When a Marquis Chooses a Bride (11 page)

He glanced over his shoulder, and a fine tremor shook him. “Yes, miss. I'll be good. I promise.”

“I know you will.” She leaned down and kissed the boy's filthy cheek. “I shall see you soon.”

Grace arrived as Fred took Tom by the hand and led him off with the boy looking over his shoulder at Thea.

Glancing from Thea to Dom and back again, Grace raised a brow. “Would you care to tell me what exactly is going on?”

“Oh, Grace”—Thea grabbed her friend's hands—“Lord Merton was kind enough to take in poor Tom. . . .”

At the end of Thea's telling of the story, Grace gave Dom a queer look and remarked cryptically, “To be sure.” After a moment, she brought her attention back to Thea. “Well, we had better finish our shopping.”

Thea turned to him and her smile blinded him. “Thank you for your help. If you have no objection, I shall visit tomorrow to see how Tom is getting on. I would come today, but . . .”

He was an idiot to care so much about her approbation, to crave her smiles, to want to hold her. “Tomorrow is fine. I daresay he'll need an opportunity to settle in.” He took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Perhaps I'll see you later.”

She gazed at him for a moment, her green eyes serious in their appraisal. “I shall look forward to it.”

As Thea followed Grace into the circulating library, Dom stood where he was for a few moments watching until Thea disappeared through the door. What was it about her that made him act so strangely? More importantly, how was he to stop it? Then, feeling like a boy escaping his lessons, he grinned to himself. With his new responsibility, he couldn't very well leave Town now.

Chapter Nine

As Dom entered his front door a bloodcurdling scream reverberated from below stairs. “What the devil is that?”

Paken cleared his throat. “I believe that is young Tom.”

What in the hell could the boy have got in to? “Is he being whipped already?”

“No, my lord. He is being given a bath. Something for which he apparently has a mortal fear.”

Dom ran a hand over his face. “Afraid of bathing?”

“Yes, my lord. From what we have been able to understand his mother died taking one.”

She probably drowned after drinking too much.

Fred, Thea's footman, burst through the green baize door and skidded to a halt. “My lord, thank God you're here. You must come immediately.”

Dom shook his head. This situation seemed to be completely out of control. “I thought you'd be gone by now.”

“Every time I tried to leave, the poor bantling grabbed on to me and started to cry. If you can just explain to him the water won't kill him, I think he'll be fine.”

First a recalcitrant cat, now a badly behaved child. What else was he destined to be burdened with? “I'll come.”

Dom arrived in the kitchen for the first time since his father had died to find his housekeeper, Mrs. Sorley, standing with her hands on her hips staring down at a dirty mass of rags huddled in a corner. “You won't eat, until you're clean, and that's all there is to it.”

Although the child's bones stuck out, even the threat of starvation wasn't doing the trick. “I'll take it from here.”

She glanced at him, and instead of expressing consternation that he was personally involving himself in a servant matter, said, “Well, it's about time you got here . . . my lord.”

He raked his hand through his hair and the thought that he was losing control of his carefully ordered life once again entered his mind. “Get the boy a mug of milk and a piece of buttered bread.”

She bustled away muttering something Dom couldn't make out.

Holding his hand out, Dom used his firmest tone. “Come.”

Tom lifted his tearstained face. Streaks of grime ran down it and great shudders wracked his emaciated body. He had never seen a child so terrified. Clearly, this was not going to be a simple matter.

“I'll die if I go in that tub.”

Dom lowered himself onto a nearby stool. “Tell me why you think that is.”

“That is what happened to my mother. She went into a tub and started to scream. Then blood came out of her, and she went to sleep and never woke up.”

“Were you alone?”

Tom nodded. “After she died, old Mrs. White said I had to leave and some men came and took me away.”

Mrs. White, whoever she was, would be hearing from Dom in short order. Fighting the urge to hit something, one by one he unclenched his fingers. How could anyone just throw a child out? “How long ago was that?”

Tom's large tired eyes gazed up at Dom as if he were a god. “I don't know.”

Well, then, he would have to discover that detail later. First the child needed to bathe and eat. “I promise you, you will not die in the tub. I shall remain here to ensure nothing threatens you. Will that do?”

For several moments it appeared that Tom would refuse Dom as well, then the child nodded. “Do you promise I won't die?”

