Marquess of Diamonds: Lords of Scandal Page 2

  He wasn’t exactly equipped to raise a girl into a marriageable woman.

  He wasn’t equipped to even socialize with them. Despite being raised to be a marquess, his parents had died when he was hardly a man and before that…

  He’d never been particularly good at following the rules and clashed with his parents time and again before their deaths. Just before his parents’ accident they’d had the sort of disagreement that had torn him to pieces, though he’d never admitted it to a soul. He winced at the memories and promptly pushed them aside.

  He’d always had a penchant for the darker side of life.

  Except of late…

  “What do you need to speak with me about?” he asked with a sigh, finishing the trip across the foyer to drop a kiss on his sister’s cheek.

  Her brow puckered in worry. “Are you feeling well, Hart?”

  “Fine,” he answered. “Just tired.”

  She tilted her head to the side as she continued to assess him. Then she waved her hand toward the sitting room and he followed her and Chance into it where Daisy gestured toward the settee.

  He sat, stretching out, actually glad to be there with them. And when a tray of tea and hot, buttered croissants arrived, he was even happier he’d come.

  His sister poured him a cup and in minutes, he’d had several of the pastries, realizing it had been quite a few hours since he’d eaten a thing.

  Daisy settled across from him, dutifully waiting for him to finish before she shifted to begin whatever interrogation she had in store for him.

  Chance leaned against the mantle, watching over them like the mediator he often was.

  “How is the club?” she asked, her smile polite as she clasped her hands.

  “Fine,” he said wishing that Daisy had never learned about the club. It wasn’t for the likes of her. This was the very reason he kept his distance from his sister, he’d taint her with his presence in her life.

  “And how is everything else?”

  “Daisy,” he bit out. “I’m damned tired. Say whatever you brought me here to say.”

  She frowned. “You get surlier by the day.”

  “Too true,” Chance muttered giving Hart a long glare.

  Hart sat up straighter. “If someone hadn’t left me with all the management—” he started before Daisy cut him short.

  “If it’s too much, sell the club. Your marquessate is what’s important.”

  His teeth snapped together. Because it was a point that he was hard-pressed to deny. But with Chance about to wed and his other friends tied into the club, Hart didn’t know precisely what he would do with himself without it.

  That vague empty feeling he’d been experiencing more and more of late came back, filling his insides and making him ache. Or was that the exhaustion? “Is that what you brought me here to tell me, to sell the club?”

  “No.” Daisy sniffed as she spread her skirts out over her legs.

  “Then what?” he asked closing his eyes as he covered them with one of his hands.

  He heard the rustling of her skirts as she shifted about. “Actually. I hoped to ask you a favor.”

  A favor? From him?

  He dropped his hand as he stared back at her. “What?”

  She pressed her hands together and shifted again. Daisy never fidgeted, which was his first indication that something was very wrong.

  “Well.” She looked at Chance.

  “I’m staying out of this,” Chance mumbled, which made Hart sit up that much straighter. Chance never said no to Daisy. What could she possibly want?

  “Spit it out,” he said, realizing he was acting even surlier than normal. He hadn’t always been so…short. He’d had a lot on his mind of late.

  “Well,” Daisy started again. “I have a friend, Lady Abigail, who is in need of help.”

  Hart could not have been more surprised if he’d walked outside to find all of London vanished into thin air. He didn’t know who the chit was, nor did he care to. Hart didn’t trifle with unmarried ladies for any reason. “You can’t mean for me to aid a lady?”

  “I can,” Daisy said, straightening.

  “But…” Hart stood, too agitated to remain sitting. “I’m the last lord who should be unleashed on any female of quality.”

  Daisy rose too, any display of nervousness gone. Her chin snapped up, her eyes flashing with irritation. “I’m aware.”

  He stopped, his gaze narrowing as he considered those words. “Then why would you ask?”

  Daisy didn’t answer, pursing her lips.

  “Do you mean for me to help the lady or for the lady to help me? I’ll not be tricked into marriage, Daisy.”

  Daisy shook her head. “Who is tricking here? I’m outright asking and not for the business of marriage. At least not yours.”

  “Asking for what?”

  “Lady Abigail is very beautiful, but she doesn’t really understand the art of flirting. She needs to marry this season and so—”

  “You can’t expect me to teach her to flirt. She’ll end up ruined. I’ve got a reputation you know…” He stopped, not mentioning to his sister the scores of women he’d seduced or allowed to seduce him.

  Daisy gave him a sidelong glance. “Of course not. That’s absurd.”

  A bit of relief made his shoulders slump. “What then?”

  “I want you to attend a few balls. Show her some favor. Make her more popular.”

  “No.” The single word popped out of his mouth sizzling like spit on a fire. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He hadn’t attended anything like that since before his parents’ deaths.

  “It would be good for you too,” Daisy said stepping closer. “I know you don’t wish to wed, but you’ll have to eventually if only to provide the marquessate with an heir. Growing reaccustomed to polite society would serve you well.”

  “No.” he said again. “I won’t do it.”

