Lord Harry's Folly (35 page)

What had she said? His thoughts were so powerfully real that he was utterly blank for a moment. Finally, he managed to say, “Do you really?”

She looked at her feet. What was the matter? He frowned at her, wondering what was going on in that beautiful head of hers when she blurted out, “I’m not at all like Melissande. I’m sorry, but I’m not and I’ll never be. I’m just me and I’m quite plain, but I am nice and I do have a sense of humor and I promise to make you laugh and”

“It’s true,” he said calmly. “You’re not at all like Melissande. She’s really quite voluptuous, her breasts are more than a man could ask for. She also knows every trick to please a man, to make him lie panting at her feet. I might also add that she rapidly becomes a dead bore. Her brain isn’t of the highest order, but then again, most men wouldn’t want that in a mistress. Listen, Hetty, she is what she is. And what she is is a mistress. She’s good at it. I’m damned thankful you’re not like her. You’re you and you’re beautiful and you’re everything a man could want in a mate. But, of course, you, I am persuaded, are already much aware of that fact. Surely you know I’d slay every dragon in England for you.”

She sighed. “Would you really, Jason?”

“Every bloody one,” he said. “Well, I might leave one for posterity, but that’s all, just one.”

“Melissande is rather silly, I expect, but so very beautiful.”

“I would like to know what the devil you said to her to make her pine so for Lord Harry.”

“Men don’t understand women. That is, women like Melissande need to be nourished on the most outlandish flattery. It makes them quite malleable, you know. At least that was my experience with her.”

“Can you be more specific, sweetheart?”

Ah, she liked the sound of that. “I likened her first of all to Aphrodite, being fairly certain that she would have heard of that lovely goddess. When images of Aphrodite began to pale, I cast her first as the romantic Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world, then threw in a dash of Daphne with handsome Apollo in hot pursuit. I must admit though that I did buy her a riding habit. That, I think, was the clincher, which doesn’t say all that much for my flattery.”

He threw back his head and laughed deeply. “You should have kept the habit for Miss Henrietta Rolland. It would have suited her fair coloring most admirably.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. It was far too short for me. Melissande lacks inches, you know.”

“Only in height, my dear Hetty, not, I assure you, anywhere else.”

“You’re dreadful and I will get you for that.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, and it was difficult for him to remain seated in his chair. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her until they were both silly with it. He drew a deep breath. “Tell me about Sir Harry and his problems.”

Oh well, Hetty thought, this is at least safe ground. She hesitated only a moment before recounting to him Sir Harry Brandon’s difficulties. He listened to her without interruption, his dark eyes never leaving her face. “So, you see, depending on Isabella’s answer to Harry, Lord Harry may very well find himself in the thick of another outlandish situation. Do you believe, your grace, that Sir William would dare to offer Isabella a carte blanche?”

“Jason,” he said absently, his thoughts elsewhere.

“I think of you as both. When you raise that right eyebrow of yours to quash me, then you’re a definite ‘your grace.’ When you smile at me and there’s lust in your eyes, then you’re Jason. I like both. Perhaps there’s even lust when you raise that right eyebrow as well.”

“You’ve just leveled me. Please stop it. Now, listen. You’ve done right in telling me. Would Lord Harry be much insulted if I took some direct action at this point? I think Gretna Green a most extreme measure. Surely it isn’t necessary. It could severely hurt Isabella’s reputation.”

“What would you do that I can’t do?”

“Don’t be stupid, Hetty. First of all, I have no intention of allowing you to race off to Scotland with that ridiculous couple. I told you that Sir William holds me in healthy fear. In no less respect would he hold the earl of March, when and if Julien decided to involve himself in the matter. Will you allow me to see to the affair in my own way, without Lord Harry’s colorful interference?”

“I think Lord Harry would much enjoy putting Sir William’s nose out of joint. To have to forego such excitement is asking a lot of him, Jason. Perhaps it’s simply too much. Perhaps you’d best convince me.”

