An Improper Suitor (13 page)

She wondered how to draw attention to her situation without
causing
an even greater problem. She did not want a confrontation between Neave and Lord Yarfolk, particularly since the latter was hardly in his youth. But she was not going to allow Lord Yarfolk to amble right on by and leave her to her own devices.

As he drew closer, she smiled warmly, clearly intending to engage
him in conversation. Neave’s hand tightened warningly, but she ignored it.

‘Good morning, Miss Swifton,’ said Lord Yarfolk. ‘A beautiful morning, is it not?’

Julia opened her mouth to speak. Neave pinched her arm hard, and she shut it with a gulp. ‘Yes, indeed, sir,’ said Neave. ‘We are awaiting a hackney. Miss Swifton and I are planning to go shopping for a new hat.’

He gave them an odd look. ‘Perhaps you might be more successful if you walked to the bottom of the road,’ he said, mildly. ‘Hacks generally do not travel this way.’

‘Thank you, that’s precisely what we’ll do,’ said Neave, pulling at Julia’s arm. Deliberately, she made a move to free her arm from his grasp. He was forced to release her, aware of Lord Yarfolk’s presence.

‘You know, Captain Neave,’ she said sweetly, ‘I’ve just remembered something I left behind in Lady Thorwynn’s townhouse.’ She turned to Lord Yarfolk. ‘I’m staying there with Grandmother at the moment,’ she said, by way of explanation. ‘I do believe I’ll go back inside to retrieve it. Why don’t you find a hack?’ she said to Neave, with an arch smile, ‘I can wait for you on the steps.’

He glared, and looked from her to Lord Yarfolk. She took
advantage
of his confusion to move away from him. ‘Lord Yarfolk,’ she said, putting out her hand. ‘It is quite providential that you arrived.’ Neave stiffened, the hand inside his coat shifting. ‘I’m aware this is a rather improper suggestion, but I would appreciate it if you could come inside to keep Grannie company. She is rather unwell, and I’m sure a visit from you would revive her spirits.’

‘Why, certainly,’ said Lord Yarfolk, offering her his arm with elaborate old-fashioned courtesy.

Neave’s hand emerged from his coat.

She halted, in the midst of taking Lord Yarfolk’s arm.

Neave’s fingers were empty. There was no knife. She heaved a sigh of relief. He would not risk a confrontation, then. After all, he had as much to lose from a scandal as Julia would. More in fact, if he pulled a knife on a member of the
ton
.

Neave was fuming. But there was little he could do. He was not desperate enough to pull out his knife and stab her in broad daylight,
with Lord Yarfolk as witness. He had relied on her being too afraid to say anything.

She tried to walk at a leisurely pace as Lord Yarfolk minced along in his high-heeled shoes. Although she knew it was unlikely, an
irrational
part of her half-expected a knife to come flying through the air and land in her back.

But in the end, it was only his gaze that bore into her back, filled with angry despair.

‘I hope I didn’t interrupt anything, m’dear,’ said Lord Yarfolk, as they climbed the steps into the house.

‘No. On the contrary. I was glad you came along. He was being a little … insistent.’

‘I take it you’re not planning to take a ride in the hack?’ Hestopped and faced her, handing the footman his walking stick. Their eyes met. His glimmered with intelligence.

‘No, I have no intention of doing so.’

‘Perhaps, then, he has no intention of bringing a hack?’

‘No, indeed.’

Nothing more was said.

‘Is Lady Bullfinch truly indisposed?’

‘Yes, my lord. She is, and she would be happy to have your company.’

She had barely deposited Lord Yarfolk in Lady Bullfinch’s
bedchamber
when Thorwynn arrived, his cravat hanging loose, and his clothes hastily thrown on. He came forward quickly when he saw her.

‘What the devil has happened? The man you sent over said it was an emergency!

She was on the verge of reassuring him that all was well, when the knocker sounded and Iggleton admitted Lady Thorwynn.

She paused as she noticed Thorwynn’s appearance. ‘Lionel, my dear boy, are you making it a habit of appearing at my steps in
crumpled
clothes?’

His eyes gleamed dangerously. ‘Not by choice. However, since I was woken from my sleep by an urgent summons, I must assume something serious has occurred.’

