Moon Dreams (6 page)

Finally disengaging from a trio of gallants who had gone
beyond asking Alyson’s antecedents, to impertinent questions concerning her
present situation, Rory shoved his way through his aunt’s overcrowded ballroom
with irritation. Spying Alyson waiting for her dance partner to return, he
placed himself at her elbow and whispered, “Have you chosen your husband yet?”

Far from being surprised either at his sudden appearance or
at the tone of his question, Alyson merely flipped open her fan and inquired, “Who
asks?”

“That trio over there. They wish to know why you have never
been introduced to society before, if we are by any chance engaged, and if your
wealth is as fabulous as they have heard.”

She leaned closer to his shoulder so no other could hear
their words. “And what did you tell them?”

She was laughing, and that served only to annoy him more,
along with the heady fragrance of her perfume. “I told them your grandfather
thought you too ugly to be presented, that I have compromised you quite beyond
repair, and that your wealth consists of a derelict tin mine on an island
covered with water half the day.”

Alyson’s laughter rang out loud, causing heads to turn. “Since
I am now so thoroughly ruined, would you mind leading me someplace where I
might breathe? I have only lately come from the country, and I fear there is
something in this mixture of perfumes that does not quite agree with me as well
as fresh air.”

Rory offered his arm with alacrity and escorted her toward
the hallway. “I suspect it is not the perfumes so much as the stench of a
hundred unwashed and overheated bodies melting in the brilliance of a thousand
candles. I’d rather smell sweating sailors any day.”

“Ugh.” Alyson turned up her pert nose as he steered her into
the semidarkness of the library. A small fire burned in the grate, and candles
on the table illuminated the brandy decanter. “I cannot think the salt air
would quite eradicate that smell.”

Rory opened the casement windows and seated her on the
settee below it. The ballroom might be packed with malodorous bodies, but hers
wasn’t one of them. She still smelled fresh and sweet. The urge to touch her
was almost uncontrollable, but he was a strong man, and he had already made up
his mind that he would not be the one to corrupt her innocence. He had every
intention of leaving the country as soon as his ship returned.

“That is no topic for conversation in any case.” Rory
propped his elbow against the mantel a polite distance from her. “Tell me, do
you have any preferences among all the eligible suitors my aunt has presented
to you tonight?”

Perched on the settee, Alyson shrugged off his inquiry to
look out at the steeple of the church next door. “Will I disappoint Deirdre
greatly if I do not make a grand marriage?”

“What? Would the heiress settle for less than a marquess?”
Fascinated despite himself, Rory pulled up a chair and straddled it, crossing
his arms over the back as he stared at the winsome wench in the window.
Firelight flickered across the soft flesh rising above her bodice, and he
fought back a stirring in his groin. He’d found a willing whore as soon as he
reached London, but obviously she wasn’t enough. He wriggled into a more
comfortable position.

“I see no purpose in marrying. Why would any woman
voluntarily hand over her freedom to some man to do with as he wishes? Why
should I take a husband so he might make himself free with what is mine, while
giving me only what pittance he chooses out of the charity of his heart? I can
see no reason to do such a mad thing.”

Rory smiled at this innocence. “That is spoken like a woman
who knows nothing of love.”

To his surprise, Alyson snapped her fan vehemently. “Don’t
be patronizing. I know of love. That’s why I know women are fools to believe in
it. We love with our hearts, while men love with their heads. Well, I’ve
learned my lesson, and I won’t forget it. I can see no advantage in marriage.”

He had apparently hit a chord that roused the drowsy miss to
battle. Rory raised his eyebrows and replied menacingly. “Tell me who the cad
was and I’ll slit his throat.”

Alyson ran her fan down the bridge of his nose and tapped it
warningly. “You look like a protective gargoyle, but there is no need. The cad
is quite willing to marry me now that I am an heiress, but I will not have him.
So you see, love does not matter either. I shall choose to be single.”

Rory’s gut refused to let him quit the subject. How far had
the other man gone with her innocence? What kind of bloody parasite would hurt
a priceless angel? If he had his hands around the cad’s neck right now, he’d
strangle him. “What of passion?” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Did
your lover teach you that too? If so, you must be a coldhearted wench to abjure
it for all time.”

