“Thank you. I am never in the mood to sleep after playing hostess but, I confess, I am all done with playing hostess tonight.” With perfect timing, Miss Maybury’s high-pitched, braying laugh pierced the air andGuy’s mother winced. “I am also all done with my favor being courted constantly. I never expected them all to try to woo Guy through me and, frankly, listening to them unsubtly brag about their suitability as my future daughter-in-law is all rather tiresome.” Lady Wennington closed the library door with a conspiratorial smile. “I am honestly sick to death of some of them. As, I suspect, are you.”
Lottie laughed. “As a companion, I obviously have no opinion, my lady.”
“That is a great shame, Miss Travers, as I am intrigued to know it.” She wandered to a table where a decanter sat and picked it up. “Can I bribe your opinion out of you with a little nightcap?” She pulled out the stopper and took a deep sniff, then sighed. “It’s cognac, thank goodness, as I am all done with sherry too.” Lady Wennington poured a generous snifter. “Can I tempt you to imbibe with me or are you one of those prim and pious, meek and mild young ladies who disapprove of vices?”
“I am not sure either prim or pious could ever be used to describe me, my lady.” Lottie took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. She had tasted her father’s brandy once and had hated it so much she had immediately spat it out but this was nothing like that. It was aromatic and smooth, warming her throat as it slipped down it. “It’s nice, and, for the record, I am not meek or mild either.” To prove that, she took another sip.
“Although, to your credit, you do try to be meek, even though it doesn’t suit you.” Lady Wennington poured another cognac for herself. “And you fail with such aplomb that I respect it. You have an irrepressible character, Miss Travers, and the rare gift of lighting up a room without even trying.” Her smile said that she meant the compliment, so Lottie beamed back. Lady Wennington was an easy woman to like. She had all the mischief and boldness of Lady Frinton but without any of the sharp edges. “My sister tells me you grew up in a house full of men, which probably explains your lack of meekness. Are you a close family?”
“Very.” Lottie took another sip. “Although as much as I love my four brothers, I could cheerfully strangle each and every one of them on a daily basis.”
“I can imagine. My sister and I have a similar relationship.” LadyWennington took a long swig and savored it, then sighed. “I always wanted a big family like yours, but it was not to be. Guy only turned up after my husband and I had given up all hope of a child, and although we tried and tried and tried…” Her brows wiggled naughtily. “We were never blessed with another. Do you want children?”
It was such an unexpected question Lottie’s glass paused midway to her lips. “If I am lucky enough to get married one day—yes. But I am a companion so I am resigned to the fact that it might not happen.”
“Oh, of course it will! Just look at you! You are quite the head turner, Miss Travers. You have character and brains alongside a feistiness that appeals.” Lady Wennington toasted her with her glass. “What is not to like? Some lucky man is bound to snap you up soon.”
“You sound like my father, my lady.”
“Good parents want to see their children happy.” She swirled the amber liquid in the brandy balloon and stared at Lottie over the rim. “On the subject of our children’s happiness, and seeing as we are both already in agreement that Miss Maybury is awful, what do you think of Lady Lynette for Guy?”
Was this a trap? Did Guy’s mother also dislike that horrid braggart like her sister did or was she inquiring because she thought Lady Lynette was enough to make Guy happy?
Lottie tried to put aside the sudden flash of jealousy to formulate a tactful answer. “Well… um…” There was no doubting that Lady Lynette had the best aristocratic credentials of the debutantes here. Her father was an earl and nobody had questioned her claims to be related to a duke, so Lottie assumed that had to be the truth. “What doyouthink of her, my lady?”
“Oh no,” said Lady Wennington with a shake of her head. “I asked first and according to my sister, you are a keen and pithy judge of character, so I want you to be completely honest. My son’s future happiness lies in the balance, after all, and I want to know which direction to misdirect him to and which cliff it is best to push him off of.”
Oh dear. Guy wouldn’t take kindly to more matchmaking. While she pondered how honest to be about that, Lottie took another sip of her cognacand decided to be brave. “I think Lady Lynette is absolutely dreadful and no match for your son at all.”
