When a Marquis Chooses a Bride (25 page)

Dom shook his head. “Too near the university.”

“St. Albans?”

“Find the information. It's been a long time since I've seen the property.”

Dom took a seat as Jacobs set the file in front of him.

“Twenty bedchambers, my lord. Sufficient parlors. A nice park and gardens for them to walk in.”

“Do you think it is far enough in the country to limit any talk?”

“My lord, we'll have to hire more servants than are there now. Before the ladies arrive, we could put it about that they are war widows and wives of deployed military officers.” Jacobs gave one of his rare smiles. “I'll write the couple in charge of the house telling them of your new charitable endeavor.”

For the first time, deep in Dom's heart, he knew his uncle was wrong. And if he was wrong about this, what else had he been mistaken about? “Yes, make sure they know the ladies are to be treated as such or they will answer to me.”

“Yes, my lord,” Jacob replied in a cheerful tone. “Shall I also ask Major Horton to provide some family history on the ladies? Just so there won't be so many questions?”

“Do that and find out how soon they can travel.”

“My lord.” Paken entered the room. “A message for you from Lord Worthington.”

Bloody hell! That was it. Thea was leaving him. He took the missive. “I'll be in my study.”

Dom sat behind his desk and stared at the letter in his hands. Well, putting off opening it wouldn't make the news any less palatable. He opened the seal, smoothing the paper out.

Nothing about Thea ending their betrothal. Dom heaved a sigh of relief, then anger at his cousin's high-handedness sparked his ire. Was the man mad? How had it come to this? Merton skulking around in the alleyways. He'd half a notion to ignore Worthington's demands. But blast it all, what if he was right? “Paken, have a carriage ready at the garden gate in five minutes.”

Less than a quarter hour later, Dom charged into Worthington's study and shoved the missive in front of him. “What the devil is the meaning of this?”

“Sit.” His cousin's jaw clenched.

“You can't tell me to . . .” Dom dropped into the chair. What if Thea had been hurt or worse? “Is it Thea? Is she all right?”

“No thanks to you.”

Merton ran a hand through his hair. His valet would leave him if Thea didn't. “What happened?”

“She was followed. I've got men looking for the boy now.”

He groaned and dropped his face into his hands.

“I want an explanation as to why Dotty was allowed to leave Merton House on foot.”

“We disagreed over Tom and the ladies.”

“There had to be more than that.” His cousin's eyes narrowed. “Dotty is one of the most level-headed young ladies I've ever met.”

“I may have ordered her to leave Tom to me.” He sucked in a breath. His words had sounded reasonable at the time. Now he wasn't quite as sure.

Leaning back in his chair, his cousin motioned with his hand. “Go on.”

Dom relayed the meeting and what they'd discussed. By the time he'd finished, Worthington's face was flushed with anger.

He threw down the pen he'd been fiddling with. “Do you purposely go through life with blinders on? She might very well be right in her assessment.”

Dom closed his eyes for a moment. “That is what the major and my mother said. I'm not used to all of this upheaval. I didn't know . . .” He rubbed his temple. “It's damned embarrassing to have a chit of a girl know more about the seedier part of the world than I do. What is worse, she never does what I tell her to.”

“Your betrothed has a reputation for rescuing victims of that world.” Dom's head whipped up. And he had prayed her behavior here was an aberration. “Not London, of course. She hasn't had time, yet. Still, the fact remains that you are correct. She probably does have a lot more knowledge than you. You may not like it, but you cannot continue to ignore it.” Worthington poured brandy into two glasses, sliding one to Dom. “Before the incident in the brothel, I wondered if you had any Bradford blood in you at all. Your actions there gave me a ray of hope, but only you can open your eyes. There is more to life than White's, and your estates.” He took a sip. “I'll tell you something else. When you get involved with the lower orders of society, being a peer will not always protect you.”

Dom stared at his cousin. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Except Thea. Still, she would be his wife. He needed to have some control over her. “What about her not obeying me.”

Worthington shrugged. “I can't help you with that. She has a mind of her own, as does Grace and, I might add, any other woman worth knowing.”

That was not what Dom had wanted to hear. Which was occurring much too often recently. “I'll go talk with her.”

An evil smile appeared on his cousin's face. “You want my advice? Grovel.”

“Grovel?” Why the hell was everyone telling him that? “Merton does not grovel.”

Matt stood, walked around his desk, and stuck out his hand. “Good luck. You'll need it.”

Good Lord. The man was serious. Egad. “Where can I buy flowers?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Dotty sat on the small sofa beneath the window in the Young Ladies' Parlor and took a sip of her now-cold tea.

“We could send for a new pot,” Charlotte suggested.

“Or a new betrothed,” Louisa added archly.

Needing to unburden herself to sympathetic female ears, Dotty had given in to her urge to confide in her two friends. She would have been better off going to the Pulteney and crying in her grandmother's lap. Not that her friends weren't understanding. They had never been in love. Which for some strange reason seemed to make all the difference in the world.