Lady Thorwynn shifted her glance to Julia in alarm.

It seemed such a long time since Julia had summoned Thorwynn. So much had happened since then. It had not occurred to her to have someone inform him he was no longer needed.

‘Fortunately, the situation is under control,’ she said. ‘
Both
situations
.’

She realized abruptly that she had not had anything to eat that morning. ‘If you’ll come into the parlour,’ she said, apologetically, ‘I’ll explain everything. But you’ll have to forgive me if I ask for a tray to be brought. I’m afraid I’m rather hungry.’

Thorwynn nodded. ‘Make it for two. I was forced to forgo
breakfast
when I was called here so urgently.’

Thorwynn listened to her sympathetically as she recounted, between mouthfuls, the story of her grandmother’s attack. Lady Thorwynn appeared visibly upset.

‘If only I had not gone to that wretched
modiste
,’ she exclaimed.

‘Really, there was nothing more that could have been done,’ said Julia, reassuringly. ‘You can’t blame yourself. How were you to know?’

Nothing Julia said, however, had any effect on Lady Thorwynn, who rang for a posset to soothe her agitation.

‘You said at the beginning that there were two incidents,’ remarked Thorwynn.

Julia had avoided mention of Neave’s attempt at abduction in deference to Lady Thorwynn, who was certain to be overset to hear anything more. She tried to signal to Thorwynn that she would tell him later, but Lady Thorwynn intercepted her gesture.

‘You need not worry that I will be upset by any other unpleasant incident,’ she said. ‘I have already reached breaking point. One more unfortunate happening will not make any difference,’ she said, piteously.

‘For heaven’s sake, Mama, if you continue in this manner the poor girl will go running for a doctor,’ he said, smiling ruefully. ‘Mama’s strong as an ox, Miss Swifton, so you need not spare her feelings.’

Urged by the two of them, Julia gave them a detailed account of her encounter with Neave.

Lady Thorwynn put her hand to her heart. ‘To think what would
have happened if Lord Yarfolk had not happened along! And to think he is even now comforting your grandmother. I must make an effort and go upstairs to thank him personally.’

She did not appear capable of rising by herself. Julia went over to her side and, after a great deal of sighing and fussing, she finally stood on her feet. Her shawl gripped tightly around her, she sailed out of the room.

Alone with Lionel, she watched him peer out of the window for signs of Neave.

‘I don’t think he’ll return,’ remarked Julia, ‘at least during the daytime.’

Swivelling around quickly, he confronted her with narrowed eyes. ‘What did you think you were doing,’ he said, tightlipped, ‘leaving the house alone when you knew you were in danger?’

‘I was going to the apothecary to bring some medicine for Grandmother,’ she replied, coldly. ‘I did not imagine Neave knew where I was. He must have followed us after the theatre last night.’

‘I thought we had agreed you would take no risks.’ He no longer sounded angry. ‘The whole idea of moving you here was to keep you safe.’

‘I’m well aware of that,’ she said. ‘But these were exceptional circumstances.’

Lady Thorwynn reappeared. ‘Lord Yarfolk will be joining us
downstairs
. He is reading to your grandmother, some bawdy tale that I would blush to even hear mentioned. I left immediately after hearing just a few sentences. I do not understand these older folk. They do not seem to have the delicacy of sentiment our generation has.’

No one reacted to her statement. Thorwynn had returned to
staring
out of the window, and Julia finished the last of her cold cuts.

Thorwynn suddenly slammed his fist down on the window sill. ‘Why does that measly blackguard always manage to get away?’

His vehemence startled Julia, who dropped her fork. His mother shook her head reprovingly, though Julia was not sure if it was because of the falling fork or her son’s manners.

‘Can’t we bring him to justice for attempted abduction?’ asked Julia.

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Thorwynn. ‘Unless you can produce witnesses
to the attempt. It is only your word against his.’

He did not add that, of course, a woman’s testimony was worth only half a man’s in court.

‘If you had actually been taken into the carriage by force, and held somewhere, we could have brought a Bow Street Runner with us as a witness. But as it is …’

‘So you think I should have just gone with him, so you could have had the satisfaction of rescuing me? With a Bow Street Runner?’ she said sarcastically. She glared at him.

