The Pursuit Of Marriage (20 page)

She drew a calming breath and turned, resisting the urge to straighten her probably disheveled hair or gown or appearance or possibly just state of mind.

Cassie plastered a pleasant smile on her face and adopted a far too casual tone. Just right for a chance encounter in a garden, as if she had not been caught in anything the least bit improper, the least bit scandalous.

“Lord Pennington, how pleasant to see you again,” she said brightly, thinking it best not to offer the earl her hand. It, along with her entire insides, was distinctly unsteady.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Effington.” Pennington’s gaze moved to Berkley, and he was obviously hard-pressed not to smirk. “I’ve been calling for you, but apparently you”—he cleared his throat—“didn’t hear?”

“Yes, that’s good, we’ll stick with that,” Reggie murmured.

“I must return to the hall.” Cassie nodded firmly and stepped away from Reggie. “I promised…that is I offered…Lady Pennington—Gwen—” She laughed an odd sort of uncomfortable, high-pitched laugh. She met Reggie’s gaze. “Thank you for showing me the gardens. It was most…enlightening.” She glanced at Pennington. “I’m certain I shall see you both at dinner.”

She turned to go, took a few steps, then stopped. She wasnot one to run from awkward situations, and even love or lust or scandal would not make her do so now.

She squared her shoulders and swiveled back to meet Pennington’s gaze directly. “I trust you will not say anything about…this, my lord.”

“I am the soul of discretion, Miss Effington.” There was a distinct glimmer of laughter in his eye, but his voice was solemn. “Besides, two friends enjoying a walk in the garden on a lovely spring day is scarcely worth mentioning. To anyone.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “It is a lovely day.”

“Indeed it is, Miss Effington.”

“Lovely,” Reggie murmured.

She nodded good day and took her leave, her step and her spirits considerably lighter than a moment ago. Through no fault of her own she had avoided scandal. She refused to think what might have happened had someone else come upon them in the garden. Lord Pennington obviously had his friend’s best interests at heart. Unless, of course, he was so used to encountering Reggie in such situations that he no longer considered them significant. She brushed the disturbing idea from her mind. Still, a certain amount of scandal with Reggie might dissuade Miss Bellingham from any intentions she might have toward him—if indeed the young woman had any thoughts in that particular direction. But what of Reggie? Cassie hadn’t considered the possibility that now that she had fulfilled her end of their bargain and produced a Miss Wonderful, Reggie might seriously pursue her. What if, in spite of the way he’d kissed her, he had as little interest in her as she had claimed to have in him? What if, in spite of her growing belief that he wasn’t at all the kind of man he was reputed to be, he was?

Her step slowed. What if a kiss in a garden, even a rather outstanding, magnificent, kiss, was of little significance to him? What if he always kissed women in a manner that made their senses flee and their toes curl? Why, certainly such kisses would only add to a man’s infamy. Cassie had been kissed before, but never like Reggie had kissed her. Twice. And a man who made her feel like this one did, when she was in his arms and when she wasn’t, a man who annoyed her this much, could not be allowed to slip out of her life. If she was going to ride down the road to scandal, she wanted to do it with Viscount Berkley. Reginald Berkley. Reggie. And if her heart was broken in the process, well, she absolutely would not allow that to happen.

Reggie was the man for her whether he knew it or not. She simply had to make him want her the way she wanted him. Even now, she couldn’t believe a man who kissed her like that, a man who gazed into her eyes the way he did, a man in whose arms she fit like they were made for one another, didn’t already harbor some affection for her. All she had to do now was make him realize it. At once the answer occurred to her. Apparently, Reggie was about to provide the very means for her to do just that. Whoever Lord Perfect was, he would indeed be perfect for her plans. In truth, wasn’t it in part her realization that she might be a bit jealous of Miss Bellingham that had led Cassie to acknowledge her own feelings?

Cassie grinned and picked up her pace. Not only did she now have something of a plan in mind in regards to the pursuit of the infamous viscount but she had a glimmer of an idea regarding what to do with the money she had earned as well.

