In Love With a Charming Brunette Page 3

  “It’s… lovely,” she breathed.

  “Allow me?” He held out his hand, and she handed him the necklace while she turned and presented her back to him. She waited patiently until she felt his gentle touch at the base of her neck. Gooseflesh instantly skidded across her skin. “I saw it in the window of a local jeweler’s shop and I knew it would look perfect on you.”

  When his hands fell away, she turned back to face him.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, although even as he said it, his focus was on her. “Do you know the story behind the sand dollar?” he asked.

  “No, but once when I was on holiday in the Greek Isles…” A dark eyebrow quirked upward, so she quickly amended her words. “That is, when I accompanied Lady Beth and her family some time ago, I saw some on the beach there.”

  He grinned and she breathed a little easier. “It’s rumored that it was how the mermaids paid the people of the lost city of Atlantis.”

  She couldn’t help but smile in return. “I never pictured you for a romantic, Freddie the valet, but that’s a very poetic view you have, for some would argue that Atlantis never existed.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “But then, how boring life would be if we ceased to believe in the unimaginable?”

  Mercy tilted her head, realizing that there was more depth to this man than she’d originally suspected. He was certainly a far cry from the fictional Mr. William Elliot. He had more layers than she believed and it was rather… intriguing.

  “Would you care to stay for tea?”

  The invitation slipped out before she could stop herself, but now that the words were said she couldn’t very well take them back. He hesitated, and she thought he might decline, but then he inclined his head graciously and said, “I would enjoy that very much, Miss Albright. Thank you.”

  ***

  Malcolm followed behind the alluring Miss Albright and he couldn’t help but enjoy the slight sway of her hips, the enticing curve of her derriere through her gown…

  He mentally chided himself for his wayward thoughts. He’d promised himself that seduction was out of the question, and his remorse at chasing her away from the party last night had been genuine. When he realized she’d retired not long after their passionate kiss in that shadowed alcove, a surge of guilt had shot through him. He’d meant to beguile the lady, not issue another suggestion to join him in his bedchamber even if the idea had further merit the more he was around her.

  For a ladies’ companion, he had to admit that her employers treated her rather well. He’d never known a woman in such a humble position to dress as well as the rest of the aristocracy, nor join them on such extravagant family holidays. Normally, they were poor relations that were thrown upon a household to salvage their reputation. However, in his experience, most were rather ill-treated.

  Once Miss Albright had led him into the front salon, she rang for a maid and ordered refreshments. After the girl left with a slight curtsy, he asked the most obvious question, “How long have you been a companion to your mistress?

  The lady stiffened slightly, but she said, “Not very long, although I’ve known Beth since we were children.”

  “Who is her relation?” he prodded.

  “She’s the daughter of the Duke of Pinefield, but we are here under the patronage of Lady Margaret Franson. And we would like to keep our time here rather secret. I’m sure you understand.”

  His brows rose, although he wasn’t about to deny such a request. “Indeed. I’ve long thought young women were forced to endure more harsh rules than were necessary, but even then, I’m not sure some place like the Mansion was the first place to prove your independence.”

  “I’m afraid time was not on our side to make alternate plans. We have duties that require our attention when we return, so it was the most logical choice.”

  He wasn’t sure he would consider anything that transpired at the Mansion logical, for it had quickly become renowned for its illicit house parties. It was one reason he tended to enjoy more time here than in London. Although, of late, the thrill that had once gone hand in hand with being a bachelor had started to dim somewhat.

  “What about you?”

  He lifted a brow when her words sparked a challenging reply.

  “Which of the two gentlemen that you’re staying with do you work for?”

  Luckily, Malcolm had already discussed what he’d told the lady to both Crawford and Devon, so their stories should coincide should they ever encounter the lady and need to corroborate his lie. “Lord Jacob Sawyer, the Earl of Devon. I’ve also known his family for years, which is why it appears that I get special treatment.”

  “And the other?” she prodded.

  “That would be his cousin, David Bloom, Baron Crawford.”

  The arrival of the teacart interrupted the conversation, but once she said she would serve them, the maid departed and left them alone once more.

  “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

  “Neither for me.”

  As she handed him the cup and saucer, she took care to avoid any personal contact. Next, she poured herself a cup, and then she selected a cucumber sandwich from the tray. He did the same.

  Malcolm had just lifted the pastry to his mouth when he glanced up and saw the lady’s eyes close momentarily in pleasurable abandon, before her pink tongue darted out to lick the stray crumbs from her lips.

  He froze, for it was easily one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen in his life.

  “I heard we’d had a guest.”

  Malcolm hadn’t been prepared for the feminine voice, and abruptly dropped his sandwich, which landed on the carpet at his feet with a decided plop.

  At least I saved the saucer from a worse fate, he thought with a wince as he bent down to pick up the fallen cucumber, which had bounced out onto the rug.

  Once that was done, he stood and greeted the lady who’d entered the room and watched him with an expression akin to amusement. She wore a light blue dress that brought out her equally blue eyes, and her blond hair was styled in a particularly comely fashion. But even her pale beauty couldn’t compare to Miss Albright’s dark coloring.

