How to Woo a Reluctant Lady (18 page)

At those words, a long silence fell upon the carriage.

Then Giles cast Maria a cynical smile. “Rather like a porpoise.”

Everyone laughed.

Except Minerva. She didn’t know how she felt about love, but she couldn’t mock it as easily as Giles. Because some part of her still believed that it existed, that it was as beautiful and special as Maria made it sound.

Some part of her wished she could have that with
him.

It was impossible, of course. Giles was a practical man, and this courtship was a practical matter. She’d realized it even more after watching him in the courtroom. He was destined for greater things than she’d ever imagined. That’s why he was pretending to court her—to get her to stop writing about him so his future could be secure.

And if by some chance he decided he really did want to marry her, it would be for practical reasons, because he thought
he could mold her into the kind of wife he wanted. But a King’s Counsel required a wife of pristine reputation, and she could never be that. A King’s Counsel needed a woman who had no interests beyond furthering her husband’s career, and she couldn’t be that, either. No matter what Giles claimed, he would grow to resent her need to write. It didn’t fit his world.

As she watched him deftly answering Maria’s questions and subtly deflecting Mr. Jenks’s obvious hero worship, sadness stole over her. It had been so much easier to dismiss him when she’d thought him merely a rogue. But now that she realized he was so much more . . .

No, she mustn’t think that way. She had a plan for her own future that didn’t involve marriage. Giles was instrumental to getting Gran to leave her alone, that’s all. So no matter how brilliant or responsible he was, she mustn’t let him get in the way of that.

As they left Stephen’s Hotel, where they’d eaten lunch and parted from Mr. Jenks, Giles was fairly certain his plan to impress Minerva had worked. Still, it hadn’t seemed to soften her toward him overly much. She certainly hadn’t been her usual talkative self.

He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Maria took Minerva’s arm and said, “You’ve been very quiet. Are you thinking about how you can use those notes you took during the trial? Do you think you’ll put any of it in your books?”

“Nothing specific, just general information about how a court is run.” Minerva cast him a quick glance. “I keep telling you and Oliver—I only used variations on people’s real names for fun. Other than that, I don’t put anything from my real life into my books.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Maria countered. “I read that scene from
The Ladies Magazine
to Oliver, and he was quite put out. He was sure it was about some scandalous masquerade party attended by him and Jarret and Gabe”—she paused to look at Giles—“and probably you, Mr. Masters, since you four used to go everywhere together.”

“No, Giles wasn’t at the party,” Minerva said hastily.

God help him. Minerva might be able to play a part well, but she wasn’t a good liar in general.

“So you
did
use that party in your book!” Maria cried in triumph. “But how would you know if Mr. Masters was there? For that matter, how would you have known enough about it to describe it? From what Oliver told me, it wasn’t the sort of party a respectable lady attends.”

Minerva colored. “Of course I didn’t attend it, but I heard all about it from . . . various people. As for Giles, my birthday party was that same day, and he couldn’t come to it because he was in the country with his mother, so I know he couldn’t have been at that other party, because he wouldn’t have—”

“Ah, there’s Gunter’s,” he interrupted. “Should we have some ices?” He had to stop her babbling before she spilled everything. Though she was saying all this to help
him
, it would have been better for her to play dumb.

Then again, unlike him, she wasn’t used to playing dumb.

Fortunately the conversation turned to ices and how Maria hadn’t ever had one until she’d come to England, and he was easily able to steer it further afield from there.

But later, as they strolled down Oxford Street so Maria and Minerva could shop, Giles worried when he caught her whispering with Maria more than once.

They seemed thick as thieves. He could only hope they weren’t continuing the discussion about the masquerade party.

Then, just as the four of them were entering a shop for caricatures, Minerva held him back, as if she wanted to show him something in the window.

“I’m sorry about handling that business about the party so badly,” she murmured under her breath as they stood looking into the shop window. “It threw me off guard when she said Oliver had recognized it. I never dreamed he would.”