Lord Pennington was entirely right.

It was indeed, a lovely, lovely day.

Ten

There is no woman who does not possess at least one attribute to commend her.

G. Drummond

“D id you see that?” Reggie stared after Cassie’s retreating figure, not entirely certain what to think and rather befuddled as to what had just transpired.

“I could scarce miss it,” Marcus said wryly.

“She kissed me.”

“I did try to miss it, though. It seemed only polite not to see—”

“She kissed me,” Reggie said again. “And with a great deal of enthusiasm.”

“Ah, well, then I was mistaken at any rate. I thought I saw you kiss her, although she did seem somewhat reluctant to desist.”

“It might well have been mutual.” Reggie grinned. “Yes, it was definitely mutual.”

Marcus chuckled. “I would think a woman who kisses a man with a great deal of enthusiasm is either a tart—”

Reggie raised a brow.

“Or has a certain amount of affection for the gentleman in question.”

Reggie’s grin widened. “Precisely what I think.”

“Well done, old man.” Marcus slapped his friend on the back. “It seems your plans have succeeded after all.”

“Indeed they have and without…” Realization struck him, and he stared at the earl. “Good God, Marcus, we have to call it off.”

“Call off what, exactly?” Marcus said slowly.

“This entire Lord Perfect nonsense.” At once Reggie started back to the hall. “It’s not necessary at this point and, in truth, might well muck up everything.”

“That could be rather—”

“Damnation.” Reggie turned on his heel and stared at his friend. “I sent her a note saying I would have a Lord Perfect here for her. How could I have been so stupid?” He smacked his palm against his forehead.

“I don’t…” He brightened. “I could tell her I failed? Yes, that will work. I’ll concede defeat, she’ll like that. I’ll admit it’s impossible to find such a man. At the moment, I daresay she won’t mind.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “We’ll send a message to inform Effington he’s off the hook. I’ll pay her my forty pounds, and that will be the end of it.” Again, he turned to go.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that,” Marcus murmured behind him. A heavy weight settled in the pit of Reggie’s stomach, and he turned back. “What do you mean—too late?”

“Effington and his brother and, um,” Marcus winced, “Lord Perfect have just arrived.”

“What? He and Effington weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow. I distinctly remember that was part of the plan. Why is he here now?”

“Enthusiasm on Effington’s part, I believe.”

“God help us all from enthusiasm on the part of Effingtons.” Reggie glared. “Whatever will we do with Lord Perfect now?”

“I expect we’re rather stuck with him.”

“But he’s an actor, after all.” Reggie paced, his mind working in tandem with his step. “I should think we can send him packing at once. Yes, that’s it. He can be introduced as precisely what he is, an actor. Certainly explaining his presence might be a bit awkward.”

“I don’t think—”

“We can say he’s here because…He’s paying a visit to Holcroft Hall because…” Reggie’s brow furrowed, then his gaze snapped to Marcus’s. “He’s a distant relative. Of…of mine. Yes! No.” He shook his head. “That makes no sense. If he were my relative, why would he be at your estate? He’s obviously a relative of yours. Yes, that’s good. He’s a distant relative.”

“That will certainly surprise my mother,” Marcus said dryly.

“He’s so distant she’s never heard of him. Beyond that, he’s something of a black sheep. Most disreputable sort of fellow, actors and all that.” Reggie grinned. “This is good, Marcus, this is very good.”

“It is nothing short of amazing, but then you’ve always been good at this sort of thing.” Marcus studied his friend with a familiar expression, a mix of complete disbelief and sheer fascination. “Why did he arrive with Effington?”

“Coincidence!” Reggie spread out his arms in a grand gesture. “Nothing more than chance. It’s not at all unusual, happens all the time. Wars, even kingdoms, have been won and lost on instances of coincidence. Chance. Fate, as it were. Why, the meeting of two men on the same road with the same destination in mind may be more than mere coincidence. Such a meeting might well be inevitable.” He crossed his arms over his chest and beamed at his longtime cohort in activities of this nature. “We, or rather you, shall graciously allow him to stay the night as he is, after all, a relation—”

“Distant though he may be.”

