Page 65 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Twenty

Three nights later, Griffin stood in his drawing room doorway with Artemis tucked in the crook of one arm, and watched as his mother scurried about the room, a bundle of agitated energy shuffling furniture and barking orders at the maids like a diminutive naval captain.

Smiling to himself, he shook his head. He’d suggested she postpone tonight’s dinner party, citing her ankle’s very recent recovery, but she would have none of it, insisting too much work had already gone into the event to put it off.

Confounding woman. His mother was so sweet-natured it was easy to forget how stubborn she could sometimes be.

Stepping into the room, he called out, “Can I be of any assistance?”

Lady Keswick pushed a leather chair up against the wall then stepped back to study her handiwork. “No, thank you, darling. You would only be in the way.”

Griffin scratched Artemis behind the ear and prayed for patience. “Fine,” he said, “but why don’t you let Lucy and Martha move the furniture? I doubt the doctor would approve of so much activity so soon after your injury.”

“I told you, darling. It’s all better now.” Lady Keswick turned to him and pushed a curl off her face. “Besides, I think we’re finished in here.”

She crossed the room to him and gave his cheek an affectionate pat before doing the same to Artemis. “Martha,” she called out, speaking to the dark-haired maid. “You may take Artemis now and retire to your room until the party is ended.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Artemis mewled as Griffin handed her to Martha, and he gave her head a scratch. “You be good, little one, and behave yourself for Martha.”

The maid gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll take good care of her, my lord. We’ll have a jolly good time together.”

Griffin smiled. “Thank you, Martha.”

She and Lucy left the drawing room to resume their duties, leaving Griff with his mother.

“Well?” she asked, plunking her hands on her hips. “What do you think of the room?”

He swept his gaze over the room and nodded. “It looks very nice.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I am exhausted.” She sighed. “There are days I cannot wait to hand over my duties as hostess to the next Lady Keswick, and this is one of those days.”

She shot him a pointed look and Griffin couldn’t help but laugh. “Come, Mother. You love hosting dinner parties.”

“Most of the time, yes. But not always. And not forever.”

He’d never considered what life would be like when he married, how it would be his wife planning their dinner parties instead of his mother.

Olivia’s image came to mind, and he envisioned her in the role of hostess, compiling guest lists, planning meals, ordering the servants about, her hair mussed from moving furniture but still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

He pressed his lips together, discomfited by the image, and even more by how right it felt.

This wasn’t the first time he’d had such thoughts. Olivia seemed to be on his mind more and more ever since Mrs. Lubbock’s soirée. Of course, it made sense, didn’t it?

Lust was a powerful thing, after all. His preoccupation with her this week was nothing more than a natural reaction to a jolly good orgasm.

It stood to reason he would want another one, that he would want her. He did want her. He liked her and liked being with her. The time he’d spent with her recently had opened his eyes and showed him how fine she was, how much there was to admire in her.

Yes, he liked her. Enough that she had him thinking of the future, of a future with her, which was absolute madness…

Wasn’t it?

Of course it is. You’re not ready for marriage, remember?

Still, he could not deny the thrill of anticipation that shot through him at the thought of seeing her again. He craved more of her company. He missed her.

When had he begun to miss her?