Читать книгу The Scandalous Lord Lanchester - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 9

It was yet another perfect day by the lake. In the warm sunshine the water looked impossibly blue and at times the sunbeams seemed to dance on the surface like a shower of diamonds. Mariah looked around her. Theirs was not the only party to take advantage of the coolness to be found by the lakeside and several ladies and gentlemen strolled arm in arm. Out on the lake itself there were various kinds of small boats: some being rowed by eager amateurs, as well as those plied by professionals eager for trade.

‘My nephew was so distressed to miss the picnic,’ Lady Jenkins said, taking a seat next to Mariah. ‘He met with an accident while out walking this morning and was obliged to visit the doctor.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’ Mariah looked at her in genuine concern. ‘Did Lieutenant Grainger suffer a fall?’

‘That is the most distressing thing about the whole affair,’ Lady Jenkins said, lowering her voice. ‘He begged me not to make a fuss. I was all for sending for the authorities, but he would not have it.’

‘I fear I do not understand your meaning?’ Mariah arched her fine brows.

‘It is quite shocking. Peter was set upon by ruffians, my dear. He says there must have been two of them for they knocked him to the ground and kicked him. He fought back and they ran off, but he has suffered some injuries and was feeling unwell when we left him this morning.’

‘Oh, what a shame,’ Mariah said with ready sympathy. ‘That is a great deal too bad. In the isolation of the hills one has to take care, for there may occasionally be bandits who will attack an unwary traveller, but here at the lakes—I have not heard of such a thing before.’

‘It has made me uneasy,’ Lady Jenkins agreed. ‘I have almost decided to cut short our visit here and move on to Venice.’

‘That would be a pity,’ Mariah said. ‘Though Venice is beautiful, of course, but … perhaps it might be best to speak to the authorities. If there are thieves in the area, they ought to be apprehended.’

‘It is most odd. Peter says he was not robbed, simply knocked to the ground, beaten—and then abandoned.’

‘How very strange.’

‘Yes, I thought so. One would almost suppose him to have an enemy, but he will not hear of it—and he would not wish me to speak of the affair, but I wanted you to know why he had cried off. I know he was looking forward to seeing you again so very much.’

‘It is a shame, of course. However, I am sure we shall meet again soon—unless you feel compelled to leave for Venice immediately?’

Smiling, Mariah rose from her seat, nodded to her hostess and walked slowly towards Andrew, who was standing with Sylvia at the edge of the lake, watching some children playing with a ball.

‘It is a perfect day for being on the water, is it not?’ she asked, then, frowning, ‘Have you heard about the attack on Lieutenant Grainger? Lady Jenkins is quite distressed.’

‘Yes, of course. Lady Jenkins was good enough to invite me to stay with them.’

‘I had not realised that,’ Mariah said. ‘I might have invited you to stay with us.’

‘Had I not already accepted Lady Jenkins’s invitation I should have been happy to do so. I am pleased to tell you that Grainger’s pride is more bruised than his arm, though he wears it in a sling for a slight sprain and was advised to rest.’

‘What is that?’ Sylvia asked. ‘Lady Jenkins told me he sent his apologies, but nothing more.’

‘I dare say he would rather not make a fuss—but apparently he was attacked while out walking early this morning. Some ruffians knocked him to the ground and beat him, then suddenly ran off.’

‘Was he robbed?’ Sylvia looked alarmed.

‘I think not. It was a senseless attack for no reason—unless Lieutenant Grainger has an enemy, of course.’

‘That is so shocking,’ Sylvia said and looked at Andrew. ‘I have not heard of such a thing happening here before—have you?’

‘It is rare, I think,’ Andrew replied. He hesitated, as if he would say more, then changed his mind. ‘He was walking in an isolated area, I believe. You must be safe enough here amongst so many.’

‘Yes, but still …’ Sylvia shook her head in distress. ‘It is disturbing none the less.’

‘Yes, it is a little,’ Mariah said. ‘Lieutenant Grainger was obliged to seek the services of a doctor. Lady Jenkins is distressed and thinks of removing to Venice sooner than she had planned.’

‘I do not blame her,’ Sylvia said. ‘Such things make one uncomfortable. I shall speak to Hubert later. We are engaged to Count Paolo later this week at his home in Milan. He is holding a masked ball in our honour, as you know, Mariah—but after that I, too, may think of repairing to Venice sooner than we had planned.’

