When a Marquis Chooses a Bride (9 page)

He pulled up alongside the verge. “Fotherby, good day.”

Lord Fotherby glanced sharply at Dotty and inclined his head. “Merton. Miss Stern, a pleasure.”

From his snide tone, he was anything but happy to see her. She smiled politely. “Good afternoon, my lord. Such fine weather we're having.”

“Yes, as you say.” He looked past her to Merton. “I expect I'll see you at Lady Wilton's ball?”

His lips tightened slightly. “I am not sure what my mother has planned.”

Lord Fotherby speared Dotty with a look of distaste before returning his attention to Merton. “Then at the club later?”

Merton gave the other man a slight noncommittal nod, and started the horses again. How different he was around other people.

“I shall take you home now.”

“Yes, that would be best.” The encounter with Lord Fotherby had cast a pall over their easy banter. “I have a great many things to do before this evening.”

When they arrived at Stanwood House, Merton escorted her to the door then took her hand. Though rather than bow over it, he stared at her for a few moments. His eyes suddenly desperate, almost pleading. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. “Thank you for the drive. I had a lovely time.”

His mask slid into place as he recalled himself. “As did I. Your advice was much appreciated.”

She couldn't help but watch as he regained his curricle and left. For a moment, he had seemed so sad. She desperately wanted to help him, but how?

Chapter Eight

Dotty found Louisa and Charlotte in the parlor they all shared.

“What did Merton want?” Louisa asked.

Dotty hesitated. Her friend was so prone to finding something wrong with all Merton's actions that she didn't want to give her an opportunity to make a game of him. “He had some questions regarding the cat. I do not think he has ever had one before and was concerned over some of its behaviors.”

“Is that all?” Louisa's shoulders relaxed. “For a moment, I was afraid it was an excuse to spend time with you.”

Tea had been served and Dotty reached for a biscuit. “Would that be so bad?”

“Are you seriously considering him as a husband?”

“It is too soon to think about that,” she lied. “And I am in no hurry to wed.”

Charlotte stuck a finger in her book and glanced at Dotty. “Do you plan on making him one of your projects?”

She poured a cup of tea, taking her time adding the sugar and the sweet milk they preferred to cream. “Perhaps. Do you have any objections?”

Louisa harrumphed. “You are in Town to look for a husband, not fix Merton's life.”

“That might,” Charlotte said softly, “be too large an undertaking even for you.”

“Matt says Merton has no heart,” Louisa stated firmly.

Yet Merton did not seem uncaring. He'd been nice to her and even let Cyrille drive with him. “How did Matt come to that conclusion?”

“Merton's votes in the Lords.” Louisa took a drink from the glass of water on the table next to her. “He supports bills that harm those less fortunate than we are.”

Charlotte nodded. “Actions speak louder than words.”

Dotty pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She knew what legislation that was. Harsh laws had been passed allowing death or transportation for even relatively minor offences of the law. She could not even think of marrying a man who was so blind to the suffering of others. Yet she was not convinced he was so hard-hearted. There really was much more to Lord Merton than met the eye. He seemed to show one side to her and another to everyone else. Almost as if he was two different people. Or was she simply being naïve? After all, Matt would not lie about Merton's votes. Perhaps he was not for her after all.

Unfortunately, she could not discuss him with her friends. “Well, until I meet a gentleman I am interested in, I can still help Merton.”

Charlotte returned to her book.

“If that's the way you wish to spend your time, so be it.” Louisa shrugged. “It cannot hurt anyone and may actually be of benefit to him. You could help him find a wife other than the ladies he has been looking at.”

“What an excellent idea.” Dotty could help him find a lady who was not as vehement in her ideas as she was. “I shall begin casting around tonight. There must be someone who would be good for him.”

After all, he was so handsome with his strong features and aquiline nose. And when he gazed at her, his eyes reminded her of the deep blue of the ocean she had seen in a painting. If only she had someone to confide in about him.

* * *

Dom returned to Grosvenor Square intending to barricade himself in his study. Thea—he really should not have started thinking of her by that name—was interfering with his work and his search for a wife. This afternoon when he'd stared down at her, all he wanted to do was cover her deep pink lips with his own. He had tried to ignore the voice of his uncle telling him duty came before all else and that strong emotion interfered with one's obligations. Why the devil couldn't what he wanted and what he should do march together? They always had before. Yet, despite all his uncle's warnings, he desired nothing more than to make Thea his.

