One Christmas With The Earl (The Seldon Park Christmas Novella Book 1) Page 2

  Mellie didn't have a moment to protest as the countess promptly yanked her back across the room to where the baron in question was, indeed, peering down lecherously at a young woman who looked as if she was ready to swoon where she stood. Mellie didn't know Florentina Haversham, the Earl of Marburry's youngest daughter, well, but she did know the girl was only nineteen and had been extremely sheltered her entire life. It would not do well for the poor girl to be tricked into marriage with a man like Rockville simply because she had let her guard down for a brief moment.

  So Mellie allowed Lady Raynecourt to haul her across the ballroom to where the young lady stood frozen in place like a lamb about to be devoured by wolves. However she also couldn't help but glance back at where Lord Houghton stood, still watching them. More importantly, watching her.

  For a moment, Mellie felt something stir deep inside of her, but she pushed it back down. Now was not the time. And no matter how nice Lord Houghton seemed, there was no possible way that he could be interested in someone like her. Someone with a notorious family and suspect bloodlines. Someone who was a spinster. But if he could be? Then Mellie thought that perhaps - just perhaps - she could be more than a little interested in a man like him as well.

  Fitz watched as Lady Raynecourt drug the enchanting young woman across the ballroom. Well, perhaps not young. Lady Amelia - or Mellie as the dowager had referred to her - looked to be approaching seven and twenty or so. Not that he had ever been a very good judge of age. Still, it was clear she was not some young miss fresh from the schoolroom either. That much had been evident in the way she had raked his body with her eyes. As if she was undressing him.

  Not that he minded. For she was quite fetching. Perhaps a little older than he would have preferred, especially since he needed heirs, but not so old that she could not bear them.

  She was also beautiful, with lush Mediterranean-esque looks that rivaled his own for darkness. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine their children, dark and lovely, moving through the pale, bland drawing rooms of London. They would be a sight to behold. They were also not real, much to his chagrin and dismay. And typically, he did not allow his mind to wander in such fanciful directions.

  Then Fitz shook his head, disgusted with himself. He was not here to find a wife or enjoy the holiday atmosphere. Well, his mother might argue that point but then Luciana Frost, the dowager Countess of Houghton, saw every woman she encountered as a potential bride for her still-very-much-a-bachelor son.

  Rather, Fitz was here strictly for social and political reasons. He needed the support from men like the Earl of Raynecourt and the Duke of Enwright if he was ever going to pass some of his measures in the House of Lords during the upcoming session. This holiday house party was meant to be a way to ingratiate himself into those men's good graces. It was not meant to be a wife hunt.

  But the duke wasn't present any longer, scampering off at the first opportunity to Viscount Chillton's rather naughty and notorious house party at a secluded estate in Dorset. And if the Earl of Raynecourt was about, Fitz had yet to see him anywhere. He suspected the other man had most likely left for Chillton's with Enwright. And that left Fitz in something of a quandary. In fact, he had been searching for a way to politely excuse himself from the house party and return to his own country seat in Shropshire this very evening when Lady Raynecourt had cornered him. And brought the ever-so-delightful Lady Mellie with her.

  Now Fitz wasn't quite certain that he wanted to leave. At least not until he got to know Lady Mellie better. Then again, he was no longer a young man prone to thinking with his cock so he debated the wisdom of remaining at Fieldown.

  However, his mother was spending the holiday season with her sister in Brighton and would remain there through the rest of the winter season. His younger brothers, Thomas and Joseph as well as his sister Agnes, were all with their families this Christmastide. They had their own lives now. Ones that did not include Fitz.

  There was no other place that Fitz really had to be at the moment, either. So if he wanted to remain and at least converse for a bit with the lovely Lady Mellie, there was no reason he could not do so. In fact, it might very well do him some good.

