The Scandalous Lord Lanchester

‘Your wife? Do you have children, signor?’ Maria was surprised. So he was married. Not a possible candidate for her husband, then.

She was not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.

‘A daughter only.’ A look of disappointment or anger passed across his face. ‘I should say that I had a wife. She died in an unfortunate accident some months ago. I am a widower …’ He spread his hands. ‘It was very sad, you understand. However, we were not—compatible is, I think, the word. It was a foolish marriage undertaken when we were both too young. Our daughter will remain with her mama’s family—but I require a son, naturally. In time, when I find a lady I can both admire and love, I shall marry again.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, sir. I hope you will find happiness one day.’

‘Yes, it is very sad for the child, because she misses her mama. I have promised her that one day I shall find her a new mama and she will have brothers and sisters to play with.’ He smiled. ‘You may wonder why I chose to speak of such private matters? I feel empathy between us, madame. You have lost a doting husband, I have lost a wife. I hope we shall be good friends—perhaps more in time, who knows?’

Something in his tone made Mariah’s spine tingle. She had never known a man to speak so directly at a first meeting, though many pursued her hotly.

‘I hope we shall be friends, sir. I have heard much of you from Lady Sylvia. I shall enjoy making your acquaintance.’

The count smiled oddly. ‘I have spoken too boldly, perhaps? It is my way, madame. Forgive me, your beauty swept away all caution and I feel as if I have known you all my life—have been waiting for this moment.’

He spoke of it as if it was his destiny—hers, too, perhaps. His smile was charming and all feeling of boredom had fled. Mariah had been longing for something to happen and now it had. If she wanted an adventure, the count would be more than willing to provide it.

Mariah was aware of a mutual attraction, for she had seen his interest immediately and felt something herself—but he went too fast. His eyes seemed to unclothe her and she read his thoughts so easily that she could not meet his gaze for more than a moment. This man was charming and exciting, but she felt slightly out of her depth, as if she did not take care she would be swept away out of her control.

‘You flatter me, sir. I think you like to tease and provoke.’

‘Do not be misled, madame. I am in earnest, I assure you—but I am a terrible host,’ he said, becoming aware that they had an interested audience and letting go of her hand. ‘You must come down and meet my friends—unless you would prefer refreshments to be served here so that you may rest?’

‘Oh, no, we need just a few moments to freshen ourselves,’ Sylvia replied. ‘I am looking forward to exploring your gardens, Count Paolo. I imagine they are different to those at the villa?’

‘Yes, indeed, far more formal,’ the count replied, turning his attention to her. ‘It will be my pleasure to show both you and Lady Fanshawe after we have taken some refreshment. If you will excuse me, I must welcome other guests. Please come down and join us when you are ready.’

‘Well,’ Sylvia said as the door closed behind him, ‘how very odd. For one moment I thought—he looked as if he could devour you, Mariah.’

‘Nonsense,’ her husband said. ‘I have found the count both direct and honest in his dealings. He was making his situation clear. He is clearly looking for marriage and Mariah is beautiful enough to make most men lose their heads. The fellow was bowled over. You have made another conquest, m’dear. I almost pity the poor man.’

Sylvia arched her brows at Mariah, as if to say that a man would not understand. Such a direct approach was meant to have significance of some kind. Mariah was inclined to think the count bent on seduction. She was, after all, a widow and as such he probably thought her fair game. He couldn’t have been hinting at marriage when they had only that moment met for the first time. She had read too much into the count’s words. Lord Hubert was right. He had been struck and his tongue had run away with him; it was not the first time, though most young men became tongue-tied and foolish, staring at her with calf eyes. The count was very different.

Her pulses throbbed. He was certainly very attractive and she might not be averse to a brief flirtation, though she sensed that it might be dangerous to become more intimately involved with him.

Becoming aware that her friend was waiting for an answer, Mariah laughed softly. ‘He is a surprising man,’ she said. ‘However, I must reserve judgement until I know him a little better.’

Chapter Four

Count Paolo certainly knew how to charm, both ladies and gentlemen. After a mere day spent in his company, Mariah had to admit that she liked him. She also found him physically attractive, though something warned her to be wary of showing it. He had given them a tour of his gardens in the cool of early evening, when the perfume of flowers wafted on a slight breeze filling the air with sweetness and the sun’s fierce heat had abated.

‘English ladies have such delicate complexions,’ he said, offering his arm to Sylvia as Mariah followed with Lord Hubert. ‘You must always be careful to stay out of the midday sun or you may spoil your beautiful skin, madame.’

‘Oh, I never go out without a hat and my parasol during the day,’ Sylvia told him. ‘Mariah will do it, but she does not seem to burn as I do.’

‘Lady Fanshawe has the kind of skin the sun loves,’ Paolo said, directing a look at Mariah that she felt far hotter than any sunshine. ‘I think perhaps she may have Latin blood in her somewhere.’

‘Oh, no, I do not think it,’ Mariah replied, a little smile on her mouth. ‘My mother and father were both of English descent—unless one of my ancestors strayed …’ There was a hint of mischief in her manner as she deliberately teased. ‘I must admit that I do love to walk in the sun without my hat. Sylvia is forever scolding me.’

‘I should not like you to be ill,’ Sylvia said fondly. ‘You are as a sister to me, dearest. I had brothers, but no sisters, something I regretted, and you have become more to me than most sisters could ever be.’

‘I am very fond of you, too,’ Mariah said. ‘I do not know how I should have managed after Winston died if you had not come for me.’

‘You speak of your husband?’ Paolo’s left eyebrow arched. ‘He was, I believe, some years your senior?’

‘Yes, but the kindest, sweetest man I have ever known.’

Paolo inclined his head. ‘Of course you must miss him, but you are too young to grieve for ever, I think?’

‘Winston would not expect it,’ Sylvia said before Mariah could answer. ‘We have been speaking of Mariah’s marrying again. She will not wish to remain a widow for ever.’

‘No, that would be a waste,’ the count said, his gaze smouldering as he looked her way. ‘Such beauty in a woman is meant for pleasure, to be enjoyed and savoured by the man who adores her.’

Mariah swallowed hard and then ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. The expression in his eyes was setting little butterflies of apprehension fluttering low in her abdomen. Count Paolo was one of the most sensual men she’d ever met. If she wanted an affair, he would certainly oblige her.

For a moment her thoughts returned to those few precious moments by the lake when she’d thought that Andrew Lanchester cared—that he would ask her to marry him. He had not spoken, even though she’d tried to provoke him by suggesting that he help her to find a husband.

Andrew Lanchester was the man she wanted. Why could he not look at her like this?

‘You have a beautiful home here, sir. I think if it were mine, I should not wish to leave it often.’

‘I have always preferred my houses in France. I lived there for many years as a child and a young man. However, a house is but a house unless it contains a special person who makes it a home.’

‘Yes, that is perfectly true.’

Mariah felt herself warming to him. He seemed to think as he ought and despite an instinctive feeling that she should be careful of him, she found him attractive. Marriage with such a man would certainly leave no time for moping or feeling lonely.

‘I would be willing to live almost anywhere with the woman I loved. No sacrifice is too much when one loves, do you not agree, madame?’

Mariah nodded, making no answer. His eyes seemed to convey so much and her breath caught in her throat. She could not doubt that he was pursuing her in earnest. There was a small silence before Sylvia drew the count’s attention to a particularly fine specimen of lily.

Mariah had seen the faint lift of the count’s eyebrows. The signals were clear; he waited only for some sign of encouragement. She was afraid to give it, afraid of the intensity in his eyes.