Once Upon a Countess (Love And Devotion Book 2), page 1
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PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Also by Jamie Salisbury
About the Author
1
The carriage, pulled by four perfectly matched white horses, drew up outside the towering classical façade of Clevedon House, the London residence of the Duke of Clevedon. If it weren’t for the fact that the duke was a close friend from their days at Eaton and Cambridge, Parr would have declined the invitation. This evening, however, was important to Clevedon. It was the first dinner party held by the recently married duke and duchess, and Parr could never refuse Clevedon. The duke had assured him the affair would be small, knowing Parr disliked large, crowded events.
His own sister, Alexandria, reminded him he needed to host some sort of social event as well. As the Earl of Wexford, Parr needed to expand his social horizons beyond White’s. Alexandria was of the opinion that he needed a new wife and promised him she would put together a tasteful affair. He’d escaped a lengthy discussion over whom he should invite for the time being. That had proved easy enough. He’d merely promised her he would give the matter serious consideration.
Clevedon and his charming wife, Savannah, Her Grace the Duchess of Clevedon, were waiting inside the door, in the grand hall. His friend the duke had fallen head over heels in love with the charming American and her young son. A tale to be savored another time. Wexford needed to focus his attention on his hosts.
“Clevedon,” he murmured before turning his attention to the duchess. He bowed slightly. “You look as beautiful as ever, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, dear Wexford, and thank you for accepting our invitation. My husband says you’re not fond of large social events.”
He smiled. “He would be correct. I find I dislike the crush of the endless balls and soirees.”
“May I tell you a secret?” she asked with her prominent American accent. “I’m not fond of them either, so your secret is safe with me.”
Clevedon cut in. “I believe you’ll be fine, Parr. There are several guests you know, and my wife managed to keep the affair small.”
Parr nodded and again gave the duchess a slight bow before he walked off in the direction of the drawing room. Champagne was being served, and he took a flute from the tray of a passing footman. Taking a long sip, he walked through the doors.
He found there were, by his count, ten couples in total, plus one young woman who appeared to be on her own, without an escort. Perhaps one of the duchess’s friends or some distant relation of the duke’s. In either case, he was intrigued. The young woman obviously had a season or two behind her. She seemed comfortable conversing with those around her.
She was an exquisite creature. Her ginger hair was swept up off her neck. A long, luxurious neck, one that was made for kissing. Pearls adorned that beautiful neck, and she wore a deep-sapphire-colored silk gown. She looked like a queen or, in his case, a countess. That was absurd. He wasn’t looking for a wife, even though everyone told him it was past time. He’d been in mourning for his late wife, Matilda, for over a year, and until this evening had never given the matter any thought.
Clevedon came to his side, observing the festivities. The candlelight caught the reddish highlights that shimmered through his golden-brown hair. His muscular frame made him stand out from other men, showing he wasn't afraid of hard work, something his fellow peers avoided. “I see you’ve found Lady Clare.”
“Lady Clare?”
“Yes, the beauty in the dark blue gown.”
Parr finished his champagne and took another from one of many footmen. “Who accompanied her?”
“No one. She’s my cousin on my mother’s side. She was raised in Scotland and France.”
“Really? That’s fascinating. So she’s not betrothed?”
“No, which is why my aunt sent her to London.”
Parr arched a brow and smiled. “Tell me about her, and yes, you must introduce us.”
“Don’t worry, I will. I believe my wife has seated the two of you together for dinner.”
“Excellent. I knew there was a reason I liked the duchess.”
“Come. I want to acquaint you with a few gentlemen I don’t believe you know, and I’ll make sure you are introduced to Lady Clare before we go in to dinner.”
“Excellent. What else can you tell me about her before we’re introduced? You said she was your cousin.”
Clevedon finished the remainder of his champagne and placed the flute on a nearby table. “As I said, she’s my cousin and was raised in Scotland and France. Her father, my uncle, is the Duke of Renfrew. Clare is proficient in French, Gaelic, and Italian, she can ride better than most men I know, she paints, and is far more proficient than most other young ladies on pianoforte.”
Parr nodded as he listened. “What of her temperament?”
His friend smiled ever so slightly. “She is a delight to be around so long as you don’t rile her. She’s known for her fierce Scottish temper and a tart tongue.”
“Lady Clare sounds quite interesting. I look forward to getting to know her better.”
“Let me introduce you before we get bogged down in some political discussion with the men.”
They walked across the drawing room to where Lady Clare stood between Viscount Newton’s wife, Lady Newton, and Countess Taylor. Her husband, the Earl of Taylor, was well known as a successful land baron with property throughout England and Wales.
