The Bachelor Earl Read online

  “Needless to say,” Lord Cosford continued, “we’ll be making some adjustments to our activities.” He looked to his wife once more. “I know my darling wife has alternate plans, so rest assured there will be amusements for all. Now, I think it’s time I had a brandy!” He turned toward the nearest footman, then stopped. “I nearly forgot. If you haven’t yet received your map, raise your hand, and Vernon will bring it to you.”

  Genie swallowed the rest of her second sandwich, then looked at Satterfield. “What map? If we can’t go outside, why would we need a map?”

  The earl cocked his head, looking at her…dubiously. Again, Genie had an odd sensation. And she was finally beginning to realize that she was missing something.

  Satterfield raised his hand, and a moment later, the butler delivered a folded parchment to him. “I already have one,” he said to Genie. “This one is for you. However, I take it you don’t know what it’s for.” He frowned slightly. “Did Lady Cosford not explain the purpose of this party?”

  Purpose? What purpose did a house party have aside from providing social opportunity and amusement? Genie took the map and opened the parchment. “Is this the house?” She glanced over at the earl.

  “Upstairs, to be precise.”

  She could see that. In each bedroom was written someone’s name or initials. She found hers—at least she thought DDK meant her, the Dowager Duchess of Kendal. Why on earth would they give out maps of everyone’s bedrooms? Unless… No, that was too scandalous.

  Genie looked around the room at the people assembled. Not one wife. Not one husband. No one was a couple, save their hosts. In fact, Genie was fairly certain every woman in attendance was a widow. What the devil kind of party was this?

  Standing so quickly she upended her plate, Genie felt heat rush to her face. Before she could bend down to pick up the biscuits that had tumbled to the floor, as well as the plate, Lord Satterfield did it for her.

  When he stood, he took a step closer, so that there was scarcely any space between them. Their proximity both terrified and excited her. She hadn’t been this close to a man in some time. She hadn’t been this close to a man who wasn’t her husband ever.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t know,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  Genie couldn’t move. Her heart beat faster, and she wondered if he could hear it. He turned and walked away, taking her plate and biscuits with him. Which was fine since she’d quite lost her appetite.

  She located Cecilia across the room, standing with her husband, and made her way quickly in that direction. “Cecilia, may I have a word?” Genie tried to keep her voice pleasant.

  Cecilia turned toward her, smiling. “Of course.”

  “Welcome to Blickton, Duchess,” Lord Cosford said cheerfully. “We’re so glad you came.”

  Genie narrowed her eyes slightly before pinning her attention on Cecilia. “Privately, please?”

  Concern flashed in Cecilia’s gaze. “Certainly.” She walked with Genie from the drawing room. Once they were several paces away from the doorway, she stopped and turned toward Genie. “Is there something amiss?”

  Holding up the map, Genie struggled to keep her emotions in check. “What is this?” No, that wasn’t the right question. Genie knew what it was. What she didn’t know was why it was. “What is this party about?”

  Pink dotted Cecilia’s cheeks, validating the shock and distress Genie felt. “Oh dear, I can see you’re upset. I should have told you straightaway, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  She was damn right Genie wouldn’t have come. “Everyone here is unmarried.”

  “Yes. Our hope was to provide an opportunity for those who are unwed and perhaps wish to be wed again to meet and establish connections.”

  “What sort of connections?” Genie glanced toward the paper in her hand. “You provided a map with everyone’s bedrooms.”

  The color in Cecilia’s face deepened. “Ah, yes, we did. We are also providing an opportunity for more…intimate connections, should someone desire.”

  Genie stared at her, unthinking, for a moment. “This is mad.”

  “It isn’t, really. Lady Greville hosted a party like this a couple of years ago, and it was a great success.” Cecilia’s fixed on Genie with a half smile, her eyes shining with empathy. “I actually thought of hosting it precisely for you.”

  “You can’t think I would want to wed again. Or…anything else.”

  “Why not?” Cecilia’s russet brows gathered together. “You’re young, beautiful, intelligent. There’s no reason you should be alone.”

  “No reason at all, except that I want to be. I’m leaving.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized departure was impossible.

  “You can’t. The road—”

  “Is impassable.” Genie ground her teeth. “I feel as though you tricked me.”

  Cecilia reached out to touch Genie’s hand, but Genie stepped back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I truly thought you would be amenable. You’ve always been the most cordial— even gregarious—woman.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want to marry again. Or have an affair. I was looking forward to a house party, not…whatever this is.”

  “Forgive me.” Cecilia’s face fell, and she twisted her hands together. “This can still be just a house party for you.”

  Genie wasn’t sure she believed that. She opened her mouth to respond, but, deciding there wasn’t anything she could think to say, she simply turned on her heel and began to walk away. Thankfully, the inconceivable map would show the way to her room.

  “I’ll see you at dinner!” Cecilia called, her tone bursting with hope.

  Again, Genie didn’t respond. Because she didn’t know what she was going to do.

