His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (11 page)

Pondering the importance of the words, Richard crossed to the sideboard, poured himself a brandy and went to sit behind his
desk. Retrieving a piece of pristine paper, he dipped his quill in the inkwell and wrote:

Once the letter had been folded and sealed, Richard took a sip of his brandy. He’d always considered himself the forgiving
sort. Not anymore though. Rising, he went to the window and looked out, the positive mood he’d shared with Lady Mary earlier
now clouded by the anger that followed him daily, like a loyal dog. He would be rid of it soon though. He would make certain
of that.

Early rays of sunshine warmed Mary’s skin as she strolled through the garden with Viscount Belgrave the following day. She’d
been planning a visit to the library, but her aunt had intervened, suggesting that spending time with his lordship would be
of far greater value.

“But I shall be joining him for a picnic later,” Mary had protested, to which her aunt had replied, “The more time you spend
in each other’s company, the more chance there is of him making an offer.”

Deciding not to argue with her aunt’s logic, Mary had done as she had asked.

“My lady?”

Mary blinked, startled by the insistence of Lord Belgrave’s voice and realizing they’d come to a halt. Turning her head, she
noticed that his eyebrows were raised in question. He was a handsome man, no doubt about that, but looks did not a love match
make. More was required for that. “Yes?” she inquired.

It was his turn to blink. “You seemed very deep in thought just now. I wonder if you heard any part of what I was saying.”
She stared back at him until he eventually said, “About my decision to extend one of the parlors at Belgrave House and turn
it into a conservatory?”

Knitting her brow, she bit her lip and shook her head. “Please forgive me, my lord. I believe I must have been woolgathering.”
When a perplexed expression crossed his face, indicating that he’d likely spoken on the matter at great length, she added,
“Though I am sure it would be a wonderful improvement to your home.”

Expelling a deep, dissatisfied breath, Belgrave resumed walking, guiding Mary toward the shade of an elm tree and a bench
that stood beneath it. He waited for her to sit before allowing himself to claim the vacant spot next to her. A true gentleman
in every sense of the word. More so than Richard, who’d held her shockingly close while his lips . . .

“May I ask what it is that has you so distracted?” Belgrave asked, forcing Mary’s attention back to him once more. “If you
are concerned about something, I would be happy to offer advice. As a friend, of course.”

She smiled up at him. “That is very kind of you, but I can assure you that nothing is troubling me.”

Stretching out his legs, he crossed them, drawing attention to his perfectly polished boots. “Well, whatever it is,” he said
with a slight tilt of his lips, “it does appear as though you are more interested in
it 
. . .” he paused for a moment as if considering something, then added, “or
him 
. . . than you are in me.”

Shocked by his statement, Mary turned so abruptly toward him that she almost toppled backward onto the grass behind her. Belgrave’s
steady hand stayed her. “I beg your pardon?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He chuckled slightly. No hint of annoyance. “I see now that I am correct. Someone else is preoccupying your mind, which makes
me wonder why you are not keeping his company instead of mine. After all, you are an exceedingly lovely woman, Lady Mary.
A man would be mad not to have some interest.”

“I . . . thank you, my lord.” What was she to say without lying? “You have been exceptionally kind and I can only hope that
you can forgive me for not paying greater attention to you. I fear I have been unconscionably rude.”

“It is quite all right.” Briefly, he gazed up at the leaves rustling overhead before looking back at her. “If I were to hazard
a guess, your aunt is eager to see you married and has insisted that you become better acquainted with the gentlemen visiting
Thorncliff.”

“How did you know?” Mary asked, embarrassed that he’d discovered that she’d practically been pushed at him against her will.

He shrugged. “It is the way of things. People like us do not expect to make a love match. When the Spencers introduced us,
I was just happy to discover that you are a beautiful person, both inside and out.”

Glancing up at him, she saw his gentleness reflected in his eyes. “You give the very best compliments, my lord, but you cannot
honestly claim to have known me long enough to make such an assessment of my character.”

Allowing a smile, he reached for her hand, raised it to his lips and placed a tender kiss upon her knuckles. “A woman who
laughs and smiles as much as you do, cannot be anything but beautiful and kind.” He leaned back, allowing her to mull over
his words a moment before saying, “Does this man whom you like reciprocate your sentiments?”

