Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel Page 5

  She tipped her head to the side, her brow furrowed in confusion. “That explains why you are at Shafer Hall, I suppose. But what brings you to Northumberland? You haven’t been here in years from what I’ve gathered.”

  He shrugged. How could he explain the yearnings he had been experiencing? He’d grown restless in Town, and had been for weeks. It seemed there should be something more, although hang him if he knew what it could be. He thought the ennui would pass after a time, but it hadn’t. Not yet, though he didn’t want to voice any of this to his sister-in-law.

  “All of London is here, my lady. I’ve no one to entertain me.”

  “Poor Drew,” she said with a touch of playful sarcasm. “No one to love him in Town. I suppose we can find room for you.”

  “How gracious of you, my lady.” Before they turned to approach the house, Drew caught sight of a willowy figure in the distance. “Who comes this way?” he murmured.

  His heart skipped a beat. Miss Hillary.

  He couldn’t mistake the fiery hair bouncing around her shoulders. Her hat swung carefree in her left hand while she grasped a fat bouquet of colorful flowers in her right. Her steps slowed when she seemed to realize Phoebe had a visitor.

  A close-up view revealed cheeks flushed pink from the fresh air and exercise. Why did women make themselves up with powders and perilously balanced hairstyles when their natural state proved so beautiful?

  Phoebe stepped forward. “Drew, I’m sure you remember Miss Hillary.”

  He nodded. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  Miss Hillary’s eyes narrowed on Phoebe. “Lord Andrew, how unexpected to see you again. Did you by chance arrive on an elephant?”

  “I can’t say I did, Miss Hillary.” He winked at Phoebe, a wide grin stretching across his face. “And I thought people in the country were friendly. I’m beginning to feel unwanted.”

  A corner of Miss Hillary’s mouth lifted.

  “Oh, Drew,” Phoebe cried. “Of course, you are welcome. Please, come inside and we’ll find a room for you.”

  He didn’t miss the roll of Miss Hillary’s eyes. “Perhaps if you had sent word, Lord Andrew, we would have formed a parade to greet you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for the future, Miss Hillary. Thank you for the suggestion.” He gestured to the bouquet in her hand. “Are those for me?”

  “Oh,” she said, remembering the flowers. “I hope you don’t mind if I bring them inside, Phoebe. I’m a fool for wildflowers, and these were too beautiful to resist.”

  “Hmm.” Drew lifted an eyebrow. “I believe I’ve used that excuse myself a time or two.”

  His sister-in-law frowned, but a chuckle slipped from Miss Hillary before she forced a chastising look. At least someone had a sense of humor, even if she were loath to admit it.

  Stephan raced past as the three of them walked toward the house side by side. Drew glanced sideways at Miss Hillary. She looked quite radiant, even more appealing than the last time he had seen her.

  “The fresh air agrees with you, Miss Hillary.”

  She missed a step and stumbled, but Drew reached out in time to steady her. Her green eyes met his. “Th-thank you, it seems to agree with you as well.”

  ***

  Drew sipped a brandy as his brother paced the length of the study at Shafer Hall. Rich had summoned him minutes after his arrival and seemed intent upon stomping holes into a perfectly good floor.

  His brother skidded to a stop and scowled. “I don’t know why you chose this year to make an appearance.”

  Drew crossed his ankle over his knee. “Last year you were on the continent.”

  Rich glared. “Phoebe’s friend is off limits, Drew. Allow me to lay down the rules for you. You cannot, under any circumstances, be anywhere within a hundred feet of Miss Hillary at any time. Do I make myself clear?”

  Drew chuckled. “Is the dining room table long enough, or am I to take my meals with the hounds?”

  His brother crossed his arms over his chest. “You know my meaning. And don’t tempt me.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said on a sigh. “No seducing the delicious redhead. I understand.”

  “Drew, you have to take this seriously. I forbid you to risk Phoebe’s or the baby’s health by upsetting her.”

