Bedding Lord Ned (25 page)

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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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“What are you two whispering about?” the duchess finally asked.
Ellie took a deep breath. She didn't wish to answer; her grace likely wouldn't care for the fact they were discussing Ash, even though Ellie hadn't said anything of a private nature. Not that she knew anything of a private nature to say.
“Lord Ashton,” Lady Heldon said calmly, obviously not shy about admitting her interest. Her color was still as normal as—Ellie looked more closely—her rice powder made it. “I was just asking Miss Bowman about his friends. You must know everyone in London is so curious about him and his absent bride.”
There was a moment of stunned silence that even Mr. Humphrey didn't dare break. The duchess stared at Lady Heldon as if she were an especially exotic—and unpleasant—type of bug.
Now Lady Heldon did flush. “You know I'm not saying anything that everyone else here isn't thinking, your grace.”
Ned's mother raised her eyebrows. She suddenly looked exceedingly haughty, every inch the Duchess of Greycliffe. “Perhaps, Lady Heldon, but everyone else has the good manners to keep their vulgar curiosity to themselves.”
Lady Heldon drew in a sharp breath, and then her chin went up. She was obviously made of stern stuff—or else welcomed social suicide. “Until the Marquis of Ashton resolves his unnatural marital situation, curiosity—and much less polite emotions—will run rampant whether or not you, your grace, or any of us likes it.”
The duchess's nostrils flared. Ellie had never seen her grace look so angry. She and everyone else at the table, with the possible exception of Lady Heldon, held their breath.
Ned's mother opened her mouth—
“The sleighs are ready,” Jack said from the doorway. “Father suggests everyone adjourn to the drawing room.” He paused. “I say, did I interrupt something?”
The duchess forced a smile. “Not at all.” She looked around the table. “If you would like to follow Jack—”
Everyone shot to their feet.
“—except you, Lady Heldon.” Her grace's voice was carved in ice. “If you would remain behind for a moment, I should like to have a brief word with you.”
 
