Chapter Nine
S tanding in front of the mirror trying to stifle a yawn, Marcus silently lamented that he wasn’t usually an early riser, at least not this early. As he spent almost every night at one of his clubs, he invariably didn’t retire until the wee hours of the morning. On really rowdy evenings he couldn’t seek his bed until dawn’s light had begun to filter through the thick, dark curtains of his bed chamber. An occupational hazard in his line of work, but he’d become used to it.
In an ironic about-face, this morning he’d been up since dawn, deviling his valet to make certain his clothes were in perfect order. Not that Spencer wasn’t used to his fastidious and exacting specifications about his toilet every day. The man had been with him for ten years, ever since he’d first hired an attendant to assist him in becoming a gentleman—in appearance if nothing else. And Spencer had been invaluable in instructing him in the sartorial habits of the nobility. At the valet’s suggestion, he’d affected to follow in the steps of Beau Brummel in the area of dress, which, in addition to his surname, had led him to call his gentleman’s club The Dandy leading in turn to being called himself with that moniker by many of the patrons of the establishment.
Lady Joanna had taken note of that, though she hadn’t brought the subject up in conversation. Yet.
Thoughts of the lady, his sole reason for rising at this abominable hour, sent a shiver down his spine. Every time he beheld her, whether at dinner, or afterward in the drawing room, or simply walking somewhere in the lodge, a yearning of such devastating proportions came over Marcus that he had to stop to catch his breath. What he would do in the eventuality that he was unable to persuade the lady to return his affections—or more likely that he couldn’t persuade her brother to give his approval for their courtship—he hadn’t had the courage to reason out. He didn’t wish to envision a life in which Lady Joanna wasn’t his wife, but he knew in a deep, dark part of his mind that this would be the most likely outcome of his current desperate attempt to win her regard.
Although he truly believed, based on the lady’s most recent conversations with him, that she found him an interesting companion. His vastly difference experiences had likely piqued her interest, but still, she didn’t seem to find him repugnant or boring as she obviously did most of the gentlemen suitors her brother and Lord Braeton had collected for her to choose from this summer. Unfortunately, different might be intriguing to her for a time, but was it enough to lead her to a fondness for him? That was the question he hoped to try and expand on today.
“There you are, sir.” Spencer brushed the shoulders of his excellently cut walnut-brown jacket. He’d elected to dress in muted tones today, hoping the dark-brown coat with the lighter brown breeches and black Hessians would convey the seriousness of his intentions toward Lady Joanna as well as Lord and Lady Braeton. “Everything is exactly as you would wish.” The valet stepped back and frowned. “Except for the cravat, sir. May I?”
Marcus nodded and left Spencer to his devices. He’d never been very successful in tying the blasted things himself. Standing as still as he could, Marcus waited while the valet looped and tied and draped the white silk length until he’d gotten it in a knot to his liking.
“There, Mr. Dandridge. If you will look in the mirror?”
Turning to the glass on the dressing table, Marcus nodded his approbation. “You’ve a fine hand with this, Spencer, as I’ve said not for the first time. Can we simply dispense with my trying and failing wretchedly to tie the blasted things?”
“If you wish it, sir, I will attend to it from now on.”
“Please.” Marcus shook his head. “I understand it is the purview of gentlemen, however I will gladly leave it in your capable hands from now on. I doubt anyone will think less of me even if they knew of it.”
“Which they of course will not, sir,” Spencer said, hurrying to assure him of his discretion and loyalty. But of course the man was paid handsomely for those qualities as well as his skill with clothing. “It is early for breakfast, I believe, Mr. Dandridge. Would you like for me to send for some tea or coffee while you wait to go down?”
Marcus glanced out the window to find the morning light scarcely brighter than a candle. “I’d hoped to breakfast early, then help with the arrangement of the tables, weapons, and targets for the shooting this morning.” Thinking about the coming lesson, and the close proximity he’d be to Lady Joanna, he hadn’t slept much at all. So, after tossing and turning, punching the pillow until feathers flew, he’d finally risen and proceeded to dress, not paying any mind to the time of day. “I suppose I must wait for the rest of the house to rise. Very well, Spencer.” Marcus took a seat in a wingback chair before the fireplace, stretching his long legs out toward the blaze. “Order coffee and I will try to stay here and be patient.”
“Very good, Mr. Dandridge.” The valet hurried out of the chamber, leaving Marcus to continue to sit and brood about the coming encounter with Lady Joanna.
An hour later, his nerves soothed somewhat by the excellent coffee, Marcus quit his chamber and wound his way down to the breakfast room. Not expecting a great many people this early, he was surprised to find Lord Braeton already seated, a newspaper in hand. “Good morning, my lord. You are an early riser today.”
