so quickly, in fact, he wondered that her kid leather slippers didn’t wear out against the black-and-white marble tiles.
But at least her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror on the opposite wall proved she was the only guest waiting. With the late supper soon to be served, none of his other visitors were ready to depart. The only other people in the space were the footmen who stood at attention in their coats and breeches on either side of the wide-paneled door that fronted the drive, and Will knew he could count on their discretion.
“Lady Everard,” he said, approaching her, and she pulled herself up in obvious surprise, skirts swirling about her ankles like a gentle tide. The smile that brightened her face stopped his movement, his thoughts and very nearly his breath.
“Lord Kendrick,” she said. “You didn’t have to abandon your other guests for me. Your staff is wondrously efficient. I expect my carriage any moment.”
He thought the footmen stood a little taller at her praise. He wanted to stand a little taller as she gazed up at him. This was ridiculous! He wasn’t an eighteen-year-old lad on his first year in Society. And he feared something far darker lay beneath that pleasing smile.
“I wished a word with you before you left,” he said, lowering his voice. “I must ask your intentions concerning my son.”
Her golden brows shot up. “My intentions? Isn’t it generally the lady’s father who asks that question, of a suitor?”
She was right of course, and she could not know he’d just asked Jamie the same question.
“Generally,” he acknowledged. “But these are unusual circumstances. The gentleman is usually the elder and therefore more experienced.”
Now her brows came down, and he felt as if a thundercloud was gathering. “Are you implying I am too experienced for your son, my lord?”
In some matters, he very much feared that for the truth. Oh, he had no doubt she was still a lady; her three guardians would have horsewhipped any man who had tried to change that. But she had seen things Jamie had yet to discover, things Will hoped he never would.
And thank You, Lord, for that!
“I merely meant,” he said, “that you have had more time in Society than Lord Wentworth, and you must know he isn’t ready for a serious courtship.”
She cocked her head, curls falling against her creamy neck, and he had to pull his gaze away. “So you’d prefer he merely dally with me,” she mused, though her voice held an edge, “perhaps increase his reputation with the ladies while sullying mine. Heaven forbid that he actually marry me.”
This was getting worse by the minute! Will tugged down his waistcoat and raised his chin, trying to look every inch the Earl of Kendrick even while using his best diplomat’s voice. “Suggesting my son dally with you would be most ungentlemanly,” he assured her. “But if it’s a husband you’re seeking, I should point out that as a baroness in your own right you could do far better than Lord Wentworth.”
He thought that would appease her. It was the truth, after all. Jamie might be the heir to an earldom, but only Will and his steward knew how tight the purse strings had become. Unless Will was very careful, his son would inherit nothing but an empty title.
But Lady Everard did not appear appeased. “Your son,” she said, each word precise with tension, “is a paragon—clever, loyal and kind. I assure you, I could do far worse.”
Was she intent on capturing Jamie, then? He ought to feel protective of his son, annoyed by her presumption, aghast that she would parade her intentions before him like a challenge. But the emotion striding to the front of his mind was nothing short of jealousy.
He drew himself up, shoved his feelings down deep. “I must ask you to leave my son alone. I will not countenance a marriage between you.”
She blinked, then a laugh bubbled up, soft and lilting. Another time, he was certain he would have been enchanted.
“How funny,” she said, steepling her fingers in front of her lips. “I would have thought a gentleman who had seen so much of the world would have acquired more sense along the way.”
Will was prepared to take offense, but she leaned closer, and the scent of roses seemed far too soft for the hard feelings he was trying to muster.
“Ask yourself this,” she murmured, gaze on his. “If I truly wished to marry into your family, why would I pursue the cub instead of the lion?”
Will recoiled. Her gaze danced with laughter; her smile could only be called smug. She knew she’d shocked him. Even with his years of experience as a diplomat, he had no idea how to respond.
The clatter of horses’ hooves outside announced her carriage. She straightened. “Thank you for a most diverting evening, my lord,” she said, and she turned and followed one of his footmen toward the door as the other servant threw it wide for her.
Will could only stare after her. He should speak to Jamie, confess his concerns, forbid the boy to see anything more of the beautiful Lady Everard. But as he moved to return to his other guests, he passed the gilt-framed mirror, and he wasn’t entirely surprised by the smile lining his face.
* * *
Samantha cast a quick look over her shoulder before the door of Kendrick Hall shut behind her. Lord Kendrick was smiling, and she felt an answering warmth inside. She could imagine laughing over a game of chess, pacing him across the countryside on horseback, dancing with her hands on his, the admiration of his gaze filling her to overflowing.
Oh, no! This would never do. She simply could not entertain such thoughts about the Earl of Kendrick.
William Wentworth would never be in charity with her. At times she was amazed Jamie was still willing to speak to her. After all, she was the reason the previous Lord Wentworth, William’s brother, had been killed.
Surely he knew. Surely that was why he was so concerned that Jamie seemed to care for her. Lord Kendrick didn’t understand it was merely an abiding friendship she and his son shared. She’d watched young James grow up with only his grandfather to guide him, while his father was busy defending British interests in far off places like Constantinople and Alexandria. How Jamie had pined for a moment with his father, much as she had pined for more time with hers. Come to think of it, she had every right to be annoyed with Lord Kendrick!
How could he have abandoned his son on his wife’s death? Jamie had been an infant! William Wentworth had only returned after his brother’s death, she was sure, because tradition required him to take up his place as the new heir. Did he care nothing for family? Was he only concerned she was pursuing Jamie because of her own past?
She shook her head as she settled herself against the velvet-covered seat and the carriage headed down the drive for the road to Dallsten Manor. Her thoughts moved faster than the lacquered wheels. Jamie’s father, this new Lord Kendrick, was not what she had expected. He looked nothing like his son; he acted nothing like his father, who had always treated her with the utmost kindness, even after her connection to his older son’s death.
And as for any resemblance to his dead brother, she had refused to think about the former Lord Wentworth for a very long time. She’d only lost her composure tonight when Jamie had cut short his sentences, an annoying habit that had, alas, been his late uncle’s.
She needed no reminders of the mistakes she’d made, of the tragedies she’d inherited along with the Everard legacy. Those mistakes were the main reason she’d refused her suitors over the years. Each had had something to commend him: a pleasant disposition, a commanding presence, a devotion to duty. Her latest unintended conquest, Prentice Haygood, had followed her about so loyally she’d resorted to hiding in the ladies’ retiring room at balls to avoid hurting his feelings!
Some of her suitors had been handsome, and some had been wealthy and some had been both. Far too many, however, had been fortune hunters, and she’d come to the point where she could smell the breed at twenty paces. Those she had no trouble refusing.