“Hetty,” he said, his dark eyes becoming even darker. She liked those dark eyes of his, so deep and menacing. She said aloud, “Gothic, that’s what you are, quite gothic. Not that it’s bad of course. I shall have to watch you when it comes to our daughters. Oh, all right, I suppose it’s only fair that you be given your chance. Lord Harry, shall, of course, closely watch your progress and decide in due course whether or not he’ll be needed.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence. I shall return later this afternoon. You will have your note from Harry by then?”

“Yes, as I said, he means to try his luck this morning. If Isabella turns him down, I will begin to think she has butterflies in her head, if, that is, Harry doesn’t botch it, which is a strong possibility.”

“She’s lovely, she appears sweet-natured and the two of them should suit just fine. And look at us, just the opposite from those two. Just look at what I’m voluntarily seeking to have for the rest of my blighted days. Well, there is no accounting for taste and I suppose it will always be true.” He grinned. “Did I tell you that you’re a complete sweetheart? Of course I did. Now, to other matters before I haul you up to your bedchamber and do wonderful things to your body. Lord, now I’m making myself sweat. Stop looking at me like that, Hetty.” He drew a deep breath. “I would see your brother’s letter now, if you would fetch it to me.”

Hetty nodded and whisked herself out of the drawing room, though in truth she truly liked the sound of unspeakable things he would do to her. She was back in a trice, clutching the folded square of paper tightly in her hand.

“Hmmm,” was all that he said after his third reading of Elizabeth’s letter to Damien.

“What do you think, Jason?”

He said slowly, “It would seem to me that regardless of Elizabeth’s true feelings in the matter, Damien was sufficiently involved with her to make his keeping of her letter understandable. The manner in which she tied my name to her predicament is rather ambiguous, yet, Hetty, I now understand how you drew such a conclusion.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. No, it was inexcusable. I won’t ever forgive myself for serving you such a false turn, I’ll”

He dropped the letter onto the side table, rose and was at her side in a moment. He lifted her from the chair and pulled her closely to him. He felt the pounding of her heart against his chest. He felt the softness of her, the warmth, the utter surrender of her, her yielding to him, and he knew deep down that she was the only woman for him, and he was so damned bloody lucky to have found her, or, actually, she had found him, but it didn’t matter, they were together now and they would be forever. God, he wanted her.

“I love you,” he said against her mouth. “I love you and I’m the luckiest man alive to have Henrietta Rolland. You did nothing wrong. You acted, Hetty. Most women wouldn’t have acted. Most men wouldn’t have either. You did what you believed was right, with no thought to your own safety. I love you. Forget the rest of it. Together we’ll figure this all out. All right? Do I feel to you like I’m holding you any grudge?”

She looked up at him thoughtfully. “You’re hard against me. I know that’s because you’re a man. It feels very nice, Jason. When can we marry?”

He groaned, there was nothing else for him to do. “Jesus, as soon as I can manage it. But first we must discover the truth of things and you know it.”

“Yes, I know. Don’t you want to shout at me just a bit more, like you did at Thurston Hall? It would make me feel less low, less like a blind worm.”

“Go ahead and feel guilty, if you wish. Doubtless it will make you all that more admiring of me.” He kissed her hard and deep, then gently set her back into her chair. “I can’t think with you so very close to me. And both of us must think. Now, your other evidence is conversations Pottson related to you, conversations with Damien?”

She was breathing hard. There he was just standing there, looking as if nothing at all had occurred between them and she was having trouble breathing. It was odd and it was exciting. “Yes,” she said. “And, of course, the fact that Damien was, at the last moment, ordered to lead that cavalry charge. Pottson said Damien knew it was on purpose, that he knew he was going to his death. He didn’t want to, but it was his duty, he accepted it.”

Jason shook his head. “I simply can’t imagine that Sir William has the kind of connections in the ministry to direct Damien’s orders like that.”

“Then who, for God’s sake, sent Damien out of the country with such speed? Who could have directed his activities with such a close hand? Who could have sent him on all those dangerous missions, then sent him to certain death at Waterloo?”

“That’s precisely what I intend to find out, Hetty. Now, sweetheart, I must leave. To erase all doubt in our minds respecting Sir William’s involvement with Damien, I shall search out his lordship this afternoon. I wish to converse with him, in private, about his entanglement with Harry’s Isabella.”

“You swear you’ll keep me informed?” she said, rising. “About everything?”