“As are you, Mr. Dandridge.” The earl shot him a knowing look and Marcus took a seat in his accustomed spot, halfway down the table.
A footman presented himself directly.
“Coffee, please.” Marcus hoped the breakfast to follow would be mostly plain fare. He didn’t want the meal to sit heavily in his stomach this morning. The thought of spending so much time standing next to Lady Joanna both invigorated and terrified him. If he was going to charm the lady, today’s lesson might be the thing to do the trick. She seemed to love things out of the ordinary—like him—so hopefully, the lesson would further pique her interest in him.
“Don’t stand on ceremony at the breakfast table of all places, Dandridge.” Lord Braeton broke in on his thoughts, making him suddenly aware that his breakfast and coffee had arrived and he’d not noticed at all. “Come sit by me so we may discuss the upcoming shooting lesson. Lady Joanna is in alt, I assure you.”
Marcus moved down to the end of the table, leaving the footman to fetch his plate. “I am pleased to hear it, my lord. I believe the lady will enjoy the lesson. She seems to have a very inquisitive nature.”
“Huh. About everything save the procuring of a husband, it seemed to her brother.” The earl sipped his coffee, settling a long gaze on Marcus. “He did say she enjoyed her Season, although she had no particular affection for any of the gentlemen she met in London.”
“Perhaps the lady has a certain type of gentleman in mind, one she simply hasn’t found yet.” Marcus ventured that bland assurance, all the while wondering if the lady had actually discovered the gentleman, but was unable to confess her feelings to anyone. Of that, he lived in hope.
“Well, she’d best find him without delay, Dandridge.” Lord Braeton sipped his coffee then crashed the cup into the saucer. “Her brother has told me that he wants her settled by the end of the summer. Which means she would need to agree to wedding one of the gentlemen already here at the lodge, as she’s not to return to Middlesex until the beginning of September. Unfortunately, I cannot discover that she’s keen on any of the guests.” Lord Braeton sighed, then turned a gimlet gaze on Marcus. “Save you, Mr. Dandridge.”
Schooled by life to always be on his guard, Marcus had been more or less waiting for his lordship to suggest this. “I think she’s found a diversion in me, my lord. Nothing more. I am the newest and most unknown entity she’s ever met. Once my shine has begun to dull, she’ll find someone else to capture her attention.” Marcus prayed that was not true, but it made for a good defense. “You can scarcely blame her for being fascinated with my unusual upbringing.”
“Rather like a jackdaw with a new, shiny rock?” Lord Braeton seemed to weigh that.
“Yes, my lord. Exactly.”
“I suppose we will have to curb your ideas then, Dandridge.” Braeton laid the paper down. “The shooting lesson was, I grant you, a good and moreover practical scheme. After giving it more thought, I think it a skill that women could indeed find useful. One never knows when they might be put upon.”
“Does Lady Braeton know how to fire a weapon, my lord?” Marcus perked up.
“Sadly, no. She has never expressed an interest in learning such a thing, although I wish she would.” A shadow came over the earl’s face. “It would make me feel safer on the infrequent occasions when I am called from home.”
“Perhaps when she sees Lady Joanna’s progress today, she will think differently about the matter.” Such a change might go far to turn Lord Breaton into more of an ally. A flight of folly, of course, but one must pin one’s hope to something.
“Are you slugabeds still finishing your coffee?”
Marcus jerked his head toward the doorway so quickly, his head spun. Lady Joanna, attired in a gown of beige muslin, with accents of gold and orange at the neck and hem, smiled winningly at him, her faced filled with excitement. “Or are we ready to take the field, guns blazing?”
Within half an hour of Lady Joanna putting in her appearance, she, Marcus, and Lord and Lady Braeton were gathered on the back lawn, four chairs drawn up to a table that seemed to be ready to do double duty as both shooting stand and tea table. Lord Braeton had gathered every pistol on the estate, while Marcus carried only his personal flintlock, a man’s gun, but still small enough to be a respectable weapon for a woman. He intended for Lady Joanna to shoot his gun and his alone.
Lady Braeton had joined them as soon as they arrived at the area the earl had designated the place for the shooting lesson. The prospect faced the woodlands at the far back of the garden, a good choice should a shot go wide. Targets, drawn on planks of wood and painted to resemble a man’s face, were placed fifty paces from a line drawn on the grass with lime. Lady Joanna had walked the paces herself as soon as they arrived, the excitement on her face almost palpable. “How many shots will I fire, do you think?”
Marcus smiled at her enthusiasm, but to make her understand the import of the lesson, she would need a cool head and focus. “That depends on how quickly you learn how to load your pistol, my lady.”
“I will have to load my own pistol?” The idea seemed unheard of to her. “How extraordinary.”