“Well, you did mention a Marie Antoinette costume in that passage, and Oliver has never forgotten that some chit dressed that way claimed he’d given her the pox.”

Minerva turned an interesting shade of red. “Oh, Lord, you
knew
about that?”

When he saw Maria glance from inside the shop at them, he pretended to be examining a caricature. “He’s mentioned it more than once, yes.” It always made Giles laugh, though he could never admit to Oliver the real reason for his amusement.

“I should have known better than to put all that in the books.”

“Yes, you should have. But it’s out there now. Nothing you can do about it.” With any luck Newmarsh would never see it, and even if he did, would never assume that Giles had been involved with it. So far, Minerva’s hints about him had been subtle enough that he didn’t think too many people would recognize him. Although Ravenswood had.

Maria came out of the shop with Freddy in tow, and they continued down Oxford Street. As they approached Hyde Park, Freddy said, “How much longer are we going to tramp about town, Lady Minerva? I’m about to faint from exhaustion.”

“It’s fine if you want to return to the carriage,” Minerva said. “I’d like to walk with Mr. Masters through the park, but there’s no need for you to exert yourself. You can drive round and pick us up by the barracks on the other end.”

When Minerva exchanged a meaningful glance with Maria, Giles’s eyes narrowed. Something was afoot.

“I believe I’ll go back with Freddy,” Maria said smoothly. “I’m tired, too.” She cast Minerva a cautioning glance. “But remember that night will be falling soon, so don’t be too long.”

“We won’t be,” Minerva assured her.

Giles exulted as Maria and Freddy headed off, leaving
them to themselves. There was something to be said for this betrothal business. It allowed him to walk through the park alone with Minerva without reproach.

As they headed into it, Giles said, “That was neatly handled.”

Minerva colored. “What do you mean?”

They were near a wooded area surprisingly devoid of walkers. He laughed. “I do love it when you play coy.” Glancing about to make sure no one was around to see, Giles pulled her into the woods and kissed her.

She drew back, startled, but he pulled her close again for a deeper kiss. To his delight, she let him plunder her mouth for several long moments. When at last she broke the kiss, her eyes were glazed and her lips charmingly reddened.

He brushed his mouth over her ear. “I’ve been wanting to do that from the moment you showed up in the courtroom this morning.” He kissed his way down to her throat, the only part of her neck showing in the V of the frilly lace collar she wore.

Tilting her head back, she gave a shaky laugh. “That would have provided an interesting counterpoint to the trial, don’t you think?”

“It probably would have had me disbarred,” he murmured against her porcelain skin. “But it would have been worth it.”

“Flatterer,” she whispered.

He pressed her up against a tree and proceeded to kiss her again, this time more thoroughly. She smelled and tasted of the lemon ices they’d had at Gunter’s, tart and sweet and fruity. It made him light-headed. Or perhaps just having her in his arms again did that.

She was soft beneath him, her mouth deliciously eager to return his kisses. Though she wore the usual female layers—a violet carriage dress with petticoats and a corset and God knows what else underneath—they were all of thin fabrics because of
summer. So when he slid the palm of his hand lightly over her breast, she definitely felt it, for she moaned low in her throat. But when he thumbed the nipple to a hard tip, she pushed him away, her cheeks going rosy.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I brought you to the park, Giles. I have to talk to you about something.”

“Talk?” he muttered, the fever to touch her burning high in him as he reached for her again. “Must we?”

“Yes, we must.” She slid from between him and the tree. “It’s important.”

Bloody hell. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand this cat-and-mouse game. Last night he’d thought of nothing but having her in his bed, her hair twining around her curvy body, her hand on his cock as it had been in the inn yesterday, and her breasts served up for his mouth like a pair of plum puddings with currants on top.

Fiercely he willed his erection to subside and offered her his arm. “If it’s talk you want, then let’s talk.”
So I can get it out of the way and return to more important things. Like making you mine.

“Thank you.” Taking his arm, she led him back toward the path. “It’s about Mama and Papa.”

