A Regency Christmas Pact Collection (24 page)

Since Lady Frederica had already gone up, Preston didn’t feel it would be too terribly rude of him to excuse himself from the after-dinner festivities soon after her departure.

Therefore, he told Upton Grey and his sisters that due to his extensive travel—not to mention the reason for it—he was weary and in need of his bed.

That wasn’t exactly true, though, or at least not entirely.

The truth was that since he’d first come into contact with the two young Bexley-Smythe ladies, his thoughts had been almost entirely consumed with images of them wielding fire pokers and myriad other seemingly harmless objects which could be brandished against him. Every item he looked at suddenly became alarming.

When Lady Frederica had picked up her fork to eat at supper, he imagined her stabbing him with it.

When Lady Edwina had raised her glass to her lips, he imagined her coshing him over the head instead.

Even now Lady Edwina, the smaller and younger of the two, seemed to have a weapon in her hands, though in actuality it was merely a book of poetry. Surely she could use it to slam against his toes and distract him while her mother, Lady Stalbridge, utilized more destructive armaments against him.

Perhaps sleep
was
called for. It certainly might help to clear his head.

That said, the thought of falling asleep with such thoughts still at the forefront of his mind did not sound appealing in the slightest. Preston could only imagine the path his dreams might take.

So instead of making his way directly to the Wolfe bedroom and seeking solace in his rest, he decided he needed to do something else. Something which could completely redirect his line of focus.

In short order, he found himself walking through the blue wing Upton Grey was remodeling towards the study where the reliquary remained. He wanted to take a closer look at it while no one was looking over his shoulder.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that his brother-in-law was so keen to assist in Preston’s efforts for Darlingshire House—not after what had happened with Rachel. Yet the level of Upton Grey’s generosity was remarkable.

The corridor was empty and rather dark, as expected. A few of the sconces held lit candles, but of course there were not nearly as many as one would find in the occupied parts of the great house when guests were present.

What did surprise him, however, was the fact that the study’s door was open. Hadn’t they closed it when they left this afternoon? He was certain they had.

Preston slowed his gait as he drew closer to the doorway, listening to determine if someone was still inside. Perhaps a servant was cleaning? No, that seemed unlikely given the late hour. The servants were either still serving the family or had already taken to their beds, so they could be well rested for the upcoming day’s work.

He listened more carefully, but no matter how closely he listened, he heard nothing.

Yet, once he was mere feet away, a faint light was recognizable filtering gently through the open doorway.

He knew without a doubt that they hadn’t left a candle burning when they’d quit the room earlier. More damning still, the efficacy with which Goddard ran the house left no likelihood for a servant to have forgotten such a potentially hazardous detail as leaving a candle unattended in an unoccupied room after cleaning within.

Someone was most assuredly inside, and that someone almost certainly was the same someone who had vocalized the gasp he’d heard from the hallway this afternoon—the very gasp which Upton Grey had sworn must be merely a figment of Preston’s imagination.

On the contrary, his imagination had never been so vocal before. Preston held sincere doubt it would have begun to effect such peculiar behavior at this moment or any other.

No, someone had absolutely, unequivocally gasped.

Not simply
someone
. It had to be none other than Lady Frederica Bexley-Smythe, given the fact that only she had supposedly retired for the night other than Preston himself. No one else could have arrived here before him without them passing him on their way.

What in God’s name was she doing?

Preston stifled a groan and said a quick prayer for favor, and in particular for the sort of favor which might involve the lack of suitable weapons being held in the lady’s hands, and then he entered the study.

The flickering light from her flame and the faint glow of the moon pouring through the windows illuminated the golden reliquary in the otherwise black-as-pitch room, and then bounced back to shimmer within the silvery and golden hues of her hair. She held the candlestick aloft in one hand, the other caressing the reliquary almost as one would caress a lover, her delicate and elegant fingers trailing along the ridges of its detailed edges.

His heart lurched at the vision, and then it lurched again at the direction his thoughts had taken. Allowing himself to think about any young lady’s touch as a lover’s caress was akin to asking for problems he wasn’t prepared to remedy. Marriage was not to be in his future—not after what had happened to Arrington—and marriageable-aged misses always had marriage upon the mind.

The Bexley-Smythe sisters surely weren’t an exception to the rule, especially when one considered the muck of things Stalbridge had created for them all. Finding a way to secure appropriate matches, and sooner rather than later, had to be at the forefront of each of their minds.

But why was this sister here caressing his reliquary when she ought to be in her chamber nursing an aching head?

