended to ask an Irish friend if he might have heard of this Mr. Connor. There were a few other avenues to pursue.

He suspected Sarah’s explanation of Cardew’s visit was not the full story. He’d wanted to ask Lucy about it but had refrained because not only had it been the wrong time, but she probably wouldn’t have told him much. His best bet was Luke, and he would find out more tonight. If necessary, he would ferret out Lord Cardew, if he had not yet left London, and teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

That evening at the club, Luke was quite forthcoming. “The man is a bully,” he said as they drank claret in the library. “He faced up to me, so I was forced to subdue him. Drew his cork.”

“Splendid.” Hugh grinned. “He’s been intolerably spoiled by his mother. Thinks he can have anything he wants. Well, he can’t have Sarah.”

Luke frowned. “I trust she isn’t too upset? Doesn’t hold it against me?”

“I don’t believe so. She says you and Miss Kershaw were very supportive.”

“Miss Kershaw was. In my opinion, a lady to have in your corner.”

“Quite.” Hugh wanted that, and much more. In a few days, he would know if Lucy felt the same. She wasn’t the flirtatious type who would toy with a man’s emotions. Probably she’d set him straight on a matter when she thought he was mistaken. But dash it all, he found even that attractive, as well as the many other fine qualities he’d discovered about her. The sooner she married him, the better he’d like it. He felt like a schoolboy lusting after the unattainable. As he had not heard from Isabel or her parents again, it appeared that after this Saturday, he would be free.