Even she had trouble understanding her conflicting emotions. What made it worse was that Dom hadn't come after her. Even though she did not wish to see him and had given orders that she was not at home to him, he could have at least tried.

She placed her cup on the table in front of the couch. “No, thank you. I think I'll just lie down for a bit. Where are we going this evening?”

“You
are
blue-deviled,” Charlotte exclaimed. “It's Miss Smyth's birthday ball.”

“Oh yes.” Dotty rose from the sofa. “How could I have forgotten?”

Charlotte gave Dotty a hug. “You will feel better with a rest. I just wish I knew how to help you.”

Suddenly, the door crashed against the wall. Holding a bouquet of red roses, Dom strode into the room, grabbed her hand, and tugged her to him.

How dare he presume . . . “I told—”

His lips crushed hers as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist tugging her against him. His scent and the roses' mixed, overwhelming her senses. He slid his tongue over the seam of her lips and she opened, sinking into him. Giving her no chance to catch up, he drove his tongue into her mouth as if he'd claim her forever. Then she slid her hands over his shoulders and tilted her head, wanting more, wanting him.

After several long moments, when it felt as if they were breathing through one another, he lifted his head. “I'm sorry for my behavior.” Backing up a little, but not releasing her, he handed her the bouquet. “These are for you.”

Relief flooded her as she buried her nose in the flowers. “They are lovely. You've never given me flowers before.”

“I shall have them delivered every day for the rest of your life if you wish.”

She gave a wet chuckle. “Thank you, but if you did that, they would grow commonplace.”

Placing one finger under her chin, he tilted her head up. “I should not have said what I did, and in the way I did. I should also have believed you about Tom and the ladies.”

His deep blue eyes stirred like an ocean eddy. Warmth warring with fear. She cupped his cheek. “We will figure it out together.”

A little puff of air escaped his lips, as if he'd been holding his breath. “Thank you.” He kissed her once more lightly. “What were you about to say as I entered?”

Her cheeks warmed with a blush. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

Smiling, he bent his head again and someone cleared her throat.

“Well. We are rather
de trop
.” Louisa glanced at Charlotte. “I believe I remember that Grace wished to speak with us?”

“What? Oh yes.” Charlotte grinned. “Dotty, we'll see you later. Merton, I shall tell the cook to expect you to join us for dinner.”

“That will give them plenty of time,” Louisa said as they closed the door. “I think I'm beginning to understand the attraction.”

“That was certainly impressive,” Charlotte mused.

Dotty lifted her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, then glanced at Dom who was staring at the door in horror. “My lord, I believe you are blushing.”

“Flushed,” he croaked. “It's warm in here.”

“Is it?” She stroked his cheek. “I am rather chilly.”

Dom lowered his head to hers and claimed her lips once more. “I shall see what I can do about that.”

He kissed her so deeply, her toes curled and seemed to leave the floor. The next thing she knew, her back was against the wall.

His deep voice washed over her like a warm wave. “Thea, I want you.”

Lord, yes. “I want you as well.”

She reached up, pressing her lips to his. His fingers stroked her breasts and deep frissons of pleasure pierced her. The place between her thighs throbbed, and she moaned. Cool air wafted around her legs as Dom's hand caressed her calf, moving up to her garters, then to the bare skin of her thigh.

He broke their kiss. “Thea?”

“Yes.” Her breath came so fast, she could scarcely breathe.

Dom's fingers stroked her mons, making it hot and wet. Her hips tilted toward him, urging him to deepen his caresses. Then his finger entered her. Oh God! Nothing, not even his previous caresses, had prepared her for this. This exquisite need and desire. The finger dipped in and out, then a second one was added. An excruciating tension grew and the throbbing increased. She tried to thrash her head, but he held her to the kiss. Finally, finally, it crested, making her tremble in relief, and she flew apart in his hands.

He picked her up as if she weighed no more than one of the kittens, cradling her to him as he sank down on the sofa. Holding her on his lap, he pressed soft kisses on her jaw and neck. When he reached the neckline of her bodice, his tongue traced the edge until he reached the crevice between her breasts. There his tongue licked lightly, just enough to give her a hint of the pleasure he'd give her later. Though not that much later if she had her way.

When he stopped, she stifled an unladylike urge to scream.

“I should tell you, I have found a place to move the ladies until the house in Richmond is ready.”

She peered at him closely, only to ensure herself that he hadn't gone from kissing her to discussing their project without any ill effects. Fortunately for him, a shine of sweat covered his forehead and his breathing was labored.

“Dom.”

He stared straight forward as if he was unable to look at her. “I should not have done what I did. I don't know what came over me.”

She remembered what her grandmother had told her about Bradford and Vivers men. Was he fighting his natural tendencies? If so, was it because of his uncle? “Grandmamma told me about your father—”

“I am not my father,” he growled, moving her from his lap to the sofa. “Please make my apologies about dinner. I must leave.”

What in the name of Heaven had come over him? “I'll see you at the Smyth ball?”

“Yes, most likely.”

He strode to the door and stopped. “I'm sorry.”

Dom opened the door and closed it behind him.