 
“Don't you love sleigh rides, Lord Edward?” Miss Wharton let Ned help her into the sled.
“Yes, they are very pleasant.” Ned went round to the other side, climbed in, and spread the lap rug over them. He would much prefer to be back inside. His stomach was unsettled, his head felt as if all the demons of hell were wielding pickaxes behind his forehead, and the bright sun on the vast expanse of white snow flung shards of pain through his eyeballs. At least the world had stopped spinning.
He would never drink brandy again for as long as he lived which at the moment felt like it would be only the next five minutes.
He picked up the reins, and the horses shambled into motion. He dearly hoped Miss Wharton would be content with a plodding pace, though given her somewhat frenetic approach to life, he doubted he'd be so lucky.
He wasn't.
“Er, do you suppose we could go a little faster, Lord Edward? Lord Jack and Miss Bowman are far outstripping us.” She smiled at him. “And I do so love to feel the wind in my face.”
He glanced ahead at the red and gold sleigh in front of them. Jack and Ellie had almost reached the woods already. They were laughing about some damn thing. Ellie looked younger and prettier when she laughed.
And then they vanished into the trees.
His stomach twisted; damn this nausea, though this time it didn't feel as if the brandy was totally to blame.
He dropped his gaze back to his lead horse's arse. They had only to do one loop through the park—it would take no more than half an hour, if that. He could manage it.
“Of course we can go faster.” He grit his teeth and encouraged his cattle to pick up their pace. His head and stomach protested, but if he focused on the horse's rump directly in front of him and didn't look at the scenery sliding past, perhaps he could avoid disgracing himself completely. Not that there was anything in his stomach to come up, but even a case of the dry heaves was to be avoided if at all possible.
“Our numbers are much diminished,” Miss Wharton said.
“Yes.” Ned wished they'd been diminished by one more—the lady sitting at his side.
They hit a bump, and he had to swallow determinedly.
He would have dodged this duty if he could have, but he was the only man available for the task. Jack had chosen to take Ellie up in his sleigh, of course—even Ned would admit his brother couldn't very well have selected Miss Wharton, the woman he'd been trying so hard to avoid being alone with all week. Ash was too busy planning a snow fort to even notice the problem, and Humphrey was in deep conversation with Miss Mosely. Cox was nowhere in sight.
“I understand Lady Ophelia and Sir Percy have left,” Miss Wharton was saying, “which is quite understandable given Sir Percy's injuries, poor man.”
“Yes.” Ned didn't feel one iota of remorse. He'd pummel Percy again in a heartbeat, though not today. Today he was most definitely not in plump current.
They reached the trees and slid into the shade. Thank God. The muted light was much easier on his eyes, head, and stomach. He drew in a breath of the cold, pine-scented air and felt marginally better.
“And I haven't seen Lady Juliet or Mr. Cox this morning,” Miss Wharton said. “Perhaps they are embarrassed by what happened last night and chose to have breakfast in their rooms, though surely they can't intend to hide there all day.”
“I imagine we'll see them eventually.” He might be wrong, but he suspected since both of them were missing they were “hiding” in one room and quite likely one bed.
Damn, and now he was thinking of those blasted red drawers again. He definitely needed to remarry soon—his body was demanding it.
“But Lady Heldon was at breakfast,” Miss Wharton said. “I wonder what happened to her.” He felt her look at him. “She mentioned Lord Ashton's marriage, and the duchess was not pleased. Do you suppose she sent Lady Heldon packing?”
“Probably. My mother does not care to have my brother's marriage discussed.”
“That was very clear.” She paused and sent him another sidelong glance. “Do you care to discuss it?”
“No.”
She nodded. “I didn't think so. Really, it would be a violation of your brother's trust, wouldn't it, for you to discuss his situation? You are very right to keep mum.”
He was, but Ash hadn't trusted him with any information, so there was nothing for him to conceal. Just as well. He had absolutely no desire to know the details of his brother's marital troubles, though of course if there was anything he could do to help, he would. Ash knew that.
He guided his horses along the winding road. Why the hell hadn't whichever damn duke had cleared this path made it straight? He hoped Jack was being careful. Jack might be able to drive to the inch, but he was also a bit of a dare-devil. He
had
been racing his curricle on the ice just a fortnight ago, after all.
Ned clenched his jaw. And this time Jack had a passenger. He'd better not take a turn too quickly and slide into a tree or injure Ellie in any way. Ned listened for the scream of horses and the splinter of wood over the jingle of his sleigh's harness and the hiss of its runners over the snow. All he heard was Ellie's and Jack's laughter.
“I will tell you,” Miss Wharton said, her voice a bit hesitant, “that Lady Heldon was right in what she said—everyone
is
gossiping about Lord Ashton, and most of the gossip is not nice.”
“Oh?” He tried to sound repressive but given the current unsettled state of his stomach, he feared he wasn't very successful. Miss Wharton pressed on.
“Yes. When word got out I'd been invited to this party, people who normally cut me dead encouraged me to find out as much about Lord Ashton as I could while I was here—and then tell them all as soon as I returned.” She sighed. “London is not a very kind place, Lord Edward.”
“Which is one reason I never go there.” Damn, Jack was right. It was indeed time for Ash to settle things with Jess.
“Oh, I
wish
I could stay in the country, too,” Miss Wharton said rather passionately, “but Mama and Papa are determined to marry me off, so I must spend most of my time in London until they accomplish that goal.”
Ned jerked his eyes away from his horse's rump. This was a surprise. “Don't you wish to be married?”
“Yes, of course I do, but”—she smiled sadly and looked down at her muff—“you may have noticed I'm a bit of a bull in a china shop—or, rather, on the Marriage Mart. I'm too loud and awkward, and I never seem to say or do the right thing.” She shrugged. “Mama says I must learn to be better behaved—quiet, demure, perhaps a little bit bored—but I can't seem to manage it.”
Miss Wharton's description of her mother's ideal bride sounded rather like Ned's—and surprisingly unappealing when stated so baldly. “I hesitate to contradict your mama, Miss Wharton, but I don't believe you should change your behavior. Think how exhausting it would be to have to pretend to be someone you aren't for the rest of your life.”
Miss Wharton laughed. “Oh, Mama doesn't expect me to really change. She just means for me to be a model society miss while I'm trying to catch a husband; once I'm wed, she says I can go on as I please as it will be too late for the poor man to get free.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I suspect that's how she got Papa up the church aisle.”
“Ah.” He'd never met Miss Wharton's mama or papa, and, frankly, now he hoped never to have that dubious pleasure. “And are your parents happy together?”
“As happy as most couples of our class, I suppose”—she smiled briefly—“which means not happy at all. Your parents are the exception to the rule, Lord Edward.”
He'd known Mama and Father's marriage was unusual, but surely marital bliss—or at least contentment—was still something to strive for. “What does your papa say about all this?”
“Oh, he wants me to marry, too, so I'll be some other man's problem. He's managed to rid himself of Lucy and Becky—my sisters—and I think he's afraid he'll be stuck with me f-forever.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she gave a shaky laugh. “And here I am acting improperly again.”
He looked up ahead and caught a flash of red through the trees. At least Jack hadn't yet wrecked the sleigh.
Did Ellie's mama and papa feel the way Miss Wharton's did?
“No,” he said. “He must be happy that you are a support to your mother.”
Miss Wharton snorted. “Hardly. I am a thorn in Mama's side, a constant reminder of her failure to foist me off on some suitable male. Papa says I quite ruin Mama's temperament, not that he's ever liked her temperament very much.”
He'd never considered how difficult it must be for unmarried women. Ellie had always seemed content with her situation—except perhaps this year.
Now that he thought about it, he did remember Mama mentioning at Christmas how concerned Mrs. Bowman was about Ellie's future.
Hmm. He was in need of a wife, and Ellie was in need of a husband. Perhaps they could solve each other's problem. They were friends, even though things had been a little unsettled between them recently. And there were those odd red drawers ...
Something inside him twisted—probably his stomach.
“Nevertheless, Miss Wharton, I still think it would be a mistake to try to pretend to be someone you aren't.”
Wasn't that what Ellie had said she'd been doing?
“I'm sure there must exist a man in England who will find your true nature delightful.”
“Oh?” She looked at him. “You, perhaps, Lord Edward?” She smiled eagerly. “I would be happy to marry you. I believe I could even come to love you, if you don't mind my being so bold as to say so. Your actions on the pond yesterday were most heroic, and you have been very kind to me just now.”
His stomach heaved, and, even though frigid air stung his cheeks, sweat popped out on his forehead. “Well ...”
She giggled nervously. “I have put you in a very awkward spot, haven't I? I do apologize.” But she still looked hopeful.
“Ah.” He took a deep breath; the air burned his lungs and cleared the panic from his brain.
He needed a wife, and Lady Juliet was no longer a viable candidate. Miss Wharton might do. He was older now—he didn't require, nor really want, the overwhelming lust he'd felt for Cicely. And in any event, that hadn't survived their wedding night.
But first he must find out if Ellie needed his help.
“We've just met, Miss Wharton. I don't believe it would be wise to make a permanent commitment so soon.”

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