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Chapter 11

Next afternoon, Marcus pulled the team up precisely at three o'clock, more than a little curious about what had transpired during the morning's shopping trip. Letitia had found him at breakfast, beaming as she told him about Miss Locke's invitation to accompany her shopping.

"Oh, Marcus, may I go?" she'd pleaded with him, doe eyed. "And with just Miss Locke? Not with Aunt Alexandra along. I've never been shopping with someone my own age before."

"Of course you may, my dear. Miss Locke will be an admirable chaperone." He'd never seen his sister so enthusiastic before. "Did she say what she wants to shop for?"

"No." Letitia frowned briefly then her face cleared. "But I'm happy to give her advice on anything she needs. That's why she asked me, you see. Her note said after making my acquaintance, she thought I could give her a fresh perspective on some of her clothing choices." His sister had given him a curious glance. "Although I wonder if she's actually trying to gain your favor by befriending me."

That had been too close to the truth for Marcus's taste. And he would not wish his sister to think herself unvalued as a friend. "Miss Locke trying to gain my favor? Have you lost your senses, Letitia? The lady's been nothing but critical of me." Thinking of her list, his lips had pursed. "I suspect her intentions are simply those she mentioned—that she needs fresh eyes to give her advice, and you are her newest acquaintance. I would take it as a great compliment."

"Oh, I do, Marcus, I do." She'd kissed his cheek and run from the room on happy feet.

As he'd been from home when she'd returned, Marcus was very eager to hear from Miss Locke how she and his sister had fared.

He climbed down, hurried up the steps, and was about to ply the brass door knocker, when the door flew open and suddenly Miss Locke stared him in the face. Marcus stumbled back and would've pitched himself down the marble stairs had her hand not grasped his lapel and jerked him toward her.

"Where have you been?" she hissed at him, her blue eyes flashing.

"At my club for most of the morning. Why?" His proximity to Miss Locke, with her lavender scent wafting into his nose, was making it difficult to focus on anything other than her porcelain skin and what it would feel like to caress it. "I'm here at the appointed time."

"It is three o'clock, Lord Haversham."

"And that's the same hour we agreed upon for yesterday, is it not?"

Her brows dipped in a frown. "I believe you came at two o'clock yesterday."

"I'm sorry to contradict you, but it was three." He cocked his head, curious. "You wrote it in your note the day before."

"Oh." She shook her head, making the fiery curls framing her face dance. "I could've sworn it was two o'clock."

"Is something amiss, Miss Locke?" Marcus was becoming alarmed by her urgency. "Something to do with my sister?"

"Yes. Well, no, nothing is wrong , but it does have to do with your sister." She nodded toward his curricle. "Shall we go? I really do have a lot to tell you, my lord."

"By all means, Miss Locke." Marcus offered his arm, still confused by her actions. The Miss Locke he was familiar with was not this flighty. He assisted her into the curricle, and they set off once more for Hyde Park. "So your shopping trip this morning was successful? Letitia was thrilled that you asked her."

"Yes, she had a wonderful time, no thanks to you." Miss Locke gave him a wicked glare.

"No thanks to me?" Marcus stared back at her. "I gave permission for her to go with you. Without Aunt Augusta."

"And that's what you should've been doing since before Lady Letitia had her come out, my lord." The lady shook her head. "Does Lady Letitia have friends?"

"I…I don't know." The question took Marcus by surprise. "I assumed she did. She didn't wish to go out after Father died, and I wasn't around much before he did. Did she say something to you?"

"Not directly, but she did tell me this was the first time she'd been shopping without you or her aunt in attendance. Which is terrible for her, my lord. She's likely shy because she's been alone so long. And when I asked why she hadn't been out with her friends, she said she didn't have very many. That they were mostly her cousins, who did not live near you." Miss Locke was staring accusingly at him. "Did she never play with the children near your estate?"

Again, his answer was a shameful, "I don't know." But he had to defend himself somewhat. "I'm almost seven years older than Letitia. By the time she was out of the nursery, I was off at school then university. I'm sorry, but I don't know who her friends were growing up." He sighed. That little admission would likely add a line to Miss Locke's list: uncaring.

"And I can understand that, my lord." She didn't look particularly understanding. "My brother didn't pay much attention to me either, until our father died. But as soon as he was the one responsible for me, he made it his business to know who my friends were, what I did, where I went, what entertainments I liked and didn't like." She looked at him, her eyes half-accusatory, half-pleading. "This is what you should've been doing all last winter, in preparation for Lady Letitia's come out."

Marcus sighed. "You are correct, Miss Locke. I should have done and am sorry I did not think to do so. What can I do now to make amends?"

Looking quite mollified, Miss Locke settled her ruffled feathers. "I am sure you didn't neglect her out of spite, my lord. And I believe there are ways to help Lady Letitia be more forthcoming during her Season." She looked up at him curiously. "Did you know your sister adores hats?"

"Hats?" This was the first Marcus had heard of this. Letitia had never confided such a thing to him.

"Hats and bonnets." Miss Locke nodded emphatically. "My cousin Lady Celinda is exactly the same. I've never seen anyone with such a collection of millinery in my life. And your sister's preparing to rival her in her acquisition."

