Impeccable, p.3
Impeccable, page 3
Creighton’s sherry-colored eyes lit with interest. “I’ve more plans and would be keen to discuss them with you.”
“It would be my pleasure.” Gregory looked especially forward to the dinner. Spending the evening with Mrs. Renshaw was enticing enough. Now he had even more reason to anticipate the occasion.
He turned his attention to her. “I wondered if you might partner me—”
Mrs. Renshaw held up her hand, cutting him off before he could finish. “If you’re going to ask me to dance, please don’t. I did not come to dance.”
Why had she come, then? He wanted to ask the question—and would—but not in front of her hosts. “A promenade, then? The gardens are lovely, and it’s not too cold out if you have a wrap.”
She hesitated before answering, and in that moment, Mrs. Creighton shot her a puzzled look. “I can fetch it,” Mrs. Renshaw said. “A promenade would be pleasant.”
Gregory offered her his arm and inclined his head toward the Creightons.
“My pelisse is in the cloak room,” Mrs. Renshaw indicated as they circuited the ballroom.
He’d assumed as much, which was why he hadn’t steered them outside. “Do you not care for dancing?”
“I did before I wed,” she said. “But I haven’t done so in years.”
“You can’t have forgotten how,” he suggested with a smile.
“No, but I don’t find it as engaging as I once did.”
“A promenade gives us more chance to talk anyway, so I can’t say I’m disappointed. I thought you might like to hear how Ash is doing.”
“Yes, please. I was wondering…does he sleep in your chamber?” She looked up at him—for she was a good seven or eight inches shorter than his six feet—expectantly.
“He does, in fact. My brother tried to persuade me to lodge him in the stables, but then he would interrupt the lads’ slumber and perhaps their duties. I’m afraid he enjoys a jaunt somewhere between four and five in the morning. To relieve himself,” he added in a whisper.
“I see. You are kind to care for him personally.”
“I confess, when I am out with him at that hour, I completely understand why you preferred not to take him with you.”
She laughed softly as they reached the cloak room. “I hadn’t considered that, but I shall be grateful to my past self.”
After they retrieved her pelisse, he helped her don it. She buttoned the front over her bodice, covering the flesh above it up to her neck.
Gregory offered his arm once more. “You don’t regret not taking him? I thought I might still persuade you. He’s awfully sweet.”
“I’m certain he is. However, I have not changed my mind about caring for a pet. I also had an agenda for seeing you this evening,” she said, sparking his curiosity. And making his heart beat a trifle faster.
“I can hardly wait to hear it,” he murmured, quickening their pace so they would get outside faster.
Suddenly, his brother blocked their path. “Care to introduce us?” Clifford asked, his gaze landing on Mrs. Renshaw, and his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly.
Gregory recognized his brother’s reaction. He’d never disguised his interest in attractive women. Indeed, his passion for them had frustrated their father no end. Clifford was married now only because he’d promised his father on his deathbed that he’d do so before the end of the year. That he’d kept that promise had impressed Gregory—and surprised him more than a little.
“Allow me to present Mrs. Renshaw. She’s a guest at Threadbury Hall. Mrs. Renshaw, this is my brother, the Marquess of Witney and his wife, Lady Witney.”
Susan hadn’t stepped in front of them as Clifford had. She surveyed them from beneath hooded lids, her lips pursing slightly as she looked at Mrs. Renshaw.
The widow offered a curtsey to Clifford. “Good evening. I’m pleased to meet you, Lord and Lady Witney.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Clifford said, smiling broadly. “How do you know my brother?” He gave Gregory a look that seemed to ask why he hadn’t been made aware of her.
“We know each other from the Phoenix Club in London,” Mrs. Renshaw responded.
How Gregory hadn’t put that together was astonishing. But then he’d only visited a few times. He’d been there the night his father had suffered his fit.
“Ah yes, I’ve heard of that. Vaguely.” Clifford waved his hand as if the club were inconsequential. Of course, he would think so—he hadn’t been invited to join.
“I’m a patroness there,” Mrs. Renshaw said with a touch of ice. “I’m not surprised you aren’t familiar with it, since you are not a member.” Now she flashed a smile, but it was as cool as her tone.
“I wonder why that is?” Lady Witney asked. “He’s a marquess after all.”
Mrs. Renshaw lifted a shoulder, then looked to Gregory. “Shall we continue?”
“Yes. Pardon us, Clifford.” Gregory guided her around his brother, who finally stepped aside.
They remained silent until they walked outside. Once on the terrace, he felt her relax slightly. “They made you tense,” he observed.
“They are why I wanted to see you tonight.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the doorway. “I was hoping you might ensure they don’t attend the dinner at Threadbury Hall.”
“Won’t your hosts be disappointed?”
“Perhaps. However…” Her mouth tightened in consternation. “I overheard what Lady Witney said the other day on the other side of the hedgerow. I don’t want to subject the Creightons to her.”