“Everyone who shoots, if he’s worth his salt, knows how to load and clean their weapon. I will make certain you can do these things as well.” Marcus arranged the items he’d need to show her how to load the gun. “Let us begin by showing you the different parts of the gun.” He cocked an eye at her. “Unless you remember Mr. Newcastle’s detailed explanation of the pistol?”
Lady Joanna laughed and shook her head. “I fear I was not paying much attention to his explanation.” She caught Lord Braeton’s disapproving look and continued. “Not realizing I would have a need for such information. So please, Mr. Dandridge, refresh my memory about the parts of the flintlock.”
Grasping his pistol, Marcus showed her each part of the firearm, told her of its importance, and explained how the mechanism worked to fire the shot. To give the lady credit, she dropped all affectation and appeared to concentrate fiercely on the pistol and his instruction. “Now, can you explain each part back to me?”
A brilliant smile lit up her face and she swiftly identified each part of the weapon, giving the correct use as if she’d studied from a book. “Is that right, Mr. Dandridge?”
“Exactly, my lady.”
She sent a triumphant look to Lord Braeton, then turned back to him. “Are we ready to proceed, then?”
“We are.” He handed the pistol to her, carefully watching for her reaction.
Taking the flintlock in her hand, she immediately hefted it, trying the weight. “It’s not as heavy as I expected.” She lifted the pistol, sighting down the barrel toward the square wooden target, her finger going naturally to the trigger. “Is this how you aim?”
“Yes, my lady. But you need to load it first.” The lady seemed quite fearless. Neither of his sisters had taken to shooting this naturally. It had taken several lessons for them to simply hold the pistol correctly.
“I do know that.” Lady Joanna gave him a withering look. “Show me.”
Grinning, Marcus took the gun and led her back to the table. The hawk-like gaze of Lord and Lady Braeton made his stomach clench, and he regretted what little breakfast he’d eaten. Then he focused his attention back on Lady Joanna and he calmed somewhat. “First, you measure the powder in the powder measure.”
“What an odd name for such a device.”
He cut his gaze over to her, to find the lady laughing. His mouth puckered, but he refused to give in. “Pay attention, please. You will be doing this next time.”
“Yes, sir.” Her brow furrowed in mock concentration, but her impossibly blue eyes were merry.
God, what would it be like to have this delightful woman by his side, every day for the rest of their lives? Marcus had to send that thought out of his mind and concentrate on what he was doing. If he made a mistake in loading the gun, it could have absolutely horrifying consequences. “Then you carefully pour it down the barrel.” He suited the action to his words as she peered over his arm. “Like this.”
Lady Joanna nodded, her attention now unwavering.
“You take your patch, usually a square or round of muslin,” he picked up the square of fabric he’d prepared, “place the patch on top of the hole in the barrel and center the ball on that.” Working from long years of practice, Marcus had to consciously slow himself down so Lady Joanna could see what he was doing. “Then you take the ramrod and push the ball and patch down the barrel.” Slowly, he tamped the ball down then withdrew the ramrod. “Now you take the pan primer and squirt the correct amount of powder into the pan.” He suited the action to his words, all the while overly aware of her avidly staring at him. “And now you fire.”
“I fire?” Lady Joanna gasped and reached eagerly for the pistol.
“Watch me fire this time, my lady.” Marcus went to stand behind the white line. “Stand beside me so you can see up close what happens when you pull the trigger.” He risked a glance at Lord Braeton and was surprised to see the gentleman nodding in agreement. A miracle no less.
Lady Joanna nodded and came to stand just to his right, her gaze trained on the gun in his hand.
Marcus steadied his hand and sited down the barrel. “Now, you squeeze the trigger, applying slow, steady pressure.”
Bang !
Lady Joanna gave out a little shriek, then clamped her hands over her mouth.
The guilty look on her face was so priceless, Marcus couldn’t repress a snigger.
She dropped her hands and looked at him defiantly. “That was much louder than I expected.”
“And it will be even louder when you hold the pistol.” Marcus shifted back to his all-business persona. “Now, it’s your turn to load and fire. Are you ready?”
In response, she held out her hand and he passed her the pistol. She carried it back to the table and proceeded to load it quickly and methodically.
Marcus watched vigilantly for any misstep, but her actions were flawless. When she finished, she looked up at him, the need for his approval unmistakable in her face. Proud of her swift grasp of the procedure, he nodded. “Excellent, my lady. I could not have done it better myself.” He gestured for her to take her place behind the line. “Let us see your shot now.”
Without a trace of hesitation, Lady Joanna strode to the line, raised the pistol, and sited down the barrel.
Marcus braced himself for the shot, but instead of firing, she turned toward him, a deep frown furrowing her brow. “Am I doing it correctly?”