‘No one is suggesting that,’ said Lady Thorwynn, gently. ‘You are just a little overwrought. Of course we are very happy you were not abducted. Lionel was speaking
hypothetically
. Is that not so, Lionel?’

He waved his hand impatiently. ‘Of course.’ But he was lost in his own thoughts, and Julia did not think he was being completely
hypothetical
.

‘In any case,’ said Lady Thorwynn. ‘I believe what Julia needs now is a bath and some rest. And a tonic to calm her nerves. I will tell the housekeeper to prepare one.’

Lord Thorwynn emerged from his thoughts. ‘Not one of your tonics, Mama!’ he said. ‘I absolutely forbid you to impose them on her.’

‘You’re in no position to forbid anything,’ said his mama, mildly. ‘I am certain a tonic will do her a world of good.’

‘I would love one of your tonics, Lady Thorwynn,’ said Julia.

She had the doubtful satisfaction of receiving one of his glares.

With all that had occurred in the past several days, Julia could no longer claim herself a calm, completely unruffled kind of person. A few days earlier, she would have said that she was the exact opposite of Lady Thorwynn. Julia was proud of her logical way of
approaching
things. She did not like an excess of sentiment. These days, however, some of that cool logic seemed to be escaping her.

She needed to regain her tranquillity. Since books always had the ability to soothe her, she decided to explore the Thorwynn library. She liked the sharp scent of leather bindings, and the dusty nose-tickling smell of old, yellowing paper. It made her feel in her element.

A quick perusal revealed several handsomely bound volumes of Lord Byron’s poetry. She took
The Corsair
off the shelf, and leafed through it. There were notations in the margins. She swallowed a quick laugh.
Someone
was reading Lord Byron. It could be Lady Thorwynn, but she did not think she was the type to write notes in the margins.

The hypocrite! Denouncing Lord Byron in public while scribbling notes to his poems in private. Perhaps he had merely memorized a few lines to impress the ladies. That was more like him. She started to decipher one of his comments, then snapped the book shut. Reading his notes struck her as an intrusion, somehow like reading someone’s diary. She did not have the right to it. True, she needed to know more about the man soon to be her husband, but she preferred him to reveal himself to her, rather than snooping behind his back.

Well, she knew at least one thing about him now. He read poetry.

Other than that, she knew nothing about him. Nothing about his
interests, his concerns, his dreams. Nothing about his childhood. They had never talked, in fact. It struck her as singularly odd that she, of all people, would end up marrying someone with whom she had never even had a real conversation.

Perhaps because it was impossible to have a conversation with a rake. After all, rakes characteristically were superficial, devious, and manipulative. In which case, how much could one believe a word of what they said?

Neave was a case in point.

She had been completely taken in by him. She had thought the conversation in the park was real, Neave had spoken about his father, about his childhood. But how much of it was true?

She pushed the question away. She had no interest in discovering more about him. Most probably he used his revelations as a ploy to awaken young girls’ sympathy, something he repeated to each girl before he seduced her.

Lionel, however, had made no attempt to gain her confidence. He had told her of his experience of the war, but it was in the context of Neave’s villainy. He had not wanted sympathy for himself. He would have spurned any such gesture on her part.

He cared deeply about his men, about the fate they had suffered. That, at least, was genuine.

She rose impatiently and walked to the window. It was no use going over every word he had said. It would not make him better known to her.

The only certainty she had was that he drew women to him like moths to a light on a sultry summer night. And she was not completely immune to that ill-advised attraction. She had flailed in his arms when they waltzed. And she had succumbed completely to his kiss, that ill-fated night in the library. She had enjoyed every moment of it.

Unfortunately for her, as his wife, however, she would be compelled to watch as women fluttered to him, and he accepted their homage.

An hour later she was still on the first page of Sir Walter Scott’s
Rob
Roy
. She tried yet again to reread the first paragraph, but in vain.

The sound of footsteps reached her. The door opened. It was Thorwynn.

He strode across the room, grinning. The grin was so candid, so open, she almost relented towards him. Perhaps their marriage would not be so bad after all.

‘Have you been waiting for me to return?’ he asked, amiably.