Uncle Alasdair wasn't the only problem. Given an opportunity, Worthington would try to queer Dom's suit. If he wasn't so far under her spell, he'd let his cousin do his worst. He'd already had a glimpse of what life would be like with her. His house would be full of strays, charity meetings, and who knew what else. She would be after him to support the Whig causes, possibly even Radical ones as well. His ordered life would be total chaos.

Blast it to hell. He needed to remember that Miss Stern was not,
not
eligible to be his bride. But no matter how often he repeated that to himself, it didn't change the fact he wanted her. Badly.

He raked his fingers through his hair and reached for a bottle of brandy, only to find it wasn't there. If only all that misplaced compassion wasn't packaged in such a perfect form. Breasts that begged him to touch and explore. Eyes that shamed emeralds. Curls he wanted to wrap around his fingers as he drew her to him. His groin jerked. He tugged hard on the bell pull.

The door opened immediately. “My lord?”

“Bring me a bottle of brandy.”

The footman's jaw dropped. Dom almost never partook of strong drink before evening. But damn it, this is what she was driving him to. “You heard me.”

“Y-yes, my lord. Right away.”

What seemed like an inordinate amount of time later the door finally opened. He had never known his servants to be so slow in carrying out his wishes.

He let out a low growl. “What kept you?”

“Dominic, since when have you begun drinking brandy during the day?”

He whirled around. His mother followed by a footman entered the study.

“I—um.” This was his house and he was an adult. Why was he searching for excuses to make to his mother, and who the hell called her down? “I felt like it.”

She smiled gently and signaled for the servant to place the tray on a low table next to a sofa. “I thought I would join you. It is almost time for tea in any event.”

The tray held tarts, biscuits, sherry, and brandy.

Mama never came to the study. Dom kept his jaw from dropping, but couldn't stop staring at her. Had everyone gone mad this Season?

She sat on the sofa and after pouring a glass of sherry for herself and brandy for him, smiled again. “You look out of sorts. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Taking the tumbler she handed him, he took a drink. He did want to talk with someone, but his uncle's voice came back to him.

“No. I'll sort it out.”

She frowned slightly, then took a sip of sherry. “It has occurred to me that, perhaps, I left you too much to your uncle.”

His fingers tightened on the tumbler. “Why would you say that?”

“I do not think you and I are as close as we should be. Alasdair always seemed to know what was best, and after your father died, I was ill for a long time. Although lately, I have come to the conclusion that I should have taken more of an active role in your upbringing.”

“He
was
my guardian.” And his uncle had been a force to be reckoned with. It would not have been easy for her to oppose him. In fact, Dom didn't want to think about the problems that would have caused. “What are your plans this evening?”

“The Countess of Watford, an old friend of mine, is having a ball.”

Watford? Another Whig. What the devil was his mother up to? “Very well, nine o'clock?”

She rose. “Yes. Will you join me for dinner?”

He reviewed his alternatives. For some reason, his club didn't hold the interest it once had. “It would be my pleasure.”

“I shall leave you to your work, but, Dominic, if you ever do need someone to speak with, I would be happy to lend an ear.”

He went to her and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Mama.”

Once in the main hall, Eunice gave the order for a more regular tea to be served in her parlor.

As she opened the door, Matilda glanced up. “Well?”

Eunice felt like dancing a jig, but instead grinned. “He is definitely suffering. He ordered brandy to be brought to him. And he drank it, too.”

“Did he tell you what is bothering him?”

“No, unfortunately. Though I have a feeling it is Miss Stern. He took her driving again today.”

Matilda widened her eyes. “Did he? Well, that is good news indeed. Does that not make twice now?”

Eunice nodded. “Yes, and he will attend the Watford ball with us this evening.” Her skirts moved causing her to look down. The kitten, Camille, pawed the hem of Eunice's gown. “Come, and I'll hold you for a while.”

Crossing to her favorite chair, one in the French style with a wide seat and bolstered arms, she sat and patted her lap for the kitten to come up. “Grace assured me she will bring the girls, which means Miss Stern will be there as well.”