‘I should not let one incident overset you, ma’am,’ Andrew said. ‘I dare say it may have been some louts who’d overimbibed and thought to take their opportunity. Such things happen anywhere at any time, you know. Even in London there was a time when the Mohawks, marauding louts, some of them meant to be gentlemen, made the streets unsafe because of their drunken behaviour. I am certain both you and Mariah are safe enough, providing you do not walk alone at night—or in isolated places during the day.’

‘Mariah walks alone sometimes during the day.’ Sylvia looked at her anxiously. ‘I think you should be more careful in future, dearest. If there are unscrupulous rogues about, you must wait until you have an escort.’

‘I was thinking of walking to the far shore,’ Mariah said and turned her bright gaze on Andrew. ‘Would you oblige me, sir?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish it,’ Andrew said and turned to Sylvia. ‘You will excuse us, ma’am—unless you wish to accompany us?’

‘It would be too far for me,’ Sylvia replied. ‘Besides, Lady Jenkins spoke of taking a trip on the water and I think I should like to go, too. Enjoy yourselves, but please do not wear yourself out, Mariah. Remember that we leave for Milan in the morning.’

‘I shall not be in the least tired. I have far too much energy. If I do not use some of it, I cannot rest at night.’

Mariah took Andrew’s arm and they set out together, admiring various aspects of the scenery. She enjoyed the feeling of being close to him, her heart beating a little faster than normal. Not until some minutes had passed and they had seen no one else for a while did Mariah speak of what was on her mind.

‘I have decided I must marry soon,’ she announced and felt Andrew’s little start of surprise. He glanced at her and she lifted her fine eyebrows, giving him a provocative look. ‘I hope to announce my engagement on my return to England or perhaps before we reach Paris.’

He arched one eyebrow. ‘Am I to wish you happy? May I know the name of the fortunate gentleman?’

‘Oh, I have not yet decided who I shall marry,’ Mariah said with an innocent air. ‘I need a husband, Andrew. I am tired of being a widow and wish for the comforts of marriage. Tell me, what do you know of Lieutenant Grainger? I should like your opinion of his character and whether you think he would make me a suitable husband.’

‘Has he spoken to you?’ Andrew’s gaze narrowed.

‘Not in so many words,’ Mariah said and dimpled naughtily. ‘Lieutenant Grainger has been very complimentary and his aunt tells me he was devastated that he had to cry off today. I dare say a little encouragement from me might bring him to the point—but you shall guide me.’

‘Does it have to be so immediate?’ Andrew asked, a hint of impatience in his tone. ‘Why the hurry, Mariah? Do you feel yourself in danger of being abducted again?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said airily. ‘No, it is simply that I wish to be married again. I want someone I can rely on, a strong arm to support me—the kind of companionship that comes from living with a man.’

‘Are you sure you are not reacting to that unfortunate business at home?’

‘I do not think so,’ Mariah said, considering. ‘Yes, I was in some distress for a few days after the event. I was unfortunately unwell while I stayed with Jane and you, Andrew, and I did feel vulnerable for a time, but I have recovered from that now, I assure you.’

‘When we met the other morning at your friend’s villa, you seemed to be in some distress,’ Andrew said thoughtfully.

‘Was I? Yes, perhaps.’ Mariah sighed. ‘I still feel sad when I think of my late husband. Contrary to most people’s belief, I loved Winston—perhaps not in the way I might love a younger man, but I was certainly very fond of him. I do miss him still.’

‘Why did you marry him?’

‘Partly because he asked when I was feeling piqued. You know Justin Avonlea asked me to marry him because his father had lost much of my fortune? I was annoyed because I knew he did not care for me—and there were other reasons. However, I was happy in my short marriage and I have become bored with being a widow.’

‘Might you not regret it if you married simply because you are bored with your present life?’

‘Perhaps.’ Her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘What else would you advise—should I take a lover, perhaps? Can you find me a suitable candidate who would oblige me without demanding too much?’

‘I think you have a wicked tongue, Mariah.’ Andrew gave a reluctant laugh. ‘It is as well that I know you are jesting.’

‘Am I? Are you perfectly sure? You do not know me that well, Andrew,’ Mariah teased. ‘I should like to know your true opinion of my character. Do tell, Andrew! Am I a wicked flirt? No better than I ought to be?’ She tipped her head to one side, a challenge in her eyes and her lips slightly parted. ‘Or am I a featherbrained goose?’

