Love's Guardian (5 page)

He gave her a tolerant smile, disbelief evident on his handsome face.

She took a deep breath. “If
you
think this is best, may I at least choose who controls my life?” There were several friends of her grandfather’s she could ask, maybe Lord Ellington. She liked him.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind. I’m glad you’re going to be agreeable.” Declan’s genuine smile momentarily made her forget what they were discussing.

He stood and walked away, but he’d gone only a few paces before turning back to her. “I imagine we could leave for London in a week or two. I still have a few things to clear up here.

“London?” Alex shook her head, all at once suspecting she’d missed something. “We don’t need to go to London to find a replacement.”

“For your grandfather’s sake, I want you to have many men to choose from.” He gave her a wry smile. “I have to admit, I’d like you to make your selection and marry as soon as possible, but I realize these things take time.”

“Marry?” Alex couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“It will be the height of the Season, so choosing a husband shouldn’t be too difficult.” Declan shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to your liking.”

The man was daft. “I’ll not do this!
”

Declan seemed perplexed, then his brow cleared in understanding. “Ah, you’re afraid you are too old.” He studied her with an assessing gaze. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw admiration on his face.

Abruptly he turned from her, his voice strange, deeper than before. “I don’t think you need worry about your age. Most men will find you attractive enough.”

Clearly, he wasn’t one of them. Alex bristled, forcing her voice to remain calm, despite the stab of hurt. “I’m going to say this again, so even
you
can understand. I don’t wish to marry, at least not now. You can’t force me.” She reached for her dagger, only to remember he had it.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “You will obey me in this, Alexandra. It’s the best solution to an intolerable situation.” He strode to the bench, towering over her. “Aside from the guardianship, I won a wager in which you agreed to follow my wishes.” He held her gaze, the assurance in his voice scraping up her spine like the tip of a knife. “Have you forgotten?”

Worthington was a snake to bring that up now. Alex held his gaze and kept her voice steady. “I honor my wagers.”

“Good, then you will go inside, get into some decent clothing, and start to plan what you’ll need for our trip. We’ll leave in a fortnight.”

Alex rose to her feet. She felt dwarfed by his size, but refused to be intimidated. “As you wish,
my lord
.” She turned on her heel, and strode back toward the manor. Once out of sight, she broke into a run.

A resounding thud filled the air as Alex threw the front door open with enough force to hit the wall. She headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Eleanor came out of her room, a startled expression on her face. Alex gave her a stiff smile, then headed for the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Her insufferable guardian dared to bring up the wager. She paced between the dressing table and bed, her arms crossed. Marriage was not the answer. What had given him that ridiculous notion?

The door opened, and Eleanor stuck her head in. “Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right. Nothing will ever be all right again.” She realized she was shouting and lowered her voice. “That, that man wants to marry me off.”

Eleanor entered the room and shut the door behind her. “We discussed this. You knew it was a possibility.” She settled in the window seat and smoothed her violet gown. “Stop pacing. Wearing out the rug won’t help.”

Alex sighed and curled up, feet under her, in the spot next to her cousin. “What am I going to do about him?” She turned her diamond bracelet around her wrist. The gems sparkled as they caught the light.

“It’s not so bad,” Eleanor sighed, her face pinched with worry in spite of her assurance. “You’ve always managed to come up with a solution. You will this time, too.”

“I hope so. Last time I crossed Lord Worthington, I lost everything, my home and the people I held dear. I thought I’d never be happy again, then I met Grandfather.” Her lips turned upward in a slight smile. “It took a while for me to realize how much he loved me. In spite of everything I did, he never gave up.” Alex clasped Eleanor’s hands in hers. “You both made me feel part of a family. I’ll not lose you as well!”

“Don’t be silly.” Eleanor grinned. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

Alex squeezed Eleanor’s hands. “I’m not going to let Lord Worthington do this to me. A husband would expect me to always behave like a lady. Can you imagine, never wearing breeches again?”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “If you recall—”

“Regardless. My guardian would be condemning me to a life of pretending. I could live with that, if I had to, but what would happen here?”

“We’d survive.” Eleanor gently broke their clasped hands and leaned back against the casing. “Stop worrying about us. Besides, it would be in your future husband’s best interest to take care of things here.”

Alex shook her head. “If a man doesn’t love his wife, he does what he thinks is right, regardless of her wishes. He might decide to send you away, or Edgar, or Berta. I wouldn’t have the power to stop him.”

“What makes you think your husband wouldn’t love you?”

Alex’s face grew warm. True, it wasn’t impossible. She might someday find a man to love her. “Who’s going to fall in love with me right away? Remember London? I spent a whole Season and didn’t find anyone.”

Of course, she hadn’t really tried. It had seemed pointless. Not one of them would have accepted her if they’d known she favored breeches and could run an estate. They wanted women with dowries who would produce heirs, nothing more. None of them would have been able to best her in fencing, let alone accept her challenge, the way Declan had. She stood up and resumed her pacing. “No. I can’t risk a hurried marriage, but how in the hell am I going to convince my guardian?”

Alex tugged at the uncooperative bodice of her green silk gown and sighed.
I hope Eleanor’s right
. She squirmed again, trying to tease the scanty material over her breasts. This whole idea was ridiculous, but she’d promised. Her cousin’s words still rang in her ears.