“Ladies, I would like to present Parr, the Earl of Wexford,” Clevedon said. “Wexford, I believe you already know Countess Taylor and Lady Newton.”
“I do. Ladies, nice to see you this evening.”
“Wexford, may I present my cousin, Lady Clare.”
Parr nodded and took the hand Lady Clare offered. “Lady Clare, I’m pleased to meet you.”
She studied him for a moment, her dark green eyes sizing him up. “I’m sure you are, Lord Wexford. Everyone is.”
Wexford arched a brow. “I beg pardon, my lady?”
Did she actually roll her eyes at him? Clevedon hadn’t mentioned her being a snob.
Lady Clare opened her fan, then closed it. “My father, the Duke of Renfrew, is quite wealthy, and unfortunately, I find most men use me as a way to get into my father’s good graces.”
“I can assure you I live quite comfortably, and what your father has or may not have is not my concern.”
“How refreshing, Lord Wexford. A man with no interest in my father’s money.”
“If you ladies will excuse us,” Clevedon said. “Lord Hemsley is beckoning us.”
Wexford bowed. “Ladies, a pleasure as always. Lady Clare, it has been good to meet one of Clevedon’s Scottish relations.”
The two men strode across the room toward a small group of gentlemen, Lord Hemsley among them.
“So that’s your cousin.”
The edge of Clevedon’s mouth curved up. “I warned you. She thinks any man who shows interest in her simply wants to get close to the duke.”
“Her tongue is enough to scare off most men.”
“Indeed. She’s had two proposals, both of which she refused, and her father didn’t approve of one in any case. He allowed her the other refusal. And yet, as I said, her father wishes her wed.”
Wexford snorted. “I do believe I’ve heard of your cousin. Her dowry’s reportedly the largest in all England and Scotland.”
“Her name and dowry precede her. I’m afraid it’s worn on my cousin.”
“I can see where it might.”
They neared the group of men, stopping just short of joining them. “You’ll get to know her better at dinner,” Clevedonsaid. “Just don’t bring up money, and you should be safe from her wrath.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Parr glanced across the room and saw the duchess had joined the group. Unfortunately, Lady Clare’s back was to him, and he couldn’t see her face. Dinner would commence shortly, and he would have his chance to get to know the lady better then.
As this was the duchess’s fist official dinner party, the meal would
From the moment he sat down next to Lady Clare, Parr knew his evening would be anything but dull. She didn’t look at all surprised that they had been paired together. She sat quietly for a moment before speaking after he’d acknowledged her as he settled himself in his chair
“Lord Wexford. Imagine that, the only two unmarried people at this dinner party being seated together. How curious.”
“I’m sure Her Grace thought you’d rather be seated with me rather than, say, Lord Hemsley.”
She picked up her wineglass, which had just been filled. “Touché.”
“Something we agree on, though he thinks he’s still quite the ladies’ man.”
“Old ladies, perhaps,” she replied with a smug look.
She took a sip of wine, and he did the same as he pondered his next topic. “How long are you in London?”
Smiling, she set the glass down. “Until my parents return from Paris. We have a townhouse there,” she said. “I wasn’t invited to accompany them, and I certainly didn’t feel like spending my time in Scotland. My cousin obliged when asked by my father.”
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine a young woman like you not wanting to visit Paris.”
“I never said I didn’t want to visit Paris. My family lived in France for a time. I’ve been to Paris on many occasions. Right now, I find it boring.”
“Perhaps you need to change your social acquaintances in Paris. Seek out those who are more suited to whatever it is you like to do.”
She arched a brow and picked up her spoon. “Perhaps.”
They ate their soup without another word. She was going to make sure they both had a miserable time. Why? He picked up his wineglass as the footman took away the first course and another brought broiled salmon with capers along with perch in cream sauce. He observed her wrinkling her nose, but pretended he hadn’t seen. It was actually quite cute how she did that.
She turned away from him to answer a question her other dinner partner asked. Of all men to place her next to, the flamboyant Viscount Newton was the worst possible choice. Marriage had never stopped the viscount from shamelessly flirting with young, unattached women such as Lady Clare. Even the man’s manner of dress was offensive. He looked like a peacock with all the colors he wore.
Parr took a forkful of the creamed fish and gazed down the table to where Clevedon sat. The two made eye contact, and the duke had the audacity to smile and raise his glass of wine in his direction. Smug bastard. He was having fun with this. Parr suddenly felt as though he was in the lion’s den, and no one was going to rescue him. He shook his head. His other dinner partner was engaged in conversation with another, so he set his fork aside and downed his wine.