A flush of heat rose to Mary’s cheeks. “I do believe that you are being entirely too curious about my personal affairs, Lord
Belgrave.”

He nodded at that. “Forgive me, but since I do enjoy a fair amount of gossip myself, I—”

Her eyes went wide. “You do?”

“Certainly.”

“But you are a man!”

His mouth contorted into something ridiculously strange until he suddenly, quite unexpectedly, burst out laughing. “And what?”
he asked when he’d gotten himself back under some measure of control. “Men cannot enjoy listening to news of scandalous behavior?”

“There is nothing scandalous about my behavior!” Not entirely true, she realized, once the words were out.

“I see.” He turned more fully toward her and looked her straight in the eye. “Is he married?”

Her jaw dropped. “What? No! Of course not.”

“Then he must be someone whom your aunt would not approve of. It is the only logical explanation for why you are not with
him
instead of me.”

Mary didn’t respond. It had taken him all but two conversations to figure her out, and all because she kept on getting distracted
by thoughts of Richard. Lord help her, she’d barely slept a wink last night after they’d parted, continuously going over the
time they’d spent together in the cave. He’d heard her sing. Had actually liked it! And then of course there was his embrace
and the maddening way in which her body had responded. She’d never felt like that before, and had been completely taken unawares
by the sudden need for him to touch her in the most shocking ways possible.

Her heart quickened at the memory of it and her stomach quickly tightened. “If you do not mind, I think I should like to visit
the library before it is time for us to join the Spencers for the picnic.” She needed to get off this bench and move—expel
the restlessness that churned inside her with the anticipation of seeing Richard again. It wouldn’t be long, and yet it seemed
like forever.

“I would be happy to escort you, if you like,” Belgrave said. “In fact, there are a couple of books that I have been meaning
to take a look at myself.”

She accepted his offer, happy with the feeling that their strange conversation had not made things too awkward between them.
Rather, he seemed surprisingly tolerant of the fact that he had no chance of winning her hand in marriage. As if to underline
this notion, he said, “I am sorry that your situation appears difficult to you. Hopefully you will find the solution that
you seek, but in the meantime, if you need anything, I am happy to assist in whatever way that I can.”

Linking her arm with his, she said, “And in return, I shall endeavor to find a lady who is more deserving of your favor than
I will ever be.”

They crossed an intersecting pathway leading past a row of trees, from which a shadow emerged, solidifying as the sun fell
upon the man’s face, revealing none other than Rotridge. “Lady Mary and Lord Belgrave,” he addressed them dryly. “What a lovely
little walk you appear to be having.”

It was, until just now
, Mary felt like saying. Instead she allowed Belgrave to respond.

“It is a perfect day for it,” he said, seemingly unperturbed by Rotridge’s scowl, though he did draw Mary a little closer
to him, as if he sensed that she needed protection.

Rotridge’s eyes darkened, even as he attempted a smile. “Do you enjoy masquerades, Belgrave?”

Belgrave straightened his spine, increasing his height as he stared back at Rotridge. “If you are referring to the ball the
other evening, I must confess that I found it most enjoyable.”

“Indeed?” Rotridge’s lips drew up to form an ugly snarl.

“Indeed.”

Mary’s temper started to rise. “Is there a point that you would like to make, my lord?” She gave Rotridge her best glare.

His eyes turned toward her. “Only that I do not recall seeing Belgrave there.”

“Perhaps because I was wearing a Bauta mask?” Belgrave suggested. “My entire face was hidden from view.”

“Precisely,” Rotridge said, taking a step closer.

Belgrave frowned. “Please forgive my ignorance, Rotridge, but I am having trouble understanding your implication.”

“He is not the man you are looking for,” Mary told Rotridge. She’d hate for him to do something rash and for Belgrave to suffer
the consequence on account of a mistaken identity.

Rotridge appeared to study Belgrave for a moment before finally saying, “No, I don’t suppose he is. Never mind. I will simply
have to keep on trying to figure it out.” He tipped his hat in the most condescending manner that Mary had ever seen. “Good
day.”

“He really doesn’t like you, does he?” Belgrave asked as they watched Rotridge walk away.

Mary expelled a deep breath. “No,” she agreed, “He does not.”

