Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (99 page)

Sir Reynolds finally ended his litany by stating, “I believe, my dear, you’ve already been introduced to the Earl of Rhone.”

“Yes,” Rhone interjected, smiling at Christina.

“Lyon, may I present Princess Christina to you?” Sir Reynolds said, sounding terribly formal.

Her eyes gave her away. Something said during the
introduction had unsettled her. She quickly recovered, though, and Lyon knew that if he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he would have missed the surprise in her gaze.

“I’m honored to meet you, sir,” Christina whispered.

Her voice appealed to him. It was soft, sensual. The unusual accent was noticeable, too. Lyon had traveled extensively, yet couldn’t put his finger on the origin. That intrigued him almost as much as his senseless urge to grab hold of her, drag her off into the night, and seduce her.

Thank God she couldn’t know what was going on inside his mind. She’d go screaming for a safe haven then, no doubt. Lyon didn’t want to frighten her, though. Not just yet.

“Rhone has been Lyon’s friend for many years,” Sir Reynolds interjected into the awkward silence.

“I’m his only friend,” Rhone commented with a grin.

Lyon felt Rhone nudge him. “Isn’t that true?”

He ignored the question. “And are you a Princess?” he asked Christina.

“It would seem to many that I am,” she replied.

She hadn’t quite answered his question, Lyon realized. Rhone coughed—a ruse to cover his amusement, Lyon supposed with a frown.

Christina turned to Rhone. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?”

“Immensely,” Rhone announced. He looked at Lyon and said, “Your questions?”

“Questions?” Christina asked, frowning now.

“I was just wondering where you call home,” Lyon said.

“With my Aunt Patricia,” Christina replied.

“Lyon, surely you remember Lord Alfred Cummings,” Sir Reynolds interjected with a great show of enthusiasm. “He was an acquaintance of your father’s.”

“I do recall the name,” Lyon answered. He tried yet couldn’t seem to take his gaze away from Christina long enough to spare a glance for Reynolds. It was probably rude, Lyon thought, even as he realized he wasn’t going to do anything about it.

“Well, now,” Sir Reynolds continued, “Alfred was appointed to the colonies years back. He died in Boston, God rest his soul, just two or three years ago, and the Countess returned home to England with her lovely niece.”

“Ah, then you’ve been in England two years?” Lyon asked.

“No.”

It took Lyon a full minute before he realized she wasn’t going to expound upon her abrupt answer. “Then you were raised in the colonies.” It was a statement, not a question, and Lyon was already nodding.

“No.”

“Were you born there?”

“No,” Christina answered, staring up at him with a hint of a smile on her face.

“But you lived in Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

He really hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but Princess Christina was proving to be extremely exasperating. Rhone’s choked laughter wasn’t helping matters much either.

Lyon immediately regretted letting her see his irritation, certain she’d try to bolt at the first opportunity. He knew how intimidating he could be.

“Sir, are you displeased with me because I wasn’t born in the colonies?” Christina suddenly asked. “Your frown does suggest as much.”

He heard the amusement in her voice. There was a definite sparkle in her eyes, too. It was apparent she wasn’t the least bit intimidated. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was actually laughing at him.

“Of course I’m not displeased,” Lyon announced. “But are you going to answer all my questions with a yes or no?” he inquired.

“It would seem so,” Christina said. She gave him a genuine smile and waited for his reaction.

Lyon’s irritation vanished. Her bluntness was refreshing, her smile captivating. He didn’t try to contain his laughter.
The booming sound ricocheted around the room, drawing startled expressions from some of the guests.

“When you laugh, sir, you sound like a lion,” Christina said.

Her comment nudged him off center. It was such an odd remark to make. “And have you heard the roar of lions, Christina?” he asked, dropping her formal title.

“Oh, many times,” Christina answered before she thought better of it.

She actually sounded like she meant what she said. That, of course, didn’t make any sense at all. “Where would you have heard such a sound?”

The smile abruptly left her face. She’d inadvertently been drawn into revealing more than caution dictated.

Lyon waited for her to answer him. Christina gave him a wary look, then turned to Sir Reynolds. She bid him goodnight, explaining that she and her aunt had promised to make an appearance at another function before quitting the evening. She turned back to Lyon and Rhone and dismissed them both with cool efficiency worthy of a queen.