By the time the crisp-skinned roast duck was served, Parr was more than ready to leave. Lady Clare was still engaged in conversation with the peacock, and the lady to his left, Lady Hemsley, regrettably had little to say beyond remarking upon the weather or inquiring about his siblings.
Having lost his parents in a violent carriage accident, Wexford had been left with three sisters and two brothers living at home. After a reasonable mourning period, he sent Gregory and George off to Eton. His younger sisters, Violet and Jenny, would be ready for their coming out over the next two years. Perhaps they’d each find a suitable husband. Their older sister, Alexandria, certainly had. Hers had been an arranged marriage, the couple having met only two days prior to their wedding. Somehow, she and Viscount Sansbury had accepted their fate. In fact, now they seemed to adore each other. If it were a farce, they kept it well hidden, and since they were staying here in London with him, he was certain he would know if there were marital discord between the two.
“My cousin says you’re quite the horseman,” he heard Lady Clare say, bringing him out of his brooding and back to the dinner party.
“I enjoy riding as much as the next man.”
“Come, my lord. Don’t be so modest. I understand you ride a magnificent black stallion.”
“Hercules is quite handsome. He has more stamina than any of my other horses,” he replied.
Dessert would be served next, and if he were going to make a move and invite her for a walk or carriage ride, it would have to be soon. Once dinner was over, the ladies would retire to the drawing room for tea, and he would be locked in here to enjoy port, cigars, and politics with the men.
“Perhaps I’ll see you riding him through the park.”
Was she playing with him, or did she hope he would invite her to ride with him?
“Would you care to accompany me for a ride through the park? I could call on you tomorrow afternoon. I have a nice gray mare I think you’d find much to your liking.”
She let the footman take her plate before replying, then looked Parr directly in the eyes. Hers were the darkest green he thought he’d ever seen. Like deep-hued emeralds.
“Regrettably, my lord, I must decline. Her Grace made previous arrangements for us to visit her modiste.”
“Surely that won’t take all day.”
“It’ll take most of the day. Perhaps another time?”
He wasn’t sure if she were setting him up only to let him down again. He would take that chance.
“Yes, perhaps another time,” he replied.
Parr was relieved when dessert was served. His friend’s bride had made sure to serve almond cheesecake, one of his favorites. At least a piece of this delectable cake wouldn’t unsettle him the way Lady Clare did.
Time came when dinner was over, and the gentlemen rose as the ladies quietly left the dining room. The peacock beat him to speaking with Lady Clare before they retired to the drawing room. Parr simply nodded in her direction. She met his nod with a smirk and quickly turned away from him.
He sat brooding through a lively discussion about some controversy in Parliament. He barely heard a word being said around him. Instead, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about his dinner partner and how she’d deliberately set out to toy with him. One thing was certain, Clevedon was correct: his cousin did have a tart tongue. Problem was, he actually found it to be a breath of fresh air compared to the simpering demeanors of the usual ladies of the ton.
Lady Clare was quite pleasing in appearance. She’d make some lucky man a wonderful wife. Just not him. It was evident by the manner in which she spoke with him and the fact that she refused his offer of a ride in the park that she wasn’t interested in him.
When the gentlemen rose to join the ladies, Parr glanced at his old friend. He needed to take his leave. Now.
“I take it my cousin was unkind?” Clevedon inquired.
“No, not at all. From the little time I spoke with her, I can see she’s a complicated young woman.”
“Yes, she is,” he replied.
Parr finished off his port. “I need to go. Please pass on my thanks to your lovely bride for such a delightful evening.”
“You can tell her yourself,” Clevedon said. “You’ll not give my cousin the satisfaction of thinking she’s thwarted any so-called attempt to set her up with a respectable man.”
“Really, I don’t wish to have her humiliate me in front of your friends, and I fear that may be her next move.”
“She won’t,” the duke replied as he poured them both another glass of port. “Her father sent her to me to find her a suitable match.”
“I thought they went to Paris.” He took the glass from Clevedon and swirled the dark amber liquid.
“They did. She’s chased away every eligible man in Edinburgh. Her parents thought allowing her to stay here without them might be what she needs.”
Parr drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “She seems quite intelligent. More than most.”
“She is. Perhaps if you ask her to go on a carriage ride, you’d see that. You’d be surprised by the subjects she’s interested in, many of which are not topics you’d normally converse with your dinner partner about.”