“I swear. No, don’t get close to me,” he said. “I can’t take it. Yes, I’ll be back this afternoon and tell you what I’ve learned.”

He said softly, squeezing her fingers, “Believe me, Hetty, I wish to finish this damned business as quickly as possible. Then, we will speak of the future, our future.”

“And you’ll kiss me as much as I wish?”

“At least. Trust me.”

She watched him stride to the door, his legs long and strong and he was so certain of himself and of his abilities and she supposed that she had to be as well. “Jason,” she called after him, “do take care, else Lord Harry must needs come rescue you.”

He cocked a black brow and was gone.

Toward the middle of the afternoon, the Marquess of Oberlon walked into the gaming room at White’s. He hoped that Sir William Filey would be here, he usually was. He had scarce time to begin his search when his attention was caught by a loud commotion and the rising of angry voices. Intrigued, he walked unobtrusively toward a far corner of the salon, where a small knot of gentlemen formed a wide circle.

He drew up short at the sound of Sir William Filey’s voice. “Go lick your wounds in private, Brandon. If you’re not enough of a man to hold the lady’s affections, then go back to the infantry where you belong. Country girls, I understand, like young rustics like you trying to raise their skirts. Don’t come whining to me about it being all my fault.”

Damnation and hellfire, the marquess cursed silently. He could readily have strangled Harry Brandon for interfering in his plans. He moved quickly forward, edging his way through the circle of gentlemen.

Sir Harry Brandon stood facing Sir William, his hands balled into fists and his face red with rage.

“You old lecher,” he shouted, “Isabella is not for the likes of you. She’s young and innocent. You’ve pulled the wool over her eyes with your damned flattery. You’ve bribed that wretched mother of hers, haven’t you? I demand satisfaction, do you hear?”

It struck the marquess that Harry was copying Lord Harry’s behavior. He wanted to be a hero. He was going to force a duel. He stepped quickly forward and grabbed Sir Harry’s arm. Before Sir William could answer Harry’s challenge, he said smoothly, “Hold, Harry. Though I would never disagree your reasons, I must confess that my grievance with Sir William predates your own. I’m sorry, old boy, but surely you must yield to my prior claims.”

“Prior claims? What the devil, your grace?”

Sir William sneered, no other way to put it, but the marquess saw from the corner of his eye that he had backed away a step.

“Yes, Harry, prior claims. As a gentleman, I of course can’t disclose to you just what is involved. Further, I believe your argument with Sir William is a trifle premature. Allow me, I beg, to hold a brief discussion with Sir William. It is my belief that he will wish wholeheartedly to offer you an apology for his actions in this affair.”

“Apology,” Sir William shouted, his face red with rage. “If this young puppy can’t keep the silly wench in line”

“Do shut up, Filey,” the marquess said quietly. “Well, Harry, will you give way to my request?”

Sir Harry stood uncertainly, wondering what the devil he should do. Isabella’s cold refusal of his proposal had left him in such a fury that he wanted nothing more than to blow Sir William’s brains out. That he had not followed Lord Harry’s advice and had, indeed, bawled Isabella out for her common slut’s behavior, had made him all the angrier. She’d just stood there, staring at him, her only words being, ‘I’m not a slut and well you know it. Get out, Sir Harry. I never want to see you again.’ And that had been that. Well, he would show her that he was more the man than was Sir William. He would make her regret her words.

“Harry?”

Sir Harry pulled himself away from his thoughts to meet the marquess’s eyes. “Very well,” he said finally, “but he will be mine when your grace is done with him.”

“You shall have him or an apology, Harry. Does that suit you?”

“Yes.” Sir Harry bowed curtly to the marquess and strode away, leaving a group of very interested gentlemen in his wake. The marquess gazed about him, his brows raised. “If you would now excuse us, Sir William and I have a small problem to solve.” He smiled sweetly at Sir William and said gently, “Come, Filey.”

Sir William deplored this sudden turn of events, yet realized that if he were to refuse the marquess, he would be the butt of humiliating jokes for a very long time. He nodded coldly and followed the marquess from the room.

“I believe we can be assured of privacy here,” the marquess said, drawing to a halt in a darkened corner of the vast reading room.