Damn. He should have considered that she might have heard Susan’s nonsense. “My apologies for my brother and sister-in-law. They…” What could he say to excuse them? “I would like to offer a reasonable explanation for her behavior, but I fear I cannot. I can ask them not to come, but it may be best if I say nothing.” Susan didn’t even want to go, which he wouldn’t reveal to Mrs. Renshaw. In fact, it might be best if he didn’t go either—perhaps Clifford and Susan would forget all about it. Selfishly, Gregory didn’t want to do that. He wanted to go.
“I see.” She kept her gaze directed to the path in front of them, and he couldn’t tell from her profile what she might be thinking.
Gregory chose his words carefully. “I could try speaking to Clifford, but I’m afraid my brother does what he likes. In some instances, my preferences will only ensure he does the opposite.”
“He’s spiteful, then?”
“On occasion.” When they were children, Clifford had liked to laugh at others’ expense. He still did, but had finally matured enough to realize neither Gregory nor their father appreciated such humor. That didn’t stop him from laughing with his friends or perhaps even his wife, however.
“Then I suppose we must suffer their presence.” Her tone was one of resigned distaste.
“I can promise to intervene if they cause any upset. Would that help?”
“Have you had to do that before?” She arched an elegant brow at him, and the expression stirred him in ways he found almost shocking. They were having a conversation about his irritating brother, and Gregory was moved to passion?
“Not them, no, but they’ve been married less than two months. I’ve sometimes had to usher my brother out of a situation—for his own good, mostly.”
“You sound as if you should be the older brother.”
Her words hit him straight in the heart. His father had said something similar as he lay dying. He’d told Gregory that he wished he’d been the heir. And he’d asked Gregory to look after his brother, to try to ensure the marquessate didn’t suffer under his custody.
Gregory would try, but he doubted he’d be much help. Clifford had made it clear since their father’s death that he was glad to be free of his management, that he was eager to establish himself as the marquess.
“I am not the older brother, however,” he responded. “Do you have siblings?”
“Yes. A sister.”
He was reminded of how she and Mrs. Creighton looked as though they could be related. But if they were, Mrs. Renshaw surely would have said so. “I hope you are closer than my brother and me.”
“Based on what you’ve said, I would say so. I admire her very much. This garden is beautifully laid out,” she said, effectively changing the subject. He didn’t mind.
“My family has supported it for generations. It is far more stunning in the summer, as you can imagine.”
“I’m sure. What a wonderful thing for your family to do.”
Gregory only hoped it would continue. Alas, regardless of what his father wanted, Gregory couldn’t control what Clifford would do. In the end, if he wanted to cease the marquessate’s support of the garden, he could. Very soon, Gregory was going to have to get back to his own life and pursue a career. For the first time in months, he was eager to do so—and he credited meeting Mrs. Renshaw.
“I didn’t realize you were a patroness at the Phoenix Club,” he said, impressed. “That is where we met?”
“Yes.”
“I apologize for not remembering you. Indeed, I can’t understand how that is possible. I must have lost my wits just before making your acquaintance.”
She let out a soft, short laugh. “I am not offended to be found unremarkable. On the contrary, there is peace in anonymity, I think.”
“It is statements like that one that make you utterly remarkable.” Feeling inexplicably bold, he added, “I find myself captivated by you, and that has never happened before.”
Color flamed her cheeks, and he was sorry to have caused her any discomfort. He rushed to say, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“It isn’t that,” she said. “It’s just… You aren’t like any gentleman I’ve met. They don’t typically reveal what they are thinking in such a direct manner. It also seems as if you genuinely mean it, that you aren’t offering an empty platitude.”
“I do mean it. Flirtation and subtlety are somewhat beyond me.” He shook his head, smiling faintly.
“I should be equally frank. While I am flattered, I am quite happy in my widowhood, and I’ve no plans to change my status. Ever.” She spoke kindly but firmly, leaving no question as to her intentions.
Now he was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I like you. Perhaps we can be friends.” Unless she preferred not to have male friends. Except Creighton was obviously a friend. Or was his wife her friend, and he just came with the bargain? Did any of that matter?
“I would like that.” She gave him an arresting smile, and he began the disappointing process of telling himself not to react, either externally or internally. “Then I’ll be able to visit Ash.” She winked at him, and he nearly asked her not to do such things, that it wasn’t fair. Except, he feared everything she did drew him to her.
“Perhaps you’d like to take a ride with me tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t ride.”
“Oh.” Stupidly, he hesitated, as if he didn’t know how to respond to her statement. Plenty of ladies didn’t ride. “How about a drive, then? I’ll bring Ash.” That would actually be much better than a ride. He should have suggested it straightaway.
She stopped and turned toward him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’d planned to see you tonight and ask my favor regarding your brother and his wife. That was supposed to be the end of our association.”
“You just said you wanted to be friends.”
“I do, which is surprising and perhaps a little frustrating. After hearing Lady Witney the other day, I’d decided to avoid your family entirely.”
“While I can appreciate your desire to stay clear of Susan—Lady Witney—I can assure you that I am nothing like her. Or my brother.”
“I’m learning that.” She studied him a moment. “Furthermore, you perplex me. You look as though you should be a confident rake swanning his way through London. Yet you are thoughtful, caring, and perhaps even a trifle, dare I say, awkward?” She shook her head. “Forgive me, that isn’t the kindest word. I mean you seem slightly ill at ease.”