Just then, her fingers curled around the top of the cross and lifted it free, exposing the interior to her view. “Blast,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Preston had to stifle the urge to laugh, but hearing her curse was the last thing he would have expected. “Expecting to find a relic still inside?”

She jumped, allowing both the golden piece in her hand and her candlestick to crash to the floor. The drop extinguished the candle, thank the lord, but it left the pair of them in total darkness. He’d caught sight of her huge, brown eyes in that brief moment of surprise, though, wide as cannon balls and as expressive as any he’d ever seen.

Her expression wasn’t nearly as amusing and intriguing as the curse that came from her lips just then. “You ought to give a lady some warning instead of coming upon her unawares like that.”

He imagined her holding her hands upon her hips in an action reminiscent of a willful governess. The image did nothing to quell the sudden lustful urges he’d acquired. Damn, but something would have to be done about that.

Preston gritted his teeth, as though that could somehow put a block on his desire. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time I discover a lady handling something of mine in an unused room where she oughtn’t to be, particularly when the lady in question
should
be upstairs in her bed.”

Taking cautious steps in the dark, he moved closer to the center of the room. His thigh brushed against the table, and he stooped to retrieve her discarded items. For a long moment, his hand swiped fruitlessly through the air, only making purchase with the legs of the table. He shifted closer and tried again.

She harrumphed at first, but then squeaked in shock when he grabbed what he’d hoped was the warm candlestick but in reality was her warm ankle. As soon as he realized what he’d taken hold of he tried to release her.

He wasn’t fast enough.

She jerked back, pulling the both of them towards her in such an awkward manner he toppled onto her.

In attempting to brace himself in order to prevent crushing her beneath his weight, his hand fell upon the golden top of the reliquary which she’d dropped, which hurt like the dickens. He did manage, at least, to hold most of his body aloft despite the pain.

“If you do not remove yourself from my person right this instant, I’ll scream.”

Based on the unwavering sincerity in her voice, Preston didn’t doubt her threat for a moment. And since the very last thing in the world he wanted to happen was to be trapped into a marriage—any marriage—he rolled away as fast as he could…then bit back a curse, as he’d rolled over the candlestick she’d dropped. The silver lip and handle bit into the small of his back, causing an excruciating new form of torment he would have sooner gone his entire life without knowing.

He tried to catch his breath and roll further to alleviate the pain. The skirts of Lady Frederica’s gown were trapped beneath him. She tugged just as he’d almost come free of the candlestick, which forced him fully back onto it. His intake of breath came as a hiss.

“Off! Get off my gown!” Her voice had risen to a dangerous pitch already. They would hear her if he didn’t silence her.

“God’s teeth, woman, be still.” Somehow amidst all her flailing, Preston managed to extricate himself and move away, taking care to remove both the candlestick and the top of the reliquary as he did so. After placing them both on the table, lest she take it upon herself to use either of them against him, he reached down to assist her. “Give me your hand.”

“I’d sooner plant you a facer.”

Why must the females of the species conspire against him so? He was merely trying to be of assistance, yet she was reacting as though he’d been attempting to ravish her. With a beleaguered sigh, he bent at the waist and bodily lifted her to her feet, setting her well away from him and even further away from the table covered with potentially dangerous items.

“I’m sure if we spend enough time in one another’s company,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “you’ll likely do precisely that. But for now, I’m sure you wouldn’t care to explain to your mother and my brother-in-law just why I might be spouting blood from the nose when we both ought to be in our respective chambers.”

“It would be from the mouth, my lord,” she said primly. “I daresay your great height might prove to be a disadvantage in this circumstance, but I’m sure your lips would heal eventually.”

“Either way—” Preston put another pace between them, trying to scour the room for any other potential weapons by the pale moonlight shining through the windows “—would it not behoove us both to prevent anyone from knowing of our midnight tryst? Or would you prefer to explain to everyone why you are here, in a part of my brother-in-law’s home which is not open for guests? And why you are not upstairs in your bed after seemingly feigning illness?”

“A part of his home you’re likewise in, my lord. I’ll be glad to inform them of how you knocked me to the floor and rolled atop me,” she snapped.

“You’re in such a rush to stand before the altar, then?”

She let out a laugh which sent chills racing through Preston’s veins. “Not exactly, no.”

What on earth could possibly be so funny? A protracted silence fell upon them, which only caused his anxiety to reach new heights.

She took in a loud breath as though attempting to calm herself. “I do believe I might be in a hurry to see you at the altar, though.”

