Family Scandals (12 page)

Eliza Cookeson, Countess of Barrington, to her brother, Brand, Duke of Warringham

Marcus awakened the next afternoon. The room was gloomy, the drapes firmly closed, keeping the late afternoon sun at bay. For a moment he was disoriented, then he remembered the mine accident.

Ringing for Barnes, he was surprised when his man told him that it was near tea time. That late? It hadn’t seemed like he had slept so long, but he knew that he had fallen into bed around eleven. His eyes were still tired and his muscles ached, but he needed to go and check on the men and their families.

Dressing for riding, and wolfing down the better part of the tray of meats and cheeses cook provided, he had Barnes relay the message to Brand that he would be home in time for dinner, then he had ridden away.

From the nursery window, Corinna watched him go in frustration. It had already been almost a full day since she had made the decision to tell him the truth, and she was no closer to telling him—or deciding what to say. How did one return from the dead?

She suspected that whatever happened, Marcus would feel responsible for her. Unfortunately, that was exactly what she didn’t want. She wanted someone to love her, not keep her out of guilt.

It still amazed her that Marcus hadn’t learned her complete name yet. Perhaps he hadn’t asked the duchess about her, or the duchess hadn’t felt the need to mention her in his presence. The duchess almost always referred to her as Miss Camden.

Turning from the window, she crossed the room to join the children on the floor. John sat between his brother and sister, a wooden block in his hand. Caroline was trying to get him to add it to the tower she and Michael had constructed, but John was reluctant to part with his prize.

“No!” the childish voice declared. “Mine!”

She smiled as she watched the blond-haired, blue-eyed tot get to his feet and cross the room toward the container that held more blocks. Why was it the first words children learned were
no
and
mine
? Retrieving one, the toddler brought it back and offered it to Caroline. Corinna couldn’t suppress her grin.

When a footman entered the room a few minutes later to inform her that the duchess was expecting the children down in the drawing room for tea, he was just in time to see the tower come crashing down around the three children to the accompaniment of squeals and laughter.

Tea seemed to drag on forever, but she knew it was because she was waiting for Marcus to return. On the one hand, she couldn’t wait to tell him, but she was beginning to dread his reaction. What would she do if he was angry?

Tea time was a lull in the day for her while the duke and duchess interacted with the children, asking them questions, discussing books, lessons, problems, and their observations and finds. She was able to keep track of the conversation, answering questions when she was asked, but it was clear that this was considered a time for both parents and children to learn what was happening in each other’s lives. Marcus had only joined them a few times as he was usually occupied with the steward or out viewing some part of the estate.

When the duchess asked her to join them for dinner, she was surprised. There did not seem to be a reason for them to need another person, but it never occurred to her to question the request.

Once the children were in bed, Penny, the nursery maid, helped her to dress.

Her two evening gowns, one in peach and cream, the other light blue, were simple in design. Since they were not designed to be ball gowns, neither had trains, which was becoming the current fashion in evening wear. All the same, they were both lovely, and she knew she looked her best once she was dressed.

She chose the peach because its color brought out the red and gold highlights in her hair. The off-the-shoulder bodice was trimmed with a ruffle of blond lace, as were the close-fitting sleeves at the cuff. With the overskirt of cream silk drawn up in the back to form a small bustle, the front of the dress fell in a smooth line from the tightly cinched waist all the way to the floor. Although the current style would have put any number of trims, flounces, gathers or pleats in the front, she preferred it plain.

She would have merely put her hair back into a bun at her nape, but Penny wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, the maid divided it into two sections that she then wound into a top knot secured with pins, and allowed small soft curls to escape around her face. The effect was startling and Corinna wasn’t sure who was looking back at her from the mirror.

She was nervous as she descended the stairs to the lavender and gold drawing room, where the duchess told her they would gather before dinner.

Would Marcus be present? The duchess hadn’t said, but Corinna couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t be. After what Marcus had revealed to her about Caroline, she had, like Marcus, begun to suspect that the duchess was matchmaking. She smiled at the thought of being matched with her husband. Of course, there was still the possibility he truly wasn’t her husband, but perhaps they could discuss that once she revealed her identity.

The room was empty, but she was early. Taking the time to compose herself, she was calm by the time the duchess entered the room a short time later.

“How lovely,” the duchess exclaimed. “That color does wonders for you.”

“Thank you,” Corinna replied.

The men entered before she had a chance to reply further and Corinna found she had to force herself not to stare at Marcus. He and his brother were dressed simply, in black and white. Marcus sported a diamond stickpin in his cravat, while the duke had a sapphire one.

When Pulliam announced dinner, it should not have been a surprise when Marcus offered her his arm as the duke and duchess left the room. As they walked down the hall toward the small dining room, Marcus leaned toward her and said, “You’ll have to put up with Felicia’s sort of matchmaking for the evening. Are you game?”

The laughter in his voice caused her to smile, and when she looked up at him, she nearly stumbled at the warmth in his eyes.“That depends on you, my lord,” she quipped. “It is you she is interested in marrying off. I just happen to be convenient.”

Dinner turned out to be an enjoyable affair, despite her previous misgivings. Even with her own suspicions and Marcus’s warning regarding the duchess playing matchmaker, she did not notice any overt signs or feel she was being pushed. Instead, Marcus and his sister-in-law spent most of the meal regaling them with outrageous anecdotes from the duchess’s two seasons, many of which the Countess of Wynton figured prominently in. Marcus even diverted their attention a few times to relate amusing stories about his time in India, unaware she hung on his every word as most of them involved his closest friend.