The older woman threw her head back and laughed. “She is absolutely dreadful.” She clinked her glass against Lottie’s. “And I absolutely wouldn’t give my approval if Guy wanted to marry her—not that he would, of course, because it’s obvious that he loathes her. But if pigs suddenly flew and he declared her to bethe one,I would have used my mother’s veto and expressly forbid it.”
“Guy would go stark-staring mad shackled to a stupid and silly woman like that.” Lottie clamped her errant jaws shut. Thanks to the heady effects of the cognac, she had spoken without thinking and quite forgotten her place, but rather than be shocked at her impertinence or overfamiliarity, Lady Wennington leaned closer.
“You’re right. I so want him to experience the same joy with a soulmate as I did with his father—but he needs someone who intrigues him, doesn’t he? A challenge. Someone who gets under his skin and who sees right through all his bluster and gruffness. Someone who forces him to smile and who calls to his hardened heart so loudly the stubborn wretch cannot ignore her.” Lady Wennington grinned at Lottie and then huffed. “I fear that none of the girlsI invitedhere meet that quite specific criteria, despite all of my best efforts to find him the perfect match.”
“You know what they say, my lady:You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink.Your son has to make his own choice. He won’t allow you to push him off a cliff, he’ll have to decide to leap himself.”
“You are right again, Miss Travers. Guy has to leap.” Lady Wennington stared at her thoughtfully for a few seconds, then smiled. “While we await that miracle with bated breath, let us have another glass and you can entertain me with your pithy observations of all the other plainly unsuitable girls here. Then you can tell me the real story about how you sabotaged this morning’s ride. Because we both know that you did.”
ChapterTWENTY-FIVE
Guy lost at billiards but didn’t care. He had enjoyed the game, just as he had enjoyed the bridge tournament before it, despite having to put up with the all-knowing Lady Lynette for most of it. In fact, ever since his mad dash to rescue that menace who hadn’t needed rescuing this morning, he’d had a spring in his step. And bizarrely, he also had… not butterflies as such… but an odd fizzing inside at the prospect of their reckless steeplechase tomorrow. In just a few hours… He pulled out his pocket watch as he reached the top of the stairs and realized that, technically, seeing as it was a quarter past one, it already was tomorrow.
Good grief, he needed to get his head down and sleep off some of this port or he’d be good for nothing when the sun came up!
But rather than hurry, his feet decided to slow as he approached Lottie’s bedchamber, his vivid imagination punching through his tiredness to picture her in her bed. Or perhaps not, because dim light bled from beneath the door, tempting him to knock. To say… well, anything really as they hadn’t had any opportunity to do more than exchange a greeting over dinner. His mother had rearranged the seating plans again, in her quest to give all the young ladies a turn to tempt him, so Lottie had been placed in the middle. Forcing him to lean slightly to even see her, which he’d found himself doing with alarming frequency.
What was she doing now? Propped up on the pillows reading, her golden hair loose. Or was she taking down her hair slowly, pin by pin as he had dreamt about doing more times than he cared to think about? Knowing Lottie, she would have no patience for the task and would do it in a hurry, but if he ever got the chance to do it, Guy would savor it. Use the task to thoroughly seduce them both and…
Hard just imagining it, he had to fist his hand to prevent it from knocking on her door, then give his feet a stern talking-to to make them move again and head where they were supposed to be going. And the sooner they got there, the better, because his rigid cock was suddenly in dire need of attention. Again.
Bloody hell, but he wanted her. He could listen to his head and be as cautious as he liked but that did nothing to lessen the yearning—no, craving—he had to touch the minx. Hold her close and keep her there.
Forever.
Forever was creeping into the fantasy more and more and he had no earthly clue how to halt it. How the blazes was he supposed to take his time getting to know her properly when his head warned him to slow down but his heart and, damn her, his body wanted him to speed things up?
Frustrated, Guy adjusted the uncomfortable bulge in his breeches, then quickened his pace. He was about to turn the corner into his hallway when, suddenly uneasy for some inexplicable reason, he stopped dead.