  In general, Fitz did not do well with the farer sex, even though he had been betrothed at one point in his life. In fact, it was a bit more accurate to say that he was an abysmal failure at anything to do with wooing a lady. Part of that stemmed from the fact that he was horribly shy and extremely bookish. For the most part, the young ladies he encountered liked to talk about fashion and gossip about their friends. Fitz enjoyed reading Shakespeare, studying Latin and investigating ancient Greek history. He did not much care for gossip. Or what bonnet matched which gown. Or what specific shade of pink was in the first stare of fashion this year.

  To Fitz's mind, a lady's gown looked best on the floor of his bedchamber while she was naked in his bed. Oh, he was not a rake. No, far from it. But he was a man with physical needs. There was no getting around that particular issue. And he had, admittedly, had some success in that particular area, most likely due to the fact that he was moderately attractive, wealthy and titled. After all, there was much a young lady would do if she thought the end result might snare her an earl.

  So he was no stranger to passion and desire, nor to the way a woman's body curved so delightfully. But wooing and keeping a woman? That was another matter completely. After all, when one was naked, there was very little need to talk.

  He was also far from the dashing hero, the sort found in those Gothic romances that many young ladies loved to read. If anything, he was more of the quiet and brooding sort, though he did not think himself to be overly morose. He was, however, irretrievably broken, at least by some measure, and in his experience most young ladies preferred their potential beau to be whole of mind and heart.

  While there was nothing wrong with Fitz's mind, his heart was another matter completely. And likely always would be.

  Moreover, he did not dress in gaudy, bright colors or strive to be the next Beau Brummel. Nor did he spar at Gentleman Jackson's as was fashionable. He did however like to swim and did so as often as possible, even in abysmal weather. He also fenced a bit and rode horses as well, both activities that had, thus far, kept his body from going soft and running to fat, even at the ripe old age of one and thirty.

  And that particular age, at least according to some of the young women he had somehow managed to converse with recently, was as good as having one foot already in the grave.

  No, overall, Fitz was everything that young ladies of good breeding did not wish for in a prospective suitor - save for the obvious, of course. Especially the young ladies who were in only their first or second Seasons. They, of course, preferred the younger, and supposedly more virile men of society. Though secretly, Fitz believed that he could hold himself well against any of the young bucks in society today. Not that he ever had the chance, mind you. He merely believed that he could if necessary.

  Except that Lady Mellie had not looked at him as if she found him repugnant. Or near to death.

  Then again, Fitz had been told that his looks were passable by more than one young woman, so he supposed that he was not completely unattractive to the female of the species. However, Lady Mellie had appraised him as if she had seen something...well...more in him than just the quietly shy and bookish Earl of Houghton. She looked at him as if she had seen the man beneath. Like she desired the man beneath. And Fitz found that he rather liked that about her. Perhaps more than was wise. And his body certainly desired her. Of that there was no question, especially when his cock was still so hard for her that it was difficult to move from his position next to one of those infernal jars filled with gold and silver glass balls that Lady Raynecourt adored so much.

  In fact, he liked everything about Lady Mellie enough that she alone would make it worth his while to remain at the house party for at least a few more days. Perhaps not until Twelfth Night certainly, but until a few days after Christmas Day at the v
ery least. And here at the house party, if he paid her court, no one would really be any the wiser.

  After all, her brother was gone and her maid was a timid slip of a thing, at least from what Fitz had seen. A little flirting might go a long way to help his long-bruised ego. Given that Lady Mellie was a wallflower, he didn't think she would mind. Especially if that heated look she had given him was any indication of how attractive she found him. It would be a little harmless flirtation and give him some much-needed practice at wooing women. What could it hurt?

  Decision made, Fitz adjusted his trousers a bit and then sauntered out of the ballroom as casually as he could. He was greatly looking forward to tomorrow when he would make certain that he encountered Lady Mellie again. And he would be sure to be on his best behavior.

  Chapter Two

  To Fitz's great surprise, he didn't have to wait until the next morning to encounter Lady Mellie again. Instead, he only had to wait about five minutes.