His vanity soared as high as a hot air balloon. She could not resist driving a hole in it. ‘On the contrary,’ she said, throwing him a painted smile. ‘Since I know you don’t like to read, I took refuge in the library. I did not think you would follow me here.’

His smile wavered, then reasserted itself. ‘I can’t say I particularly appreciate your wit, but I am glad you are more cheerful than
yesterday
. I took the liberty of calling at Rundell and Bridge and procuring an engagement ring for you. I hope you’ll find it to your taste.’

He held out the ring in its little maroon box. It was a dainty ring, with entwined gold leaves that twisted cleverly to hold small diamonds in them like dew drops. She took it, and placed it
experimentally
on her finger.

‘It fits exactly,’ she said, surprised

He looked pleased with himself. ‘That was because there was a lady in the shop whose fingers looked just the same size as yours. I asked her to try the ring, and she did. Shows I’m a good judge, eh?’

A good judge of women, as of horseflesh
. Was that how rakes viewed women? As they viewed a pair of steppers?

She did not want to appear ungracious. But she was tempted to give him the ring back. She could just imagine him, looking into the young lady’s eyes, smiling into them, and slowly drawing her glove off before sliding the ring on to her finger. She would, of course, have been happy to oblige, her fingers tingling as he brushed lightly against them.

‘Thank you, Lord Thorwynn,’ she said, making a strong effort not to sound churlish.

‘Do you like it?’ he asked, smiling widely.

‘It’s very delicate,’ she said. His taste surprised her. She would have imagined a more heavily ornamented ring, something much more elaborate. This elegant little ring was too understated.

His smile disappeared. ‘If there’s something wrong,’ he said, ‘I’d
like to know it.’

‘There’s nothing wrong, my lord,’ she said.

‘I think Lionel would be more appropriate at this point, don’t you think?’

She shrugged. ‘Lionel.’ She liked the name, but it felt
uncomfortable
. It created too much of a bond between them, an intimacy that she was not ready to accept.

He sat on the armchair closest to her sofa, then leaned towards her. The scent of soap reached her, and a more subtle trace that was his own. ‘I know we scarcely know each other,’ he said, ‘but successful marriages have been built on less.’

She nodded. ‘I think I simply need to grow accustomed to the idea.’

He surveyed her for a moment. Then he changed places and sat close to her. ‘I believe a kiss is customary when two people are betrothed.’

Before she could protest, he touched his lips to hers. The barest moment of contact. It felt like the brush of a butterfly wing against her skin, but warmer.

The kiss was so brief, she wondered if she had imagined it. She closed her eyes and strained forward, wanting more.

But he’d already moved away. She opened his eyes to find him sitting back, his hands clasped behind his head. He was grinning again.

Heat rushed to her face. She did not want to feed his arrogance. She raised her eyebrow in challenge. ‘For a betrothal kiss, wouldn’t you say that was rather – unsatisfactory? Hardly a sign of
commitment
.’

He laughed and passed his gaze lazily over her mouth. She had to restrain herself not to lick her lips. ‘Sometimes a light touch can achieve a lot more than an excess of ardour,’ he said, languidly.

‘I should remind you, Lord Thorwynn – Lionel – that I am not a lady you are attempting to seduce, or a light-skirt you are dallying with. I am your future wife.’

He lifted an eyebrow, regarding her steadily. ‘Precisely. All the more important that I seduce you properly.’

Julia knew by now she could not win this conversation. She
floundered
, helplessly out of her depth. But there was no escape. She was
stuck in his mother’s house, and could not simply walk away. She was a fish caught on his hook, trying not to struggle.

She looked down at the ring. It served as a reminder that her future was in this man’s hands. ‘No doubt you know best,’ she said. ‘You most certainly have plenty of experience in the matter.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Yes, I do have experience,’ he drawled, ‘but unfortunately, not in marriage.’ He reached out and took her hand. Not as a lover would, but in friendship. ‘You may not believe it, but this is not an easy thing for me, either. True, I can draw on my past experience with women, but, as you so aptly put it, marriage is a very different game than dealing with a mistress.’ He looked serious now, his eyes seeking her in an earnest attempt to communicate.

She nodded. He was meeting her part of the way, at least. ‘Then we must muddle through together as best we can,’ she said.