‘You do not need me to answer that. If I were a vain man, I might think you were deliberately provoking me.’

‘Perhaps I am.’ Mariah tipped her head to one side. ‘Yet I fear it is beyond me. You, my best of friends, are far too sensible to be turned from your purpose by such a flighty jade as I.’

‘Had I not other things on my mind I might take you at your word, Mariah.’

‘Indeed? I have sensed something, Andrew. Will you not tell me? If it is a matter of money, I might …’ She faltered as he frowned. ‘No? Yet I suspect something is bothering you—can you not unburden yourself to a friend?’

‘My problem is mine to solve, Mariah. I fear if you look for a proposal from me I cannot oblige, much as I might wish things otherwise.’

‘That is plain speaking,’ Mariah said, laughing to hide the sudden strike of pain. ‘What a shocking disappointment! So, if you are not on the marriage market, for the moment that leaves Lieutenant Grainger … I ask you in all seriousness, what is your opinion of that gentleman? You did say you would help me to make a good selection when last we spoke of marriage.’

‘I could not advise you on the merits or otherwise of that particular gentleman, Mariah. If you are serious, I will enquire into his prospects and his background. Indeed, he seems respectable enough—but I am not certain he would suit you. You might find him a little worthy.’

‘Damning indeed! Worthy? How dull, Andrew. While I would not wish for a black sheep, a slightly grey one might do well enough,’ Mariah said, her fingers pressing lightly on his arm. Why could the foolish man not tell her what was troubling him? Any other man would seize the opportunity she’d given him to flirt and steal a kiss. ‘Can you not think of someone you might recommend, Andrew? Will you not save me from taking the next fortune hunter that crosses my path?’

‘Are you playing a game with me?’ Andrew stopped walking, turning to look into her eyes. ‘If this is your idea of amusement, we may banter and then forget it—but if you are in earnest I shall give the matter some serious thought. However, I think you must give yourself a little more time.’

Mariah pouted. ‘Must I? Very well, I am prepared to wait a few months longer if I must, but please take me seriously. If you cannot help me, I may have to decide for myself—and then I might make a mistake. How would you feel with that on your conscience? I am a lonely widow at the mercy of unscrupulous men—and I asked you for help. Ignore me at your peril.’

A gleam of amusement sprang up in his eyes and for a moment she felt he was close to taking hold of her and giving her a good shake.

‘You deserve a spanking, Mariah.’

‘You wouldn’t dare …’

‘Do not be too certain.’

Mariah laughed. ‘Very well, I shall not tease you, Andrew—but I am serious. I believe I shall not be happy until I find a husband I can admire and like.’

‘You are serious now, I think.’

‘Yes—and I need your help. Truly I do.’

‘Very well. Give me two months after we all return to England, Mariah. If I cannot come up with a suggestion that suits you in that time …’ He shook his head, a reluctant smile in his eyes. ‘You are a minx, Lady Fanshawe. I wish I might speak freely …’ He saw the question in her eyes. ‘My hands are tied for the moment.

Come, can you truly not wait a little longer to find a husband who will love and care for you?’

‘If he was the right man, I would wait for ever,’ Mariah said and for once she was not laughing. Her heart raced. Surely he must know what was in her mind? She could not be plainer. ‘Do you think I might find love, Andrew? I have sometimes thought that I must be unlovable since no one seems to care for anything but my fortune.’

‘Ridiculous,’ he replied, a frown creasing his brow. ‘You must know you are beautiful and charming. I dare say most men fall in love with you—but some are in desperate need of your fortune. Others are gamblers and you could not trust them even if they cared for you. However, I dare say there are at least twenty gentlemen I could bring to mind once we are in London.’

‘Then you advise me to wait?’ Mariah nodded. ‘Well, I dare say I should need time to choose my bride clothes and have them made. Very well, I shall take your advice, my good friend.’

‘Is there anything else your ladyship requires me to pack?’

‘No, I do not think so …’

Mariah sighed as her gaze fell on the small trunk, which was to accompany them on their visit to Milan. They would stay at the count’s large house in Milan for two nights before returning to his villa to complete their stay in Italy. In less than three weeks they would remove to Venice for a few days before leaving for France. Sylvia wished to spend a little time shopping in Paris and after that they would return home to England.

