Chapter Ten
Con had watched all the guests arrive, drinking in Miss Stanhope from the moment she stepped from her carriage.
He had been pleasantly surprised to find her dressed much more appropriately than she had been during the Season.
He didn’t know where the change of heart had come in the gowns she wore.
Perhaps her friend Miss Tweedham, who was much better garbed, had suggested her friend update her wardrobe some.
Whoever was responsible for the change, however, should be congratulated.
For the first time, he could actually tell something about her figure.
Miss Stanhope possessed a slender frame, along with a long neck he longed to nibble on.
Though not much of her bosom was revealed, he saw it was ample, and his fingers itched to caress her breasts.
With her height, her legs had to be long, and Con could imagine her wrapping them about his waist as he thrust into her.
The image had caused his cock to begin to stir, and he had pinched himself, willing it to shrink.
He did not recognize any of the other ladies who made an appearance.
The only fellow he was barely acquainted with was Lord Cramer, an earl a few years older than Con who kept to himself at White’s and did not attend many events during the Season.
He thought he recognized another of the guests, but the other three gentlemen were unknown to him.
He had noticed Miss Stanhope exit a carriage with the help of a gentleman who climbed from it before her.
Because they were the only two inside with no chaperone, he guessed that he might be the cousin she had referred to, the one who was steward to her father’s estate.
Con found it interesting, if that were the case, that this cousin had been invited.
Of course, with him being a close neighbor and a bachelor of a certain age, Lady Pebble might have included him for that very reason.
And since he knew Miss Stanhope to be an only child, this cousin would likely be the one who had inherited her father’s title.
He waited until it was time for tea to take place and headed to the drawing room. A footman stopped him, telling Con that tea was being served outdoors on the terrace. He liked the idea of that—but he liked the idea more of sitting next to Miss Stanhope during it.
The footman directed him to where he could access the doors to the terrace. As he went through them, he saw a large group had gathered. He counted, realizing he was the last to arrive. He spied Miss Stanhope, still in the daffodil gown he had seen her in earlier, and quickly moved to her side.
“Miss Stanhope, it is a delight to see you again. Let me assist you to a table.”
When she turned, he saw the obvious surprise on her face. That meant she must have been privy to the guest list.
He gently clasped her elbow. “Here. We can sit at this table.”
Con guided her to the closest table, and he pulled out her chair. Thankfully, she did not make a fuss and took her seat. Another couple took their places as he did, and it completed their table of four. He recognized Miss Tweedham.
“Ah, Miss Tweedham. It is so good to see you again. I am Lord Marley. You might recall we danced together at the Purlington’s ball this past Season.”
“You remember that, my lord?” she asked, wonder in her voice.
“Yes, I recall dancing with you and Miss Stanhope that evening.”
Then Miss Tweedham said, “But you were Lord Dyer then, weren’t you?”
Con realized his new title had given him away. “Yes, I was. I have since assumed the earldom.” Before he could be pressed further, he turned his attention to the other gentleman. “I do not believe we have met, my lord.”
The man laughed jovially. “Perhaps it is because I have yet to dip my toe into the treacherous waters of Polite Society.” He looked to Miss Stanhope to properly introduce them. “Cousin?”
“This is the Earl of Marley,” Miss Stanhope said crisply. “He is cousin to the Duke of Millbrooke. Lord Marley, this is my cousin, Viscount Samuel.”
The other man nodded. “It is good to meet you, my lord.”
“Likewise,” Con said, frowning. “But if you are Lord Samuel . . .” His voice trailed off, and he quickly looked to Miss Stanhope. “Has your father also passed?”
She swallowed. “He has. My cousin has now taken the title and resides at Stanfield. Not as its steward, but as its lord.”
“My deepest sympathy to you both,” he said, feeling the loss of his own father afresh. It surprised him that Miss Stanhope was even in attendance at this house party instead of in mourning.
“You look puzzled, my lord,” she said. “While in my heart, I deeply mourn Papa, he made his wishes clear to me long before he passed. He did not want me to go about dressed in mourning clothes for a year, and so I have honored his request.”
“I see,” Con said, at a loss for words.
Lady Pebble appeared at their table. “Would you be so good as to pour out for those seated here, Rowena?”
“Certainly, my lady.”
A servant rolled a teacart up to their table, and he watched Miss Stanhope do the honors.
Since he was closest to her, she passed each saucer and teacup to him, and he directed it to the others before taking one for himself.
She finished pouring her own tea and then asked Miss Tweedham what she might wish to eat, preparing her plate for her. She did the same for her cousin.
When it came time to serve him, she coolly said, “You are close enough to the teacart, Lord Marley. You may choose whatever you wish.”
So that was the way it was going to be. He was out of favor with her and would have to work his way back into her good graces. He placed two ham sandwiches and a raisin scone on his plate and turned to the others.
“How do you find your new steward?” he asked Lord Samuel. “It must be a bit odd, hiring the man who replaced you.”
“Despite what Cousin Rowena said, I have yet to do so,” the viscount confessed. “The autumn harvest was too important to me. Now that it has been gathered, I am ready to interview candidates. At least I will do so after the conclusion of this house party.”
Con looked to Miss Stanhope. “Are you still residing in town, or have you joined your cousin in the country?”
“I have moved permanently to the country.”
“Miss Stanhope has a cottage of her own,” Miss Tweedham said enthusiastically. “I cannot imagine living on my own, but she says she enjoys it.”