Reggie nodded. “And then send him on his way tomorrow.”

“Once again, old man, you astound me. That’s really rather brilliant.”

“Thank you,” Reggie said modestly. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Not at all. It’s extremely clever.” Marcus shrugged. “Pity it won’t work.”

Reggie snorted. “Of course it will work. You just said it was brilliant.”

“It is. And it would work if indeed Lord Perfect were an actor.”

Reggie narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“It seems Effington went a bit above and beyond in his quest for a Lord Perfect.” Marcus blew a long breath. “The gentleman he’s brought with him is a Mr. Drummond and he’s quite legitimate.”

“Legitimate? How is he legitimate?” Reggie said, a familiar, sick feeling of doom returning to lodge firmly in the bottom of his stomach.

“As Effington explained it to me, Mr. Drummond is the grandson of the Earl of Longworth. His father was the earl’s youngest son and made his fortune in the West Indies. Drummond is his only heir.”

“Well, then, surely Cassandra has already met him and—”

“Effington says Drummond has lived much of his life on his family’s plantations and has only recently arrived in England. Unfortunately for your plans, he’s been here just long enough to lose a wager to Effington. And Effington, following your example, I might add—”

“Forgave his debt if he would agree to play the part of Lord Perfect,” Reggie said grimly.

“Oh, it’s much worse than that.” Marcus grimaced. “He didn’t mention anything at all about Lord Perfect. He simply requested Drummond accompany him to Holcroft Hall as a favor to my wife, who apparently needs more male guests to balance the number of females present.”

Reggie raised a brow. “Does she?”

“I have no idea, but it seems Effington is as good at concocting reasonable-sounding tales as you are.”

“Even so…” Reggie drew his brows together. “Cassandra’s standards for Lord Perfect are exceedingly high. She might refuse to acknowledge that I have fulfilled my end of the wager out of stubbornness alone and insist that she has won.” He brightened. “Yes, of course. I don’t know why I was concerned. A Lord Perfect, any Lord Perfect, could not possibly exist, and I daresay she would rather win than admit I have met the terms of our wager. I’ll pay her—”

“I would not count out the forty pounds just yet.”

Reggie studied his friend. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Drummond is…well…” Marcus drew a deep breath. “He may indeed be perfect.”

Reggie scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. No man is perfect.”

“Perhaps not, but this one certainly appears to be.”

“Nonsense, he can’t possibly—”

“He can possibly.” Reluctance sounded in Marcus’s voice. “While I am not given to appreciating the appearance of men, this one is admittedly handsome. Indeed, judging by the way Gwen’s eyes widened when he arrived, as well as the reaction of Miss Hilliard and my very own mother, extraordinarily attractive. And—again my observations being based a great deal on the reaction of these three fairly sensible women—he is extremely charming as well.”

Marcus shook his head. “I tell you I wasn’t the least bit pleased by the way he looked at Gwen and even less so by the manner in which she looked back. However, Drummond directed the very same attention to each of the other women. All three gazed at the man as if he were some sort of rare sweet and they were famished. The blasted man seemed genuinely cordial to me as well.”

“No man is perfect,” Reggie said staunchly.

“Probably not.” Marcus cast his friend a sympathetic look. “But Drummond may come bloody well close.”

Reggie thought for a moment. “This changes nothing, really. Cassandra definitely has feelings for me. I’m certain of it.”

“When did you start calling her Cassandra?” Marcus asked with a smile.

“Always in my mind, aloud just today.” Reggie clasped his hands behind his back and paced.

“Producing a real Lord Perfect should do nothing more than decide the wager.”

“You do realize that once she meets this gentleman, who may well embody everything she professes to want”—Marcus’s words were measured—“that instead of finding perfection is not at all what she wishes, she might discover just the opposite.”