Lyon wasn’t a man used to being dismissed.

Princess Christina was gone before he could mention that fact to her.

She knew she had to get away from him. She could feel her composure faltering. Her guardian was seated in a chair against the wall. Christina forced herself to walk with a dignified stride until she reached her aunt’s side.

“I believe we should prepare to leave now,” she whispered.

The Countess had lived with her niece long enough to know something was amiss. Her advanced years hadn’t affected her keen mind or her physical shape. She all but bounded out of her chair, anchored herself to Christina’s arm, and headed for the door.

Lyon stood with Rhone and Sir Reynolds. All three men watched Christina and her aunt make a hasty farewell to their host. “I’ll be over tomorrow to get that bottle of brandy,” Rhone announced with a nudge to get Lyon’s attention.

“Rhone, if you jam your elbow into my ribs one more time, I swear I’ll break it,” Lyon muttered.

Rhone didn’t look worried by the threat. He whacked his friend on the shoulder. “I believe I shall go and guard your sister for you, Lyon. You don’t seem capable of the task.”

As soon as Rhone left his side, Lyon turned to Sir Reynolds. “What do you know about Patricia Cummings?” he asked. “The truth, if you please, and no fancy fencing.”

“You insult me, Lyon,” Sir Reynolds announced, grinning a contradiction to his comment.

“You’re known for your diplomacy,” Lyon answered. “Now, about Christina’s guardian. What can you tell me about her? Surely you knew her when you were younger.”

“Of course,” Reynolds said. “We were always invited to the same functions. I know my comments won’t go any further, so I’ll give the black truth to you, Lyon. The woman’s evil. I didn’t like her back then, and I don’t like her now. Her beauty used to make up for her … attitude,” he said. “She married Alfred when his older brother took ill. She believed he’d die at any moment. Patricia was like a vulture, waiting to inherit the estates. Alfred’s brother outfoxed her, though. Lived a good ten years beyond everyone’s expectations. Alfred was forced to take an appointment to the colonies, else be packed off to debtor’s prison.”

“What about Patricia’s father? Didn’t he attempt to settle his son-in-law’s debts? I would have thought the embarrassment would have swayed him, unless, of course, he didn’t have enough money.”

“Oh, he was plenty rich enough,” Sir Reynolds announced. “But he’d already washed his hands of his daughter.”

“Because she married Alfred, perchance?”

“No, that isn’t how the rumor goes,” Reynolds said, shaking his head. “Patricia was always an abrasive, greedy woman. She was responsible for many cruelties. One of her little jests ended in tragedy. The young lady made the butt of her joke killed herself. I don’t wish to go into further detail, Lyon, but let it suffice to say she doesn’t appear to have
changed her colors over the years. Did you notice the way she watched her niece? Gave me the shudders.”

Lyon was surprised by the vehemence in Sir Reynolds’s voice. His father’s old friend was known for his calm, easygoing disposition. Yet now he was literally shaking with anger. “Were you the victim of one of her cruelties?” he asked.

“I was,” Reynolds admitted. “The niece seems to be such a gentle, vulnerable little flower. She wasn’t raised by her aunt. I’m sure of it. I pity the poor child, though. She’s going to have a time of it trying to please the old bitch. The Countess will no doubt sell her to the highest bidder.”

“I’ve never heard you speak in such a manner,” Lyon said, matching Reynolds’s whisper. “One last question, sir, for I can tell this conversation distresses you.”

Sir Reynolds nodded.

“You said the Countess’s father was a rich man. Who gained his estates?”

“No one knows. The father settled his affections on the younger daughter. Her name was Jessica.”

“Jessica was Christina’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“And was she as demented as everyone believes?”

“I don’t know, Lyon. I met Jessica several times. She seemed to be the opposite of her sister. She was sweet-tempered, shy—terribly shy. When she married, her father was extremely pleased. He strutted around like a rooster. His daughter, you see, had captured a king. I can still remember the glorious balls held in their honor. The opulence was staggering. Something blackened, though. No one really knows what happened.” The elderly man let out a long sigh. “A mystery, Lyon, that will never be solved, I imagine.”