  She advanced toward him boldly and offered a rather mocking smile. “You must be Freddie the valet that I’ve heard so much about.”

  “Indeed?” He glanced toward Miss Albright who suddenly had trouble meeting his gaze. Not only that, but she blushed rather appealingly as well. “You are correct on that score, but I had no idea I had been the topic of conversation.” He refocused on the newcomer. “Who might you be?”

  “I’m Lady Beth Franson.” She walked over to the teacart and helped herself to a sandwich of her own and a cup of tea with extra sugar and cream. While Malcolm noted her figure was still trim, if she continued to enjoy such habits, they would likely catch up to her, no matter how much she tightened her stays. “I daresay I’ve been curious about your companions. Might you tell me more about them?”

  After Malcolm supplied his tale to her, she tapped her bottom lip. “Hmm. I wonder if it would be possible for you to introduce us?”

  “Of course,” he murmured. “Are you going to the dinner this evening at the Mansion?”

  “We are,” Lady Beth said brightly.

  His gaze shifted to Miss Albright. “Then I’m already looking forward to it.”

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice Freddie staring at you this afternoon! Why, he positively devoured you with his eyes.”

  Mercy rolled her eyes as she walked beside her friend that evening. Thankfully, the rain had ceased so that they could enjoy another brisk walk to the Mansion. “Aren’t you being just a bit dramatic?”

  “Not at all,” she said with a delicate sniff. “I know a man’s interest when I see it, and believe me when I say it wouldn’t take much to bring that one to heel. And even though he may be a commoner, he is rather dashing.”

  Mercy pictured an obedient dog lapping at her ankles. “I don’t want to ‘br
ing him to heel,’ as you so eloquently phrase it.”

  Beth stopped and set her hands on her hips. “I thought you were here to have some fun. So far I’ve seen nothing that proves that.”

  “I am,” Mercy contradicted. “But that doesn’t mean I should begin an affair when nothing shall come of it.”

  “Why should every encounter with the opposite sex mean anything but a mutual benefit? Surely men aren’t the only ones who are allowed their bit of enjoyment in the bedchamber. I’ve had several glorious lovers, and don’t regret any of them.”

  Mercy’s mouth went lax. She’d always known Beth to be rather forward, but to hear her speak in such bold terms was quite shocking. “But don’t you worry about becoming with…child?” She nearly whispered the last.

  “You realize that there are measures in which to protect yourself, right?”

  Heat flooded Mercy’s cheeks. “I’ve heard of such things, yes.”

  Beth sighed then withdrew something from her reticule and pressed it into Mercy’s hand. “Keep this in case you decide to follow through with this little flirtation you have going on with your charming valet.” With a wink, she started walking again.

  Mercy glanced down at the item in her palm and her face instantly burned brighter. She quickly shoved it into her reticule before she scurried forward and caught up with Beth.

  As they arrived at the Mansion, Mercy had to admit that it was just as impressive as it had been the night before. She wondered who might own such a prestigious residence and would be willing to open their doors to such an event.

  Instead of being shown into the ballroom, the guests were led to the expansive dining hall. She marveled at the tall oak beam ceilings overhead and the large, extravagant Persian rug that lay beneath a mahogany table. It could easily fit a hundred guests and was adorned with towering floral displays. But since this dinner was a more intimate affair, only a select few had been invited. A stone hearth nearly eclipsed one end of the massive room while a pipe organ took up the opposite end. A servant in the same dark blue and white livery sat there and played a soft tune while the guests took their seats at the table. A folded card in elegant script proclaimed the arrangements on each delicate Wedgwood china plate with a row of gleaming silverware on either side.

  As Mercy sat, she knew this event would rival anything that the Royal family might have held in London, for she had counted at least twelve courses on the menu. She glanced toward the head of the table, hoping to catch a glimpse of their host, but the seat continued to remain empty.

  However, as three men in formal attire strode into view, her attention was vastly diverted. How was it that Freddie was able to captivate her just by walking into a room? But with his towering height, muscular build, and dark hair that threatened to be as unruly as the man himself, it was no wonder he demanded attention.

  “They’re here!” Beth hissed in her ear.

  They both watched as the gentlemen took their places directly across from them. Unfortunately, it was too far away to partake of any private conversation, but when the object of her fascination glanced up and his brown eyes heated with a touch of mischief, she realized that his presence alone would be enough to discomfit her throughout the evening.

  He leaned over and murmured something to one of the men at his side and his eyes flickered across the table where his lips curved upward into a rather smug smile. Mercy would have given anything to know what Freddie had told him.

  “Aren’t they divine?” Beth noted. “I’ll take either one. Or both,” she added with a decided lick of her lips.

  Mercy didn’t even attempt to reply, merely held her tongue as several footmen arrived to pour the wine, and then another set served the first course, which consisted of a French style haute cuisine with canapé hors d’oeuvres. This was followed by a barley soup, poached salmon, and steamed vegetables, while the main courses consisted of lamb, duck, or roasted squab on wilted watercress with boiled potatoes, salad and celery. After dinner biscuits with chartreuse jelly and pain a la Duchesse with French vanilla cream were served with various fruits and cheeses.