Alyson stared at him in astonishment. Apparently displeased
with his tone, she gathered her skirts and tried to escape around the obstacle
of his chair. Rory’s grabbed her wrist. Rising, he towered over her and waited
for a reply.

“Let go of me, Maclean.”

“Tell me his name, Alyson.”

“It is no business of yours.” She tugged at his hold, but he
was relentless.

“Tell me it is only your heart he has touched.”

“What difference does it make?” she demanded. “Do I ask you
how many women you have kissed? It is naught to me.”

She had him there. He was making a complete fool of himself.
Taking a deep breath, Rory released her arm, but caressed her shoulder to keep
her from running away. “I am that sorry, lass. Forgive me. But I feel
responsible for you somehow, and before I sail, I would like to know that you
are happy. It is not so very easy to stop loving as you try to pretend.”

She shrugged again. “I put his name on the guest list, but
he did not accept the invitation. I will survive. Are you sailing soon?”

Rory wanted to crush her shoulders in frustration. “Diversionary
tactics work only once, lass. You will answer my question before I answer
yours. If the man has taken you in lust, he must be made to accept the
responsibility. I think old Farnley would be clever enough to tie up your
wealth so he cannot squander it.”

“I do not understand you, my lord. What responsibility is
involved in exchanging a few kisses and vows of love? Alan promised to love me.
He said nothing of marriage. That was only my foolish daydreaming.”

Rory wanted to hug her in relief. He wanted to pick her up
by that tiny waist and smother her in kisses. He wanted to find this Alan and
tell him what a bloody fool he was. He did none of those things.

Alyson looked sophisticated in the costume Deirdre had
disguised her in, but she was still the untouched country lass beneath, and he
would not be the one to sully perfection.

He grazed her cheek with his knuckle and gave her room to
pass. “Perhaps I better have Deirdre explain these things to you. Just do not
let another gentleman touch those ruby lips of yours without a promise of
marriage. Agreed?”

“No kissing?” Alyson stared at him in wonder. “But kissing is
so very pleasant. Why should anyone be denied it?”

“Not until you are betrothed,” Rory answered, putting his
hand to her waist and escorting her back to the ballroom.

“You are no fun at all. I shall be glad when you sail.” Like
some spoiled child, she picked up her skirts and swept away from him, leaving
him chuckling in the hallway.

Only when he spied Deirdre watching him did Rory narrow his
eyes and bear down on her. “Did Alyson ask you to invite anyone in particular
to this little crush of yours tonight?”

Deirdre touched the patch at the corner of her mouth and
tilted her head. “I believe she asked that some of her Cornish neighbors be
invited. Why?”

“Their names?” Rory refused to indulge his aunt’s curiosity.

“Tremaine, I believe. Sir Thomas and Lady Tremaine. And
their son, I think. Now, let me think, what was his name?” She wrinkled up her
delicate brow in deep thought, bouncing her fan off Rory’s chest as she
considered.

Impatiently he caught the fan. “Would it be Alan, by any
chance?”

Her face brightened with delight. “Alan, of course. Do you
know him? How could I have forgotten? They just arrived a few minutes ago,
something about a broken carriage wheel delaying them. Shall I take you to
them?”

Rory whirled and stalked into the ballroom without
answering. It took only one quick glance to find the white gown and the lovely
frame of curls in the room full of gaudy colors and closely pinned caps. His
fists knotted as he saw her smile politely at the older couple. He could tell
just by the look on the lass’s face that she wasn’t listening to a word they
said, and the tall young man at her side was the reason.

Damn and blast, but she had made a pudding of his brain! He
would talk to Farnley tomorrow, make certain the money could be tied up in some
manner, then he would get the hell out of here as he had meant to do earlier. A
man in his line of work had no business loitering so long near civilization. He
was very bad at it.

Farnley stared at his visitor with ill-disguised
irritation. The new Earl of Cranville was a physically imposing young man who
treated his inferiors in stature as well as status with impatience. Hampton
swept around the room now, pounding his great fist against the desk in a show
of strength.

