Page 16 of An Earl Unmasked
“Aye, that is true. However, if your papa hadn’t interfered, I believe Diana would have been the sensible one and married this Season.”
Randal’s patience was worn thin. “I can only believe Lady Diana would not have married, regardless of my father’s riddles.”
Diana’s brother’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “I guess we’ll never know for certain.” Malbury slapped a hand over Randal’s shoulder. “The hour grows late, my lord. I shall see you in the morn.”
Randal waited for the door latch to click back into place and Malbury’s footsteps to fade before blowing out the breath he held and chuckled. Malbury did not know his sister as well as he thought.
If Randal assisted Diana to solve his papa’s puzzle, mayhap he’d rid himself of the Malburys for good.
Chapter Nine
Randal pulled apillow over his head in an attempt to silence the ruckus of laughter that wafted through the house and permeated through the walls of his bed chamber. Memories of his childhood when Chestwick Hall was filled with fun and frivolity came rushing to mind—and ended abruptly like it had all those years ago the day his mama died.
Groaning into his pillow, Randal muttered, “Blasted Malburys.”
The tinkle of feminine laughter that was fast becoming familiar and belonged to the woman who had invaded his sleep, filtered through his feathered pillow. His lips involuntarily curved into a grin—Diana.
In a single afternoon, she had imprinted herself upon his mind. Yes, he needed to wed, but his promise to his mama weighed heavily on his conscience. Having returned from the Continent after the parliament session had closed, he had planned to spend the summer at home recovering. Hunting for a wife could wait. There was no urgency to reacquaint himself with his peers—men and women he had very little in common with. And it was ridiculous to believe that the first lady he met would fulfill his mama’s dying wish. Yes, Diana had managed to capture both his mind and his heart, but marriage was for a lifetime.
Cartwright’s heavy footfalls hit the wood floors of his bed chambers and then pulled the pillow away from Randal’s head. “Ye best get ready and go belowstairs.” His valet held up his right arm ladened with a dark blue ensemble, and then his left arm with a deep maroon waistcoat and starched white cravat.
Randal pointed to the muted combination on Cartwright’s right. “It sounds as if my guests are getting along quite fine without me.” He rolled out of bed and padded over to the porcelain wash basin next to the window.
“I’ve known ye for four bloomin’ years, and not once have ye shied away from yer responsibilities.” Cartwright shook out a clean lawn shirt for him and continued, “Yer supposed to be down there hostin’ or wot not, not lettin’ poor injured Lady Diana perform yer duties.”
“Poor Lady Diana, is it?” Randal neatly folded and replaced the damp washcloth next to the decorative bowl, a far cry from the small metal dish he’d used during the war. He returned Cartwright’s glacial glare with one of his own. “The woman’s injuries are self-inflicted.”
Randal took his garments from Cartwright’s arm one by one and donned the layers of a gentleman, not that of a soldier. While he may not be venturing onto the battlefield today, he sensed the day before him would be anything but leisurely.
Cartwright swiveled and marched over to the wash basin. “She wouldn’t have taken such drastic measures if ye’d just agreed to let her use the bloomin’ library.” Razor in hand, his valet turned and said, “Mrs. Humbleworth thinks Lady Diana is a blessin’, and I agree.”
“A blessing, is she? More like a bur in one’s stocking,” Randal grumbled.
Soap in one hand and razor in the other, Cartwright nodded for him to sit on the bed. “I’d best make ye presentable.”
Randal ran a hand over his cheek and then along his jaw. The skin was still tender beneath his beard. “I think not.”
“But, me lord, ye have guests.”
“I’m sure the Malburys have no objections.”
Edging Randal back, Cartwright took another step closer. “I’m not referrin’ to the Malburys. I’m talkin’ about the other gentry that is millin’ about.”
Randal stood his ground and barked, “Who exactly arrived this morn?”
“Lord Kent arrived with two gentlemen in tow, a Lord Drake and another called Lord Cunningham. Oh, and Lady Diana’s other sister, Lady Isadora.
His house was full of strangers. A knot the size of his fist settled in the center of his chest. “Why did you not alert me earlier?” Randal sank down and settled on the edge of the bed.
Cartwright didn’t miss a beat; he expertly lathered the soap and applied it to Randal’s face. “Lady Diana said ye needed yer rest after being knocked out yesterday.”
Damnation. Why hadn’t he sent Diana scurrying back to Malbury Manor as soon as he laid eyes on her? His first thought as he laid sprawled in the grass, looking up at her beautiful features surrounded by a halo of sunlight had been that she was an angel sent to retrieve him. Except his lips came into contact with warm, lush lips. Their brief kiss had ignited a sensation close to his heart that was familiar yet forgotten.
Another bout of laughter, this time male, rattled the walls. He should have thrown the Malbury lot out yesterday. In his brief absence, Diana had successfully laid siege upon his manor. He’d lost before he was even able to mount a defense. “I am the lord of this manor, am I not?”
Cartwright nodded. “Of course, ye are, me lord.”
Randal remained still as his valet ran the razor methodically over his face, like he had done a thousand times before. Randal waited until Cartwright removed the blade and wiped it on the clean linen draped over his arm to ask, “And I remain unwed, correct?”