That banished the remains of his arousal. “Surely you haven’t had time to hear anything more about Desmond.”

“No.” She clutched his arm. “But it occurred to me today as I watched you work that you might . . . well, notice things about what happened to my parents that no one else would.”

“
Notice
things?”

“At the hunting lodge.” When he looked blank, she added, “You know. Where they were murdered.”

“We still don’t know for certain that they
were
murdered, at least not by someone else.”

“That’s precisely my point. We know very little.” She gazed up at him with those beautiful green eyes, fringed with gold-brown lashes and dark with a sudden sorrow that clutched at him deep inside. “We ought to know more. But Gran was so eager to cover up the scandal that she never fully examined the scene.”

“Surely the authorities did so,” he said as they headed across a swath of green toward the path that skirted the Serpentine.

“The local constable and the coroner, yes, but you proved today that such people don’t always uncover the truth. Gran told them her version of events, and they saw enough to confirm that. According to Oliver, they took the scene at face value, helped along by her bribes.” She stared at him as if he held the key to everything. “But you wouldn’t do that. You would look at it through fresh eyes. You might notice something no one noticed before. You might see—”

“After all these years, my dear, I doubt I could see much of any use,” he said noncommittally, remembering how Stoneville had reacted to the possibility of his involvement.

“Oh, but I know you could! Except for the blood being cleaned up and the place set to rights, the lodge is virtually the same as it was then, so surely you—”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me no one has been back to that hunting lodge in all these years?”

She nodded solemnly. “Oliver closed the estate down immediately after the ‘accident,’ as we were taught to call it. The family wasn’t even at Halstead Hall until Oliver opened it back up a few months ago, and none of us have wanted . . . that is, it’s just so . . .”

“I understand.” Oh yes, he understood. He still couldn’t bring himself to go into the library where his father shot himself nine years ago. “So you want me to examine the scene alone.”

“No! I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I would go with you, of course.” She gave him a sad little smile. “People in town say it’s haunted, you know. They’ve heard noises near the lodge, seen mysterious lights and such.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Of course I’m up to it. Why shouldn’t I be? I don’t believe in ghosts.”

There was that bravery that had always impressed him. He could still remember the stubborn tilt of her chin at nine, when she’d steadied herself to view her parents’ caskets.

“Stoneville wouldn’t approve.”

She tipped up her chin. “I don’t care. He’s behaving like an utter ass to you.”

He bit back a smile. “True.”

“If anyone knows how discreet you can be about things, it’s me. You’re as secretive as he is, if not worse. I know you won’t speak of it to anyone.”

“Very well. Give me a day to see what I can find out about the official report.”

“That might be difficult,” Minerva said. “I asked Oliver about it last night, and he said Mr. Pinter inquired about it but was told it would take weeks to locate.”

Giles arched one eyebrow. “What else would they tell him? He’s operating behind your grandmother’s back. The constable isn’t going to act without asking her about it first. And if Pinter made it clear that he didn’t want her brought into it . . .”

Her mouth formed a perfect O. “You see? You’re already proving helpful!”

“I hope Stoneville feels the same way when he finds out that I went against his express wishes.”

“You let me handle my brother. If we come up with something useful, he won’t be too angry.”

They walked along the path in silence a moment, watching the ducks glide along the Serpentine.

Giles shot her a long look. “And you’re not worried about meeting me in secret, alone, in a remote part of your brother’s estate?”

Though she colored, she smiled up at him. “Should I be?”

“Absolutely,” he said, perfectly serious. “There’s only so much temptation a man can endure before he starts taking advantage of a situation.”

“You know better than to ruin me, because you know what it would lead to,” she said lightly. “You’ve no more desire to be leg-shackled than I, and you won’t get me to stop writing about you in my books if you take advantage of me.”

He suppressed the urge to declare himself right then and there. That would only drive her farther away. She still had some notion that this wasn’t a real courtship, and he could accomplish far more by courting her without her knowing it.