The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Read Free Page A

Bentworth.
    He hated to admit how rattled he was, but after she’d given him a tongue-lashing in the garden, he’d decided his first adventure back into Society had come to an end.
    It had been his intention, in coming to London for the Season, to find a bride. He realized it would not be an easy task because of the fiasco of his betrothal to Lady Abigail. Most marriage-minded mamas would keep their daughters close. At least at the beginning. He had hoped his title, wealth, and demeanor would eventually loosen their holds.
    All things considered, it had probably been a good thing to have encountered Lady Mary early on. At least now he knew what she looked like and could avoid her in the future, though, based on his body’s reaction to her, ignoring her might take some doing.
    He stared blankly at the growing darkness as the moon slipped behind the clouds. Similar to the darkness he’d endured the three years he’d been married to Priscilla. The familiar tightening of his muscles brought back memories he’d spent the last year attempting to vanquish.
    The teacup Priscilla hurled in his direction bounced off his forehead and landed on the floor. “I want to go to London.”
    “No. We will remain here in the country.” He rubbed his head and gave her a tight smile. “What is wrong, my lady? Is the life you fought so hard for not enough for you? There will be no returning to London.”
    “I hate you!” Her screech echoed off the walls.
    He turned and left the room. “I know, my dear. I know.”

    The footman at the door of White’s took his cape, hat, and gloves as he entered the club. A scattering of members occupied the comfortable high-backed chairs, reading newspapers and sipping from heavy crystal glasses. A few were involved in mumbled conversations. Later, when the evening entertainments drew to a close or guests grew restless, most seats would be full.
    “Redgrave. I heard you were back in Town.” Lord Bixby waved at him, setting his newspaper aside. “Here to see to your much neglected Parliamentary duties, eh?”
    “Among other things.” Redgrave joined him, signaling one of the footmen to bring him a drink.
    “Ah, do I hear the search for a wife in there? There have been rumors.”
    “’Tis a consideration. I need an heir.” He accepted a glass from a footman. “Redgrave Manor needs a countess.”
    “Any of the young chits catch your eye?”
    Ah, how the ton loved gossip. Women seemed to think they were the only ones who loved rumors and scandal, but the men were just as eager to share tidbits picked up here and there. If he even mentioned Lady Mary’s name it would be all over London tomorrow that he was about to ruin another of Manchester’s sisters.
    Redgrave shook his head and swallowed a sip of brandy. “None. ’Tis too early. I only attended my first ball this evening.”
    Bixby made a show of checking his pocket watch. “Based on the time, I’m guessing you made an early departure.”
    He shrugged. “Not much there to hold my interest.” At least not after Lady Mary had given him the cut direct and stormed off.
    Ah, but catching her in the garden had been a boon. His gut tightened when he remembered Bentworth grabbing her wrist to prevent her from leaving. At that point, she had been all fire and righteous anger, a goddess of vengeance.
    She was very different from Lady Abigail. His erstwhile betrothed had been softer, calmer, ready to do his bidding. Lady Mary would never bend to a man’s wishes. Certainly not without a fight. Or seduction.
    The thought warmed him more than the brandy.
    As Bixby prattled on, filling him in on all the ton news, Redgrave spent the time imagining himself slowly removing each layer of clothing from Lady Mary’s fascinating body. Why the girl captivated him after two brief encounters was baffling. Did he really have a death wish? Because if he even attempted to take up with the girl, her brother would come after him with all the wrath, power, and