No Marriage Of Convenience - No Marriage Of Convenience Part 33
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No Marriage Of Convenience Part 33

"Aha!" Del said, staggering to his feet. It was then that Mason smelled the brandy wafting from the man

in a thick French cloud. "So you have noticed her. And I suppose you are keeping her locked inside to prevent her from discovering that her heart truly does belong to me and not you?"

"Her heart is hers to give. And I assure you, it doesn't belong to either of us."

Del sighed. "I wouldn't be so sure."From the smell of the illegal alcohol filling the space between them, Mason would bet that Del had drunka good portion of his departed father's prized cognac.

"Don't be all that sure," Del repeated. "I've seen the way she looks at you. A lady does not gaze upon aman that way if she isn't inclined." He pounded his fist to his chest, nearly toppling himself over. "Wepoets know these things."

Mason offered him a steadying arm. "So now you are not only an expert on love, but a poet as well."

Del brightened. "Yes. Might give me an edge with your cousin. Seems a bit of a bluestocking, so I'l court her with verse. That type loves poetry."

"And am I to suppose you have spent the evening composing odes?" Taking his friend by the arm,

Mason started to steer him down the steps, and toward the street.

"I have!" Del announced.

"Speak on, Lord Poet," Mason told him.

Grinning from ear to ear, Del began, "There once was a girl from Dover-"

Mason groaned.

"What?" Del came to a wheeling halt. "Not literate enough for you, Lord Professor? I might not have the refined learning you boast, but you must admit it is an imaginative beginning."

"Oh, yes, very imaginative," Mason told him, getting him moving back down the square toward his mother's residence. "However, my cousin isn't from Dover."

"I considered that," Del told him. "Yet it rhymed so nicely with 'rolled over' that I couldn't help taking a bit of a literary leap."

"I'd say you took a large bounding one at that."

Del considered this for a few more steps before it obviously dawned on him that he was being led away from his lovelorn post. "Oh, no, you don't. I intend on staying on your front steps until she consents to be my wife." He swung around and staggered back toward the house. "The bleak of night shall not deter me from true love's path." He tumbled back down on the steps and looked up at Mason. "What the devil is 'bleak of night'?"

"Something I imagine you are going to discover by morning."

Del nodded sagely. "'Twill probably make me a more perfect tragic poet, anguishing for my art and my lady love, don't you think?"

"Oh, you're something," Mason told him, sitting down beside his friend.

Del whispered in a voice that carried all the way across the square, "After I've written the rest of my cantos or verses or whatever my masterpiece is called, I'll see to my tailor about getting an entirely new wardrobe. Perhaps Mr. Pettibone will recommend me to his tailor. Now there is a man with a Continental sense of style." He sighed and gazed up at the light in the second-story window. "Tell me that is her room. I've seen her gazing down, and it is as if we have been looking into each other's eyes forever. Even now I can feel the true meaning of love welling up inside me, for her face shines like the most brilliant moon, like Venus rising from the sea, like-"

"Oh, Del, leave off. That is Beatrice's room." Mason glanced up and saw the curtains in his niece's room yanked back in place. "And whatever is coming up inside you is probably dinner from your mother's house."

"Well, it is all your fault I had to take dinner with her. She ordered me home this afternoon and started organizing my life, even decreed that the nursery be cleaned out." Del dug around in his jacket and pulled out a large silver flask. "Putting the horse before the cart on that one, but you know my mother." He took a long pull and then offered it to Mason.

Taking it, if only to keep his friend from drinking the rest, Mason took an appreciative sip from the flask and then stowed it in his own pocket.

"I well imagine," Del said, "that she will have my heir's nanny, tutor, and schools planned by the time I get home."

"Your mother is an extraordinary woman," Mason told his friend diplomatically."

Del scuffed his feet against the stones. "I suppose you aren't going to let me in tonight."

"No," Mason told him.

Del got up on his own and staggered over to his horse. Catching the mercurial animal by its reins, hegrinned at Mason. "No use then," he said, nodding once again at Beatrice's window. "Bea's room, yousay? Should have known my Bea would be looking out for me even when you won't." His horse nuzzledat his pocket, and Del drew out a bit of sugar for it. "If only I could charm your cousin like I can horses."

"I doubt sugar lumps will win the lady's heart."