Gregory couldn’t help grinning. “I am most definitely awkward, particularly around fascinating, assertive women such as yourself. It was a problem when I was searching for a wife last Season.”
“We can work on that.” She pivoted back to facing forward in the direction they were taking along the path. “If you want to. I’ve been known to help people with certain things. Granted, they have all been women.”
She was offering to help him? He could use guidance, particularly from a woman, if he wanted to find a wife. And it was an excellent reason to spend time with her. “You’ll teach me the art of subtlety and flirtation? And not to be awkward?”
“I can try. Although, I’m not sure you shouldn’t embrace your awkwardness. It’s endearing.”
A thrill shot through him. Gregory couldn’t help feeling flattered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. We’ll start tomorrow when we take that drive.”
They’d nearly finished their circuit of the garden. “I suppose we should go back inside,” he said with great reluctance.
“I’m in no hurry. Let’s go round again, and I’ll do my best to convince you that your brother and sister-in-law must not come to dinner.” She flashed him a coy smile.
“That looks like flirtation. Is that what I should do?”
“Certainly not. Men and women flirt differently. Believe it or not, many women find an aloof gentleman to be very attractive. Then, when you do cast your attentions toward a female, she’ll be enthralled that you chose her over anyone else.”
“That sounds rather manipulative.”
“It is.” She cocked her head as they started their second circuit. “I can see you aren’t that sort of gentleman. You will woo a lady with your honesty and charm, your kindness and consideration. Conversation is your tool. You have the ability to put people at ease, I think. I predict you’ll find an exceptional wife. That is your goal, isn’t it?”
“Ultimately.”
She slowed, her gaze settling on him for a moment. “Perhaps you aren’t entirely forthcoming. I sense more to that single-word response. I won’t press you tonight, but tomorrow, you can tell me what your real aspirations are.” She’d seen through him.
“And if I don’t know?”
Her lips spread into a breathtaking smile, and once more, he had to remind himself not to react on any level. “Don’t you think it’s time you find out?”
Chapter 3
Heloise held Henry on her hip. He had a terrifying grip on her coral necklace. “You’re going for a drive with Lord Gregory?”
“Aren’t you worried Henry is going to tear your necklace off?” Evie couldn’t look away from the impending disaster.
“He hasn’t yet. It’s the coral. I need to find his gummy.” Heloise carefully pried his fingers away. “Are you trying to avoid answering me?”
Evie nearly laughed. “You would never let me get away with that.”
“Doesn’t stop you from trying. Why are you going for a drive with Lord Gregory?”
“If you must know, I am teaching him how to flirt. He’s also bringing the dog we rescued so I can visit with him.”
Heloise gaped at her. Henry grabbed her necklace again. This time, he leaned forward and tried to put it in his mouth. Once more, Heloise expertly extricated him from causing damage, all while keeping her focus on Evie.
“Is he courting you? It sounds as though he’s courting you.”
“He is not.”
“Does he know that?” Heloise asked wryly, transferring Henry to her other hip.
“He knows I am content to be a widow.”
“Which you are not,” Heloise muttered. “A widow, that is. I’d argue you are also not content.”
Evie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we not debate that again? This is why I didn’t tell you I’d met him the other day.”
“Because you thought I’d immediately cast you in a relationship together?” Heloise scoffed.
Henry reached for her necklace again, and Heloise clutched his chubby hand. “Where is your gummy?” She glanced about the drawing room, then strode swiftly to the settee. Plucking up the coral stick, she presented it to him with a wide grin. “Here we are!” She transferred her attention back to Evie and walked toward her while Henry stuck the coral into his mouth.
Heloise narrowed one eye at her and cocked her head. “You didn’t tell me about him because you liked him. You didn’t worry I’d cast you in a relationship—you worried that you would.” She gave Evie a sympathetic smile. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know.”
Thankfully, the butler came in to say that Lord Gregory had arrived.
“See you later.” Evie turned and breezed from the room, ignoring what her sister had just said.
Snapping up her hat from a table in the entrance hall, Evie set it atop her head, then grabbed her gloves. A footman opened the door, and she stepped outside into the cool gray afternoon.
Lord Gregory stood next to a smart gig. He wore a dark blue coat over brown wool breeches. His waistcoat was also blue, nearly the exact same shade as the coat. His cravat was simple, but she liked that. It was a welcome contrast to the fussier styles she typically saw in London.
“I think someone is excited to see you.” Lord Gregory stepped aside to reveal Ash sitting in the gig.
Evie instantly forgot about Lord Gregory and strode straight to the puppy. “There’s our boy! Have you been such a good pup?”
Ash barked in response, his brown eyes fixing on her as she stroked his head, glad she hadn’t yet put on her gloves. After repeating more happy puppy nonsense, she finally recalled that Lord Gregory was there. “I suppose we should go.”
“Or we could just stand here and fawn over Ash. I don’t mind.”
Evie smiled at him. “You are a patient man.”
“Yes, but mostly I am just as smitten with Mr. Ash as you are.”
Evie wanted to disagree. She really didn’t want to be smitten with the dog. Or with anyone.