What was she supposed to do with her life then? Lucinda had said she would be welcome to make her home with her and Justin, but though Mariah would be happy to visit for a while, she needed her own home. She had paid brief visits to the country house Winston had left her, but it was too grand and impersonal. Of course she could fill it with friends, but she did not think it would suit her to live always in the country—at least, it might be bearable if she were married. As a widow she would do better in London or Bath. No! Bath was full of old tabbies who had nothing better to do than drink the foul waters and whisper behind their fans about the latest on dit in London.

Mariah thought she would rather be amongst the people making those scandals—or preferably making them herself. A mischievous smile touched her soft mouth. Andrew’s manner was so frustrating to a woman who did everything impulsively. His eyes seemed to caress her, to dwell on her mouth, as if he found it attractive, yet she could not tease him into a kiss. She could have sworn he was on the verge of making her an offer as they walked by the lake the other day—or at least declaring himself—but he had drawn back once more. Her intuition told her that there was some mystery, perhaps some hint of scandal. Andrew was being so foolish. If he would only confide his problem to her, she might be able to help him. As if she would have cared for a little scandal!

‘May I send for the porter, Lady Fanshawe?’

‘Yes, please do, Lily,’ Mariah said and smiled at her maid. ‘Once the trunk has been taken you may go to bed. I am not ready to retire yet and can manage my gown myself when I wish to disrobe.’

‘Very well, milady.’

Mariah left her maid to arrange for the luggage to be taken down to the porter’s wagon. It would set off before them and her things would be unpacked and waiting for her when they arrived.

Mariah had not yet met Count Paolo, who was a personal friend of Lord Hubert and of his age group, she supposed. He had graciously loaned them his beautiful villa here at the lakes and must be a generous man. Mariah wondered if he were married. She had not heard Sylvia speak of his wife or family.

Shaking her head at the way her thoughts were taking her, Mariah went down to the spacious salon, which led onto a veranda. The windows were closed, but not locked, and she let herself out, deciding to take a turn about the lush gardens. The air was heavy with scent from a variety of flowers. Mariah thought she could smell jasmine, oleanders, roses and other more exotic perfumes that she could not name.

It was such a perfect setting. A night for romance and adventure, she thought, feeling wistful. How pleasant it would be to walk here with the man she loved, to feel his strong arms about her and his lips on hers. A surge of need and longing swept through her. She had so many friends and yet she was lonely.

She wanted someone special, a man she could lean on in times of trouble, a companion who would be with her throughout life, taking the good things with the bad.

Feeling the trickle of tears on her cheeks, Mariah swept them away impatiently. She would not give way to self-pity! Yet she wanted so much to be loved—passionately and without restraint. She was a fool to torture herself with thoughts of Andrew Lanchester. If he cared for her at all, he would surely speak!

Raising her head, Mariah felt angry. Why should she wait? If she were offered marriage by a man she believed more interested in her than her fortune, she would accept—and if a man she could like sufficiently offered an affair she might take a lover.

She was so tired of being a widow.

The journey to Milan was accomplished without incident and Mariah was delighted to discover that Count Paolo’s home there was one of Milan’s ancient palaces and had beautiful gardens and courtyards behind the rather faded facade. The entrance hall was large with high arched ceilings and marble floors, the sound of their footsteps echoing as the count’s English butler greeted them and took them up to their apartments.

‘Count Paolo will be with you in a short time,’ the man said deferentially. ‘He is with other visitors, but he will be with you very soon.’

‘Yes, of course, Tomkins,’ Lady Hubert said and smiled at him. ‘And how have you been keeping since we last saw you?’

‘Very well, milady. The climate suits me here and I have settled in nicely. I am grateful to you for recommending me to the count.’

‘I was happy to do so. I knew you would get on famously.’

Sylvia beamed at him as he preceded them up the wide, rather worn stone stairs to the gallery above, then turned to Mariah.

‘Tomkins worked for my father until he died, you know. He suffers with the rheumatics and decided he would like to live in a warmer climate than the east of England. Knowing that Count Paolo was looking for a major-domo for his house here, I suggested he might apply and gave him a reference.’

‘That was kind of you.’

‘Oh, no, Tomkins deserved it. He was very kind to Papa in his last days.’

They were led along the gallery to a suite of rooms that overlooked the courtyards to the rear of the house. Mariah went immediately to the window to glance out. The paved courtyard was very attractive with its slightly uneven and faded pink bricks that were interspersed with rose beds; there was a fountain with beautiful statuary and she could see a series of courtyards and gardens leading from the one below.

