The Caversham Chronicles ~ the Beginning

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

He was going to be a bridegroom again. After all these years. And all because he couldn’t keep his lips off his Miss from the maze.

In all fairness, those lips were full and sweet, and her kiss was filled with innocent promise—at least until her aunt spoke. Cav had felt the precise moment her body went rigid in his arm. It had been when her aunt called out his name and he’d replied.

“Your Grace, you needn’t think you must make an offer for the girl,” Lady Rawdon said. “I will see she is gone quietly by morning. No one need know of this.”

He wondered why she kept repeating that her niece wasn’t worthy of an offer from him? Unless the lady he’d kissed lied about her connections, why would the aunt say this? What did the conniving woman have up her sleeve? Or was the plot played out by both women, and he was the fool?

No. The woman he’d met in the maze the day before, and again tonight, was not the scheming type. He would have sensed something disingenuous in her. If this had been a trap, there would have been screams from both women, with the aunt insisting he marry the girl. This wasn’t happening.

“She’s related to a peer and I knew this before I kissed her. Who is her family?”

“Manners-Sutton. Her uncle is the Archbishop of Canterbury. Her great-grandfather was the third Duke of Rutland.”

Bloody hell. One of the worst complications. Besides being related to the archbishop, another of her uncles, Thomas, was one of Cav’s best friends. “And she is living as a pauper? With no income, no dowry?”

“Her father was the youngest of the sons and the scholarly type. He married my older sister and had two children. My sister died a few years back, and my brother-in-law died this past January. He was in trade—had a book bindery, and no wealth.”

“How old is she and has she been presented?”

“Never, Your Grace, and I believe she is twenty-eight years.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Someone related to a family such as the one she was from should have had at least one season to find a husband. Dowry or not, her connections were impeccable. Many a man would want a connection to a family such as hers.

“We will be leaving tomorrow. You and your niece return to Town immediately. I have a stop to make before returning there myself. She and I will be married in one month’s time. Get her trousseau and a gown fit for a duchess to be married in. Understood?”

He turned his face upward and smiled in the dim library. A bride. After all these years, he would take another bride. Lizzie must be laughing up there in heaven after causing this mischief for him. His wife had never wanted him to remain alone, and on her death bed had begged him to remarry for their children’s sake. But he’d never cared to, and frankly, the children had done well enough with just him and the legion of tutors, nurses, and governesses he’d provided. Not that he’d been looking, but in the years since Lizzie’s death, Cav had never found a woman who intrigued him enough to consider spending the remainder of this life with her.

Until he’d met his Miss in the maze.

“Yes, Your Grace, but truly, it is not necessary. She is not worthy of a man of your stature and…” Lady Rawdon was beginning to sound desperate and Cav couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Was the woman truly so shallow, or just stupid? He wanted nothing more than to wring her neck for the treatment of her niece. When she opened her mouth to say something more, he cut her off. “If you say one more word, I will…”

“She is a mere Miss. A nobody!” Lady Rawdon must have had a few glasses of wine too many, for she appeared emboldened enough to act and speak foolishly. She took a step closer to him and raised her hand to touch his lapel. Cav frowned at her audacity.

“I would make a more appropriate match for you.” Her voice sounded as smooth as a glass of fine port. “In experience, temperament, and class. She has nothing to offer a man such as yourself. I would run your homes as efficiently as if they were my own.”

He could stomach no more. He’d never led this woman to believe he had even a bit of interest in her. However, he thought that if she felt humiliated, or even merely rebuffed—which he was definitely now doing—she might influence her niece against him. The best option for him was to get this woman out of the picture entirely.

“I have heard enough. Consider yourself relieved of any duty or obligation to the young lady. She is now, and will forever after, be my responsibility. If you speak one derogatory word about your niece, now or in the future, and I learn of it, I will ruin you. Understood? There isn’t a door in all Britain that would open for you.”

That said, he strode from the room and went to his own suite. He wrote several notes, the first to Lady Merivale asking her assistance with the hiring of an experienced maid for the young lady who had arrived as Lady Katherine’s companion. The second letter was to his secretary, telling him to make preparations for a wedding at Haldenwood in exactly one month. But as he drew out the next sheet to compose the third letter to his friend Thomas, Cav realized something of great importance.

He had no idea what the young lady’s name was, other than Miss Manners-Sutton. Being as familiar with the family as he was, Cav knew Thomas had several nieces who went by that appellation. How was he to identify this one when he didn’t know her name?

Amelia woke to a soft knock on her door in the gray light of dawn.

She had no idea who would be coming for her so early, except…. After last night’s fiasco in the library, she was now likely evicted from the property and to be escorted from the house. And after all the planning she’d done to get her group out to Stonehenge and back today!

Wrapping her robe around herself and tying the belt, she padded to the door with bare feet, the floor cold and bare up here in the nursery. She turned the lock and peeked into the hallway to see a maid standing on the other side.