“If only Lord Worthington did not dislike Merton so much.”

“There is that.” Eunice stroked the cat. “Yet, to be fair, from Worthington's point of view there is not much
to
like about Dominic.”

“Do you think Worthington will attempt to influence Miss Stern?”

“I am quite sure of it.” Eunice frowned. She must think of a way to counter his influence with the young lady if necessary. “Though in my opinion, if she decides she wants something, she will get it. I only pray she will want Dominic.”

* * *

After dinner with the children, Dotty and her friends repaired to their chambers to dress for the ball. Her gown for this evening was an ice pink trimmed with small flowers embroidered with seed pearls. She added the brightly painted fan she had bought that day and a reticule in the same color pink.

When she entered the parlor, Louisa, Charlotte, as well as their younger sisters, were present. The children, warned not to touch their sisters, exclaimed over the three of them.

“You look too pretty.” Theodora, Louisa's eight-year-old sister stared at them in awe.

Mary, the youngest Carpenter, vigorously nodded her head. “I want a gown like that someday.”

“We shall all have gowns like that when we come out,” Alice, one of the Carpenter twins, was no doubt counting the years until she would emerge from the schoolroom.

Dotty wished her sisters were there as well. This was the first time she had been apart from her family, and she missed them.

Grace shooed the girls out and up the stairs to the schoolroom. “Shall we go?”

Matt waited in the hall for them and, as he did every evening, complimented them on their looks.

As Watford House was only two doors down, they walked and had just joined the receiving line when Lord Merton and his mother arrived. He was resplendent in a black coat and breaches. His linen was ivory in color instead of the standard white. Nestled in his perfectly arranged cravat was a sapphire tie pin, the same shade as his eyes.

When it came to his looks, he was everything a lady could want. If only his views were not so old-fashioned. Dotty renewed her resolution to find him a wife. Despite his votes in the Lords, he deserved to be happy.

“My dear Miss Stern”—Lady Merton held out her hand—“how pleased I am to see you again.”

Dotty rose from her curtsey and took the offered hand. “Thank you, my lady. How is Camille?”

“Doing nicely.” The older woman smiled. “I am indebted to you for bringing her to me. I have never enjoyed an animal more.”

“I'm so glad you feel that way.” At least that had turned out well.

Hearing talk of the cats, Charlotte and Louisa were drawn into the conversation. As the line moved forward, Merton's palm settled on the small of Dotty's back. Warm tingles spread from where he touched her up to her neck. She expected him to be behind her, but when she glanced up, he was by her side.

“You look particularly lovely this evening,” he murmured.

Heat rose to her face and she knew she was blushing. “Thank you, my lord.”

He continued to guide her and after a while, although the tingles didn't stop, his hand felt as if it belonged.

By the time their group was finally through the line and had entered the ballroom, Dotty had promised a waltz to Lord Merton. Since her goal was to find him a wife, she probably should not have, but when she looked into his eyes and saw the warmth, she could not resist.

The first set was a quadrille, which she danced with the son of the house. Merton stood up with Lady Mary Pierce. Though she was beautiful, in a cool sort of way, she was not as graceful as he, and they appeared oddly matched. Dotty dismissed the lady as a potential wife for him. What gentleman who was so graceful would want a wife with two left feet? She immediately berated herself for being petty. If a man loved a lady, he would not care about her ability to dance.

The next set was a country dance and although his partner was graceful enough, she just did not seem right for Merton, and so it went on for the rest of the evening. By the time he claimed his waltz, Dotty had run out of prospects for him. None of the ladies would be good for him.

“Miss Stern.” His warm voice flowed through her

“My lord.” He lightly brushed his lips against her gloved hand before leading her out. “Are your toes not hurting?”

He tilted his head quizzically.

Oh dear, now she would have to admit she'd been watching him. “I mean I saw the one lady tread upon your foot.”

“Ah, yes.” His lips tilted up at the corners. “I'm fine. Though I thank you for your concern. I think the same happened to you, and your slippers are not as sturdy as my shoes.”

“Yes, but I'm used to it. I taught my older brother to dance.”

He smiled down at her, and her insides unaccountably tumbled about.