7. A Tour is a Prelude

A moment later

Although he had feared the Engleston townhouse might appear shabby or soot-stained, David was pleasantly surprised to see that its smooth stucco exterior, made to look like some sort of Grecian marble, was neither. The black painted shutters were all plumb, and the cobalt blue door looked as new as the day it had been hung. A shiny brass mermaid knocker gleamed in the sunshine as did the brass kick plate at the door’s base.

“This is your house?” Marian asked in awe.

“It is,” he replied, although disbelief sounded in his words. He grinned when he noted her look of confusion. “If I expect the worst, then I can only be impressed when it is not,” he said with a shrug. The nervousness he had felt only the moment before dissipated. First impressions were always the most important. Even if the interior was a wreck, at least the house appeared habitable from the outside.

Carver opened the coach door, and David stepped down to the pavement. He turned and offered Marian a hand, experimentally sniffing the air for the telltale odors of the nearby Thames and coal smoke. Instead, the air smelled fresh, as if the rain had simply washed away the stench, much as it had the soot.

Marian stood before the townhouse and glanced both left and right. “We must be near Westminster Abbey,” she remarked.

“We are,” David said. “It’s only a few streets that way,” he added, pointing with his umbrella. “I’ve been known to walk there when Parliament is in session.” He took a deep breath and led her to the front door, rehearsing in his mind what he would tell his mother.

They hadn’t even reached the green wrought iron gate when the front door opened to reveal the butler.

“Ah, Glover, it’s good to see you again,” David remarked as he held open the gate for Marian.

“And you, my lord,” the butler replied as he stepped back and opened the door wider.

“Glover, this is my betrothed, Miss Marian Copper. Is my mother in residence?”

The butler bowed to Marian. “My lady,” he said before turning his attention back to his master. “She is not, sir. She departed the city for Brighton two days ago. Said if she was to endure any more rain, she would do it there with her friends until either the end of August or until the rain quit,” he explained. “Whichever came second. Her missive to you detailing her plans has probably not yet reached Engleston Park,” he added as he took hats and coats from the couple.

“Oh, well I can’t say I blame her,” David remarked. “But I did wish to introduce her to Miss Copper.” He allowed a shrug. “I shall at least give my sweet a tour of the house.”

“I can have tea delivered to the parlor, sir. Should I have cook make a dinner for you two as well?”

David exchanged a quick glance with Marian. All his hastily made plans for that afternoon—the introduction to his mother, the tour of the house, and a wedding ceremony at the Soho Club before six o’clock—seemed to jumble in his mind. Perhaps his expression conveyed his confusion, for Marian squeezed his hand and said, “Yes. Tea in the parlor sounds perfect. Do have cook prepare a simple dinner for say... seven o’clock? The meal can be delivered to Lord Engleston’s apartments. He will require his bedchamber this evening, of course, and might there be a bedchamber I could use starting tomorrow evening?”

Glover blinked. “Of course, my lady. I’ll see to the tea right away,” he said as he nodded, “and have the housekeeper see to the mistress suite.”

“Oh, and do let the driver know his services won’t be needed for the rest of the afternoon,” Marian said as David stared at her in wonder.

“Yes, my lady.”

The butler headed off through the front hall, his shoe heels clicking on the marble tile floor.

Marian watched him go before she turned to discover David still gazing at her. “What is it, my dearest?”

He swallowed. “You’re very good at that,” he remarked. “Making last-minute plans and running a household, I mean.”

She grinned. “I do it every day at Penhurst Place,” she said, referring to her uncle’s London mansion. “I have been since I became his ward. He doesn’t have a wife, nor do I expect he’ll take another since he already has his heir.”

David angled his head to one side, remembering the earl’s son was away at university. “So... since you’re having the driver dismissed for the afternoon, I take it we’re not returning to the Soho Club until later this evening?” he asked in confusion.

Marian placed a hand on the top of his. “I think it’s best we stay here for a time, don’t you?” she replied as she surveyed the hall as if in awe. “We’ll be so much more comfortable here.”

“I do rather like the thought of dining in my apartment,” he said, his nervousness returning. “Especially if I actually had an apartment and not merely a bedchamber.”

Marian blinked, her happy expression momentarily faltering. “Does your bedchamber have a sitting area?”

David furrowed his brows. “I believe so. It’s been some time since I was in there.” At her look of confusion, he added, “I spend most of my time here in my study or in the library.”

Her eyes rounded. “You have a library? Here?”

He nodded. “I do. And from your reaction, am I to conclude you are a reader?”

Hesitant to respond, Marian clasped her hands together. “Would you think less of me if I said yes?” she asked.

“I would think how fortunate I am to marry a woman with a brain,” he replied in awe. His expression faltered. “I must warn you that although there is a decent collection of fiction—my mother is a reader of gothic novels—the majority of the tomes are rather dry. ‘Modern Farming Techniques’ and ‘Animal Husbandry for the Gentleman Farmer’ come to mind,” he said on a wince.