“You’ve let him see nothing but your temper. Of course he wants to be rid of you as soon as possible, wouldn't you? Try being nice to him for a change. If you’re friendlier, he might even relent and allow you to go your own way.”

“Being nice” in Eleanor’s mind implied doing exactly what Declan asked. Well, she was wearing a dress, at his request. Maybe now he’d stop acting like she was a problem to be solved.

She remembered the day Grandfather had given her the elegant gown. He’d winked at her and stated that if it didn’t bring the young bucks round, nothing could. What would Declan think of it? Not that it mattered. Right now, she wanted his cooperation, nothing more.

Smoothing the silk one last time, she squared her shoulders and left the room. As luck would have it, when she reached the stairs, Declan stood at the bottom, ready to ascend. Dressed for dinner, his impeccable appearance was marred only by the black lock of hair that tumbled over his forehead.

He brushed it back with a practiced motion, looked up, then froze. For an instant, Alex thought she read surprise and desire in his eyes. Just the possibility boosted her confidence.

Smiling, she descended the stairs and inclined her head in his direction. Before she passed him, Declan stopped her. His voice sounded deeper, somewhat uneven.

“I was coming to get you.” His gaze skimmed her figure. “You need to eat. I’ll not have you starve because of your dislike for me.”

Her smile faltered. He didn’t mention her appearance, and how dare he imply she was too thin. She wanted to tell him she didn’t find him attractive either, even though it was a lie, but Eleanor’s words echoed like a litany in her brain.
Be nice. Be nice.

Alex forced what she hoped was a smile to her lips. “Whatever gave you the idea I dislike you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because you keep trying to stick me with sharp objects.”

“Grandfather used to tell me I was impulsive. I’m afraid he was right. It’s not you, but the situation, I find abhorrent.” Alex extended her hand. “Shall we?”

He hesitated, then turned and offered her his arm.

They said nothing on the way to the dining room, but he glanced her way more than once with a puzzled frown. Declan seated her across from Eleanor before taking her grandfather’s place at the head of the table.

Alex couldn’t believe she actually enjoyed dinner. Declan did most of the talking, and underneath the arrogant male demeanor she found a sense of humor. He regaled them with several stories concerning things he’d done as a youth; most of his tales involved his unsuspecting governess, but a few concerned her grandfather’s butler.

She remembered Beal as a surly old man. He’d left her grandfather’s employ shortly after she arrived. She’d been glad to see him go.

A shiver of fear touched her as Declan described how he’d managed to climb the steep roof of the manor in the dead of night. Picturing the twelve-year-old dangling a makeshift ghost in front of Beal’s window, she couldn’t resist a smile.

He must have scared the staid butler half to death. It served Beal right for always being so unpleasant.

So, Declan had grown up in the area. If he’d truly been that close with her grandfather, then perhaps Berta knew him. The gentle old woman had been her grandfather’s
friend
ever since Alex could remember.

Shame and remorse washed over Alex. She’d briefly spoken to Berta at the funeral, but she should have gone to see her before now. She just hadn’t been able to face the older woman. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed in an attempt to ease the tension. How much had changed since she’d last seen the twinkle in Berta’s watery blue eyes.

She’d visit her tomorrow. If her adopted grandmother knew Declan, she might know why her grandfather had made him her guardian. Somehow, Berta always seemed to find a solution to life’s problems; maybe
she’d
know what to do about Lord Worthington.

What was she up to?
Pondering the question, Declan stretched his large form in the leather chair.

He’d been at the ledgers since six that morning. Thank God, Lord Lochsdale had been meticulous about all things pertaining to his estates. It wasn’t at all like the shambles his own estates had been in when his father died.

He rose and opened a set of the French doors along one wall, then leaned against the frame with his shoulder. The Lady Alexandra of last night was more of a mystery than his rapier-welding hoyden. What did she hope to gain? He preferred her frontal attack. Charming females were dangerous.

Cool air flowed through the doors, molding the shirt to his chest. He closed his eyes and heard the heartbeat of the estate in the rhythmic pounding of the blacksmith. The noise outside didn’t quite mask the rustle of material or click of high-heeled shoes as someone entered the library behind him.

Declan spun around and slipped his knife from its sheath. An unannounced guest didn’t bode well in this manor if yesterday was any measure. The intruder was a man, dressed in the peacock fashion and wig affected by the Macaronis. His powdered face and elaborate finery enhanced his almost feminine beauty. One moon-shaped patch graced the corner of his hard-set mouth.

His visitor couldn’t have expected Declan to have a weapon, yet no emotion glimmered in his cold, light-blue eyes. A man with that much control usually had something to hide. Declan tightened the grip on his weapon.

“Lord Worthington? I’m—”

“I’m sorry, my lord.” The butler burst into the room, giving the intruder a reproving look. “I tried to stop him. I told Lord Addington you were occupied with accounts, but he insisted on seeing you.”

“It’s all right, Edgar.” Declan lowered his blade and positioned himself behind the ornate mahogany desk. “I don’t mind the interruption. I’ll ring if I need you.”