A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (102 page)

She only scowled at him in response,
but then offered, “You did very well by Jane last night in securing
potential suitors. The vast majority of these flowers are for her.
I daresay she’ll have a room full of gentlemen callers this
afternoon. Well done.” She clucked a tongue, and her tongue dripped
with sarcasm.

“
Do I hear a dash of
jealousy, Sophia? Should I send more gentlemen your way at the next
ball, so that you can then dash their hopes and give them the cut
direct?” Of course, he was being forced at present to ignore his
own jealousy, so he shouldn’t give her such grief. Not that he
really thought she was jealous. She’d had more opportunities to
marry than he could count, and flouted them all.

Peter looked down at the orange fluff
in Miss Matthews’s lap again and forced his ire down. It was bloody
ridiculous to envy a cat.

“
Not jealousy at all,”
Sophie countered. “I was merely pointing out that you sent so many
gentlemen for introductions to Jane, including some...shall we say,
less-than-desirables.”

“
Really, Peter,”
interrupted Charlotte. “I could scarcely believe my eyes when Lord
Utley came across from your group and begged an introduction to
her. It was quite irregular, to say the least.”

“
I did
not
—” He couldn’t finish his
objection before Sophie cut in.

“
Luckily for Jane, nothing
happened when she danced with him. Granted, he
did
take her out for some air,
and then
he left her to
rejoin the ball alone...but I daresay hardly anyone noticed so it
doesn’t really signify. I doubt her reputation will suffer overmuch
from the gossip. Surely they’ll move on to something more
scintillating—something
juicier
—in no time.”

Through the entire discussion to this
point, Miss Matthews had remained silent, listening to the
arguments over her reputation—and the possibility of scandal—with
an abashed look upon her face.

Finally, at this juncture, she entered
the fray. “I’m unconcerned about the gossip mill, Sophie. And as I
told you last night, I’m certain some sort of miscommunication must
have occurred. Why, if Lord Utley truly has the sort of reputation
you feel he has...well, then I’m more than positive that your
brother would never have sent him over for an introduction. His
Grace can’t very well be blamed for a scandal which may very well
not matriculate at all.”

Sensible head on that one, even if she
thought she knew more about what was good for her than he did.
Still, it was rather charming to find a woman who could think so
clearly. Most ladies of his acquaintance, his sisters occasionally
being exceptions to the rule, couldn’t make a decision about what
flavor of ice they wanted at Gunter’s on their own, let alone come
to a logical conclusion to solve any sort of problem.

Blast it, why could she not be the
dull, dreary, and uneducated, countrified mouse that he had
initially thought her to be? He had a sinking suspicion that life
as he knew it was soon to become overly complicated. And if there
was one thing that Peter hated—truly, utterly detested with every
ounce of his soul—it was complication.

He preferred his life to be neat and
orderly, much like his office. Everything lined up in neat rows.
Everyone knowing their role and position. Everything operating
smoothly, without a constant need for his input or
prodding.

But there was nothing neat, or
orderly, or in need of merely a gentle prodding (not to mention
having an understanding of her role, but he would have to deal with
that later, when there was no audience present to eavesdrop on
their discussion), about Miss Matthews. Nothing at all. In fact,
she might just be the epitome of chaos itself.

So why on earth was he attracted to
the woman?

She was everything he wanted to avoid,
but at the same time, she had begun to consume his thoughts. Why
couldn’t she have been a bumbling fool when they had danced
together last night? Then he would have been able to brush his
budding lust for her aside and move on with his night, working to
find her a husband before dancing with enough other young ladies to
appease his mother.

Dancing with Miss Matthews, however,
had only added fuel to his desire. She had proved her intelligence
and wit while they danced, and he’d wanted to dance her away
through the open doors allowing a cool breeze to waft over the
party, take her under cover of the darkened garden, and do any
number of inexcusable and dastardly deeds with her. Somehow he had
restrained himself.

But then instead of fulfilling his
obligations to his mother and dancing with other ladies, he’d
allowed himself to stand to the side of the dance floor and watch
her. Dangerous, that.

She had danced and laughed gaily with
Sinclaire, and Peter’s jealousy had only mildly surged. Then there
was Eldredge and Pottinger, and a small contingent of other
eligible gentlemen, all of whom would make rather advantageous
matches for Miss Matthews, and whom he had sent over for
introductions in the hopes he could hurry things along in that
arena. Still, with each of them Peter had kept a tight rein over
the envy threatening to dislodge whichever gentleman was on the
receiving end of her smiles by clamping his jaw closed and
glaring.

That tactic had worked rather well
with keeping the undesirable women away from him, also—not an
unwelcome effect, all things considered. He imagined he must have
looked like a glowering lunatic for the majority of the
evening.

But then Utley had come along, and the
jealousy building in Peter’s chest had turned to an erupting
volcano of rage. That the bloody, licentious bastard had dared to
dance with her was more than enough to send Peter into conniptions.
As though that, in itself, weren’t enough, the dance was not only a
waltz—but also the supper dance. It took every ounce of Peter’s
patience, long honed through a lifetime of being groomed for his
current station in life, not to challenge the scoundrel in front of
everyone present, gossip and legalities be damned.

So of course, when the man in question
had led his charge out onto the veranda, the very same thing Peter
had imagined doing with her himself, there was nothing he could do
but follow them. He’d been completely unable to stop his feet from
treading the same path Utley’s had taken.

Yet again. Peter loathed Utley more
with each passing moment. Wasn’t ruining two lives enough
retribution for Utley? Why must he add a third?