  Rich could be quite fierce, especially in protecting his family, but his brother didn’t intimidate him. Drew was fond of his sister-in-law and loved his older brother. He would never do anything to bring them harm. He could easily submit to their demands, since he had no designs on Miss Hillary. Still, this entire hullabaloo over the forbidden female piqued his interest.

  “I have no intention of luring an innocent to my bed, Rich. Too many strings attached.”

  “And we all know how you like being unattached.”

  Drew frowned at the censorship in his brother’s tone. “As did you once upon a time, as I remember.” Once upon a time, before his brother met Phoebe.

  Rich seemed happy with being leg-shackled, but marriage was not for Drew. It seemed a man should love a woman if he married her, and love apparently wasn’t in his cards. He had sampled some of the finest women in England and many across the continent while on his grand tour. None of them left him with stars in his eyes or inspired him to write poetry, not that anything would inspire him to write a poem, silly dribble that it was. Nevertheless, Drew had felt nothing beyond a stirring in his loins, and he’d accepted the truth long ago. He wasn’t made for love, not from the heart anyway.

  He would keep his promise and stay away from that little vixen during her extended visit. But he wouldn’t pledge to remain celibate. There were plenty of other attractive, not-so-virtuous guests staying at Irvine Castle to whet his appetite.

  He downed his drink and set the glass on the side table with a thump. “Consider your duty dispatched. Reassure your wife I’ll be as good as I know how.”

  “That. Is. Not. Good. Enough.” Rich bit out each word.

  “Very well.” Drew threw his arms wide. “I’ll aim for sainthood. Just don’t be angry if I miss the mark.”

  Rich stared in silence for a minute before a knowing smile stretched his lips. “Just watch where you shoot your arrows.”

  Drew tossed his head back in laughter. His brother wasn’t destined for sainthood any more than Drew was, no matter how much Rich pretended.

  ***

  Lana took a slow, deep breath before leaving her bedchamber to join the rest of the inhabitants of Shafer Hall. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she fretted over the carriage ride to Irvine Castle where everyone would dine for the evening.

  What was Lord Andrew doing in Northumberland?

  She reached for the door handle, changed her mind, and hurried to view herself in the oval looking glass. Her cornflower blue dress had no wrinkles, and every strand of hair stayed in place.

  Thank goodness.

  She hoped her appearance made up for the disheveled mess she had been earlier when Lord Andrew had arrived. Her embarrassment over being found so out of sorts lingered.

  Of course, neatness was all she had going for her. She couldn’t boast great beauty like Phoebe. Nor was she petite and plump in all the right places. Yet, Lord Andrew had complimented her earlier.

  Don’t be a ninny. Lana scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at her image.

  She had asked after Lord Andrew following their encounter at the ball and learned more about his peccadilloes than she cared to know. She couldn’t allow his empty words to flatter her. Everyone knew for Lord Andrew flirtation came as naturally as breathing. His reputation rivaled Paddock’s when it came to charming ladies out of their drawers. Lana’s cheeks burned at the thought.

  Unlike Paddock, however, Lord Andrew was reportedly direct about what he desired. He didn’t pretend to be anything other than what he was—a rogue with no intentions of marriage. In fact, Lord Andrew’s forthrightness made him seem safe given Lana knew his game and wasn’t foolish enough to play with him.

&n
bsp; With a renewed sense of optimism, she left her room with a spring in her step. The Forests and her mother waited for her in the drawing room.

  “Everyone is accounted for,” Lord Richard announced. “Shall we go, ladies?”

  Lana scanned the room. “And Lord Andrew?”

  “He left about an hour ago,” Phoebe replied.

  “To London?” Her voice held a note of alarm, which she immediately regretted.

  “No.” Phoebe spoke slowly as if Lana had lost her mind. “He departed for Irvine Castle.”

  “Of course.” Drat! Maybe she was a fool after all.

  Seven

  Drew had sped back to his parents’ residence as soon as Rich informed him of the dinner party planned for that evening. With his mother in charge, there would be a grand procession, which meant taking a gamble as to which lady he’d escort to dinner.