The musical soirée at Lady Pitton’s had been mercifully short. They excused themselves early, citing Lady Bullfinch’s illness as an excuse. For Julia, of course, it had not been an excuse at all. The first thing she did when she arrived at the house was run upstairs to make sure her grandmother had not experienced any recurrence.

For him, the soirée had been interminably long. Normally he enjoyed musical performances, but today he had other things on his mind. It became clear immediately that no scandalous gossip had circulated. Everyone greeted Lionel as they normally did, and Julia received the usual kind of attention. It was becoming abundantly obvious that there was to be no scandal.

Mercifully.

Which left him with a dilemma. He had offered to marry Julia because of the scandal. Now that they had been spared, there was no real reason to marry her except that he had already given her the betrothal ring, and they had reached an agreement.

But I don’t have to marry her
. He could be free once again to resume his normal life. His life as a rake, Julia would call it. Well, what was wrong with that? He had been happy enough living that life, until a few days ago. Now he would be able to pursue that lifestyle again, without a care in the world. He did not have to become a tenant for life.

The problem was, he would have to tell her and he did not want her to think him cold blooded and uncaring. He especially did not want her to feel jilted. It was hardly gentlemanly to offer for a lady and then withdraw the offer two days later. It was the devil’s own scrape.

The door of the library creaked open slowly. Julia’s eyes – amber tonight, because of the gold trimming on her dress – combed the room, then rested on him. She nodded, satisfied, and stepped in.

‘Your mother said you had not left yet,’ she said. ‘She said I would find you here.’

He smiled. ‘I needed to reflect on things, particularly our marriage plans.’ He managed to keep his words vague enough, until he had actually decided to speak to her.

His gaze went to her ring finger where he placed the ring earlier. She had taken it off, of course, before anyone else noticed it and knew of their engagement. But the very emptiness there seemed an
indication.
Why had she not worn the ring and announced their betrothal to the world?

Perhaps she was not yet completely convinced. In which case, he could broach the subject without hurting her feelings.

He took a deep breath. There was no easy way to do this. But he had to.

He started to speak, only to find she had already started saying something. ‘I have something to—’

‘I wish to discuss—’

He threw her a wry smile. ‘Ladies first, I believe.’

‘Very well,’ she said. The small maroon box was in her hand: the ring box. She twirled it around absently between her fingers. ‘It is only that—What I would like to say—’

‘Yes?’ he said, prompting her.

‘There is no way of saying this without causing offence, but I would like to end our engagement.’ The words came out in a rush. ‘The circumstances that led to its formation are no longer there. No one knows of it, so there can be no embarrassment. You did not offer because of an attachment, and I am not attached, so—’

She was making a hash of it, but he would not help her out. Now
that the boot was quite on the other foot, he found the situation
intolerable
. It infuriated him that she could stand there so calmly and toss away a chance at a marriage that had a great deal to offer her.

‘Let me make sure I understand you correctly,’ he said, coldly. ‘You wish to end the engagement.’ He said it with emphasis, as if she was saying something absurd instead of the very thing he had been
planning
to say just minutes ago.  

She lifted her chin. ‘We both know that we were pushed into our engagement by circumstances. We did not go into it blindly. You were a gentleman and you offered to protect my reputation. But such a radical step is no longer required. No one knows of the engagement’ – she cast him an examining glance – ‘at least I hope no one does, since I did not even inform anyone, not even Grandmother. So it is simply a matter to be settled between the two of us.’ She placed the ring box decisively on a table in front of them.  

It was logical, of course. It was what he wanted. But, devil take it, she could have at least waited a day before bounding into the room to break off the engagement.  

Of course, nothing had really changed. If they declared their
association
over, no one would be any wiser. And he would be exactly where he was, just a few days ago. Which was where? On the verge of developing a longer standing arrangement with the Golden Widow. She had ogled him quite noticeably at the theatre, during Kean’s performance. She was a morsel he had tasted, but would not mind tasting again. Provided she did not become indiscreet.  

He examined his companion and the soft changing brown-green of her eyes, the fiery highlights that flickered in her hair, the way her chin curved into a pronounced, obstinate edge. It was very clear from the way she held that chin right now that she expected him to consent.  

Well, he would consent, and devil take her. He hoped never to set eyes on the obstinate chit again.