  While he was on his way back to his bedchambers, a brace of candles firmly in hand and a book on Egyptian - there were no books on the Greeks in the house, much to his dismay - deities tucked under his arm, Fitz made the fateful decision to use the servants' back staircase rather than the main stairs that led to the wing containing the bed chambers. He had thought to avoid the gaggle of young ladies who had been regaling him with their opinions on lace - too much or not enough - when Lady Raynecourt had swooped in to save him. Fitz knew that at least one of the young women, a Lady Violet Holcombe, saw him as a prospective husband, but he was, unfortunately, unable to say that he found her all that attractive in return. However, she was also a bit aggressive in her pursuit, much to his dismay. Not to mention a little young for his tastes.

  In his wish to avoid Lady Violet, Fitz had decided to take the back stairs and simply avoid the chit for the night. He had not, however, counted on running into Lady Mellie again. Or Baron Rockville who was busy trying to yank Mellie into a darkened sitting room.

  "Baron Rockville! Unhand me at once!" Fitz heard Mellie before he actually saw her. Then he heard the scuffle of a lady's slippers against the floor and knew he had to act. It was not in his nature to play the hero, but in this case, he could not allow the lady to fend for herself.

  As quickly but as quietly as he could, Fitz hurried towards the sound of the commotion, arriving just in time to see the baron pull Lady Mellie close and press a sloppy, wet kiss to her neck.

  "But you are so very lovely, my dear," Rockville sighed as he held the lady tightly against his body, though she struggled mightily to get free. "And so very, very wealthy."

  "Release me this instant!" Lady Mellie demanded, bringing her foot down hard on the top of Rockville's foot to little effect. "Or I shall be forced to tell Lady Raynecourt."

  That only made the baron smile. "Ah, yes. Our lovely and very proper hostess. And what do you think that she might say if you were to inform her that we were alone together for such a long period of time?" The man's voice held a nasty edge. "Yes, please, my dear. Tattle on me. I should very much enjoy that. And then, I shall enjoy both wedding you and bedding you." Then he reached out to cup her breast with his free hand, groping her so hard that she winced.

  Fitz had seen enough. Placing his book on a table, he strode into the room, holding his candelabra high. "What in the bloody hell is going on here?" he demanded. With his gravely voice - the result of a childhood illness that had settled in his throat - he knew that he sounded particularly menacing.

  "My dear Amelia, we are caught out!" Rockville sighed dramatically as he stepped back from Lady Mellie but did not release her wrist. "I am afraid that our secret has been revealed and we will be forced to wed. This man knows what he sees, I am certain." He tried to kiss the back of her hand but she tugged hard against him, catching the baron off guard and managing to break free.

  To Fitz's eye, it looked as if Mellie wanted to strike the baron, but good manners dictated that she keep her hands to herself. Still, he watched her fingers flex slightly and for some reason, he was absurdly pleased. The chit had spirit. He would say that for her.

  Fitz growled as he looked at Rockville. "What I see is a miserable excuse for a gentleman mauling a lady. That is what I see and it is inexcusable." Then he placed the candelabra on the table and crossed his arms over his chest.

  "But we have been caught!" Rockville protested loudly. "Propriety demands that we wed immediately!"

  "Propriety demands that a gentleman court a lady, not trap her into marriage by such foul means. No true gentleman would treat a lady the way you have just done to Lady Mellie." Fitz made certain to use her nickname, just as Lady Raynecourt had done, hoping that Rockville would believe Fitz had a deeper relationship with the lady than he actually did. After all, the baron had referred to her as "Amelia," indicating that he hadn't been aware of her nickname.

  The ruse must have worked for at the use of the name "Mellie," the baron's eyes grew wide and it clearly occurred to him that Fitz knew he didn't have a previous relationship with the lady he was currently mauling. "I...ah...I was just..."

  "You were just leaving, were you not?" Fitz asked haughtily. "After you apologize to Lady Mellie, of course. And before I have you tossed out into the snow on your arse." Then he cocked his head. "Or perhaps I should just wait until her brother, Lord Enwright, returns and have him deal with you personally." It was an empty threat, of course. The duke would not return to Fieldown this Christmastide. But the baron did not need to know that.