Marian giggled. “Then I am sure to find something to read whilst you are engaged in the matters of your barony,” she replied. “But I should warn you that my reading has included many works of non-fiction. Works that might be considered... scandalous for a woman of my age to have read.”

David blinked. “Would these scandalous books be of French origin, by chance?”

A blush colored her cheeks before Marian dipped her head. “With color plates,” she acknowledged.

David chuckled and then sobered. “I believe my library might include one or two of those books” he said before he cleared his throat. “Do you suppose there will be enough time for tea and a tour before we must be back to the Soho Club to be wed?” he asked with worry as he pulled his chronometer from his waistcoat pocket. “’Tis already half-past four o’clock.”

She grinned. “We do not, but who said anything about going back to the Soho Club this afternoon?” She arched a brow. “I should like to marry you on the morrow. After I’ve had the opportunity to purchase a suitable gown.”

David couldn’t help but hide his disappointment. “Oh. And... and in the meantime?” he stammered.

Marian stepped up to him and touched her lips to his. He immediately returned the kiss, his arms encircling her back as he pulled her hard against him. His fingers spread wide as they smoothed down to the small of her back, their tips following the bumps of her spine until it curved to the perfectly shaped globes of her bottom.

When he pulled away slightly, he touched his forehead to hers. “Why did you request a bedchamber for tomorrow night?” he asked in a whisper.

Marian glanced up at him through the curtains of her dark lashes. “I rather hoped I wouldn’t require my own for this evening,” she answered.

He swallowed. “Oh,” he said on a breath. His eyes darted sideways. “Because...?”

She angled her head to one side. “Perhaps I was hoping for an invitation to yours,” she murmured. “Especially since we’ll be having our dinner there.”

“Oh,” he said with excitement. ‘You have it, my sweet,” he replied quickly. “Always. An open invitation.”

Marian giggled again in an attempt to cover her nervousness. “Show me this house now, my dearest David, or we’re going to be making love right here on the hall floor,” she warned with a grin.

David chuckled, his smile widening as if he were imagining what she was suggesting. “My servants would all faint from shock,” he murmured as he offered his arm.

“For a moment there, I thought you were going to,” she said with a teasing grin.

“For a moment, I almost did,” he claimed on a guffaw. “Now, where do I start?” He glanced around the hall.

Lined with caryatids featuring the busts of various Roman emperors and small statuary of Greek gods, the floor of the hall was tiled with alternating black and white marble squares. “This is the hall, where if you have enough servants, you can play chess,” he said as he spread his arms. “Of course, we have to move the round table into this room first,” he said as he led her into the breakfast parlor.

Although there was a sideboard along one long wall and four chairs lined up along another, there was no table in the middle. “I take it you don’t have breakfast in here?” Marian asked as her brows crinkled.

“Only when we’re playing chess,” he replied with a wink. He quickly sobered. “I’ve had a table on order from Chippendale’s studio for nearly two years,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ve been eating breakfasts in the dining room.”

“I’ll have a word with Mr. Chippendale or one of his associates this week,” Marian stated.

David blinked. “You will?”

She angled her head to one side. “Do you object?”

He shook his head. “Not at all,” he replied, grinning as he led her to a small room that looked out on the front street. “The sitting room,” he said. “Faces east, so it has the morning light and none of the afternoon heat.”

Marian nodded approvingly before they moved to his study. “My haven,” he said as he moved to the desk and thumbed through a small stack of correspondence on a silver salver. “We have invitations,” he said as he popped the wax seal on one missive.

“Should I send our regrets?” Marian asked as she lifted one of the bright white notes and regarded the seal on the back with a critical eye.

“I rather imagine most of these have already taken place,” he murmured as he read an invitation to a ball that had occurred in April.

“I’ll see to the appropriate responses,” she said as she opened an invitation to a garden party. “When do you suppose we will be departing for Engleston Park?”

David glanced up from a letter he was reading. “I suppose that depends on when you’d like to begin our wedding trip,” he hedged.

“Then I shall send regrets for all of these,” she replied with a grin.

“I do like the way you think,” he said as he tossed the letter he’d been reading onto the desk. “On to the dining room,” he said as he headed for the door.

Marian hesitated but followed the baron to the next room off of the main hall. Although it featured a table that might seat ten or twelve, the dining room was huge by townhouse standards. “We could host a ball in here,” she murmured in awe.

“Oh, please. Let’s not,” David countered.

She giggled at the very moment Glover appeared on the threshold to announce tea had been served in the parlor.

“Upstairs,” David said before Marian could ask where the parlor was located. He offered an arm, and the two climbed the flight of stairs located on one side of the main hall. “It’s not particularly grand, I know,” he said as they made their way.

“But it provides a rather glorious vantage,” she said as they looked over the railing to the hall below.

“The parlor is right here,” he said in a quiet voice, his head nodding to a set of open double doors.