A man and a woman were walking at the far side of the courtyard. As she watched, the man kissed the woman’s hand and she left him, going through an arched gateway to whatever lay beyond. A servant approached the man, who glanced up at the window where Mariah stood and nodded at something he had been told.

Was he the count? From this distance Mariah could see little except that he was dressed exquisitely in the French manner and his hair was a pale silver-blonde.

She drew away from the window as Sylvia called to her, ‘This is your room, dearest. What do you think?’

Mariah went through the elegant sitting room to a bedroom. She gasped, for it was beyond anything that she had expected. Furnished in the French Empire style, which had become so fashionable during Napoleon’s occupation, the furniture was imposing and grand rather than comfortable, made of light wood strung with ebony and gold leaf, the soft furnishings in purple and cream with touches of black. The mirrors were flamboyant with gilded rococo-style frames, as was a picture that looked as if it were an Old Master. Perhaps not da Vinci, but of the same period, and the ceiling was painted with ridiculously fat cherubs, ladies of ample proportions and a satyr.

‘Good gracious,’ she murmured, a naughty gleam in her eye. ‘I am overwhelmed. Do you suppose this chamber was meant for royalty?’

‘I think Napoleon may have stayed here, though I am not certain he had this suite,’ Sylvia replied and laughed. ‘That was in Count Paolo’s father’s day, of course. He has only recently inherited the estate, you know. Hubert was the late count’s friend, but we met Paolo at the funeral and he was gracious enough to offer us his villa whenever we wished to stay near the lakes.’

‘He must be a very generous man.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Sylvia replied. ‘He would accept no payment—but I believe Hubert and the count have some business together. The count also has vineyards and wishes to import his wines to England.’

‘Ah, yes, a mutually beneficial arrangement. I wonder—’

Mariah broke off as she heard a knock at the door and then the sound of Lord Hubert’s rather loud voice greeting their host. Drawn by curiosity as much as politeness, she walked back to the sitting room with Sylvia, glancing at the man standing with Lord Hubert. Her breath caught, for he was an extraordinarily handsome man, his eyes a greenish-blue and his hair a pale blonde, but not quite the silver it had looked in the sunlight. His nose was patrician, his forehead high, his chin not square but strong and his mouth soft and sensual. He was older than she had expected after hearing that he had only recently come into his title, being nearer thirty than twenty and of a slender build. His clothes were extravagant, very French, his cravat exquisitely tied, his coat a deep shade of violet and his breeches a paler shade of the same colour; his long fingers were crowded with expensive rings. From his accent as he spoke, she thought he must have spent much of his time in France prior to his inheriting the estate in Lombardy.

She became aware that he was staring at her in a way that made her body tingle from head to toe. This was one of the most sensual, aggressively masculine men she had ever met despite his foppery. His eyes were the eyes of a predator and she knew immediately that he found her physically attractive. The smile on his lips sent a little shiver down her spine—he was a hunter and she sensed that she had been added to the list of his prey, which she imagined to be substantial.

She must be on her guard with this man or he would gobble her up! How very exciting to be sure. Life would not be dull for a few days.

‘Lady Hubert. Madame, I am delighted to welcome you to my humble home—and your friend, the so-delightful Lady Fanshawe.’ He moved towards Mariah with the grace of a large cat on the prowl. Politeness made her offer her hand. The count took it between his own for a moment, then lifted it to his lips, depositing a kiss on the palm. It was such an intimate gesture that Mariah found herself suffused with warmth. She glanced up at him and saw the challenge in his eyes.

‘Such beauty leaves me without words,’ he declared. ‘Had I known what to expect, but even your friend did not do you justice … magnifique …’

‘You flatter me, sir,’ Mariah said, but she smiled and did not withdraw her hand too quickly. His overt flirting made her want to laugh and she was intrigued. She could not imagine that Count Paolo was in need of a fortune. This house and its contents were worth a fortune alone, to say nothing of the beautiful villa at the lakes and his vineyards. No, he was not a fortune hunter, but perhaps something more dangerous. He hunted for a different kind of prey, but he oozed sensual charm. She was certain he would seduce her if she let down her guard.

‘No, I never flatter,’ the count denied. ‘I say only what is in my mind—and you are one of the most beautiful women I have met. It is a great pleasure for me to have you at my home.’