"Let me guess, I will shortly receive a rather large bill from the milliner?" Marcus suppressed a groan. His pursuit of Miss Locke had best conclude quickly and favorably, else he'd have nary a feather to fly with.

The grin on her face told him he'd guessed correctly. He turned the horses through the north gate and started along Rotten Row.

"Her face lit up like the sun after a rainstorm, my lord, the very moment we entered Madame Morriss's shop. She tried on so many different bonnets and hats, and they truly became her." Miss Locke nodded again. "You know there are some women who simply cannot wear a hat and have it look right, but your sister is not one of them. So I confess I begged her to indulge herself this once." She leaned toward him and grasped his arm. "But I have a plan to employ them to help bring her out of her shyness."

The moment she touched his arm, a surge of heat hit Marcus as though he'd stepped into a Turkish bath. Good lord, what was happening to him? If this happened whenever the woman touched him, he'd never survive a set of country dances, much less a waltz. He tried to smile pleasantly at her, praying she'd release him before sweat popped out on his brow. "What is that, Miss Locke?"

"First, I have encouraged her to go out more often, not just to balls, but to events where she can wear her hats and bonnets." Miss Locke chuckled and released his arm.

Not a moment too soon as his nether regions had become agitated by his overall warmth.

"Lady Letitia was very accepting of that suggestion. So she may begin to ask you to take her to the theatre, or to museums, or even Vauxhall." His companion grabbed his arm again, and Marcus gritted his teeth. "I do hope you will allow her to go there. It would be so good for her if you got up a party."

He groaned, the fire she ignited in him racing from head to toe.

"Oh, come, my lord." She shook his sleeve as though she were a terrier with a rat. "You must allow her to experience the thrills of Vauxhall."

"Of course, Miss Locke. I do agree." He would've agreed to anything if only she'd release him. He wasn't going to be able to stand much more of this torture. In about thirty seconds, he would pull the horses to a stop, grasp Miss Locke by the shoulders, and plant a kiss on her that would convince the world she'd already agreed to marry him.

The lady let go of his sleeve, and Marcus could've wept with relief. "Thank you so much for your interest in my sister's welfare. I knew another woman would be able to ascertain how best to help Letitia."

"Oh, and that is not the only thing you must do, Lord Haversham." She turned eagerly to him, and Marcus braced himself for another onslaught of fire. "You must help her get to know the gentlemen she will be partnering during the Season."

Frowning, Marcus headed the curricle toward a certain tree he'd spied yesterday in the park. "Do you have a plan as to how I can do that?"

"Yes, I do. Would you like to hear it?" She leaned dangerously close to him.

"Of course, but I think I need to pay absolute attention to you." He pulled the horses to a stop, and his tiger ran around to hold their heads. "Let us stop here for a while so I can give you and your plan my complete attention." He jumped down, discreetly checking his trousers for signs of tenting. Thankful there were none, Marcus strode around to the other side of the curricle and helped Miss Locke descend.

"Do you mean for us to stand here and talk?" Her brow was furrowed as she glanced about. "We could just as easily go back to The Manse."

"Ah, but then we could not do what I've expressly brought you here to do." He gazed down at her, a strange hunger burning brightly in his chest.

"And what is that , my lord?" Her narrowed eyes gleamed at him.

"Have a picnic, of course."

****

His statement took Kate sorely aback. She'd not thought of this ride as an outing of any kind, but merely a way for them to speak in private about his sister. Although, as she'd just stated, they could've done that in her receiving room at the townhouse. So was Lord Haversham actually courting her while trying to make it seem as if she was merely helping his sister? The man was devious, so she wouldn't put it past him. "You did not tell me we would be picnicking, my lord."

"My way of thanking you for the interest you've taken in Letitia. I am terribly grateful to you, Miss Locke." He motioned to his tiger, and the servant hurried to the rear of the curricle and returned with a large blanket and an even larger wicker picnic basket. Lord Haversham offered her his arm. "This way, if you please."

If the man hadn't been so charming, she might've refused him. And if he was trying to court her, she'd bet her entire wardrobe Nathan had put him up to it. Had her brother realized, as she had, that her choice of husband had dwindled to one? And was Haversham truly interested in her, or was he doing this as a favor to his friend? Well, she doubted any man would woo a woman he disliked just to accommodate his friend. Friendship did have limits. So perhaps Haversham had an actual liking for her. A flicker of something, Kate didn't quite know what, flared in her chest.

"You are full of surprises, my lord." She took the arm he offered, her heart fluttering strangely.

"I have to keep you off guard, Miss Locke." He grinned down at her. "That's the only way I can ever hope to stay ahead of you."

"Indeed, my lord. You can scarcely do it even then."

"Sad but true. Still," his eyes twinkled at her, "that is the fun of the game, is it not?"

Smiling in spite of herself, Kate nodded as they approached the thick blue jacquard cover the tiger had spread on the ground. She dropped gracefully onto it and stretched her legs, excited by the prospect of a picnic. They were one of her favorite ways of eating al fresco.

