Page 43 of My Wicked Earl
Pushing an errant curl off her forehead, nose scrunched in consternation, Lady Cambourne but her hands on her hips and tapped her foot in irritation.
“Hello, Badger,” Cam greeted his wife, his voice serious as if her were addressing the queen.
Colin wondered how calling one’s angry wife a rodent was a wise move under the circumstances, though Colin could tell by Cam’s tone that the reference was meant to be an endearment.
Cam lurched forward towards his wife, Madeline clinging to his calf and Robert with his arms firmly locked about his father’s neck.
“I wondered where you’d gotten off to, Badger.” Cam peeled Madeline off his leg and unwound Robert’s arms. He handed both children over to the waiting nanny.
“Mrs. Moore, would you see the children back to the nursery?”
“Yes, my lord.” The nanny bobbed to Cam and led the children towards the door. He turned back to Alex and took his wife’s hand. His thumb ran over her palm in an intimate caress. “I’ve been missing you.”
Lady Cambourne gave an unladylike snort of disbelief but did not pull her hand away. She stepped closer to her husband. “Liar. You were busy drinking whiskey with Lord Kilmaire while I was tasked with overseeing a tedious dinner menu and preparing for the arrival of our guests.” She looked over to Colin. “Lord Kilmaire.”
“Lady Cambourne.”
Alex continued. “Most of whom I do not like. The guests I mean. Your grandmother has conveniently taken to her rooms to rest from the journey to avoid my displeasure.”
“I’ve been preparing as well,” Cam assured her.
Alex gave her husband an incredulous look. “Preparing for what? The headache you shall have if you finish that bottle of whiskey with Lord Kilmaire? Thank goodness His Grace is still away in Scotland. I should not survive the scandal of havingthreeWickeds under my roofandLady Dobson. As it is, I expect that we are already the subject of much gossip and conjecture. I’m told all of London is agog with the news that we are hosting a house party and Lady Dobson was invited. The papers will be full of it by tomorrow.” She turned to Colin. “You’ve made it into the betting book at White’s. Thetonis busy placing odds on who will be the next Countess of Kilmaire.”
“Good God,” Colin groaned and drained his glass.
“Where ever would you hear such a thing?” Cam laughed as he released her hand only to press a kiss upon her forehead. “I wonder who placed the initial bet.”
“Probably, the Duke of Dunbar. Nick’s sense of humor leaves much to be desired at times,” Colin answered.
“Lady Dobson at Gray Covington,” Alex continued. “The Dowager is fortunate I hold her in such high esteem. I’m about to flee the premises any moment. I expect the plague of locusts to follow.”
“I beg your apology, Lady Cambourne, and appreciate your sacrifice.” Colin bowed to Alex.
Waving her hand in dismissal, she shrugged. “I will survive Lady Dobson’s visit. She may not, but I will.” Alex gave a laugh. “Besides, Miss Lainscott is a lovely girl. I am more than happy to assist her in escaping the clutches ofthatwoman.” An impish smile crossed her lips. “At any rate, if she annoys me I shall simply encourage one of the children to unravel her turban. Miranda surmises she is quite bald beneath it. I should enjoy showing her shiny pate to the guests of Gray Covington. Now that, husband, would truly be scandalous.”
Cam lifted his brow. “Surely, you can’t be serious?”
“About unraveling her turban? That depends on Lady Dobson.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, you mean about the baldness? Miranda and I are in agreement. She’s bald. She must be. I’ve never even seen so much as a wisp of hair escape from her headwear.”
A bolt of longing shot through Colin at the mention of Miranda. He already missed her presence. She’d fled the coach the moment they’d arrived at Gray Covington. By the time he’d escorted the Dowager through the front door, Miranda had disappeared to her room. “Lady Cambourne—”
“Please call me Alex.” The Marchioness smiled up at him, gray eyes twinkling. “And I am not the least put out by you, Lord Kilmaire. Just Lady Dobson.”
“Colin.” He dipped his head.
“Colin.” Alex smiled up at him. “I am happy to assist you in finding a suitable match.”
A suitable match. Truthfully it sounded a bit awful.
‘Have a care for my dress.’
The moment Miranda said such in the coach, Colin had been transported to another time.
‘I will always choose you, Colin Hartley.’
Except Miranda hadn’t. Nor chose anyone else it appeared.
“I think, Alex, that we can afford a bit of scandal.” Adoration shone from Cam’s eyes as he gazed down at his petite marchioness. There wasn’t a woman in all of England who wouldn’t envy such a look from the infamous Satan Reynolds.