The young woman bobbed a curtsy. “Miss? My name is Gertie. I’m to be your maid, and we’re leaving in an hour for London, per His Grace’s order.”

Amelia struggled to clear the fog from her brain. The lack of sleep and the early hour weren’t the only cause for her muddled state. She wondered why the duke was ordering her to London, especially after how horribly things went the night before. “What?” She opened the door, wide enough for the girl to enter.

As she breezed cheerfully in, she said, “We haven’t long to get you dressed and packed.”

Amelia rubbed her eyes, thinking surely the girl had the wrong room. “You must be mistaken. I’m not going to London. I’m going to see the stone circle today with the other women companions. We planned this yesterday.”

“No. I’ve got the right room. Mrs. Lane sent me. Have you met her? She’s the housekeeper. Anyway, she said to go to the top of the steps, first door on the right. You’re the one that’s going to marry His Grace. I’ll be with ye until ye hire your own maid.”

“I’m not marrying that man. You can go down and tell that to His High-and-Mightiness. My aunt, too, for that matter.”

She was marrying no one. The least of all the man who lied to her—albeit by omission—about who he was, stole a kiss from her in a dark corner of a library, then said he wasn’t offering marriage.

Amelia wondered what happened to change his mind. Her best guess was either an attack of conscience, or threats from her aunt. No man who says he’s not getting married suddenly becomes marriage-minded. And even if he was, she wasn’t! It didn’t matter that she’d enjoyed his kiss. And the way he smelled. And the way he felt against her—all masculine and strong. She wasn’t a small woman and he towered over her and his breadth enveloped her. Being held in his embrace was like being protected and cherished at the same time.

But that didn’t matter… she was not marrying him.

The woman began opening drawers and cabinets, likely taking stock of what she needed to pack. Amelia stopped her. “No. Pack nothing, Gertie. Please go tell my aunt that I go nowhere with that man. I don’t even know him!”

“Oh, you’ll have the rest of your lives to get to know each other,” she said as she found Amelia’s one valise and lifted it. “I believe His Grace wanted to get to Town today and…”

She was getting nowhere with the maid. Amelia couldn’t fault the girl. She was just doing what she was instructed to do by the housekeeper and those above her—Lady Merivale, Aunt Katherine, and even the duke. Amelia had to put a stop to this nonsense. She was not going anywhere with a complete stranger. Even if his kiss made her forget her singular life for a while. Because it did. For that moment, she felt desired.

But she still didn’t know him. Amelia reached out a hand to stop the maid from her task. “Gertie, please help me dress.”

Minutes later, wearing her best gray dress, Amelia descended the steps to the third level where she intended to wake her aunt and find out what was going on. If she knew her Aunt Katherine, there was likely something in it for her if she was forcing her into marrying this lofty-titled stranger. There had to be a reason for her to back off her own idea of having an affair with the duke. Perhaps she thought if Amelia married the duke it would give her better access to him.

“Sir!” Amelia whispered to herself. “Ha!”

As she strode down the hallway, her mind worrying over how exactly she was going to get out of this mess, she met His High-and-Mightiness on his way to… wherever High and Mighty ones go at this hour of the morning. The man looked as though he were prepared to ride with his coat, jodhpurs and tall boots that fit his muscled calves to perfection. From this distance, his gray eyes sparkled like diamonds in his handsome face and his mostly black hair was smoothed back as though he was fresh from his morning ablutions.

If it weren’t for the high-handed manner in which he was dictating her removal to London with him, Amelia would think him a handsome specimen, even with his advanced years. The kiss they’d shared last night was spectacular, even catching her off-guard as he had. Both his hard body pressed against hers, and his enthusiasm, had engaged her senses. In the dark of her room last night, she fantasized that it was what he’d intended to do, rather than something to keep her from calling out or replying to her aunt.

This man and his kiss was the sole reason she hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

He was an experienced kisser. And a master manipulator, for he’d made her agree to keep silent that moment just before his mouth came down on hers. She relived those incredible minutes as his lips moved over hers so expertly. Right up until they’d heard her aunt’s voice call for him while they attempted to hide from her.

But none of that mattered. Whatever possessed this man to think she was now leaving with him was madness. His madness. The maid, Gertie, had mentioned Amelia was to marry him. She certainly was not, and Amelia was determined to find the source of the rumors. Whomever was spreading them had to stop. In addition to the fact that she did not know the man, she didn’t want to leave the district in case Harry returned and looked for her—something she prayed for daily. If heaven answered her impassioned pleas, her brother might be at Aunt Katherine’s home that very minute, asking her aunt’s cook for a biscuit or sweet. Her aunt was not about to hand her off to a complete stranger, not if Amelia had anything to say about it. Even if no one seemed inclined to listen to her.