  The last course would, of course, be port and cigars for the gentlemen, while the ladies retired to the main parlor for conversation and perhaps a bit of cordial.

  But through it all, Mercy had trouble appreciating the fine fare, for she could feel Freddie’s intense regard. Every time he tipped up his glass, which was often, those brown eyes were upon her. She knew this even when Beth hadn’t bothered to murmur about his interest all evening.

  By the time the ladies departed, Mercy’s nerves were strung as tight as a bowstring.

  Beth wound her arm through Mercy’s as they left, but when Mercy would have followed the rest of the ladies to the parlor, Beth steered her away from the crowd.

  “What are you doing?” she asked warily, feeling that her friend had a plan that Mercy was not yet aware of.

  “Nothing, really.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Except that I may have slipped a note to Lord Devon.”

  Mercy’s mouth fell open. “Beth! You didn’t! You haven’t even been properly introduced.”

  “What better way to become acquainted? And,” she added with a light smirk, “I asked him and his party to meet us outside on the ballroom terrace.”

  “Why ever would you do that?” Mercy chided, and yet, she yearned to pass a mirror so that she could check her appearance. “Are you trying to ruin our reputations past the point of repair?”

  Beth sighed heavily. “What’s the point of keeping a perfect reputation if your fate has already been decided for you?” she questioned.

  Mercy had nothing to say to that, for her friend was absolutely right. While her intended might cry off from the engagement if their indiscretions were uncovered, it was unlikely that he would act on the matter, for a cuckold betrothed was not something one wanted bandied about. And when it came to the Viscount of Westbook, the odds that he would shirk his duties to his late father were rather slim.

  So why did she continue to concern herself about having a bit of fun?

  She stiffened her shoulders and said, “Indeed. It’s about time I remembered why I was so determined to come to Brighton.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Beth returned enthusiastically.

  Arm in arm, they headed for their prospective entertainment.

  ***

  “At least it’s stopped raining, or I wouldn’t have agreed to this ridiculous, clandestine meeting.”

  Lord Crawford snorted. “That’s an outright lie, Devon, for you’ve always been more concerned about a lady in a pretty dress than the weather.”

  The earl rolled his eyes, but Malcolm noted that neither did he deny the claim. Then again, as long as he’d been friends with Jacob and David, they had been confirmed bachelors, preferring to live life to the fullest. Until recently, he had been the same, but as his mother had begun to pressure him to fulfill his familial duties, he’d begun thinking of the future. While it was assumed he would marry Lady Mercy Granville, he hadn’t yet gotten down on one knee to profess his undying devotion. However, that likely wouldn’t come to pass anytime soon for he didn’t even know what the chit looked like.

  And then his thoughts turned to Miss Albright, and the idea of becoming leg shackled wasn’t quite as horrible as he’d imagined. He’d known her for less than two days, and yet he could tell that her character was more genuine than anyone he’d ever met. Not only was she lovely on the outside, but he also discerned that her heart was pure.

  So, in essence, she would do well to steer clear of him.

  Although, the moment she came into view with her companion and her sparkling hazel eyes met his, Malcolm couldn’t really remember why he should stay away from her.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” the blonde greeted with a lilt to her voice. “I appreciate you meeting Miss Albright and I.” She turned her blue focus on Malcolm. “If Freddie would be so kind as to offer the proper introductions?”

  Once that was
done, Beth gravitated toward Devon and Crawford while Malcolm took hold of Miss Albright’s elbow and steered her toward the other end of the terrace. “You were a vision this evening,” he murmured.

  She glanced down at her white dress threaded with silver and said, “Thank you.”

  He suddenly winced. “Would you mind if we dispensed with the formality, Faith?”

  She seemed to consider this. “I would be amenable to that. I already call you Freddie, after all.”

  “It makes me sound as though I’m in short pants again, but I suppose that’s my name.”

  She laughed and the sound shot straight down to his groin. “Indeed. Although my name sounds as though I should be committed to a convent.”

  His lips lifted at the corners. “I’m very glad you haven’t.”

  He would have liked to chat more, but their trio of friends came over. As usual, Lady Beth appeared to be the chosen leader, for she spoke up. “The earl and baron have entertained a lovely idea. Sea bathing… at night.”

  Malcolm glanced at Faith to gain her reaction.

  “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

  “Not as long as we stay close to the shore,” Crawford returned.

  She looked uncertain. “I don’t know…”

  “Come on!” Beth cajoled. “You are more accomplished in the water than I am, and you know the waters of Brighton since we used to come here often as children.” She offered a personal wink. “Besides, you’ve been yearning to take a dip since you arrived. Now is your chance without waiting for a bathing machine to come open.”

  Faith seemed to consider this, but a smile finally spread across her face as she said, “I think it sounds like a lovely idea.” She turned to him with those mesmerizing eyes. “What do you think, Freddie?”

  He bowed slightly. “Where you go, I shall follow.”

  ***

  Mercy stood on a secluded section of the sandy beach, enjoying the feel of the sand between her toes. Her shoes and stockings had been discarded the moment they arrived. With a full moon out, the shoreline looked like a silvery paradise just waiting to be explored.