  “Hart,” she started again.

  “No.” His fists clenched into tight balls.

  “But I—”

  He spun on the heels of his Hessians and started for the door.

  But Daisy wasn’t done. Following behind him, she kept talking. “Please, Hart. She needs help and I need to know you actually care enough about me to aid in something that is important to me.”

  He stopped, not turning back to his sister. He’d hurt her deeply with the whole Edgemere business and even though it had all worked out, even he knew he owed her a boon.

  “Daisy. I’ve got so much happening just now.”

  She came up behind him touching his shoulder. “I know. But this is for your family and for the marquessate.”

  He let out a long sigh. He’d been so absent from Daisy’s life, maybe this would be a good way to make up for it. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft as her hand made comforting circles on his back. Perhaps Daisy was right. Her small measure of comfort made him want to toss himself back on the settee and take a nap.

  It had been too long since he’d spent time with any woman who truly wanted to comfort him, care for him. And though he’d thought he’d done the right thing having their aunt take over the care of his sister, he missed Daisy, missed the company of someone who cared for him beyond just what he could do for them.

  While he wasn’t sorry about what he’d done with Daisy and Edgemere, he did still need to make amends to his sister. “If I do this, will you be less angry with me?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply. “But don’t answer yet. You can meet Lady Abigail at our wedding. Then you can decide.”

  Great. A date for a wedding. Just what he needed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Abigail stood in the morning room at the wedding breakfast of the Duke of Danesbury and Daisy. She had to start thinking of Daisy as a duchess!

  The ceremony had been beautiful, and Daisy glowed with happiness as she’d held her new husband’s hands while they’d spoken their vows.
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  Emotions Abigail had not even known existed had risen up at the sight. To see new love like that…it made her yearn in ways she hadn’t before. Not just for excitement but for something deeper. Would she be lucky enough to experience such feelings?

  She was so happy for her friend, but her gaze kept straying to the Marquess of Hartwell. Hart, as Daisy called him.

  His dark hair was pushed back away from his face, accentuating the strong line of his jaw and his glittering dark eyes.

  From here they looked nearly black, but she’d seen them up close earlier and they had flecks of warm brown. The sort that might make a girl sigh with longing.

  A little breath escaped her as she studied his straight nose, broad shoulders, the cut of his coat, and the power of his legs encased in his tight breeches.

  She had the briefest thought that if a man like that approached her at a ball, she’d surely be able to flutter her eyelashes and smile coyly.

  All the men who regularly attended those functions, they had none of the power or masculine presence of Lord Hartwell. A secret vision of his hands in hers filled her thoughts as she blushed and looked away again.

  He stood next to Daisy and her new husband as he conversed with a few other guests.

  Daisy’s aunt, Lady Mildred, linked her arm in Abigail’s. “Come my girl, introductions are in order.”

  Abigail smiled in anticipation as she attempted to tamp down the excitement that surged inside her. “Oh, yes, please.” She liked Lady Mildred a great deal. The woman was the exact opposite of her own mother. Where her mother believed in calm and conservative behavior under any circumstance, Daisy’s aunt was full of life.

  Too much sometimes, according to Daisy, but Abigail always loved being around Aunt Mildred.

  She linked arms with the older woman, then they crossed to Daisy and her duke.

  Abigail curtseyed to both of them and then kissed Daisy’s cheek. Daisy kissed her back and then with a wink, she gestured toward Lord Hartwell. “And allow me to introduce my brother. Hart, this is Lady Abigail Williams.”

  For the first time, Hart’s gaze met hers, and Abigail was rendered speechless. Like a deer frozen by fear, she couldn’t move under his penetrating gaze as he gave her a lazy sweep with his eyes. Then with a single jerk of his chin, he looked away once again.

  Abigail blinked, trying to decide what had just happened.

  Surely, he hadn’t dismissed her already. She’d not said a word.

  And while she believed herself to be rather boring, she did understand that she was reasonably attractive. Loads of people had told her so.

  She dipped into another curtsey. “My lord.”

  “Lady Abigail,” he replied in a bored tone that made her cringe. At least inwardly. Outwardly, she attempted a friendly smile.

  She folded her hands, drawing in a deep breath. Clearly starting a conversation would be her duty. And she needed to speak with him. Had he agreed to help her? There was only one way to find out. “The wedding was lovely. Wasn’t it?”

  “Quite,” he answered in that same flat tone. Which made her feel both better and worse. Couldn’t he at least express a bit of enthusiasm for his sister’s marriage to his friend? Perhaps Daisy had told him of their plan, and he had no wish to be part of it. That thought made butterflies dance in her stomach. If this didn’t work, what would she do?

  “Don’t mind him,” Daisy said with a smile. “Matrimony is the state that Hart fears more than any other. Even death, I suspect.”

  His Grace covered a laugh as Hart scowled at Daisy. “I don’t fear anything.”

  “Nothing?” Abigail asked before she could stop the single word from coming out. She was afraid of her mother, society, doing the wrong thing, or doing all the right things and still getting it wrong.