“Word of a Bradford.” He was responsible for the lives of hundreds of people on his estates. Yet it was strangely humbling having this little boy think he had the power over life and death.

Still shaking, Tom stood and started to remove the rest of his clothing. Mrs. Sorley returned with the food and a maid took the soiled garments.

Dom was shocked at the bruises and other signs of brutality that covered most of the lad's body. “Who did this to you?”

Tom's mouth formed a thin line, and he shook his head back and forth. “I dare not say. He will kill me.”

It appeared that Mrs. White was not the only person whom Dom was going to have to deal with. He lifted the boy into the tub. One of the maids soaped up a piece of linen and began scrubbing Tom's thin body. Once the dirt was gone, the child wasn't too bad of a specimen. His hair was dark blond, and his nose was a little too large for his face, but other than that, all his features were regular. There was something oddly familiar about him, but for the life of him Dom couldn't place it.

The maid slipped a nightshirt over the boy's head, and Mrs. Sorley inspected behind Tom's ears and the back of his neck. “There, that's a good lad. You can eat now. We need to get some meat on your bones.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Tom polished off the first helping of milk and bread. Then he was given some cheese and a piece of chicken before having his face and hands wiped. One of the maids took him to a bedchamber.

Mrs. Sorley stood at the door with her arms crossed over her massive chest. “A little bit of a mystery you've got there, my lord.”

“What do you mean?” Dom had been watching the child go up the stairs, but now turned to his housekeeper.

“Did you not pay attention to the way he started to talk?”

Dom thought back to their conversation about bathing. Of course, he had lost his Cockney speech. “It was almost refined.”

She nodded as if he had passed a test. Maybe he had. “What else did I fail to notice?”

“His hands have long fingers, well made, and he looks just like any other little boy in Mayfair.”

“Someone's by-blow?”

“Could be.” She shrugged. “Something for you to figure out.”

“I could hire someone.”

“You could, but it wouldn't take much time and you might learn something from it.” It was clear from her tone that she wanted him to investigate the matter himself.

He frowned.

“Your father would have done it himself.”

He just stopped his jaw from dropping. Hardly anyone mentioned his father, but he had never thought to ask why. Perhaps it was time for things to change. “Why bring up my father now?”

She shrugged again. “The senior staff knew your father all his life. But when Lord Alasdair moved in, he gave orders that we weren't to talk about him. Well, Lord Alasdair's not with us anymore. Now I've got work to do, and her ladyship says she'll join you for luncheon.”

Dom walked slowly up the stairs. His first priority was to find out what he could about young Tom, right after he arranged to stand up with Thea tonight. He should not dance with her. He told himself it was his duty to ensure she had someone to dance with other than him, but trying to justify that reasoning became too convoluted even for Dom. The unadorned truth was he wanted to hold her and be with her in the only socially acceptable manner possible.

It was hard to believe he had only known her for a week, yet she'd taken over his thoughts—a small chirp made him look down and he patted the cat—and his life as well.

When Dom entered Rutherford's ballroom that evening, he took stock of the crowd and was pleased to find not many young gentlemen were present. Two seconds later he glimpsed Thea with some other young ladies.

Heedless of the others in the room, he strode straight to her. “Miss Stern?”

She glanced up and smiled. “Good evening, my lord. It's a pleasure to see you here.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Unable to resist, he raised her fingers to his lips. “Do you still have the supper dance available?”

“I do.” A light blush colored her cheeks.

None of the other young ladies were talking. Instead they appeared to be focused on Thea and him.

His chest tightened, making breathing more difficult than it should be. “Will you save the set for me?”

She looked directly into his eyes before answering firmly. “Yes. I will.”

“Thank you.” As he grazed her hand with the pad of his thumb, he wondered what she had seen that had decided her.

She drew a sharp breath, and her fingers trembled slightly at his touch. If only he could drag her into his arms, he'd nibble her creamy neck and . . . This was not helping.

He had absolutely no desire to dance with any other lady than Thea. Perhaps he could hide in the card room until it was time to claim her. Yet if he did that, he wouldn't be able to see her. But did he really want to watch as she stood up with another man? He had to be going mad.

Devil take it
. From the corner of his eye, he saw Worthington coming his way. Two dances. Dom wanted two, but he had to hurry. “Will you stand up with me for the first waltz as well?”

Thea tilted her head, regarding him for a moment. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her fingers again. “I should see about my mother.”

