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Chapter

NINETEEN

Dante was wrong.

There weren’t nine circles of hell, there were sixteen of them.

All bar one were part of the harem Guy’s mother had curated to tempt him, and all bar one were currently vying for his attention in some way but not tempting him at all.

The one—the only one he reluctantly still wanted—was currently uncharacteristically quiet and subdued while he tried his best to ignore her.

An impossible quest he was failing miserably.

“This has always been my favorite view of the castle and the cathedral.” Miss Maybury had attached herself to his arm a quarter of an hour ago, as they had toured the cathedral’s crypt, and refused to relinquish it.

No matter how hard he tried to prize it out of her viselike grip.

Short of wrestling the woman to the ground, he was stuck with her until he could shove her back into the carriage.

A moment that, frankly, could not come soon enough.

“The cathedral actually predates the castle. I believe there was one on this site as far back as the seventh century, which rather boggles the mind.” Miss Maybury had also appointed herself the tour guide for this interminable trip and was leading the rest of the pack around while she tossed random bits of history to them as if she owned the castle too.

She was certainly behaving as if she owned him and he didn’t like that at all.

But listening to her witter on was marginally preferable to listening to Lady Lynette’s self-obsessed droning.

He had never met a person so in love with themself.

Lady Lynette was the walking embodiment of Narcissus and likely still lacked half of that fool’s charm.

Guy glanced longingly at the line of carriages waiting for them on the lane below and the promise of a couple hours’ peace once they returned before the horror of the lawn bowls tournament began at four.

He sincerely hoped that ordeal would not drag like this morning had.

That had, so far, been the longest morning of his life!

But at least his mother was enjoying herself.

Each time she sent a grateful smile his way, he felt wretched for the eight years of birthday distractions he had denied her.

Today was about being a good son. And so were the next five days—if he survived them. Then it would all be over.

And Lottie would leave with his aunt.

His gaze wandered to her again and that only compounded his misery.

She had tried twice to apologize to him since her betrayal and both times he had given her short shrift. This morning, and to his shame, he had even told her where she could stick her apology and reiterated that if she did not desist in bothering him, then he would send her packing.

He wasn’t proud of himself in any way, shape, or form, but there was an ache in his heart and she had put it there, so he was trying to justify his ungentlemanly behavior as self-preservation.

He knew, in the grand scheme of things, that keeping him in the dark about this awful birthday party wasn’t the crime of the century.

But he had dropped his guard around her, allowed her to see some of the real him, and she had let him down.

It was a trust issue and, for him, that was everything.

How could he possibly risk all of himself to a woman who had proved herself so untrustworthy?

“Seeing as we have a few hours spare this afternoon, I intend to spend them in your rose garden.” Miss Maybury’s annoying voice dragged him out of his reverie, just in time to see they had been left behind by the rest of the group who were several yards away.

“Just me and a book in the pergola.” The fingers gripping his elbow suddenly caressed his bicep.

“It is a very dull book, so I would welcome a distraction from it.”

How the hell was he supposed to politely respond to that hideous invitation?

“Er… then perhaps you should take a different book with you. There are plenty in my library for you to choose from.” Guy tried to maneuver them forward but she refused to budge.

“Perhaps I don’t want to read.” Miss Maybury snuggled closer, pressing her left breast into his arm and dropping her voice to a seductive whisper. “Perhaps I want to—”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Lottie appeared out of nowhere. “But Lady Frinton has a question about the castle that I could not answer and so I need to borrow Miss Maybury for a moment to pick her brain. Seeing as she is the expert.”

“Of course.” It took all Guy’s willpower not to punch the air with delight. Before Miss Maybury refused, he extricated his arm and then fought the overwhelming urge to sprint away as fast as he could. “I shall go help organize the carriages.”

Free at last, he marched toward them in the hope that it would chivvy everyone. All the while keeping one eye on his rescuer as she quizzed the shameless Miss Maybury extensively, wondering if she had rescued him on purpose.

Then wondering how he felt about it if she had.

Surely rescuing him was a good sign?

Lottie was either keen to make amends or had been jealous, or both.

He could not deny that the prospect she had stepped in because of proprietorial jealousy buoyed his ego immensely.

Not that Lottie had anything to feel jealous about with Miss Maybury.

The absolute last woman he would want to clandestinely meet in his mother’s secluded rose garden was her.

“I’m bored to the back teeth of Rochester and want my luncheon.” His aunt Almeria was the first to the conveyances. “Be a good boy and go chivvy the rabble, would you? I am sick to the back teeth of them too.”

“As am I.” After an entire morning of reluctant socializing and dodg ing the most outrageous of the young ladies his mother had invited to tempt him to make babies with, some respite on the ride home was more than welcome. “I have suffered quite enough this morning.”

“Oh, Lord Wennington! Yoo-hoo! ” He stiffened at the screeched tones of the awful Lady Lynette, who was keen to stake her claim again loudly from two hundred yards away. “Could you settle an argument between me and my mama?”

“Clearly I haven’t suffered enough.” He shot his cackling aunt some daggers before he pasted the polite semblance of a smile on his face.

“I will be happy to, Lady Lynette—over luncheon.” Which he fully intended avoiding.

“But I must obviously supervise the carriages first. I wouldn’t want anyone left behind. ”

Except, of course, Lady Lynette.

And Miss Maybury.

And both of their equally annoying, cloying mothers and maybe six or seven of the most desperate debutantes could be forgotten too. Then, perhaps, the rest of Guy’s day might be bearable.

Or better still, he could send them all back and leave himself behind. If he accidentally on purpose forfeited his ride home and walked at a snail’s pace, he might even miss the lawn bowls. An idea that was very tempting.

Very tempting indeed.

“Are you having a nice time, darling?” His mother’s hopeful question filled him with guilt and so he plumped for a diplomatic answer.

“This trip hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be.” It had been worse. So much worse. “Have you had a nice time?” Because that was the most important thing.

“I have had the best time!” She kissed his forehead as he helped her into her seat.

“So much fun and so much diverting company, today has been simply splendid, hasn’t it?

And the rest of the week will be even better, I promise.

” Guy felt a part of his soul wither and die at that but he smiled regardless before he excused himself.

He had hoped that getting everyone back into the carriages would be a simple affair.

But that was because he had stupidly assumed that everyone would return in the same carriage as they had arrived in, like sensible people.

After the awful Lady Lynette’s equally awful mother muscled herself into the second carriage with her daughter, and then several of the most desperate debutantes refused to listen to reason and fought tooth and nail to join them, it became apparent that things had turned into a free-for-all.

It also became an excuse for many of those young ladies to need his personal assistance to climb into a carriage rather than accept it from the footmen paid to do it.

Which meant he had to endure taking the hands of several in quick succession, then pretending not to notice how deeply the owners of them tried to stare into his eyes while their lashes batted.

After the tenth such encounter, his fake smile had turned into a grimace and his patience was worn so thin, he was in real danger of howling at the sky.

Miss Maybury, of course, had witnessed the Great Carriage Kerfuffle from afar and so had hung back with Lottie to ensure that she was the last lady he would have to assist. Guy knew already she intended to milk that moment for all it was worth.

However, as much as he wasn’t looking forward to another cringing moment with his least favorite houseguest, Lottie was still with her.

Would it be wrong to flirt a bit with Miss Maybury to see if he could make the Valkyrie a bit more jealous?

He would feel a great deal better about things if he had the tiniest shred of proof to cling to that his feelings for her were requited.

Proof that there might still be hope for them.

Because he was clearly still an idiot. And a blasted masochist to boot.