  He would rather navigate through a jungle of quicksand than leave the choice of his dining partner up to his mother. Chances were he knew a fair number of female guests a little too well, and if the lady in question hadn’t given up hope of rekindling their affair… Well, these situations could be tricky. The last thing he desired was a former lover latching on to him for the entirety of his stay.

  Drew breezed into his mother’s chambers as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I can’t believe my own mother wouldn’t find a place for me to sleep,” he teased.

  She looked up from the sheet of foolscap she held in her hand. A look of concern darkened her gray eyes. “Don’t tell me Richard refused to put you up?”

  Drew bent down to kiss her cheek, enjoying the way she always smelled like flowers. “Of course he did, Mother, but I cannot allow you to turn me away without needling you a bit.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Darling, I love you dearly, but why did you show up unannounced? I’ve been working diligently since this morning to rearrange the seating for dinner, and it is no easy task.”

  He moved behind her and leaned over her shoulder to view the list she held. “I’m sorry. Allow me to make amends. I shall take on the task of rearranging the guests.”

  She jerked the paper away as he tried to take it. “I’m perfectly capable, Andrew. And there’s no need for atonement.”

  He sighed, moved to a chair beside her, and dropped down on the thick cushion. “May I at least see the list? Please?”

  Her eyebrows shot up as she held it out to him. “Mind you, I’m not making any more changes.”

  He scanned the names.

  Hell’s teeth. His promenade partner was Lady Audley. Did his mother despise him? He directed a surreptitious glance at her before shaking off his suspicions. His mother possessed no knowledge of his escapades. He rushed through the list.

  No.

  No.

  Bloody hell! There was barely an appropriate lady on the list.

  “What if I sat by Phoebe? I haven’t seen her in…” He trailed off when faced with his mother’s scowl.

  “I said no changes, Drew. Besides, you know your brother refuses to part from her for more than a few minutes at one of these events.”

  He sighed again. “Sick bugger,” he mumbled.

  “Andrew.”

  He bolted upright in his seat. “I beg your pardon.”

  A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she inclined her head, accepting his apology.

  Drew studied the names again. His mother paired Lord Reinhardt with Miss Hillary.

  That old gent? His eyesight must be shot at his age. How was he to appreciate the charms of a beautiful lady?

  Drew handed the list back and smiled. “I see you have handled everything beautifully, Mother. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  ***

  Drew wrapped the kitchen maid into his arms. The room outside the pantry hummed with activity. With only a sliver of light from where the door stood ajar, he had difficulty seeing her face, but from what he’d glimpsed earlier, she was pretty enough.

  “Are you ready, love?” he asked.

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Drew loved the way women breathed their words when he held them, but there wasn’t much time to savor the experience. He placed his lips over the maid’s for a thorough kiss. A tremor raced through her body.

  He broke the embrace then set her away from him. “Don’t forget, you must convince the duchess there is a crisis in the kitchen. I only require a few minutes.”

  “I shan’t forget, my lord. And you won’t forget your promise either, will you?”

  “I’ve delivered the kiss you requested. Our bargain is almost complete.”

  “But, Lord Andrew,” she purred, “it needn’t stop with one kiss. I could visit your chambers tonight.”

  He placed a peck on her cheek to soften the rejection. “You deserve better than me, Bridget. Marry that nice boy you told me about earlier.”

  “Do you think I should?” Her voice held a note of uncertainty.

  How would he know? Only a crackbrain would listen to his advice on marriage. “Depends on if you love him, Bridge.”

  “I think I might, but how am I to know for certain? Have you ever been in love, my lord?”

  “Never, but the fools who are seem to enjoy it.” He grabbed a jar of something he couldn’t identify and shoved it into her hands. “Run along and try to distract the kitchen staff. I’ll slip out after you.”

  About five seconds after the wench left him alone in the dark, a shrill scream pierced the air followed by the sound of shattering glass.

  “You clumsy girl,” a woman yelled.