“That is most interesting,” he said. “Would it not be easier to live with Viscount Samuel at Stanfield?”
“That is what I have told her,” Lord Samuel said. “But Rowena possesses a stubborn streak, and she asked to reside in a cottage on the property. I have gifted one to her.”
“I enjoy the solitude,” Miss Stanhope said. “And Ollie has been kind enough to allow me the use of the library and music room at Stanfield. I regularly go there to play the pianoforte and choose new books to read for the coming week.”
“Tell Lord Marley about the violin,” prompted Miss Tweedham. “You have written to me about playing it.”
“Yes,” Con encouraged, trying to get her to look at him. “I would love to hear about it—and hear you play the instrument.”
She burst into laughter, which sounded like music to his ears. “If you heard me play the violin, my lord, you would think otherwise. While I am fairly accomplished at the pianoforte, I am teaching myself to play the violin. Without a tutor, I have only made gradual progress.”
Her gaze finally met his, and he spoke from his heart. “I believe you can do whatever you put your mind to, Miss Stanhope. You brim with confidence, no matter what the topic.”
As tea progressed, he and Samuel begin to talk about the recent Stanfield harvest, and Con shared with him his own harvest at Marleyfield.
While Miss Tweedham sat silently, merely listening, Miss Stanhope regularly interjected with questions and comments.
It was easy to see how knowledgeable she was about her father’s—now cousin’s—estate.
Lord Samuel pointed out that very fact. “As you might guess, I will be relying upon my cousin. She might not have been raised in the country, but she has a keen intellect and understands farming better than most men I have met.”
“You should help Lord Samuel in interviewing the candidates for steward,” Con suggested.
Miss Stanhope shook her head. “Ollie has run Stanfield for years now. He does not need my help.”
“But I appreciate your insight,” her cousin insisted. Then to Con, he asked, “What of your steward?”
“Fortunately, I inherited mine, along with Marleyfield. He has no plans to leave, for which I am thankful. I also took on my father’s valet. Benchley, while droll, is very efficient at his position.”
“I am also in need of a valet as well as a steward,” Lord Samuel said. “This being a viscount is still very new to me. At least I have dressed and shaved myself for years, so I am not completely helpless.”
“You sound most accomplished, my lord,” Miss Tweedham said, looking at the viscount with starry eyes.
He thought that a match between Miss Tweedham and Lord Samuel would benefit Miss Stanhope. She would have her closest friend nearby.
But Con did not want her remaining here at Stanfield.
Already, he was eager to press his suit with her.
Simply being around her again at tea today and hearing her lively conversation told him that he would never tire of her as he had so many other women.
Being able to appreciate her physical appearance was also nice.
Her gown was tailored to her figure, and he wondered again why she was dressing so differently than she had in town.
Had it been her father wishing for her to hide herself?
Lady Pebble rang a small bell, causing all conversation to cease. Smiling, she said, “I hope you do not mind. This bell will be my way of gaining your attention during our time together.”
“I think it a splendid idea,” an attractive, dark-haired woman said.
He looked to Miss Stanhope, who leaned closer and quietly said, “Lady Jewell Bailey. Fresh off the boat from India.”
He caught a whiff of roses and realized she now wore scented water or perfume. She had not done so when he had met her. Just another change about her, one he quite liked.
“We are in the country, so country hours will apply,” the viscountess continued.
“A breakfast buffet will be served between eight and ten each morning in our dining room. In the evenings, we will gather in the drawing room at six o’clock in order to enjoy a drink and conversation before dinner, which will be at seven.
After dinner, we will return to the drawing room for other activities. ”
“What about during the day?” a gentleman he had yet to meet asked.
Lady Pebble smiled. “Are you trying to get out of me my surprises, Baron Howell?”
That was the fellow’s name. Con knew he had met him, probably three or four years ago.
He recalled Howell had wed at the end of the Season.
His presence at this house party informed Con that the baron was, most likely, a widower.
Many men lost their wives in childbirth, something which worried him even though he was yet to wed.
He wondered if Howell had a child or not.
“Just being thorough, my lady,” the baron said, smiling charmingly at his hostess.
“We will participate in various activities each day,” Lady Pebble promised.
“We are close to the beach, and I am certain you will wish to stroll along its shore and enjoy the salt air. The gentlemen can also go hunting, while the ladies catch up on their correspondence. I do believe Lord Pebble is insisting upon some lawn tennis and lawn bowling.”
Lord Samuel looked to Con. “Egads. I have never done either of those.”
“Neither have I,” he assured the viscount. “That is not something you see in town.”
“Well, I plan to participate in both,” Miss Stanhope said. Then looking directly at Con, she added, “I also plan to win, no matter what the game.”
“Is that a challenge, my lady?” he asked, sensing the air change between them.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “If you believe it is, my lord, then it must be.”
“Oh, you do not wish to go up against Miss Stanhope, Lord Marley,” warned Miss Tweedham. “When she puts her mind to something, she is unstoppable.”
“I have heard from Lord Merriman, who wed my cousin, that Miss Stanhope is a talented card player. We shall have to see if her skills extend to lawn games.”
He turned his attention back to Lady Pebble, who was mentioning a few other activities. Con had every intention of participating in whatever Miss Stanhope chose to do.
And find an opportunity to kiss her again at the earliest possible moment.