Peter told himself (not to mention
Miss Matthews when he’d confronted her in the garden during her
attempt at escape) that his intention had been to protect her
virtue. To make certain her reputation remained unharmed by
spending time alone with a man of Utley’s standing within
society.

There
was
truth to that statement, though
it was far from the whole truth. Was his tiny, white lie such a
travesty, though, in face of the dangers presented by
Utley?

Yet instead of protecting her, his own
actions would have utterly ruined her, had they been caught. Blast
it, why must he feel this inexplicable attraction to her? But that
kiss—that one sinful and altogether-too-enjoyable kiss—had nearly
been his undoing.

She smelled and tasted of peaches,
sweet, ripe, and delectable. And while she was thoroughly
inexperienced, her response had been eager and invigorating.
Thankfully, she had fallen into him, serving to remind him, however
painful such a task may be, that he must stop at once. Frankly, he
ought never to have started in the first place.

Damnation, he was hardening again just
from the memory of her curves, soft and lush, as he’d held her
against his frame. This frustration would solve nothing, but what
could he do?

But then his mother’s
impatient voice broke through his ruminations. “
Peter
.”

He looked to her, unable to stop the
glower from taking over his features. Surely, he’d be hearing about
that one later, as well. “I’m so sorry, Mama. What did you ask?” Or
had someone else asked him something which he had then ignored?
Good God, he had never been so scatterbrained in his
life.

Mama lifted a brow. “I asked you
nothing. Your sister, however, asked if you might be so kind as to
take herself and the other young ladies of the house for a drive
through Hyde Park this afternoon.”

And so his torture truly began. He’d
never have another minute to himself until the blasted Season came
to a close, at this rate. He had agreed to it, however. And it was
just this one Season. After this, Mama would finally leave him be.
Peter gathered his wits and turned to the eldest of his sisters.
“Of course, Sophie. I would be glad to take you.”

“
Really, Peter,” piped in
Charlotte. “Can you not tell your own sisters apart? I asked, not
Sophie.”

“
What on earth has you so
distracted?” asked Sophie. “You’ve been staring off into space with
the most atrocious scowl upon your face virtually since you woke up
this morning. And, I might add, you haven’t the slightest inkling
of what discussion has been taking place. If I didn’t know better,
I’d think you had your head in a twist over a female.”

Char tittered with laughter and Sophie
snorted inelegantly before trying to mask the action with coughing
on her morning chocolate, while Mama gave them both a look full of
admonishment. Miss Matthews said nothing, but stared fixedly out
the front window at a tree branch blowing lazily in the
breeze.

Apparently choosing to ignore their
mother’s unspoken warning, Sophie continued: “Of course, I know
that could not possibly be the case, since the only lady Peter
danced with the entire night was Jane. Why, he hardly even laid
eyes upon another miss throughout the whole affair.”

With that, Miss Matthews’s face turned
a delightful shade of pink all over. Peter had a sudden, keen
desire to situate himself beside her and plant kisses all over that
pink face, even with his family watching, just to see how much more
splendidly red her face could become. He wouldn’t mind kissing her
any number of other places, as well, to see if they would flush
such a charming hue—although he’d prefer not to have an audience
for that.

But that sort of behavior was out of
the question. If he followed through, he would be forced to marry
her—and Peter could think of few ladies in his acquaintance less
suitable to become his new duchess than Miss Matthews, even if she
had caused him to stay up all night, in the grips of unfulfilled
desire.

Before Peter could give his sisters
any semblance of a response, Spenser entered and announced the
arrival of “Lord Eldredge to call upon Miss Matthews.” Then he
bowed low before backing away when he received a nod from the
dowager.

After only a few more moments, the
drawing room was filled with nearly as many gentlemen callers as
arrangements of flowers. Peter took that as his cue to
exit.

He needed to find
some
time to settle his
accounts, and now he would have to follow through with his promise
to Char and drive the ladies through Hyde Park later in the
afternoon.

And of course, there would be yet
another entertainment to attend in the evening. He sincerely
doubted he could manage another evening of avoiding all of the
young misses desperate for a piece of his attention. At least, not
if his mother had anything to say about it, which she was bound to
do.

He pushed his way through the throng
of admirers, gathered to fawn over his sisters and Miss Matthews,
and stalked through the halls of his home. Once he collected his
account records, Peter slipped upstairs to find a quiet room where
he could work.

Any reasonable man had only a limited
supply of patience. Peter’s had long since worn thin.

Chapter Eight

The whirlwind of Jane’s first—and
only—Season was blowing full force. After the first ball at
Turnsley Hall, they had attended some new entertainment or another
every evening. In the afternoons, Jane, Sophie, and Charlotte
received their gentlemen callers, some of whom occasionally took
them for a drive through Hyde Park or for an ice at Gunter’s or
strolling through the streets of Mayfair.

All in all, Cousin
Henrietta declared Jane a smashing success. Somehow, instead of
convincing the
beau monde
that she was hopelessly vulgar and backward, she
was having quite the opposite effect. It was a mystery, that. At
least as far as Jane was concerned.

Young ladies who were the at the
height of fashionable society all wanted to be Jane’s friends
because, as Sophie was so fond of telling her, she had the audacity
and the courage to say things that everyone else thought but never
dared to utter. And gentlemen who were far more eligible than she
had ever dreamed would want to associate with her had begun to pay
her court. It was all quite overwhelming, to say the least. Not to
mention more than just a bit daunting.

As she expected, the gossips quickly
moved on to more exciting subjects after the grand debacle of Jane
dancing with Lord Utley. He had disappeared after that night in the
garden, and she had seen neither hide nor hair of him
since.