Though he’d promised to curtail his questions, Lyon was too curious to drop the topic just yet. “Did you know Christina’s father then? A king, you say, yet I’ve never heard of him.”

“I met him, but I never really got to know him well. His name was Edward,” Reynolds remembered with a nod.
“Don’t recall his last name. I liked him. Everyone did. He was most considerate. And he didn’t hold with pomp. Instead of lording it over us, he insisted everyone call him baron instead of king. He’d lost his kingdom, you see.”

Lyon nodded. “It’s a riddle, isn’t it?” he remarked. “This Jessica does intrigue me.”

“Why is that?”

“She married a king and then ran away from him.”

“Jessica’s reasons went to the grave with her,” Sir Reynolds said. “I believe she died shortly after Christina was born. No one knows more than what I’ve just related to you, Lyon. And after your rather one-sided conversation with the lovely Princess, it would seem evident to me she’s going to keep her secrets.”

“Only if I allow it,” Lyon said, grinning over the arrogance in his remark.

“Ah, then you have taken an interest in the Princess?” Sir Reynolds asked.

“Mild curiosity,” Lyon answered with a deliberate shrug.

“Is that the truth, Lyon, or are you giving me fancy fencing now?”

“It is the truth.”

“I see,” Reynolds said, smiling enough to make Lyon think he didn’t really see at all.

“Do you happen to know where Christina and her guardian were going when they left here? I heard Christina tell you they had one more stop to make before finishing the evening.”

“Lord Baker’s house,” Reynolds said. “Do you plan to drop in?” he asked, his voice bland.

“Reynolds, don’t make more out of this than it really is,” Lyon said. “I merely wish to find out more about the Princess. By morning my curiosity will be appeased.”

The briskness in Lyon’s voice suggested to Reynolds that he stop his questions. “I haven’t greeted your sister yet. I believe I’ll go and say hello to her.”

“You’ll have to be quick about it,” Lyon announced. “Diana and I are going to be leaving in just a few minutes.”

Lyon followed Reynolds over to the crush of guests. He
allowed Diana several minutes to visit and then announced it was time to leave.

Diana’s disappointment was obvious. “Don’t look so sad,” Sir Reynolds said. “I believe you aren’t going home just yet.” Sir Reynolds started chuckling.

Lyon wasn’t the least amused. “Yes, well, Diana, I had thought to stop by Baker’s place before taking you home.”

“But Lyon, you declined that invitation,” Diana argued. “You said he was such a bore.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“He isn’t a bore?” Diana asked, looking completely bewildered.

“For God’s sake, Diana,” Lyon muttered, giving Reynolds a glance.

The harshness in Lyon’s voice startled Diana. Her worried frown said as much.

“Come on, Diana. We don’t want to be late,” Lyon advised, softening his tone.

“Late? Lyon, Lord Baker doesn’t even know we’re going to attend his party. How can we be late?”

When her brother merely shrugged, Diana turned to Sir Reynolds. “Do you know what has come over my brother?” she asked.

“An attack of mild curiosity, my dear,” Sir Reynolds answered. He turned to Lyon and said, “If you’ll forgive an old man’s interference, I would like to suggest that your sister stay here for a bit longer. I would be honored to see her home.”

“Oh, yes, Lyon, please, may I stay?” Diana asked.

She sounded like an eager little girl. Lyon wouldn’t have been surprised if she started clapping her hands. “Do you have a particular reason to stay?” he asked.

When his sister started blushing, Lyon had his answer. “What is this man’s name?” he demanded.

“Lyon,” Diana whispered, looking mortified. “Don’t embarrass me in front of Sir Reynolds,” she admonished.

Lyon sighed in exasperation. His sister had just repeated his opinion that Baker was a bore, and now she had the audacity to tell him he was embarrassing her. He gave her a
good frown. “We’re going to discuss this later, then,” he announced. “Thank you, Reynolds, for keeping a close watch on Diana.”

“Lyon, I don’t need a keeper,” Diana protested.

“You’ve yet to prove that,” Lyon said before he nodded farewell to Sir Reynolds and left the room.

He was suddenly most eager to get to the bore’s house.

Chapter Three