Not so confident as she appeared, but it was normal for the first time to be apprehensive. He’d be much more concerned had she exhibited no fear whatsoever. “Yes, my lady. You’re in almost the exact position.” He moved to stand behind her, reaching around her to adjust the flintlock slightly. “Try now.”
Squaring her shoulders, Lady Joanna steadied the pistol, sited once again, and squeezed the trigger.
The kick of the pistol, which seemed normal to Marcus after all these years, threw Lady Joanna backwards into his arms, her head hitting his chest with a solid thunk . Instinctively, his arms came around her to keep her from bouncing off him, so that quite unexpectedly, the woman of his dreams was wrapped in his arms, nestled against his broad chest.
Time seemed to halt in its tracks. Marcus stood stock still, confounded by the warmth of her that seared him to the bone wherever they touched. Her head shifted to the side so her hair ended up right beneath his nose. The smell of lavender that clung to her acted as a powerful aphrodisiac, making Marcus’s cock spring to attention as it had not done in many months. Now the mere thought of her pressed against him like this, but naked as the dawn and a thousand times more beautiful, made Marcus swallow hard and ease her away from him before his desires became painfully obvious to her—as they were even now simply painful to him.
“Th…thank you, Mr. Dandridge.” The lady stepped away, shaky but on her feet. She turned to him, her cheeks flushed. “I had no idea the pistol would have that sort of kick to it.” Her wide eyes glistened and she smiled at him. “I quite felt as though I’d gotten kicked by a donkey.”
“That was my fault, my lady.” Marcus breathed more normally, less frantic now she wasn’t pressed against him. “I should have told you to expect that. I’ve fired that pistol for so long, I take the kick as a matter of course.” Steady now, he motioned to her to follow him. “Let us see how your aim was, despite the push back.”
Together they hurried to the target, Lady Joanna chattering excitedly the whole way. “I never expected Thomas would agree to let me shoot that pistol, Mr. Dandridge. How ever did you manage it? Did you have some sort of hold over him, as you did over my brother last year?”
“What a leading question, my lady,” Marcus chuckled. Lady Joanna did not mince words. That somehow surprised him, although it also pleased him. If he hoped to woo the lady and win her affection, such a straightforward manner might do very well. “But to answer you, no. I have no such incentive for Lord Braeton. I believe he is simply a fair gentleman with whom I have been nothing but honest.”
Lady Joanna rolled her eyes at him and he laughed. “After the first little white lie, I grant you. However, I suspect Lord Braeton simply saw no harm in allowing you to learn to shoot, especially as we are under his and Lady Braeton’s watchful eyes even as we speak.” He nodded toward the couple seated at the table, their heads drawn together although their gazes were trained on the two of them. “Perhaps they also wish to observe us together, to help gauge if we suit well or not.”
“And do you think we would suit well, Mr. Dandridge?” They had arrived at the target, the wooden square pierced with two holes.
“Well done, my lady.” Intent on ignoring her question, Marcus ran his gloved finger over the first hole, almost dead center of the square, then moved it to the other hole, much closer to the edge, yet for the lady’s very first shot, a very good effort indeed. “You have done exceedingly well for your first attempt. With a little practice, I daresay you will hit your mark squarely in the center before long.”
“Do you think I will be allowed to continue to practice while I’m here?” A smile curved her lips. “I fear my brother will not be so liberal with his allowances once I return home.”
“I think Lord Braeton can be persuaded, if you continue to show yourself an apt pupil. When we tell him how well your first shot was, I think he will be pleased and wish to see your progress in attaining this skill.” Marcus smiled and offered his arm as they turned back toward the table. On a whim, but without changing his calm demeanor, he continued. “And to answer your question, yes.” He turned to look at her, his breath all but stopping as he did. “I do believe we would suit very well, my lady. Very well, indeed if given time and leave to court.”
She glanced up at him, that charming smile touching her lips again. “I see we do agree on some fundamental things, Mr. Dandridge, for I also believe we would suit one another well. And I hope that by the time Geoffrey comes to fetch me home, we can convince him of that as well.”
Heart pounding, hands shaking so badly he had to clench his fists so Lord Braeton wouldn’t see it, Marcus fought for control, praying to God to allow him to behave as a gentleman should, without any displays of strong emotion. Because now that he had Lady Joanna’s support for his suit—and dare he hope also her affection—he could scarcely contain his joy or his determination to make Lady Joanna his wife. Just knowing that she wished him to court her would make his arguments to her brother that much stronger when the time came. And knowing that the time was coming now, gave Marcus a new purpose, a surer resolve.
Lady Joanna would be his wife. All he had to do was convince Lord Longford. Of course, that had been the game all along, hadn’t it? But given Lady Joanna’s sentiments, Marcus knew there was a fight brewing. And he of all people wouldn’t give odds on who was going to be the winner.