Page 27 of Everything But the Earl
This beautiful, clever woman was his bride. He could scarcely believe it.
He kissed her.
“What was that for?” Grace asked as she pulled away.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” she said. She kissed him back.
Someone nearby cleared his throat. Driscoll stood in the doorway. “Dinner will be served in the dining room in one hour,” he said.
“Driscoll, could you send a footman or two upstairs to help us unpack?”
“Of course, my lord.” He bowed and left.
“Well,” Owen said. “I suppose we should get to it.”
Chapter Seven
Back in London,Anthony strolled into his club one evening and was immediately confronted by Matthew Clairborne, an earl and politician who was working on some sort of education reform bill in Parliament. Beresford only knew that because Clairborne had been quite vocal about said bill and there’d been much ink spilled about it in the newspapers Lark insisted on reading every morning. A bothersome habit, to be sure, although sometimes Beresford got bored and read those papers himself.
“Where is Caernarfon?” Clairborne asked.
“On his honeymoon. Surely you occasionally deign to read society columns. Caernarfon married Midwood’s daughter. Wedding of the year! Quite a spectacular feast afterward, too, in fact.”
“Is this your way of rubbing it in that you were invited?”
“I do try to place myself in the most high-profile social situations so that all may bask in my power and beauty.”
Clairborne frowned. “Right.”
“Why are you asking after Caernarfon—and asking me of all people? Despite securing an invitation to his wedding, I am not on his list of favorite people.”
“When you bother to show up for votes in Parliament, you often vote with him, and I’ve seen you conversing with him in this very club, so I assumed you were friends. I do not, in fact, read society columns. That is women’s business.”
Beresford saw right through what Clairborne was saying there and decided to ignore it. “Well, all I can say is that Caernarfon is in Wales for at least another fortnight, likely ensconced in a love nest with his new bride…who, as it happens, was betrothed to me until six weeks ago, if you should like to take me down a peg. She’s beautiful and came with a large dowry, so Caernarfon won the day, I suppose.” Beresford crossed his arms. “But of course, society columns and scandal sheets are beneath you, so you will tell me none of this signifies.”
“You speak too prolifically, Beresford.”
“So I’m told. What do you want with Caernarfon?”
“His vote on my education reform bill. But it will come up for debate and voting before he returns, I’m afraid.”
“I suppose that gives you a week to invent a faster conveyance.”
“Indeed. Well, thank you for the information, Beresford. I will count on your vote should you bother to show up.”
“Of course.”
Clairborne sighed. “My sister has long been fond of Caernarfon. She will be sad to hear he’s been taken off the market.”
“Is she looking for a husband?”
“She is indeed on the marriage mart this year. My aunt has been escorting her to balls. Surely you’ve seen them.”
Anthony tried to remember what Clairborne’s sister looked like. “She’s tall, yes? Your sister, I mean. Auburn hair, freckles?”
“That’s her.”