“I want her direction now, old man. As head of this family I
am responsible for the chit. I’ll not have her hiding behind the skirts of
strangers.”

Technically, the man was quite correct. The girl belonged
with her family, and Farnley would have upheld that position to his dying day,
had the family been any other than this spoiled dandy. Besides that, the earl
had not solicited his services, but Miss Hampton had. He knew where his loyalty
belonged.

“I understand she is staying with friends of her mother’s family.”
That was what he told himself. He had no other idea how the part-Scots heiress
had come to know the very Scots Campbells. “I’m certain she’s well-treated. I’ll
let her know that you have inquired after her. There really is no more I can do
for you, my lord. She knows how to find you if she wishes to consult with you.”

“Bigawd, man! Do you think I will let you get away with
this? I’ll have your head on the block before this week’s out!”

The earl stormed from the room with a flutter of the many
capes of his greatcoat. His booted feet could be heard all the way out of the
building.

The earl need only look as far as any gentleman’s club to
locate the heiress, Farnley knew, scribbling a note of warning to the Campbell
household.

***

The warning arrived too late. Alex Hampton, earl of
Cranville, caught Alyson by surprise when he appeared in Lady Campbell’s
drawing room.

She had been entertaining callers who had come to compliment
them on the previous evening’s entertainment. Her cup rattled against her saucer
when the earl’s familiar towering figure entered. Everyone else saw only the
handsome new lord come to call on his ward. She saw a hulking monster come to
devour her soul.

Lady Campbell did what she could to keep him away from
Alyson, but she was in no position to have the earl thrown from her drawing
room. When he finally grew impatient with her delaying tactics and asked in
front of an audience that he be allowed to speak with his cousin alone, Alyson
could not harm her hostess by denying him.

Aware that Lady Campbell had stationed the butler outside
the study door, Alyson still felt as if a prison door shut behind her.

***

Cranville had planned his speech on the way over here. Even
before he’d inherited the title, he’d had enough women setting their caps for
him that he didn’t expect continued refusal. He supposed it had been a long time
since he had courted a virgin. He had been precipitous—and drunk— with this
docile little pigeon.

Still, he felt certain his assertiveness—and his title—would
overcome any obstacles. He had only to calm her with his good intentions, speak
to her of children, and give her a few lingering kisses. Nature and society
would take care of the rest.

“I have my man of business working at obtaining a special
license,” he told her, relieved that her expression remained vague and
uncomprehending. She
needed
his
experience. “We can be married in the morning. I’ll have the town house opened
up. We can reside there if you wish to see London. For the sake of the
entitlement and so there can be no question about the inheritance, you’ll have
to bear my heir before we can go our own ways. After that, you will be free to
do as you wish. A married woman has much greater freedom than an unmarried one.”

He waited impatiently to see the effect of his carefully
prepared speech.

She sat with head bowed, studying her hands in her lap. “What
happened to the lady you kidnapped?”

That hadn’t been the answer he was prepared for. How had she
known that in his desperation, he’d sent rogues to bring her home?

Cranville studied the pale nape of Alyson’s neck. It was a
very fragile neck, topped by a thick cloud of ebony tresses. It wouldn’t take
any effort at all to snap it, but he doubted that a murderer could inherit his
victim’s wealth. It was the money he wanted, after all.

After years of living on nothing but the expectation of his
uncle’s great wealth, he had accumulated vast debts. The claims collectors hung
about his lodgings and would until he could put a good deal of blunt in their
pockets. Without his cousin’s wealth, he would have to flee the country or rot
in debtors’ prison.

He sought some way of ameliorating his reckless fiasco. “She
wasn’t a lady, and I sent her away well paid for her inconvenience. I didn’t
find your little trick amusing. I have told you I will marry you. You will be
the Countess of Cranville. A bastard can scarcely ask for a better title than
that. Surely you aren’t simpleton enough to hold out for love? Your birth and
your wealth will only attract the worst sort of rake. I at least can offer you
your home and a decent name.”