  And more than all of those, she was afraid she’d live her whole life with regret over all the things she hadn’t done.

  He shrugged. Looking at her briefly again with that same bored expression, pulling his lips into a slight frown.

  “Don’t be silly,” Daisy said as she laughed. “Everyone is afraid of something.”

  Lord Hartwell frowned at his sister. “If you say so.”

  Daisy’s new husband gave her a kind smile. “I hope you enjoyed the breakfast.”

  She nodded, returning the smile. “It was wonderful. Thank you.”

  Silence fell and Daisy looked at her brother, who continued to point his gaze somewhere toward the wall.

  “The mash of carriages to get from the church to here was dreadful,” Aunt Mildred supplied.

  “Indeed,” Daisy answered.

  Abigail caught her lower lip between her teeth as she attempted to come up with something engaging to say.

  The truth was, she’d always assumed when presented with someone worthwhile, she’d rise to the occasion.

  But clearly, her mother was right.

  She just had no skill.

  Her shoulders drooped as her gaze dropped to the floor. How disappointing.

  “Shall we discuss the weather next?” Hart asked. “Three whole days without a drop of rain.”

  Even His Grace gave Lord Hartwell a menacing glare as Daisy poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

  He let out a long breath as though this was all very taxing.

  Abigail should have known better. This had been her idea and clearly the marquess was not enamored with either it or her.

  She’d just…

  Well, he made something ache inside her. She’d not been fool enough to think he’d ever wish to marry her. But she’d thought if she’d just spent a bit of time with him, perhaps she’d learn what other girls seemed to know. How to make a man want to court them, and one day, marry them. Surely that started by first wanting.

  But the plan was already going awry.

  Lord Hartwell let out a grunt as Daisy’s elbow made contact a second time. With a long breath he looked at Abigail again. “Would you care to take a turn about the room?”

  Abigail gave a quick nod. The only possible harm was her own feelings of self-worth. And while she was less certain about her plan, she might as well see it through until the very end.

  With that in mind, she slipped her hand into the marquess’s elbow.

  Hart held in another long sigh.

  The girl—well, not really a girl—reminded him of a painting. She had the body of a woman, but she was so innocent it was almost painful.

  She was perfectly beautiful with soft golden hair and large blue eyes. A petite little nose, high cheekbones, and lush full lips. Tall for a woman, she was slender but not overly so, in a way that made her look statuesque.

  But just like a painting, she seemed untouchable and without depth. There was nothing that simmered underneath. Not a hint or even a whiff of anything untoward or even the slightest bit dirty.

  He’d guess she never smelled bad, never cursed, never even uttered a word that wasn’t pleasant or kind.

  She was like the color cream.

  Some lord would love to have her adorn his arm. But that man wasn’t Hart.

  Not that he wanted any woman on his arm. At least not permanently.

  But if he were to choose one, and he’d have to eventually provide the requisite heir, it would be a woman with hidden depths who might be able to understand his.

  If that woman even existed.

  He looked over at the woman he currently escorted about the room, her porcelain skin tinged with just a bit of pink over her cheeks. Even he could confess that she was truly stunning.

  “What event will you next attend?”

  She blinked, her long dark lashes fluttering as she looked over at him. “I beg your pardon.”

  He drew in a breath, hoping for patience as he looked into those clear blue eyes, like a summer sky in the color and filled with brightness. “My sister has told me of the plan. In order to show you favor, I must know where you are going to be.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, worry
ing the flesh.

  He found his gaze straying to her mouth as he watched her perfectly white teeth working her lip.

  It was difficult to deny the appeal.

  “Lay favor upon me?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes. “That’s one way to think of it.”

  His brows shot up. Because the way she’d said those words sounded as though there were some other agenda she’d actually had in mind.

  But that wasn’t likely because…well, this woman had clearly not had a devious thought her entire life.

  “Think about what?” he asked and then he started walking again, steering them toward a quiet corner of the room.

  Abigail gave a small shrug, her slender shoulder raising up. “Nothing. Surely your favor would help the situation.”

  “Precisely what is the situation?” Hart had to confess he didn’t expect this conversation to go in this way. When they’d been speaking in the group, she’d uttered the most benign of words but now…

  It was a conversation shrouded in mystery.

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “Well. My mother wishes for me to make a good match.”

  Her mother? Hart stopped again. They were next to a large fern and partially hidden from the room. “What do you wish?”

  Her fingers tightened on his arm as her blue eyes met his. Something danced in their depths that spoke of…well, he didn’t exactly know. “More or less the same.”

  More or less? “All right. And you’ve asked for my help. Why?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, drawing attention to the full flesh once again. Hart knew he’d made assumptions about her before they’d even met based on Daisy’s description. But why did everyone think Abigail didn’t know how to tempt a man? The way she kept drawing attention to her mouth…

  “I…” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I try to be engaging but…”

  “But what?”

  She waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter. I just need a few lords to find me worthy of their attentions. A proper suitor would help appease my mother even if I don’t get an offer of marriage.”