Belgrave seemed to ponder that for a moment before saying, “He is also very jealous of your secret beau.”

Mary’s mouth tightened in a grimace. “I do not have a beau.”

“No?”

“No,” she said decisively.

A brief silence followed as they continued back toward the house until Belgrave said, “In any event, I would like to inform
Spencer and Chadwick about Rotridge’s behavior. Between the three of us, we will have a better chance of keeping an eye on
him, just in case he decides to give you trouble.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Mary said, appreciating his concern. “Your assistance is most welcome.”

They set out with a pair of curricles when the sun was at its highest. Tied securely beneath her chin, Mary’s bonnet shaded
her eyes as she gazed out over the bright display of wildflowers dotting the countryside. “It is nice to escape the crowd
for a while,” she told Belgrave as he steered the horses along the dirt road.

“Too boisterous for you?” he asked, briefly dropping a look in her direction.

“A little perhaps. I enjoy the company of others, but there is also something to be said for peace and quiet.” Thinking of
Richard, she considered how odd it was that her world was so full of people while his was completely lacking.

It took a half hour drive for them to arrive at the hilltop that Sarah and Spencer had mentioned. After parking both curricles
at the bottom, the party alit and gathered up their supplies before making their way to the top.

“There is quite a splendid view from up here,” Mary said as she turned to look out over the countryside below. “Have you seen?”

“It is one of the reasons why I suggested coming here,” Sarah said. Setting down the blanket she’d been carrying, she came
to stand beside Mary. “Look, you can see Thorncliff over there in the distance.”

Turning in the direction that Sarah indicated, Mary searched for the manor until she finally found it. “It looks so small
from here.”

Sarah chuckled. “I know. It is hard to believe that there are hundreds of people residing within its walls at present, if
one considers all the servants as well.”

Nodding her agreement, Mary turned away from the view and approached the spot where the men were unfolding Sarah’s blanket.
Offering them her own, she gave her attention to one of the baskets and, with Sarah’s help, began organizing the plates and
the food until everything had been laid out.

“It looks delicious,” Spencer said as he dropped down onto the blanket, seating himself beside Sarah while Belgrave lowered
himself next to Mary.

For the next hour, they enjoyed the food that Cook had prepared for them while discussing a subject that Mary found most uncomfortable:
marriage. But since Spencer and Sarah had recently had their wedding and Spencer’s sister, the former Lady Newbury, had married
the Duke of Stonegate in secret, it was apparently a subject that Sarah was very much interested in.

“What say you, Belgrave?” Spencer suddenly asked. “Do you suppose you might choose to marry any time soon?”

Starting at the question, Mary looked at the gentleman seated at her side, immediately embarrassed on his behalf even though
he showed no sign of concern over the question. Instead, he seemed to ponder it quite seriously before eventually saying,
“Perhaps. If the right lady comes along, I see no need to delay.”

“Quite right,” Spencer concurred.

Sarah on the other hand offered Mary a very deliberate smile that made Mary want to shrink away into nothingness. Thank God
that Belgrave knew of her disinterest in him or this would have been the most awful conversation ever.

When they were done with the food, Sarah said, “Perhaps you would like to enjoy a quiet stroll?” She gave Belgrave a pointed
look that made Mary cringe.

To her relief, he merely shrugged and said, “I was actually hoping to use this time away from the masses to discuss an investment
that I have in mind with your husband.”

Spencer gulped, the wine he’d been drinking almost spilling from his glass. “Of course,” he said, apparently just as surprised
by this statement as his wife was.

“Are you certain?” Sarah asked while Mary quietly prayed for her to stop trying to make a match where there was no match to
be made.

“Quite,” Belgrave said, “but if you and Lady Mary would like to go for a stroll, then by all means, do not let me keep you.”

Mary required nothing further to get her on her feet. Addressing Sarah, she said, “Come. Let us leave the men to their financial
discussions and take a look at that church you mentioned. I find that I am quite eager to see it.”

Side by side, they wandered away from where the men were sitting. “Am I mistaken, or are you and Belgrave completely disinterested
in each other?” Sarah finally asked.

Mary glanced briefly at her friend, noting her curious expression before returning her gaze to the view. “We are friends,”
she said, “but there is little chance of us ever being anything more.”