  “I saw a mouse.” Bridget screamed again. “Over there.”

  More screams erupted. “Catch him, you worthless bumpkins.”

  During the pandemonium, Drew stuck his head through the crack in the door to discover everyone’s backs were to him. He crept from his hiding place and escaped the kitchen undetected.

  Upstairs, he lingered on the edge of the drawing room, waiting for the kitchen staff to summon his mother. She had almost completed the task of pairing the guests when the butler appeared by her side and whispered in her ear. She arched her neck to see the kitchen maid standing outside the door. A look of panic crossed his mother’s countenance before she bustled from the room.

  Lord Reinhardt’s ridiculous wig stood out among the more fashionable guests’ coiffures, and Drew darted toward him before his mother returned to discover his scheme.

  He slowed his step as he approached before sidling up to the gentleman. “My lord, I believe you are in the wrong spot,” he said. “You are to escort Lady Audley.”

  “Pardon?” Reinhardt bellowed. “Can you repeat that, young man?”

  Drew amplified his voice. “I said you are to sit with Lady Audley.”

  Miss Hillary leaned forward to see around her dining partner.

  Lord Reinhardt scratched his head, upsetting his wig. “Are you certain, young man? I thought Her Grace said I was to escort this young lady.”

  Drew shook his head. “No, no. I’m positive you are to be with Lady Audley.”

  Lord Reinhardt’s face was a picture of confusion as he turned toward Miss Hillary.

  She regarded him with rounded eyes, offering a look of innocence no one would question. “I believe the gentleman is correct, my lord.”

  “By the saints…” Lord Reinhardt chuckled. “I suppose I should move on to the appropriate partner. I bid you a good evening, miss.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Drew took the spot he vacated and offered his arm to Miss Hillary as his mother hustled into the drawing room without taking much notice of anyone. She assumed her place beside the Duke of Sagehorn, ready to follow his father, who escorted the duke’s wife.

  A footman drew himself up to full height. “Dinner is served.”

  “That was devious of you, Lord Andrew,” Miss Hillary murmured.

  “No need to thank me.”

  She snaked her free hand over and lightly pinched the arm linked with hers. “Who are you t
rying to escape? Lady Audley?”

  “We both benefit from this arrangement, Miss Hillary. Lord Reinhardt has a tendency to spit when he talks.”

  She leaned her head closer to his, sending a ripple of desire through him. “And what, may I ask, is Lady Audley’s foible?” she whispered.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters.”

  She reached over and pinched him harder.

  “Ouch,” he muttered. “I’m having second thoughts.”

  She giggled softly. “As you should.”

  When they arrived at their appointed seats, Drew sensed someone’s eyes boring into him. His brother sat several seats down on the opposite side of the table, staring daggers.

  Drew shrugged and mouthed the words, “Talk with Mother.”

  ***

  Lana picked at the roasted goose in front of her. Although the meal was lovely, a generous cut of sumptuous golden brown bird surrounded by sliced green apples, she wasn’t hungry any longer. Her stomach performed acrobatics she never knew it capable of doing.

  The acute awareness of heat radiating from Lord Andrew’s body didn’t help her frazzled nerves, and she shifted away from him. When his fingers brushed hers, she almost jumped to the ceiling.

  “Is my brother’s glaring making you nervous?” Lord Andrew murmured, his warm breath caressing her neck. “I find it very distracting.”

  Lord Richard sat beside Phoebe on the opposite side of the table, several chairs away. Whereas the gentleman typically showered his wife with attention, tonight he didn’t shift his gaze from their position for one second, even as he sipped his wine.

  “Lord Richard looks angry,” she whispered back.

  “I knew he’d be upset about Walter.”

  She twisted to face Lord Andrew. “Who is Walter?”

  “His pet goose. He cherished that bird, but unfortunately…” He dragged his index finger across his neck then nodded toward her plate. “I believe you have Walter’s left wing.”

  She covered her giggle with her napkin. Lord Andrew might be a rogue, but he was an entertaining one.