Del nodded and straightened. For a moment his face became serious and all the vestiges of his cognac binge fell away. "If that were the case I would buy an island in the West Indies for her and bury her in sweet cane. But I doubt even that would turn her heart."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's obvious she's in love with you."

Riley eased back from the window and into the darkened room, trying to remember where she'd left off

reviewing the scenes she'd brought with her.She had told herself over and over she hadn't sat up by the window most of the night waiting for LordAshlin...no, not at all.

And now that he was home, her heart suddenly started thumping about like it was an opening night.

Even worse, after all these hours of practice, she couldn't recall a single line from her play.

All she could hear when she tried to recall her opening monologue as she stood in the middle of the

room, surrounded by darkness, was the statement Lord Delander had just pronounced to everyone on Ashlin Square.

It's obvious she's in love with you. Riley took a deep breath. Well, the only thing that was obvious was that Lord Delander was well into hiscups. He had been when he'd arrived at around eleven and been denied entrance to the house.

She'd cracked open the window then and listened half amused as Belton had politely but firmly told the

young man he was not welcome in the house.

Even with the door slammed in his face, Lord Delander had taken up his solitary post like a sentry in front of Whitehall.

Riley smiled to herself. The Viscount was persistent, but he wasn't...

She stopped herself from finishing that thought.

"Oh, bother," she muttered, creeping back to the window and watching the departing figure of Lord

Delander lead his horse down the street. Moments later, the front door closed and she could hear murmured voices in the foyer.

Probably Mason and Belton.

Then the voices ended and the sound of footsteps, strong and commanding, coming up the stairs sent her scurrying into action. She picked up her script and started into Act Two with renewed vigor, even though the room was so dark now she could barely see the page.

Riley didn't care-she'd done everything possible to distract herself from admitting she'd been worried

about him.She was only too aware that Mason's finances had a stranglehold on him. He hadn't said more than ahandful of words to any of them in the last few days. She admired his determination to stand on his owntwo feet, but she also knew that pride alone wouldn't put food in the larders. She'd done what she coulddo to help-recommending a cheaper grocer and coal supplier to Belton, but these were only salves tokeep the household running.

Riley knew what everyone in the house knew-the only way to save the Ashlin name was for Mason to

make a marriage of convenience.

The very idea made Riley heartsick, and in her distraction she tripped over a book she'd discarded hours ago and landed in an ignominious heap in the middle of the carpet.

She scrambled to pull herself up into a sitting position, and fumbled around for the offending book.

When Mason had left for the evening without a word to anyone, Riley had assumed he'd gone out tomake his fortune-or rather, to court it.Oh, what the devil had taken him so long? she wondered, as he continued his path up the stairs, his footsteps tolling every ominous image Riley could imagine...

Mason asking Miss Pindar to dance. Or fetching the nonpareil a glass of punch. Riley's thoughts ran wildas she saw him in the dark confines of a carriage, the girl's dainty hand tucked into his protective one.Miss Dahlia, will you do me the honor of becoming my-Oh, it wasn't fair!She wanted to be that woman. Like one of the heroines in her plays-a lost heiress, a plucky girl, separated from her family by adverse circumstances only to be rescued by a noble hero who recognized her aristocratic bearing through the grime and rags of her now lowly and humble station.

"As if," she muttered.

Just then the door swung open, the light of a single candle casting a solitary shaft of light across the floor.

"Riley, is that you?" Mason asked.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was it her imagination, or did the man sound hopeful of finding her?

Plain old notorious and dishonorable Riley Fontaine.

Chapter 15.

M ason stared at the woman on the floor. "What the devil are you doing down there?" He set the

candlestick he'd been holding on the side table beside the door.Riley flipped her hair out of her face, the strands falling in a tumbled mess from the severe, modestfashion she'd taken to wearing of late. "I was practicing my lines," she said, struggling to right herself.

He held out his hand. "Odd place to practice."

"'Tis an odd scene," she said, accepting his assistance.

As his fingers entwined with hers and he pulled her to her feet, she came up a little faster than he'd expected. Slamming into his chest, her body connected with his like before.

Magically, intimately, passionately.

Warning bells went off in his mind as she molded to him, her breasts pressed against his chest. Her arms wound around his neck to steady herself. A little sigh fell from her lips as she found her footing, the gentle whisper of it wrapping its wispy tendrils around his heart.