Eden. Her very name meant paradise. He was shocked at how attracted he was to her. Virgins just weren’t his cup of anything. Not only were they a dire threat to one’s bachelorhood, but they were dreadful dull between the sheets. Once, and only once, had he been willing to trade his freedom for the privilege of deflowering and teaching a virgin.
As luck would have it, he looked down just in time to see Lady Montgomery passing below. Shoving back from the rail, he went to find the gentlemen’s lounge. At least there he wouldn’t be subject to fate’s constant mockery.
In truth, all was as it ought to be. He’d made the right choice, and so had she. Nevertheless, the result of the whole debacle was that he’d gone from being a perfectly happy man of the world to this, a lonely, sentimental fool who envied his best friend’s happiness.
I’m becoming bloody morose. It was unacceptable. He entered the masculine haven, taking comfort in the familiar scents of pipe smoke and brandy. He had more than enough to occupy him without miring himself in misery a second time. There were the preparations for his cousin to join the Sisters of the Holy Trinity, and there was Miss Trouvère’s school.
Eden…
Snapping his fingers, he summoned a servant and requested a decanter of brandy and a large glass. That he couldn’t put the woman out of his mind was a bad sign. In that moment, he determined to select another female to act as the new cornerstone upon which to rebuild his disreputable name. While he didn’t believe her innocent of all feminine plotting, he did believe her undeserving of deliberate ruination.
He would find someone else.
Percy’s head ached abominably. It was as if boulders ground against one another beneath his eyelids. In his youth, recovery from a night of carousing had been a simple matter. Not so much anymore.
But it had been worth it, because this time he’d gotten somewhere.
He wouldn’t tell Fanny yet, not until he was sure, but it looked like their luck had finally changed. Lulled into a false sense of security by Percy’s cesspit of a reputation, an unsavory fellow named Rowell had boasted of acquiring goods fitting the girl’s description of Abigail. The man Rowell worked for had very particular tastes and offered rich rewards to those who could indulge them. He must inform Loxdon, the investigator assisting him in the search, so the proper watches could be set on the man. With any luck, the blackguard would lead them straight to the girl and the monster who had bought her.
Spurred to action by the thought, Percy flung off the coverlet and sat up, wincing at both the pain behind his eyes and the stench rising off him. It appeared his man had managed to get him out of his clothes at least, but he was in a sorry state. Coffee and a bath were needed. Especially the bath. The reek of liquor, smoke, and some woman’s sickly-sweet perfume yelled in his nostrils.
Just as he opened his mouth to bellow for his valet, Seamus opened the door. “Good morning, my lord. Allow me to fetch your robe.” The moment his master was decent, Seamus opened the door to usher in a maid bearing a coffee service, as well as several footmen lugging buckets of steaming hot water.
“Good man,” murmured Percy, vowing to raise his wages. As with all good valets, the man had anticipated his master’s wants and needs. The coffee cleared the lingering cobwebs and allowed him to nibble at his toast without ill effect. Soaking in the warm water eased the complaints from his stiff, abused limbs. Neither did anything, however, to ease his mind.
It had been a fortnight, yet Eden-blasted-Lowther still occupied his thoughts in the most infuriating manner. He’d be playing cards, and the memory of her smile would intrude without warning. He’d be riding, and the color of the sky or a cluster of bluebells would put him in mind of her eyes. He’d lie down to sleep, but the moment his lids closed he would recall her wounded look when he’d accused her of being deliberately cruel. Occupying himself with feverish activity hadn’t worked, either. Her touch had stirred him as none other. In fact, the memory of it was stirring him even now.
“Bollocks.” Muttering a steady stream of invective, he hauled himself up and out of the tub, wrapped the sheet about his waist, and yelled for Seamus. He prayed God the man wouldn’t notice his half-aroused state. Confound the woman! One bloody encounter, and she’d managed to set her hook in him. He must go and see Loxdon, after which he would find the nearest pub and take the hair of the dog. Maybe that would bring him back to reason.
Three hours later, Percy found himself on the doorstep of Eden’s house without really knowing how he’d gotten there or why he was there to begin with. Whether it was to prove, in the light of day, that she wouldn’t be as beautiful as he remembered, or to satisfy some irrational impulse originating from his nether region, he didn’t know. All he knew was he must see her.
His gut was tight and his head full of gauze all over a silly female who didn’t even like him. Perhaps that’s what bothers me most. Am I truly so vain? He was shown into a parlor and told to wait. A quarter of an hour later, he bowed deeply before Lady Catherine Lowther, Eden’s stepmother. “I am your most humble servant, madam, and I thank you for receiving me.”
To his surprise, the stately looking woman greeted him with but the shallowest of curtsies and cool cordiality rather than the effusive reception he’d anticipated. “Well met, sir,” said an unsmiling Lady Catherine. Marquess or not, he was clearly not welcome. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
He blinked at the shortness of her address and blurted, “I’ve come to call on Miss Lowther.”
The woman didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Why?”
Still standing as she’d not yet invited him to be seated, Percy flushed. Not because of her blunt, almost rude manner, but rather because damned if he hadn’t come on impulse without any explanation for himself. “Because…because I wanted to…to…”
“Please excuse my lateness.” Gliding past her stepmother, whose glare could have taken the hide off an elephant, Eden waited for him to bow before curtsying in return. “I was just now informed of your arrival. I can only assume you came to offer an apology?”
“Well…yes, actually,” Percy replied, eyeing Lady Catherine, who appeared on the verge of apoplexy. How odd she should be so hostile toward him when any other mama in England would be giddy to have him standing in her parlor. “I was unconscionably rude the night we met,” he continued, addressing Eden. “I’ve come to cast myself upon your mercy and humbly beg forgiveness.”
“Very well, you are forgiven. Now, if you will excuse me, I—”
“I also came to ask if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Latham lawn luncheon this Thursday,” he said in a rush, desperate to keep her in the room and talking to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Catherine’s lips compress into a thin line. “Both of you, of course,” he amended, including her.
Lady Catherine opened her mouth to no doubt deliver some polite excuse, but before she could do so, Eden replied with, “We would be delighted.”
A quiet, strangled noise from the older woman let him know Eden would be hearing about this later. But the milk had already been spilled. Eden’s acceptance could not be retracted without great awkwardness and embarrassment. He looked to his hostess. Would her dislike of him overcome good manners? Had he really fallen so far?
After a moment, Lady Catherine nodded grudging assent. “We would indeed,” she answered without inflection. “Will you stay for tea, my lord?”
“I’m afraid I cannot,” he said, refusing her clipped offer with an easy smile. “I was only passing through and have other business to which I must attend. But I shall call again on Thursday to escort you to the luncheon,” he promised. “Ladies, it has been a pleasure.”
Bowing, he excused himself and walked out, unable to keep from grinning. Damned if he hadn’t just run the bloody gauntlet! As he climbed into his carriage, he reflected upon his sudden lightness of heart. He’d come, he’d seen, he’d conquered. She’d accepted his invitation despite her warden’s obvious disapproval, which meant she must like him a little.