After dinner, the men adjourned briefly to the library, but joined the ladies after only a few minutes.

“Do you play?” the duchess asked Corinna, indicating the pianoforte.

“A little, but not nearly as well as you,” Corinna replied. It was one of the things the duchess taught her children herself—how to play the instrument. When Corinna had asked about it while they were in London, the duchess confided that because her own mother had taught her, she had decided to do the same. Having heard her play not only while in London, but also with her sister at Collingswood and Thane Park, she had to agree no one could teach the children better.

Corinna knew she was a passable player, but wasn’t sure she could have taught anyone else to play.

“I know of few who play as well as my wife,” the duke commented now, pride in his voice. “Will you play if I turn the pages, love?”

A look passed between the duke and duchess, an unspoken conversation. She smiled and rose from her seat. “Of course.”

Corinna suspected the duchess thought she and Marcus would converse while she and the duke were occupied at the pianoforte, but Corinna sat and listened with rapt attention. The duchess played with such feeling that she actually experienced the music. The notes beguiled and lulled, insinuating themselves into her thoughts and dreams, slipping into the blood and tugging at heartstrings while opening the windows of the soul. It was both intoxicating and exhilarating. And she was disappointed when the tea tray arrived and the duchess stopped playing.

After only one cup of tea, the duchess rose and excused herself, announcing that she was tired. Corinna watched her go in open-mouthed astonishment.

Hearing soft laughter behind her once the duke and duchess were gone, she turned to find Marcus leaning against one of the tall window frames, shaking with amusement. The gold streaks in his hair gleamed in the lamplight, his eyes twinkling merrily as if at some private joke. Corinna rose to her feet, feeling awkward.

“I–I think I should retire as well,” she stammered, moving toward the door. “The children will be up early.”

Marcus came away from the window, striding across the room, and reaching the door just as she did.

“If you will allow me to escort you at least part of the way.” Not waiting for an answer, he took her hand, slid it through the crook in his elbow and led her out of the room, down the hall and up the stairs. On the first floor landing, he bowed and raised her hand to his lips. It trembled as he brushed his mouth across her knuckles.

Corinna looked up into eyes dark with an unnamed emotion. Heat washed through her, bringing color to her cheeks, and she swayed toward him. His fingers tightening on hers reminded her of where she was and she stepped back quickly.

“Good night, Corrie,” he said in a low voice, “and thank you for a memorable evening.”

She curtseyed and hoped her voice wasn’t shaking as she replied, “You’re welcome, my lord.” Although she secretly thought she had been the one entertained this evening, not the other way around.

Marcus turned to enter the library as she continued up the next flight of stairs. Removing his coat, he tossed it over one of the chairs and headed for the brandy decanter as he loosened his cravat.

Pouring himself a hefty measure of the liquor, he turned and threw his lean frame into the chair behind the desk. Spearing his fingers through his hair, he blew out a long, noisy, breath.

What was wrong with him?

He had spent most of the evening watching her, wondering if her lips would taste as luscious as they looked. Then, he had nearly succumbed to temptation. It had taken all of his willpower not to draw her into his arms and indulge himself. What would she have thought? He had already told her he had no interest in marriage. If he had kissed her, he would have been lumping himself in with all the other males who preyed on governesses, knowing their intentions weren’t honorable.

She would have thought him a cad, a libertine, a rake of the first order, or worse, and he would have deserved to be so labeled. Leaning his head back against the leather padding, he closed his eyes, drawing forth a picture of Corrie as she appeared tonight. She might not be beautiful in the accepted sense, but one look at her this evening and he had known that he wanted her. Until this evening, he had always seen her in high-necked, primly cut clothing. Nothing designed to draw the eye, or entice unwary bachelors. After this evening, he would never see her that way again, regardless of what she was wearing.

Opening his eyes, he lifted his head and looked around the room. He needed to divert his attention. Something that would take his mind off the temptation Corrie represented—and remind him why he wasn’t ready to marry right now. Taking a hefty swig of his brandy, he levered himself out of the chair and crossed the room to the bellpull. When Pulliam appeared, he fired off a set of orders, then returned to his desk, and the correspondence that awaited his attention.

He had barely read through the letter on the top of the stack when Barnes appeared, bearing the small cask he’d requested.

“It’s been a while since you’ve wanted anything out of this,” Barnes noted curiously as he set the small wooden chest on the desk.

Marcus barely acknowledged the question behind the statement. “Yes, well, I wanted to go through it again,” was the only answer Barnes received before being dismissed with the admonition that he needn’t wait up.

Pushing the papers out of his way, Marcus set the box on the blotter before him. Barely twice the size of a cigar box, the small roundtop chest was made of sturdy oak. Turning the key protruding from the lock on the front, Marcus lifted the lid and reached inside.

Corinna entered the nursery quietly. After first checking on the sleeping children, she made her way to her own room. Penny sat in the room’s only chair, asleep.

“You should not have waited up for me,” Corinna protested as she gently shook the maid’s shoulder.

Penny yawned as she rose. “And who would have helped you out of your gown, then?” she asked as she began unfastening the hooks running down the back of Corinna’s dress.

Corinna smiled at the maid’s logic. “You are right. And thank you for being so considerate.” The dress fell away and Penny unfastened the hooks on her corset as well.

“You’re welcome,” Penny replied. “And ’tis no trouble at all. There,” she pronounced as she finished.

“I can finish from here,” Corinna assured her once the corset and dress were off. “Go and get some sleep.”