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After splashing her face with water and changing her travel half boots for a pair of soft house shoes still in her closet, she decided to beard the lion in his own den and go down to tea with her parents. If she were not to be embarrassed and harassed this entire visit, she had to let them know that Lord Berkshire was not a suitor. He was a friend. A friend in need of her help.
So what if he studied her in a way that made her insides tremble and her heart beat a wee bit faster? It mattered not that sometimes she thought his joking about kissing her was not a joke. And she did not want to consider that so many of his words and the way he sometimes studied her caused her to blush all the way to the tips of her hair.
All of that meant nothing.
She would have preferred to change out of her travel outfit, but ‘twas best to get this confrontation over with, then she could strip down to her chemise and take a short nap. Stiffening her shoulders, she left her room and headed downstairs.
Her parents had their heads together, speaking softly when she entered the drawing room. Mother jumped when Addie cleared her throat. Good Lord, what were they planning now? She glanced at the paper in Mother’s hand, hoping it was not the menu for the wedding breakfast.
Mother stood and gave Addie a hug. Despite her present annoyance with her mother, the familiar feel and scene of the mother who raised and loved her all her life soothed her somewhat. “It’s nice to see you, Mother.” She looked over at her father who rose when she entered the room. “You, as well, Father.”
“You must be tired from your journey. Have a seat and I will pour your tea.”
Once the tea was fixed the way she liked it, and Mother had placed two small sandwiches and a few biscuits on a plate, Addie folded her hands in her lap and looked both of her parents in the eye. “We must speak about Lord Berkshire.”
Mother sighed. “Oh, yes. His lordship. A fine figure of a man. I’m sure he would be a wonderful husband to some fortunate young lady. Father and I were just discussing him.”
Grayson closed the book he was reading to Michael and kissed the sleeping boy on the forehead. He was such an energetic lad, yet he rarely stayed awake until the entire book was finished. Of course, the fact that he couldn’t hear the story might have something to do with it.
Pulling the blanket up to Michael’s chin, he regarded the one person in the world for whom he would give his life. Dark rumpled curls, damp from his bath, hugged his forehead. A slight sprinkling of freckles covered his nose and cheeks like fairy dust. Although he couldn’t see them, Grayson knew his son’s brown eyes that he’d inherited from him saw everything, lighting up with excitement over the smallest thing. No matter what it took, he would find a way to prove to the world that his son was not lacking in intelligence, only in hearing.
He knocked lightly on Mrs. Banfield’s door. She opened, wrapped in a deep brown comfortable looking robe. “Are you leaving now, my lord?”
He nodded. “Yes. Michael is asleep.”
“Have an enjoyable evening then, my lord.” She closed the door softly and Grayson made his way down the stairs to the entrance hall where Brooks, his butler at the London townhouse stood with Grayson’s coat and hat.
After donning his outdoor attire, Grayson left the house and strode to the mews, at the back of the row of townhouses, to retrieve the horse he kept in London. After mounting Reggie and tossing a coin to the lad who tacked the horse for him, Grayson made his way to the street and headed t
oward the Mallory townhouse in Mayfair.
The evening should prove to be quite interesting. It was obvious that Mr. and Mrs. Mallory were brimming with delight over the fact that their daughter arrived in London with an earl in tow. He shook his head and chuckled at poor Miss Mallory’s reaction to her parents’ obvious attempts to make a match right there on the spot. He would have to be careful this evening, or he might be served a marriage contract right along with dessert.
It would be foolish to pretend he had no interest in Miss Mallory beyond her help with Michael. Or that he hadn’t thought about her in a carnal way. She was delightful company and possessed a body a man would thoroughly enjoy. One he could spend hours caressing and discovering all the places to make her hum.
She’d already shown genuine interest in Michael, and the boy had studied her with adoring eyes throughout the entire trip from Bath. There was no doubt in his mind that she wouldn’t make a delightful bed partner, and mother to his son. There was just one problem.
For as much as he liked and desired her, he did not love her, and did not want to love her. Ever. That sort of entanglement had destroyed him once before. Never again. However, he doubted with Miss Mallory’s loving and caring nature, she would accept a husband without love. It would not be fair to offer marriage to her when it would eventually make her miserable.
His thoughts kept him busy until he realized the short ride from his home on Arlington Street to Mayfair and the Mallory townhouse had ended. As he drew up to the front of the house, a man ran from around the back and took his horse. “I’ll take good care of ‘im, my lord.”
Grayson tossed a coin at the man. “Feed and water him, if you will.” The man tugged on the brim of his cap and led the horse away.
The townhouse was in a row of houses, very typical of the area. It appeared to be one of the larger ones, with at least twelve rooms. The marble steps leading to the front door were worn in the center from all the feet hurrying up and down over the years.
Grayson straightened his ascot and made his way to the front door, which was immediately opened by a pleasant looking butler before he’d had the chance to drop the interesting knocker. “Good evening, Lord Berkshire.” He bowed. “You are expected.”
Grayson shrugged out of his coat, handed his hat to the butler and followed the man down a well-lit corridor. The townhouse had been tastefully decorated, the wallpaper lining the entrance and corridor a pale rose and green. The highly polished wooden floor was covered with a plush sage green runner that muted their steps. Gas lights had been installed on the walls to replace the normal candle sconces. In all, his impression of the Mallorys was of a family with good taste, one that did not display avarice. They stopped at a dark oak pocket door that the butler slid open.
“Lord Berkshire,” he announced.
Mrs. Mallory hopped from her seat as if kicked from behind. Mr. Mallory stood, and his daughter joined him. “Good evening, my lord. We are so very happy you have joined us for dinner,” Mrs. Mallory simpered, a bright smile on her face, and most likely wedding bells ringing in her ears.
“Berkshire.” Mr. Mallory crossed the room, holding out his hand, which Berkshire shook. “Brandy?”
“Yes. That would be fine.”
As the man poured drinks for them all, brandy for the men and sherry for the women, Grayson remembered what he knew of the family. Mallory was the third son of the Earl of Lindsay. With two older brothers, there was never a strong chance that he would inherit, and since his oldest brother had already produced three sons, it was a moot point.
