The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) by Callie Hutton Page B

Redgrave? Hadn’t she learned her lesson?
    Hoping there were no telltale signs on her face of what she’d been doing in the garden with Redgrave, she nodded in his direction and hurried away.
    …
    Redgrave watched until she was safely in the house. He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed. What the devil had possessed him to do such a thing? Lady Mary had possessed him, that’s what. She had gotten under his skin since he’d first seen her across the ballroom in the pale yellow gown. Before he knew who she was and how far away from her he should stay.
    He needed time to let his body calm down. The last thing he wanted was to appear in the drawing room with an erection. Kissing Lady Mary was everything he’d thought it would be, and more. Despite his vile reputation, he would never put his hands on a lady as he’d done just a few minutes ago. Young ladies of station were always to be treated with respect and honor. They were not to be pawed in dark gardens mere feet from a crowd of guests. That he’d forgotten all of that while holding Lady Mary in his arms, spoke to how mesmerizing he’d found her.
    More than ready for the evening to be over, he returned to the drawing room and found his hostess. A quick glance showed Lady Mary and her mother at the front door, awaiting their carriage. He joined them and asked for his carriage to be brought around. Lady Mary looked decidedly uncomfortable. Not sure if it was their recent dally, or the fact that her mother was present, he decided to take the matter in hand.
    “Your Grace, may I offer my humble apology for any distress I caused you, your family, and Lady Abigail?”
    At first the dowager duchess stiffened, then she offered him a slight, however, genuine smile. “I am not one to hold grudges, Redgrave. My daughter is happily settled in the country, with a man who adores her, and twin boys. I am sorry to hear of your wife’s passing, and wish you well in the future.”
    Redgrave bowed, moved by her graciousness. “You are too kind, Your Grace.”
    “Your Grace, your carriage has arrived.” The butler turned from where he’d kept watch at the door.
    “Thank you.” The dowager and Lady Mary descended the stairs on the arm of the butler.
    Making peace with the Manchester family had not been part of his plan when he had decided to travel to London to find a bride. If he’d given it any thought, he would have decided it would be an impossible task. That it had happened, and so easily, reminded him once again what a splendid family they were. And how horrible that his actions had caused them such pain.
    As he entered his carriage, he instructed the driver to bring him to White’s. A brandy before bed would be just the thing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run across another “investor” in Rumbold’s scheme.
    …
    Several days later, Redgrave arrived at the door of Lady Simpson, the young widow he was escorting to the theater. She was a promising candidate for his countess. A tad older than the newly arrived debutantes, she was attractive, smart, and witty. If he were to accomplish his task by the end of the Season, he had to get Lady Mary out of his mind and begin to seriously consider other women for whom he could offer.
    Sitting across from each other, they shared a lively conversation on their way to Drury Lane, and he felt more confident that she might be a good match for him. As they strolled through the lobby on their way to his box, he immediately scanned the area and landed on Lady Mary. The first time he’d seen her since the Breckenridge dinner party.
    The deep blue of her gown was a shade that only a woman with a few Seasons behind her could wear. The bodice was low enough to display to perfection the creamy mounds of the tops of her breasts. She stood with Mr. Ambrose, her arm linked with his, as they chatted with another couple he did not recognize.
    All the warm feelings for Lady Simpson he had experienced on the trip to the theater vanished in an