‘I am overwhelmed, sir,’ Mariah replied. ‘Your house is astonishing—such splendour and grandeur. I do not think I have seen anything like it in a private home before.’

‘There are many such palaces in Lombardy and Rome. Venice is renowned for its beautiful palaces, of course—but for me there is nowhere quite like Paris. I lived there for many years. My father and I did not always agree and I had interests in Paris. My wife is French and I have a house there still.’

‘Your wife? Do you have children, signor?’ Maria was surprised. So he was married. Not a possible candidate for her husband, then.

She was not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.

‘A daughter only.’ A look of disappointment or anger passed across his face. ‘I should say that I had a wife. She died in an unfortunate accident some months ago. I am a widower …’ He spread his hands. ‘It was very sad, you understand. However, we were not—compatible is, I think, the word. It was a foolish marriage undertaken when we were both too young. Our daughter will remain with her mama’s family—but I require a son, naturally. In time, when I find a lady I can both admire and love, I shall marry again.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, sir. I hope you will find happiness one day.’

‘Yes, it is very sad for the child, because she misses her mama. I have promised her that one day I shall find her a new mama and she will have brothers and sisters to play with.’ He smiled. ‘You may wonder why I chose to speak of such private matters? I feel empathy between us, madame. You have lost a doting husband, I have lost a wife. I hope we shall be good friends—perhaps more in time, who knows?’

Something in his tone made Mariah’s spine tingle. She had never known a man to speak so directly at a first meeting, though many pursued her hotly.

‘I hope we shall be friends, sir. I have heard much of you from Lady Sylvia. I shall enjoy making your acquaintance.’

The count smiled oddly. ‘I have spoken too boldly, perhaps? It is my way, madame. Forgive me, your beauty swept away all caution and I feel as if I have known you all my life—have been waiting for this moment.’

He spoke of it as if it was his destiny—hers, too, perhaps. His smile was charming and all feeling of boredom had fled. Mariah had been longing for something to happen and now it had. If she wanted an adventure, the count would be more than willing to provide it.

Mariah was aware of a mutual attraction, for she had seen his interest immediately and felt something herself—but he went too fast. His eyes seemed to unclothe her and she read his thoughts so easily that she could not meet his gaze for more than a moment. This man was charming and exciting, but she felt slightly out of her depth, as if she did not take care she would be swept away out of her control.

‘You flatter me, sir. I think you like to tease and provoke.’

‘Do not be misled, madame. I am in earnest, I assure you—but I am a terrible host,’ he said, becoming aware that they had an interested audience and letting go of her hand. ‘You must come down and meet my friends—unless you would prefer refreshments to be served here so that you may rest?’

‘Oh, no, we need just a few moments to freshen ourselves,’ Sylvia replied. ‘I am looking forward to exploring your gardens, Count Paolo. I imagine they are different to those at the villa?’

‘Yes, indeed, far more formal,’ the count replied, turning his attention to her. ‘It will be my pleasure to show both you and Lady Fanshawe after we have taken some refreshment. If you will excuse me, I must welcome other guests. Please come down and join us when you are ready.’

‘Well,’ Sylvia said as the door closed behind him, ‘how very odd. For one moment I thought—he looked as if he could devour you, Mariah.’

‘Nonsense,’ her husband said. ‘I have found the count both direct and honest in his dealings. He was making his situation clear. He is clearly looking for marriage and Mariah is beautiful enough to make most men lose their heads. The fellow was bowled over. You have made another conquest, m’dear. I almost pity the poor man.’

Sylvia arched her brows at Mariah, as if to say that a man would not understand. Such a direct approach was meant to have significance of some kind. Mariah was inclined to think the count bent on seduction. She was, after all, a widow and as such he probably thought her fair game. He couldn’t have been hinting at marriage when they had only that moment met for the first time. She had read too much into the count’s words. Lord Hubert was right. He had been struck and his tongue had run away with him; it was not the first time, though most young men became tongue-tied and foolish, staring at her with calf eyes. The count was very different.

Her pulses throbbed. He was certainly very attractive and she might not be averse to a brief flirtation, though she sensed that it might be dangerous to become more intimately involved with him.

Becoming aware that her friend was waiting for an answer, Mariah laughed softly. ‘He is a surprising man,’ she said. ‘However, I must reserve judgement until I know him a little better.’