  Chapter 2

  Edmund Holt, Earl of Satterfield, sipped his port as male conversation rumbled around him in the dining room. He’d spent dinner across the table from the Dowager Duchess of Kendal, or, as he remembered her from his youth, Miss Aldwick. He recalled seeing her, the daughter of a viscount and the youngest of five sisters, at one of the very first balls he’d attended at the age of twenty.

  Tall, with a grace and elegance that had seemed at odds with her youth, she possessed piercing gray eyes illuminated with intelligence, she’d caught Edmund’s attention immediately. But he’d been on the verge of his Grand Tour and had no intention to marry, while she’d been on the Marriage Mart—delayed a few years due to the deaths of her parents. She was two years older, a fact that hadn’t bothered him the slightest then and was still inconsequential.

  She’d had a wonderful laugh, and a smile that dazzled the entire ballroom. Edmund hadn’t gathered the courage to ask her to dance. He’d also assumed all her dances were claimed given her popularity. For the weeks that followed until he departed, he kept a distant eye on her, watching as she had her pick of the gentlemen available that Season. It seemed she would choose the Marquess of Ravenglass, but then his father, the Duke of Kendal, had died in an accident, and that match seemed unlikely. The next Edmund had heard—the following winter—she’d wed the new duke. It had been heralded as a love match, with Miss Aldwick waiting patiently for Kendal as he mourned his father and took his place as the duke.

  That Edmund remembered all that didn’t surprise him—he’d thought of her often through the years. And if someone asked him whether he’d been aware that she’d become a widow two years ago, the answer would be yes. He’d known, and something inside him had sparked. Because he’d never wed. In the past twenty years, not one woman had stirred him the way Miss Aldwick had. As an earl, he knew it was his duty to marry, to produce an heir. Even so, he hadn’t been moved to do so. And Edmund was nothing if not a romantic—or so his mother would say.

  She was not wrong.

  It wasn’t too late for Edmund to marry and have children. That was, in fact, why he’d come to this party. He’d resigned himself to the realization that it was time. But never had he expected to
find Miss Aldwick—the Dowager Duchess—here. His resignation had abruptly become his exceptional good fortune. Except that she hadn’t been aware that this party’s purpose was matchmaking, and, more importantly, she’d seemed scandalized upon finding out.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Cosford said, taking the empty seat next to Edmund.

  Edmund hadn’t even seen his host get up from the head of the table. “Just mulling the days ahead and how you’ll manage to keep us all occupied indoors with this weather.”

  “I will hope it will dry out, but if it doesn’t, be assured my wife will arrange plenty of activities for everyone to do.” He chuckled softly. “She’d consider the party an abject failure if she did not. Actually, she’ll consider it a failure if there isn’t a match made.” He shook his head. “I keep telling her it’s unlikely, but she insists it is.”

  “I have to agree with your wife,” Edmund said before taking another sip of port. He set the glass back on the table, keeping his fingers curled around the stem. “Whether it’s to marry or find some other…connection, it seems Lady Cosford has chosen a group that wants one or the other. Surely at least one match—either temporary or permanent—will be made.”

  “Careful, or I’ll think your temperament is as romantic as my wife’s!” Cosford laughed, but quickly sobered. He lowered his voice. “I’m not certain everyone here wants to make a match. Apparently the Dowager Duchess was not too pleased upon learning the nature of the party.”

  “Why didn’t she know beforehand?” Hadn’t she received the same invitation Edmund had? Perhaps not.

  Cosford swallowed a gulp of port. “Cecilia didn’t think she’d come if she knew, and of all the people here, Cecilia says she needs this party the most. The dowager has been an absolute hermit since the duke died, and Cecilia worries for her cousin.”

  “Still, if she wasn’t ready for this, keeping the truth from her seems insensitive.” Edmund didn’t give a whit if he insulted his host. The Dowager Duchess’s upset reaction earlier was far more troubling.

  “I can’t disagree, but I don’t get too involved with my wife’s plans, particularly when it comes to her family. She’ll do what she will whether I advise her against it or not.” He lifted a shoulder. “Can’t say I mind either. Contrary to most of our sex, I prefer a woman who knows what she wants and does it.” There was a gleam of pride in Cosford’s eyes that made Edmund truly desire a loving marital relationship. Maybe, in addition to feeling as though he must wed, he was ready to do so?

  Edmund was eager to see the dowager duchess again. Anticipation built within him as the gentlemen took their time over their port. He would tread cautiously with her. Assuming she was even still in the drawing room. She’d arrived just before they’d gone in to dinner—so late that Edmund had feared she wasn’t coming.

  Then she’d appeared in a beautiful lavender gown, the gauzy material flowing into a short train behind her as she’d glided into the room, her dark, shining hair swept onto her head and styled with a wide lavender ribbon while delicate curls brushed her temples and cheeks. She’d looked beyond lovely, and Edmund hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from finding her throughout dinner. Which hadn’t been difficult since she’d been seated directly across from him. That had made conversation with her all but impossible, but he’d been able to look his fill.

  “Shall we adjourn to the drawing room with the ladies?” Cosford asked, standing.

  Edmund kept himself from racing out the door. Even so, he was the second gentleman to leave the dining room and somehow the first to enter the drawing room.

