Love's Guardian (6 page)
The
peacock
gave the retreating butler a disdainful glance before he turned back to the conversation. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord. I’m Luther Fenton, Viscount Addington. Alex’s second cousin, perhaps she’s spoken of me?”
“Actually, she did mention you.”
Even you’re preferable to him.
Now he understood Alex’s comment. He laid the dagger on the desk between them. “She seems to have some rather strong feelings for you.”
Surprise flashed briefly in Addington’s eyes. “Alex and I have always been close, though she may try to deny it. She isn’t comfortable sharing her feelings with everyone.” He lowered his voice and moved closer to the desk. “I’ve come to set your mind at ease concerning her welfare.”
“Really.” The man lied well. If Alex hadn’t made that passing remark yesterday, Declan might have believed him. He took a seat and motioned for his guest to do the same. “I wasn’t aware of any concerns.”
“Perhaps I’ve been misinformed.” Addington turned his hands palm upward and shrugged. “My sources indicated you were reluctant to become her guardian.” He paused and gave Declan an inquiring look.
Declan merely met the man’s gaze. The silence grew until he could hear the wind whispering through the curtains.
Addington appeared disconcerted, but continued. “Her future has been taken care of. There was an agreement between Lord Lochsdale and myself. Alex and I are to marry.”
“It’s odd Lord Lochsdale didn’t make you guardian in my stead.”
“It was only recently decided on. I’m sure he would have changed the will had he not died suddenly.”
“Was she aware of the arrangement?”
“No, we felt it best if I won her over to the idea.” He rested his hands on the chair arms and leaned forward, his voice edged with contempt. “For a woman, she seems to have a mind of her own.”
That was the Alex he knew. She’d never agree to marry this popinjay.
“Do you have a written contract?”
“No, the agreement was verbal.” Addington’s lace cuff swayed as he extended one thin white hand. “We’re reasonable men, my lord. I’m sure you have pressing matters in London.”
With steepled fingers, he watched his guest, pursing his lips as if he were actually considering the man’s claim. Lord Lochsdale would never have agreed to this match. He’d loved his granddaughter too much to marry her off to someone like Addington.
His visitor brushed an imaginary speck of lint from his blue embroidered waistcoat. “If it’s agreeable, I’ll go over affairs here and send you a full report. I imagine the marriage will take place quickly, and you’ll be done with the whole affair.”
Declan sat back in the desk chair. “I appreciate the offer Lord Addington, but as it happens, I have a fortnight before I need to return to London. If I remember correctly, the hunting in this area is exceptional. I thought to avail myself of the sport. Would you care to accompany me?”
“I’d be delighted.” Addington produced an enameled snuffbox, then extended it toward Declan.
“No, thank you.” How the habit had become fashionable, he’d never understand. “Shall we meet here tomorrow morning?” If Declan wasn’t mistaken, he’d just made an enemy.
“That would be agreeable.” Addington took a pinch of snuff and returned the box to his pocket.
Declan stood and came around the desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the desk edge, “I have a great many papers to go over.”
Addington looked as if he wanted to ask something, but instead, he rose and walked to the door.
Before he left, Declan spoke, “Just one more thing. Regarding the Countess of Lochsdale, I’m afraid I promised the poor girl a Season in London with the express purpose of finding a husband.” Declan would love to see Alex’s reaction if she found out he’d called her a
poor girl
. “Of course, as you’ve been developing a fondness between you, I’m sure you’ll be her choice.”
Addington no longer appeared quite as accommodating. He gave a curt nod. “As you wish. Until tomorrow, my lord.”
Luther Fenton, Viscount Addington, closed the door with care, although the urge to slam it almost overwhelmed him. The hall appeared empty, so he lovingly ran his hand over the smooth top of a Chippendale table, smearing the polished wood surface. This would be his, just as it should have been.
He glanced in the hall mirror and studied his reflection.
He looked like the lord of the manor.
A spot on his coat drew his attention. He brushed at the white patch with his fingertips, then adjusted his cravat. A Season in London would stretch his resources, but perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary.
Sad, how many hunting accidents occurred each year. The earl would just be one of many. Tomorrow morning didn’t leave him much time. It wasn’t going to be easy, not like the others.
The initial meeting hadn’t gone well, but the game wasn’t over yet. Luther felt like skipping down the front steps. He perused the well-tended estate and smiled at the black storm clouds gathering overhead. He truly did love a challenge.
Alex lifted a sapphire-blue dress from the chest in her mother’s bedroom. The silk, as soft and elusive at the memories it evoked, slipped through her fingers. Her mind grasped at the hazy childhood remembrance.
Wracked with fever, her mother had worn the gown as she lay on the bunk in her cabin. Alex hadn’t been able to do anything but wait and watch as the forbidding shadows of evening threatened to steal her mother’s life.
A small candle burned, mixing the smell of tar with tallow. The flame, sputtering with the sway of the lantern, barely illuminated her mother’s sweat-sheened face. Her slight body thrashed in a way that had nothing to do with the storm beating at the ship.
Mother had called her name, over and over. Alex had tried to tell her she was there. She’d gripped her mother’s frail hand in her pudgy round one and held on until...
“Alex!” Declan knocked louder. He would not be ignored. In spite of the storm wailing outside, his knocking drew servants from all parts of the house, though they all pretended to be busy with duties.
“If you don’t answer this door, I’m coming in.” Declan waited for several moments, then threw himself against the wooden timbers. The fastening mechanism snapped and the door swung inward. He glared at the servants’ shocked faces, then crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him.
