Page 14 of The Theory of Earls
“An unfortunate occurrence. Are you certain it must be Carstairs? Is there no other gentleman who has your affection?
Just you.“No, my lord.”Margaret shook her head.
“No one else who…stirsyour emotions?” Another double meaning emphasized the word.
“My lord, noteverysentence you utter must end in some sort of…improper innuendo.”
A soft chuckle. “My apologies, Miss Lainscott, though I find it interesting you seem to pick up on all my indecent suggestions,gently bredyoung lady that you are. But I have my doubts about that. Do go on.”
“Iamgently bred. And no one could fail to notice your…nuances. You aren’t subtle in the least.” Margaret looked away for a moment to compose herself. Now was not the time to argue needlessly over Welles’s rakish behavior. “I truly see no other way out of my current situation. Believe me, if I could avoid marriage completely, I would. But since I am compelled to do so, I think Carstairs and I would be a good match. I wish to assure you I would be a good wife to your friend, Lord Welles. I won’t infringe on his hunting or any other recreational activities. He can have as many mistresses as he wishes.”
“How progressive of you.” Welles regarded her seriously. “I see you’ve thought this through in a very logical fashion.”
“Furthermore, I’m disgustingly wealthy.” Her voice took on a pleading note. “My dowry isn’t the largest this season but even so, the amount is obscene.”
Welles nodded slowly. “All excellent points, Miss Lainscott. But I still—”
“I need you only to reintroduce us and possibly…help things along.” She was pushing her luck and the boundaries of propriety in asking Lord Welles for such a thing, but Margaret knew her limits. She was no great beauty and older than most of the young ladies making the rounds this season. A high intellect wasn’t valued in a wife. Margaret might require more than an introduction.
“Help things along?”
“You know what I mean, my lord.” She waved about her hands. “Esteem me. Highly regard me. Perhaps mention your admiration for my talent on the piano.”
“I do admire your talents.”
“And I would ask your discretion in this matter.” Surely a gentleman who adored his stepmother and sisters in such a way could be trusted.
“You have my promise I’ll not speak a word of what you’ve asked. But I’m not certain I am the right man to assist you. You could presume upon my stepmother, for instance.”
“I’ve only met the Duchess of Averell today.” Margaret’s fingers curled into her skirts, tugging at the material in frustration. “Is there nothing I can do to convince you to help me? Another performance on the piano, perhaps?”
6
That was exactly what he’d been considering.
“Something like that.”
Miss Lainscott was a tiny, petite thing. Delicate. Like a fine porcelain doll he’d once bought for Romy, except the doll’s eyes hadn’t sparkled with repressed fire as Miss Lainscott’s did. There was an entire list of wicked things Tony wished to do to her, and each one involved her naked in a variety of positions.
He’d been shocked to see the object of his erotic fantasies taking tea with Amanda and the girls, though in hearing of Miss Lainscott’s budding friendship with Mrs. Anderson, her presence in the conservatory made perfect sense. Tony wondered if Miss Lainscott would have hunted him down if they hadn’t unexpectedly met today; he thought she would have.
Her dark eyes shone with urgency, hoping to convince him to help her. “A performance? Or something else? Does one of your mistresses require piano lessons?” A tiny smirk crossed her luscious mouth.
“Allow me to take you home. My carriage is much more comfortable than a hack. We can speak further on the way.” Poor Miss Lainscott. She was completely oblivious to his desire for her. If she had the slightest inkling, she wouldn’t dare get in the carriage with him.
“My lord, if my aunt —”
“She’ll never see you. I promise. I’ll drop you in the back by the mews. You can make your way through the gardens.”
Miss Lainscott frowned, considering his offer. “I don’t think—”
“Carstairs has been out of town.” Tony threw out the bit of knowledge like a carrot dangled before a mule. His friend had been fishing at the estate of Mr. Turnbull but was now returning to London. “I know which events he’ll be attending in the upcoming weeks.”
She looked between him and the carriage. “Fine. I would appreciate the ride home.”
Miss Lainscott took his hand and climbed into the carriage, sliding gracefully across the seat, her features delicate and pale against the black leather squabs.
Tony settled across from her. Before he’d gone up to the conservatory, he’d noticed the pile of invitations by the door. Lady Masterson was having a garden party and she was a friend of the family. Her invitation had sat atop the stack. His stepmother would likely ask Tony to escort her to the party. He hadn’t planned on attending but now he thought he would. Lady Masterson wouldn’t mind if Miss Lainscott was also brought along.