  He didn’t have to look for the dowager duchess because she was lingering near the door, as if she’d been about to leave. Edmund thanked fortune that she hadn’t. He didn’t squander a moment, moving to speak with her.

  “I hope you weren’t about to retire,” he said with a gentle smile.

  “I was actually. It’s been a long day of travel.”

  “It has indeed. Would it be terrible of me to shamelessly ask you to reconsider? I’d hoped to partner you in a dance. I remember you being an excellent dancer.”

  Her gorgeous gray eyes sparked with surprise as her delicate sable brows pitched into a slight V. “We danced together?”

  “Sadly, we did not,” he said as the last of the gentlemen came into the drawing room.

  She narrowed her eyes briefly. “Then how do you know I’m a good dancer?”

  “You were quite the toast of your first Season. As a young buck, I was aware of all the marriageable ladies.” That wasn’t true at all—he’d paid attention to none but her.

  A faint blush stained her cheeks, and she glanced away. “That was some time ago. I’m surprised you remember.”

  “Will you stay and dance?” he asked. “I understand this party isn’t quite what you expected, but surely you’d enjoy dancing.”

  “I don’t know.” Everything about her tone and her demeanor, particularly the slight dip in her shoulders, screamed hesitation. “I’m not here to make a match.”

  “Even if you were, who’s to say you’d find one?” He smiled. “What I mean is that there are no requirements, no guarantees. If you want to simply dance, then just dance.”

  “You don’t think someone might expect…?” She didn’t say what, but Edmund could guess.

  “I think if someone propositions you—for anything—you should honestly tell them you aren’t interested. And if someone persists, I hope you’ll tell me so I can make sure they stop.”

  One of her brows arched. “You’re offering to protect me from unwanted advances?”

  “I am. Should the need arise, I would consider it my honor to intervene on your behalf.”

  A smile teased her lips, and Edmund’s heart stalled for a moment. “That’s rather scandalous on its own. But then this entire party is incredibly scandalous.”

  Edmund made a noise in his throat. He found Society and its rules so tiresome. “It shouldn’t be. Everyone here is an adult with the intelligence and ability to make their own decisions. There are no never-before married ladies who need worry about being ruined.”

  “There are, however, never-before married men,” she said sardonically. “What will be done to guard their reputations?” She rolled her eyes.

  Edmund laughed. “That includes me. Perhaps I could count on you to protect me as well.”

  “What should I do, give them the cut direct? Call them out?” She shook her head. “You could have an assignation with every woman in this house, and no one would care. Well, they might care, but your reputation wouldn’t suffer. Indeed, it might actually be celebrated.”

  He grimaced. “Not at all fair, is it?”

  “No.”

  “Which is why this party is just a little brilliant, isn’t it?” he asked in a hushed tone. He glanced around the room at the men and women gathered. “No one’s reputation is at stake.”

  “So easy for you to say,” she said. “A woman must always be on her guard, even at a party where she is expected to misbehave.”

  He blinked at her, straightening. “Is it misbehavior? I don’t view it that way.”

  “Knowing you were a student of my husband, I can assume you are rather forward in your thinking—but you are an anomaly among your sex, wouldn’t you agree?” She stared at him expectantly, and once again, he was struck by the depth and beauty of her gaze.

  Unfortunately, he would. “I do believe that most, if not all, the gentlemen here are of a similar mind.”

  “I should hope so. Otherwise, none of our reputations—those of the ladies, of course—are safe.” She was disappointingly correct. “I’ll dance with you,” she whispered.

  Edmund’s blood rushed as he snapped his gaze to hers. “I am honored.”

  “Attention, if you please,” Lord Cosford called out. “Lady Cosford has an announcement.” He gestured to his wife, who stood beside him.

  Lady Cosford smiled up at him in appreciation before addressing the room at large. “Before w
e begin the dancing, I wanted to share that tomorrow after breakfast, we will have a display of talents. If you have a particular talent you’d like to perform, please see me this evening. I am sorry the weather will keep us indoors, but this will be most diverting.”

  “Oh dear,” the dowager duchess said, drawing Edmund’s attention.

  He pivoted toward her. “Is something amiss?”

  “I believe my cousin will want me to perform something on the pianoforte, but I haven’t played in some time.”

  “I’m sure she won’t press you.” Edmund wasn’t sure at all—the woman had invited her very own cousin to this party without divulging the entire truth. “And if she does, remember that I am here to protect you.”

  The dowager duchess laughed. The rich sound made Edmund wish he could stay in this moment forever. “How will you do that?”

  “I could ensure the pianoforte isn’t working tomorrow.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  Her eyes widened, but she laughed again. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I most certainly would.”

  “No, please don’t. Perhaps someone else will play. Indeed, perhaps there will be enough people wanting to perform that she won’t even ask me.” She sounded quite hopeful.

  “I plan to do so.”

  Surprise flickered across her face and parted her pink lips. “Will you? Not the pianoforte, I assume, since you may very well be disabling it.”

  He chuckled. “Not the pianoforte.”

  “What, then?”

  He smiled at her. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The music began, and Edmund held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”