The chill which stole through Preston’s veins was liable to freeze him to the spot.

All the next day, Freddie had to fight the urge to sulk. She’d barely had time to look at the reliquary at all before Lord Preston had come upon her and quashed her plans. Granted, the look of sheer terror upon his face when she’d intimated her desire to observe him standing before the marriage altar had been enough to draw out her smile on more than a few occasions.

Even now, seated beside Edie in the drawing room after supper, the memory of how his eyes had widened in shock, not to mention how his lips had gone suddenly taut and white, kept running through her mind.

At least she’d had the time and opportunity to verify that it was, in fact, a reliquary…even if she’d had time for nothing else. She could consider her curiosity assuaged and, if her luck held out, she could set aside all thought of the silly thing.

It was hard not to think about how it had felt when they had fallen to the ground. Her backside had hurt, of course, but then she’d felt Lord Preston’s warmth hovering only inches above her, felt the strength in the arms which had stopped his fall. If she’d allowed him to stay in such a position for even a few seconds longer than she had, Freddie had no doubt she would have forgotten entirely about her purpose for being in that hallway in the first place. Her focus would have surely turned instead to what it might be like to kiss him.

Lord Calbourne had kissed her once, a few Seasons ago. He’d been the most devilish flirt with her for weeks on end. She’d been more than just a little enamored with him until he drew her into his wispy arms and pecked at her lips like a hen. That had been more than enough to remove any silly notions she might have once had about falling head over ears in love with the man.

The thought of Lord Preston’s arms circling around her, however… He’d picked her up and set her on her feet without even the smallest sense of effort. It was as though she hardly weighed a thing, which, considering her height, she knew to be far from the truth.

Freddie had no doubt that if he were ever to hold her as Calbourne had done, her body would be engulfed in an entirely different set of sensations. She sincerely doubted he would peck at her lips like a hen, though she didn’t know what a kiss from a man such as Preston would feel like.

But now…now she
wanted
to know, which was a dangerous thought, indeed.

“Why are you looking at Lord Preston like that?”

Edie’s voice had dropped low, and she was leaning very close to Freddie so no one else could overhear. Nevertheless, her question still startled Freddie so much that she nearly jumped off the settee.

“Like what?” she whispered back, although she didn’t really need her sister to answer the question. As soon as Freddie thought about it, she realized she’d been staring across the room at his rich, auburn hair and his strong jaw line while she thought about having his arms around her. Snapping her mouth closed, lest she take to drooling or something else equally mortifying due to the direction her thoughts had taken, she turned all her focus to her youngest sister.

Edie lifted a dubious brow and turned down the corners of her lips into a lovely pout. “You’re not fooling anyone with your feigned innocence.”

“I’m not feigning—”

“Don’t lie to me. I may be the youngest of us all, but I’m not stupid.” Edie’s grin turned devious. “I’d be looking at him like that too if I thought I had any hope of him looking at me in any way other than as a nuisance. He’s very handsome.”

Handsome, yes—but he had also discovered her last night where she oughtn’t to have been. He surely had questions about her which she wasn’t all that inclined to have answered. Besides, Freddie couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in thinking about a gentleman who plainly wanted nothing to do with marriage. He’d be a fool not to be suspicious of her now, and she couldn’t delude herself into thinking that wouldn’t factor into any opinions the marquess might have about her.

“I wouldn’t think too much about it, Edie,” she finally said, hoping to turn the conversation to another topic entirely. “I don’t believe Lord Preston is in the market for a bride.”

“Either was Monty, not long before he and Georgie stood before the altar. And from what Mattie says, Thomas Goddard had every intention of telling her he couldn’t marry her when they first met even though the Duke of Danby and Percy had come to an agreement.”

Freddie could only roll her eyes. Edie had the truth of it, but she couldn’t see how either situation would apply to Lord Preston and her.

“You roll your eyes now,” Edie said with all the sarcasm Freddie would have expected from her sixteen-year-old sister, “but it won’t surprise me in the least if we have another wedding to attend before the next Season. Then I’ll be all alone while you, Mattie, and Georgie are all happily married and providing your husbands with heirs.”

Edie stopped abruptly, her eyes wide. The real fear behind her statement seemed to shock her more than she’d anticipated. She fought back tears and dashed to the window.

“Edie!”

Freddie stood and started to follow her, but Lady Upton Grey and Lady Ellingham came up to her, one on each side, and guided her back to her seat. They sat beside her, and Lady Ellingham took Freddie’s hand in her own.

Good heavens!