Even with the dimness of the room, he spotted her immediately, seated on the floor, surrounded by masses of colored silk gowns. She gripped the edge of a trunk, her head resting on her hands. He couldn’t see her face; her glorious hair shielded it from view. Why didn’t she acknowledge his presence?
He crossed the room in several long strides and bent down to take her shoulder. “Alex.”
She started, turned, then looked up at him. “Lord Worthington, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I knocked. Actually, I did more than that. If you check outside, I believe the entire staff came running.” He reached down and touched the wet trail of a tear as it made its way over her cheek. “Crying?”
Alex brushed at her face with the back of her hand. “Dust.” She stood, using the trunk for support, and squared her shoulders before looking at him. “We rarely use this room. I’ll have to speak with the maids.”
She bent and plucked a forest green gown from the pile, then crossed to the dressing table mirror. The garment slipped from her grasp several times before she managed to hold it up to check the fit.
The plain design of the gown didn’t hold with the current fashion, but the style suited Alex. The powder, frills, and patches of the day would only detract from her beauty. His ward’s vibrancy came from within. She didn’t need jewels or lace.
“It would look lovely on you, but I didn’t think you cared for gowns.” Declan waited for a sharp retort.
“This was my mother’s favorite.” Alex crossed to the bed and laid the gown across the end with care, the taffeta rustling as she smoothed the wrinkles. “I decided to see if I could make due with any of these in London.”
She fidgeted with the sleeves for long moments before turning to face him. “I’m certain you didn’t search me out to discuss dresses.” She gave him a smile that was a bit too bright and cheery. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He wished she’d stop trying to be charming. It didn’t suit her. “Did you know about a long-term betrothal between you and Lord Addington?”
Alex blanched.
“He arrived a few minutes ago to inform me of your upcoming nuptials.”
“You didn’t believe him!” She turned away, and began to pace the small space between the bed and dressing table. “Bloody hell, I knew he was underhanded, but this?” Alex paused for a moment. “He’d need it in writing. Grandfather would never have signed anything like that without telling me.” She glanced his way. “You didn’t agree to anything, did you?”
He was tempted to tell her he’d given her to the man with his blessings. For some reason, it bothered him that she didn’t have any faith in his ability to discern Addington’s motives. “It may come as a surprise to you, but my acquaintances consider me a careful man. I agree, your grandfather would not have encouraged the match, but Addington could cause trouble.”
“That’s all he’s ever caused.” Alex’s pacing increased. “As a young man, he used to be more careful.” She stopped and faced him, holding out her wrist to reveal a glittering diamond bracelet.
“See this. It’s really a collar.” Alex’s voice softened. “It belonged to a long-haired white cat I called Misty. Grandfather gave her to me. I don’t suppose you would know what an animal can mean to someone who feels lost and alone in the world.” Alex fingered the band gently and went to sit on the edge of the bed.
His father had never allowed him to have a pet, but he understood loneliness. He’d learned to deal with it over the years. How much harder it must have been for Alex to cope after being part of a loving family.
“Misty got along well with everyone,” Alex said, holding his gaze, her smile brittle, “except Luther. She hated him and would do everything she could to keep him away from me. Because of that, my cousin tormented her.”
Alex lost any hint of a smile. “Late one afternoon I went to the stable where she often took a nap. Before I reached the entrance, I heard a terrible cry. By the time I’d arrived, she was...dead.” Alex slid her hands down the tops of her thighs, clutching the day gown’s thin material just above the knees. “Her neck had been broken.”
She turned away, the gathering silence making him wish he’d not sought her out. He’d never comforted a woman before. Hell, he couldn’t recall anyone ever looking to him for solace.
At last, she stood and went to the window, arms crossed, right hand rubbing up and down her upper arm. “I could never prove Luther did it, but I know he did.” Bitterness etched her voice as she turned to stare at him. “I understand he’s gone on to tormenting people. The servants are afraid of him, with good reason.”
Anger coursed through Declan’s veins. He wished he could right the wrong somehow, but it was an old wound.
He crossed to her and laid his hand on top of hers. She stilled at his touch and glanced down at the point where they were joined, then met his gaze. Anger replaced the vulnerability in her expression. She broke free, sidled past him, and returned to the trunk.
Alex hated that look in his eyes. She didn’t need his pity. She hauled the remaining gowns from the trunk with rapid, jerky movements and piled them on the bed. Being nice to her guardian didn’t mean she had to tell him about her past.
Damn Luther anyway.
If Declan felt he had to protect her, he’d never let her be. He may be insufferable, but he’d defend her, if for no other reason than his love for her grandfather. Loyalty, in this case, would definitely prove inconvenient.
She turned to see him watching her, a slight frown causing furrows between his dark brows. Stiffening her spine, she marched across the room and stopped within a foot of him. It was disconcerting to have to crane her neck to look up at him, but she held his attention with as direct a stare as she could muster.
Standing this close, she could see the fine laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. His nearness disturbed her, but she wanted him to take what she had to say seriously. “Don’t worry, Lord Worthington. I can handle Luther. Death would be preferable to being married to him, and I enjoy living. I’d appreciate it if you’d decline his kind offer.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve already agreed to his calling on you.”
“What?” Outside lightning flashed, immediately followed by a crack of thunder. She stepped back. Cold fear washed over her. How could he do this? Couldn’t he see what Luther was?