“How convenient for our guests,” she replied, glancing between the top of the stairs and the parlor.

David regarded her with a grin. “You’re being a very good sport about this,” he said in a quiet voice.

Marian gave a start. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “You’ve been running the household at Penhurst Place for... for how long?” They headed into the parlor.

“A few years,” she admitted.

“This must seem... petty,” he said with a wince. A quick glance around the parlor had him pleasantly surprised, though. It appeared brighter and fresher than he remembered, and there was a pleasant scent of pine in the air.

Marian shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve never thought of Penhurst Place as my own. As if I would ever truly be the lady of the house,” she amended. “At any moment, Uncle Richard can take a wife, and I will be relegated to a guest bedchamber at the end of a long forgotten corridor.”

David gave a start. “I promise that as my wife, that shall never happen to you,” he whispered.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Do you suppose...?” She didn’t complete the thought out loud. Had her uncle decided to remarry? Did he already have someone in mind to become the new Lady Penhurst?

Coming to the same conclusion, David furrowed a brow and pulled her into his arms. “If Lord Penhurst is intending to remarry, he has said nothing to me,” he murmured. “He already has an heir.”

“Cousin William,” she acknowledged, her curt response suggesting she didn’t care for the young man.

“Perhaps Penhurst really did plan for us to meet. See you settled,” David suggested. He shrugged. “If that’s the case, his plan is working to perfection.”

She dipped her head. “I do hope you’re not feeling as if he has manipulated the situation somehow. Because... because I do,” she admitted.

David winced. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Her eyes rounded. “Oh, not about us,” she assured him. “But I have every intention of thoroughly scolding him when next I see him.”

Chuckling at the thought of Marian Copper giving the Earl of Penhurst the what-for, David remembered something. “Careful, my sweet,” he said, about to remind her that Penhurst controlled her dowry. “Best to keep him in our good graces since we’ll be eloping soon.”

Marian inhaled softly. “Of course.” She glanced around the parlor. “Well, this is certainly cozy. Not the least bit shabby,” she remarked. “Penhurst Place’s parlor is well-used,” she added with a wince.

“I hope you’ll like the country house,” David said in a quiet voice. “That you’ll make it your own. That you’ll want to stay there with me for the rest of our lives,” he added before he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her quite thoroughly.

When they came up for air, Marian stared at him for a moment before she inhaled softly. For the first time since they had met, she was sure she felt the evidence of his arousal behind the placket of his breeches. Her eyes darted down to confirm her suspicion. “Our tea will be growing cold,” she whispered.

He swallowed. “Indeed,” he replied, his face reddening with his embarrassment.

“A quick cup and we’ll head upstairs to your bedchamber,” she suggested.

“We will?”

“Or... we can simply skip the tea,” she went on, ignoring his query.

“I’ll just grab the biscuits,” David said as he plucked the plate of biscuits from the tray and returned to the threshold. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, and I have reason to believe I’ll require sustenance for what is about to happen.”

Marian displayed a prim grin. “I’ll bring the tea,” she offered as she lifted the salver from the low table in front of a rose velvet settee. “I don’t know about you, but I’m rather thirsty.”

David watched as she approached him, carrying the tray as if she’d done it a thousand times. Perhaps she had. “If I haven’t told you already, I find you rather gorgeous,” he blurted.

Marian blinked before she allowed a brilliant smile. “If you’re thinking to ply me with compliments to entice me into your bed, then you should know that your plan is working to perfection,” she said.

His mouth opening and closing much like a fish, David attempted a response before he realized she was giving him a compliment of sorts. “This way,” he said as he led her to the next flight of stairs, this one located on the opposite wall from the first. “My mother took this room since it faces east,” he explained when they had reached the top of the stairs. “My... apartment,” he said in a teasing voice. “And the mistress suite are back here,” he added as he indicated the floor’s only corridor. “As well as a guest bedchamber and a bathing chamber.”

“And the third floor?” she prompted as she glanced about for evidence of another flight of stairs.

“Servants’ quarters and if I remember correctly, a nursery,” he murmured. “They can be reached using the servants’ stairs there in the corner.”

“A very efficient floor plan,” she remarked as he paused before the last door along the corridor. Holding the plate of biscuits in one hand while he used his other to push the door handle, David hesitated before opening the door.

“Please know that I did not plan for this to happen,” he said, finally leaning against the wood panel until his bedchamber was revealed.

“How could you?” Marian countered, sweeping into the room. “Unless you knew something I didn’t know.” She headed directly to the low table in front of the fireplace and set the tea tray on it. She went about preparing cups for tea, impressed that Glover had seen to lighting several lumps of coal in the fireplace. With all the drapes pulled shut against the chill, the meager flame provided enough light by which to see.

About to mention his growing suspicion about the Earl of Penhurst’s intentions for the two of them, David decided it best he simply enjoy the results. He was betrothed. He was aroused. And he was about to share a bed with a woman for the very first time in his life.