Over the heads of the other guests, he met Worthington's gaze and grinned. Even he couldn't stop Thea from standing up with Dom. Although to avoid any awkwardness for her, Dom made his way to the other side of the room to wait. When a footman came by with champagne, he snagged a glass.

Before he could take a sip, a lady said, “Good evening, Lord Merton.”

Shutting his eyes briefly, he turned, smiled politely, and gave a shallow bow. “Good evening, Miss Turley.”

She sank into a curtsey. Strange, how he never before had noticed that she was not as graceful as Thea.

Miss Turley said nothing, obviously waiting to be asked to dance. He didn't want to, but if not her, his hostess would find another young lady in need of a partner. “Will you stand up with me for the first country dance?”

She inclined her head, a small smile on her lips. “My pleasure, my lord.”

“Thank you.” Not knowing what else to say and reluctant to get into another conversation where she agreed with everything he said, he bowed again. “If you will excuse me? There is someone I must see.”

She curtseyed once more, and he made his escape. Not for the first time, the idea of marrying her, or anyone else on his list, turned his stomach sour.

* * *

Miss Elizabeth Turley let out a sigh as Lord Merton strode away. “That did not go as I had planned.”

“No.” Lavvie gazed after his lordship. “I was sure he would ask you to waltz.”

“As was I.” Elizabeth sighed. “On the other hand, he has not made any attempt to visit me. Before last week, I had hopes he would invite me out driving. I was so sure he was close to a proposal. Papa said the betting at White's was narrowing.”

“Elizabeth!” Lavvie hissed in shocked tones, “Your father ought not to discuss such things with you.”

That wasn't the only thing he discussed with Elizabeth. “You are right, of course, but it would be equally wrong for me to chastise him.” She searched for Merton. Fortunately, his height and golden blond hair made him easy to find. “I wonder who he will waltz with.”

“Perhaps no one. Or maybe he only asked the lady to dance because you were not yet here.”

“Well, I couldn't have very well got here any sooner.” Elizabeth was unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. “We didn't know where he would be this evening until a half an hour ago.”

Lavvie slowly waved her plumed fan. “It was a very good idea your father had of getting one of the parlor maids to make friends with that stable-boy of Merton's.”

“I just wish the information would be a little more timely.” Elizabeth was careful to keep her countenance from showing her frustration. “Merton has not been acting like himself lately. My father said he is almost never at White's these days.”

“I heard he and Fotherby had a slight falling-out.” Lavvie tapped Elizabeth's shoulder with her fan. “I am sure it is nothing.”

The violins started the prelude to a waltz, and Elizabeth watched to see who would partner with Merton. “It's Miss Stern. He waltzed with her the other evening as well.”

“I thought he only danced with her due to his relations with Worthington.”

“Apparently not,” Elizabeth snapped. He was slipping through her fingers, and she did not know how to get him back.

Lavvie's eyes grew wide. “Excuse me?”

“I'm sorry.” The throbbing in Elizabeth's temple that had begun earlier in the evening grew worse. She rubbed the side of her head. It is just that this marriage is so important to my family. Have you come up with any way to . . .”

She could not even finish the sentence. The idea of resorting to trickery appalled her, but if Lord Merton had lost interest in her, there did not seem to be much choice in the matter.

“Not yet. But something is bound to come to me.” Lavvie lowered her voice. “Here comes Viscount Wivenly to ask you to dance. He would make a good match as well.”

“Except it will be years before he inherits, and I doubt his father would agree to my father's terms. Papa is sure he can talk Merton around.”

A few minutes later, Elizabeth was twirling down the floor with Viscount Wivenly. She tried and failed to get a good look at Miss Stern and Lord Merton. If they were falling in love it would make what she had to do that much worse. Could she even live with herself if she destroyed a love match? Would he ever forgive her?

* * *

Dotty smiled up at Merton as he held her closer than he should have through a turn. This afternoon, when he had agreed to take Tom, she'd abandoned her search for a wife for him. Something was going on between them, and it behooved her to follow it through to the end.

Candlelight glinted off his hair, making it shine. She was close enough to breathe in his scent, soap and light cologne mixed with his own musk. Little tingles of pleasure passed through her fingers as he held them. His palm, heavy and hot on her waist, seemed to burn through her muslin evening gown to her flesh. When he smiled at her, his face and eyes lit up, as if he wanted to be nowhere other than with her.