“So am I.” Searching for some clue as to his behavior, she leaned back against the cushions and tried to piece together everything she knew about both branches of the Bradford-Vivers family. Grandmamma had said they were passionate with the women they loved—so much so that the Bradford ancestor who had fallen in love with the Vivers lady who was a countess in her own right, had changed his last name—but there was always only one woman. Dotty's mother had once said that old Lord Worthington was never the same after his first wife's death because he had loved her so much. Matt and Grace were also very much in love and were not at all reticent about showing it. Had Dom's parents been the same? Dotty touched her lips. If he felt that way about her, why did he stop himself?

What did he have against his father, and who could tell her? Dom was clearly not going to. And why did he have to be so infuriating?

* * *

Dom dashed down the back stairs as quickly as he'd come up them. Something had to be wrong with him. Every time he was with Thea he lost all control of himself. The minute he had entered the parlor, he'd seen only her. What a spectacle he'd made of both of them. Yet, even that hadn't stopped him from ravishing her.

He was at the garden gate, before he slowed down. He would not be like his father. That kind of love brought too much sorrow. It was bad for his family and his estate. He prayed his mother had some other entertainment planned for this evening. He didn't want to see Thea. Or rather, he did wish to see her. Too much. For the first time he was glad her parents hadn't arrived. To have her in his house, so close, would be more temptation than he could bear.

When he reached the stables, he found his horses had been groomed and unhitched from the curricle.

“One minute, my lord,” an elderly groom said. “We'll have them harnessed before you know it.”

Dom nodded. Once he and Thea were married he would explain it to her. Maybe it would be better if he visited a mistress rather than risk . . . risk what? Experiencing passion with his wife? The thought of another woman disgusted him. Not only that, but it would hurt Thea. No. Better to deny himself. After he explained his family's history to her surely she would understand that they could not fall
in
love with one another. She had to. Love for one's family was well and good, but the unfettered passion of a love match—he shuddered—was dangerous.

A few moments later, he was in his curricle. He reached his stables sooner than he'd thought he would. Using the garden gate and the back door, he went directly to his study and poured a glass of brandy. It burned as it touched his tongue and made its way down his throat.

Refilling his glass, he tossed it off, giving a mirthless laugh. “Here's to you, Uncle Alasdair. To save my family, I will do exactly as you taught me.”

“My lord, are you all right?”

Dom tried to open his eyes, but the flickering light blinded him and a sharp pain speared his head. “Get that damned thing away from me.”

The footman, or at least that's who he thought it was, moved away.

Some time later, a hushed voice intruded on his sleep. “Boosey, he is.”

“Nonsense, his lordship is never in his altitudes. He must be ill.”

“If you say so, Mr. Paken, but that brandy decanter was full this afternoon.”

The door closed quietly, and Dom was left by himself again. He really should go upstairs and dress. Kimbal would wonder where he'd got to. Mustn't upset one's valet. Although why Uncle Alasdair cared more for the valet than any other servant, Dom didn't know. Always had to tell Kimbal where he was going.

Dom must have drifted off again. When he awoke, the room was pitch dark. The door opened and he closed his eyes against the light, covering them with his arm.

Soft, firm footsteps approached him. “Oh my.”
His mother
. “You will have to see if Cook remembers the remedy. He'll need it when he finally awakens. Get a couple of strong footmen and take him up to his chamber. They will probably have to help his valet undress him.”

He didn't need help. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself. He tried to rise and rolled, landing on the floor, and hitting his head.

Ow
.
Damn, that hurt
.

“Do you think he's going to cast up his accounts, my lady?”

“I certainly hope not. Bradford men can hold their brandy better than that. Just get him upstairs.”

“Yes, my lady.”

When Dom woke again, he was in his bed, sinking down into the soft mattress.

“I told Lord Alasdair when he hired me I could not work in a household where drunken licentiousness occurred.” Kimbal's shrill tone made Dom wince.

He opened his mouth to protest and some vile liquid was poured down his throat. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don't worry, my lord. It will make you feel better,” his butler said calmly. What was Paken doing in Dom's chamber? He felt fine now and there was nothing dissolute about it. Although, he might like to be licentious with Thea.

Sniff
.

“Then mayhap you'd like to find yourself a different employer,” Paken replied.

“I do not work for you, Mr. Paken.”
Sniff
. “I will discuss this with his lordship in the morning.”

“You do that, Mr. Kimbal, and call for more of the remedy when his lordship wakes.”

Blast it all, he was awake. The mattress refused to let him go. Maybe not for long.

“When Lord Alasdair was alive . . .”

“Well, he's not here any longer and even though I don't like to speak ill of the dead, we are well rid of him. Speaking badly of his lordship's father like he did and not allowing his name to be mentioned is something I don't hold with. A better master there never was.”

Dom tried to sort out exactly what his butler meant, but his head throbbed as if he'd been kicked by a horse. Something warm curled up next to him and started to purr. That's right. Thanks to Thea he had a cat. All he wanted to do was sleep. He'd figure it out in the morning.