“Your sister’s observations are astute for one so young,” Lady Upton Grey said, not unkindly. Her smile was warm and encouraging, but Freddie’s gut clenched as though a fist were gathered around it, squeezing. “We couldn’t help but notice how you’ve been watching Preston, just as she’s noticed.”

“Oh, but—”

“We’re delighted you’ve taken an interest,” Lady Ellingham interrupted. “I believe Preston has taken an interest as well, based on our conversations today.”

The only interest Freddie could imagine Lord Preston might have taken in her was a curiosity about her adventure into the abandoned corridor. The man certainly had no desire to marry, based on
her
observations. Nevertheless, Freddie managed to refrain from snorting derisively. She doubted such an unladylike display would be well-received.

“He could hardly speak of anyone or anything but you all afternoon.” With a meaningful look in her eye, Lady Upton Grey indicated her brother across the room. “He tried to put it off as a casual interest, of course, but neither of us believe him—and we know him best. It’s one of the reasons we invited you to Padmore Glen, you know: the hope that you and Preston might suit. Mary and I have been hoping to find a nice young lady for him to marry for quite some time.”

“But I… But he’s…”

Anything Freddie had intended to say fled from her tongue when Lord Preston pushed back from the card table, crossed the room, and took a seat in a wingback chair near them. In one hand, he held a glass of whiskey. As she expected, he glanced over his shoulder to the fireplace briefly, as he was wont to do, then returned his attention to the three of them on the settee.

“Did you need me, Rachel?” He directed his question to Lady Upton Grey, but his gaze had settled upon Freddie.

There was no good reason for the simple sound of his voice to cause her belly to flip, yet that was precisely what it did. She hadn’t really noticed yesterday how his deep timbre almost rumbled as it washed over her or how, when he stared so intensely at her, the hazel of his eyes looked almost golden.

Those were not the sort of thoughts she ought to be having about him—not ever—but she felt powerless to stop them.

“Actually, yes, I did.” Lady Upton Grey stood and gave her sister a look which could mean nothing good. “It seems Lady Edwina is in need of some companionship, and we couldn’t leave Lady Frederica here by herself. Preston, would you be a dear and entertain her for a little while? It won’t be long, I’m sure.”

He turned an equally unsettling look upon his sisters. The left side of his upper lip jerked upwards slightly, but he said, “Whatever you require of me.”

Lady Ellingham released her grip on Freddie’s hand and stood.

“Oh…” Before she had wrapped her head around what they were doing, both of Lord Preston’s sisters had left her side and were making their way to Edie, leaving Freddie alone with him.

The heat of his stare was threatening to melt her like a spring thaw. Freddie turned her attention to her two hands now folded demurely in her lap.

“My sisters seem to think you and I would make a good match,” he said after what felt an eternity.

Why was she breathing so heavily? She’d been seated for quite some time, so she couldn’t have exerted herself in the slightest, yet she felt as though she’d just run all the way from London to Padmore Glen.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Preston lift his glass to his lips and take a long swallow.

“I am not so certain I agree with them.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his. “You don’t want to marry at all.”

A single brow arched perfectly in response. “Just because I don’t want to marry you…”

“That’s not a very gentlemanly thing to say.”

“Skulking around in unoccupied parts of your host’s home and examining items which don’t belong to you and which you shouldn’t know exist isn’t a very ladylike thing to do.”

He had a point, but that didn’t mean Freddie had to like it.

She crossed her arms over her chest, then instantly regretted it. It had to make her look defensive. Which, of course, she
was
, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I didn’t get the impression that how ladylike a lady may or may not be would hold much sway in terms of whether you wished to marry her.”

“I didn’t get the impression that you wanted me to breathe in the same space as you, when we were in the study last night.”

“You mean when you were crushing me beneath your body?”

Lifting a single finger to his lips in a shushing motion, Lord Preston jerked his eyes to the side.

Bother and blast, he was rousing her temper and making her forget that they were surrounded by any number of people who absolutely could
not
learn about what she’d been doing.

Swallowing a deep breath, Freddie took a surreptitious glance around her to see if anyone seemed overly interested in their conversation. Lady Ellingham was still talking with Edie by the window, and Mama had joined them. Lady Upton Grey was now in the chair which Preston had abandoned at the card table with the Dowager Countess and Lords Upton Grey and Ellingham.

Not a single soul had turned in their direction, but that was certain to change if she wasn’t more careful.

Once she felt calmer about the situation, she met his gaze again.

He grinned, silken and charming and entirely too handsome.

The cur
.