Lord Haversham sat sprawled beside her and pulled the wicker basket to him. "Let's see if Cook's outdone herself as usual." He unpacked a substantial bowl of greens mixed with various meats, cheeses, and boiled eggs. "Salmagundi. A delicious start to our repast."

The servant passed him plates and silverware, and Haversham neatly scooped the salad onto their plates.

"Ah, and what would a picnic be without a pie." He withdrew an enormous pie tin, the flaky crust sitting well above the rim. "Chicken pie, I suspect. It's Cook's favorite." Moments later, he plopped a huge slice of the savory onto her plate, the gravy oozing out making Kate's mouth water. "There's also bread and cheese, frosted cakes, and fruit." He turned his dark eyes on her, and Kate's heart beat faster. "What's your pleasure, Miss Locke?"

Without thinking, she almost said, " You ." Appalled at that bizarre response, she couldn't think what to say, but at last managed, "Bread and cheese, please."

"We'll leave the desserts in the basket for now." He passed her the plate and silverware, and Kate gratefully lowered her gaze to the food. "You were going to explain to me how to help my sister with her suitors." Haversham shoveled a huge piece of the pie into his mouth. "Will you tell me?"

Kate swallowed carefully—her mouth was dry, and the bread didn't help that—and began on her plan. "I think instead of making Lady Letitia meet the gentlemen of the ton all at once, at a ball or entertainment, you should invite them one by one to meet her at home. That way she will come to view them as friends and will hopefully be less shy around them when they ask her for a dance or to sit with them at a musical evening." She forked up another bite of pie, relishing the creamy goodness. "That way you can also become better acquainted with them and ascertain if any of them are scoundrels."

"I assure you, Lord Somersby will not attend Letitia ever ." Lord Haversham gave a firm shake of his head, and stabbed a piece of meat from the salad so forcefully the fork clinked on the China.

Laughing, Kate finished her pie and moved onto the salad as well. "I'll be surprised if Lord Somersby ever finds a bride. Everyone in the ton knows what kind of cad he is."

Lord Haversham shook his head. "Some matchmaking mama will decide the game is worth the candle and throw her daughter at him—with orders to make him compromise her or else. Many a parent would likely disregard Somersby's behavior to have their child wear a marchioness's coronet."

"You are right about that. Some people put position above all else." She gave him a sideways glance. "I am glad you are not one of those."

"Thank you. I am happy to have found favor with you at last, Miss Locke."

Kate kept her gaze on her plate, wishing she could bury her head in it to hide her red cheeks. Thank goodness Haversham had never seen that list.

Plink!

Something had struck the side of her bonnet. Confused, she looked over at Lord Haversham just in time to see him hurl another missile at her.

Plink!

The soft projectile caught her on her chin as her jaw dropped open. She glanced down at the blanket to find two fat red grapes just coming to rest. "Lord Haversham!"

"Yes, Miss Locke?" He pelted her with another grape, this one striking the shoulder of her Spencer and bouncing into the grass.

Kate grabbed the two grapes at her side and fired them quickly at her adversary. The first one went wide, but the second found its mark squarely in the middle of his broad chest. Laughing, she glanced around but spied nothing else she could use to retaliate. Lord Haversham was taking grapes directly out of the picnic basket. "No fair, Haversham. You've stolen all the ammunition."

"All's fair in love and war, Miss Locke." He aimed carefully and lobbed another grape so it came down on the top of her bonnet and stayed there.

"Wretch!" Kate made a grab and captured the wicker basket. "Aha!" She thrust her hand into the basket, grasped the first object she found, and threw it directly at Haversham's head. Her aim was perfect this time, but she'd had the misfortune to grab not a grape but one of the iced cakes. The confection hit Lord Haversham squarely in the nose, leaving pink icing glistening all over his face.

Appalled, Kate covered her mouth, certain the wrath of God was about to descend on her. So she was truly shocked when the man laughed loudly, produced a handkerchief, and proceeded to scrape the gooey mess from his nose, cheeks, and chin.

"Well aimed of such a young one," he commented, another line from Shakespeare's Shrew .

"That's Katherine's line." She ventured a smile at him, amazed at his continued good humor.

"I thought it better mine, in the circumstances." He finished scrubbing his face and was about to toss the soiled handkerchief in the basket when she stopped him.

"You missed a spot."

"I'm not surprised." He held the handkerchief before his face. "Where is it?"

"You'd better let me do it." Kate knelt before him, took the now-pink scrap of cotton, and brushed at the spatters he'd missed near his jaw. The sudden realization of how close she was to him hit her, and her stomach clenched. His dark eyes studied her—she could see her reflection in their mahogany depths.

"I believe you owe me a forfeit for that last hit, Miss Locke." His mouth was so close to hers she couldn't look away.

"Wh…what forfeit would that be my lord?" Her words came out a whisper.

"The first waltz at Lady Camden's ball tonight."

Kate sat back, letting out the breath she'd been holding, and recovered as best she could. "Only one, my lord?"

He raised one sardonic eyebrow. "That will depend on what other mischief you get into."

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