  "Enwright?" the baron squeaked and Fitz almost laughed at the man's abject terror. He was surprised the man did not wet himself with fear. "As in Devil Duke Enwright?"

  Lady Mellie smiled sweetly. "The very same."

  "My lady. My lord. My apologies." With that, Rockville could not scamper out of the room fast enough, his body shaking as he departed.

  Fitz watched him leave and then slid his gaze back to Lady Mellie, realizing that he was now in the same situation he had just chastised Lord Rockville for. He was alone with the lady. Except that she didn't seem to be terrified of him. Instead, she was doing her best to hold back a laugh.

  "Something humorous, my lady?" Fitz asked dryly, though he felt like laughing as well.

  Mellie couldn't help herself. She chuckled. And the chuckle turned into a laugh and before long, she was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. It was in no way proper, but it felt good. It was either that or cry as the terror from the baron's mauling left her. Mellie preferred the laughter.

  When she could finally speak again, Mellie took a deep breath and straightened so that she could face Lord Houghton, who was, much to her delight, still considerably taller than she was. She had wondered before if she had simply been imagining things. "Humorous? No. But I am relieved." She let out a slow breath. "Thank you, my lord, for coming to my aid."

  Fitz offered the lady a bow. "It was my pleasure, Lady Mellie."

  To his delight, she waved him off. "Please. After that, I believe you have earned the right to refer to me by my Christian name. Though I prefer Mellie over Amelia, as you might have guessed. It is much less formal." Then she sobered. "How did you know that Rockville was unaware of my relationship to Adam?"

  Fitz shrugged. "I didn't. Not for certain. However it seemed to me that any man who would treat you so harshly either didn't know that your brother was the infamous Devil Duke or he had a death wish. I did not think it was the latter, as it is well known that Rockville is in search of a wealthy wife, so I assumed it was the former." Another shrug. "I guessed correctly. I was lucky."

  "No, you were a gentleman, Lord Houghton." And for that, Mellie was extremely grateful.

  He bowed again. "I was merely in the correct place at the correct time. And please, you may call me Fitz. I prefer it more than Fitzherbert, as you might imagine."

  Mellie could see why. Though she did not say that. Instead she gestured to the book he had placed on a table when he entered the sitting room. "So what brings
you to my rescue this evening, Fitz? A little light reading? But the Egyptians? I thought Greeks were more in fashion at the moment."

  For a moment, Fitz forgot that Mellie was a woman he wished to woo for the duration of the house party or that she was beyond beautiful. Instead, he relished the idea that a woman might be interested in learning. That was far more appealing conversation to him than any bonnet or bit of lace could ever be.

  He reached down to pick up the book, running his fingers over the soft leather and watching Mellie's eyes follow his fingertips as he did so. It was...arousing, to say the least. "History, any history really, never truly falls out of fashion with those who appreciate it. For those who merely wish to decorate a room with it, however..." He allowed the unfinished statement to hang between them.

  To his delight, Mellie nodded in understanding. "My brother would say much the same thing." She paused and then bit her lip as if preparing to admit something scandalous. "As would I."

  "You read, then?" This was delightful news indeed, at least as far as Fitz was concerned.

  "A great deal, yes." Her eyes darted to the book. "Greek. Egyptian. Roman. History fascinates me. As does the question of why we as a society keep repeating it rather than learning from it."

  Mellie did not consider herself a true bluestocking, but she also liked to think she was better informed than some of the empty-headed chits she had encountered over the years. Women who were nothing more than pretty ornaments for a man's arm, valuing their looks over everything else about themselves. That was not Mellie's way. In the St. Vincent home when she had been young, that sort of idea - that a woman was purely decoration - would not have been tolerated by her mother. Alice, of course, had different ideas. It was yet another thing she had disagreed with her stepmother about.