My Lady, My Lord (12 page)

“Lady Corinna?” Fitzhugh leaned closer.

“Thank you, my lord. You flatter me.”

“It is not flattery, but deep respect and appreciation for a lady whose beauty and intelligence thrust her high above all others. Will you consider what I have said?”

“Yes.” Ian couldn’t manage more through the strangle in his throat. But Fitzhugh seemed pleased with his response. He grasped Ian’s hand and drew it toward his lips. Instinct balked. Ian jerked his fingers away. “Good evening, my lord.” He made for the door.

He passed Corinna at the entrance to the drawing room but didn’t pause. She came after him into the spacious foyer. An overflow of guests stood about, conversing and watching one another. Ian didn’t even care if everyone saw the Earl of Chance chasing after Lady Corinna Mowbray. He had to get out of this place. If Corinna were unwise enough to try to stop him, she would swiftly discover her folly.

She followed at a distance, pausing to command greatcoat and hat from a footman. Ian caught Mowbray’s eye and gestured toward the exit, then went though the door without waiting.

Corinna appeared on the steps a moment later. The night hung chill and damp. Except for grooms holding carriages, the sidewalk was empty.

“Did you do it?” she whispered, peering at his face in the lamplight. Her eyes widened. “You did it!”

“Not precisely, but he is interested. He has agreed to speak with you again in several days when he’s had opportunity to give the matter more thought.”

“You
did
do it. Oh, I could kiss you!” Her gaze arrested. “That is to say, figuratively speaking, of course.”

Ian nodded. Where was the damned carriage?

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t speak of it.”

“Don’t be a numbskull. Of course I will speak of it.”

“Corinna, it would be a supremely good idea for you to leave me alone at the present.”

“Was Pelley that horrid? I never imagined you would actually—”

“Corinna
.
”

“There you are, Cora,” Mowbray’s voice carried down the steps. “In a hurry to leave? Hello, Chance.”

Corinna bowed stiffly to her father. That was fine. Mowbray had never liked him much.

“Yes,” Ian said. “I have a megrim.” Isn’t that what women always complained of?

“And you, Chance? Off to your club, no doubt. This isn’t your sort of affair, after all, is it?”

“Not really,” she said. “I was just asking Lady Corinna to assist me in a project I have at hand.”

What?

“What project is that?” Mowbray asked.

“A distant relative has bequeathed to me a number of rare books on topics more suited to your daughter’s interests than mine,” she said. “I hoped she could assist me in determining which should be kept and which discarded. If she is able to spare the time, of course.”

Mowbray looked at him inquiringly. Behind her father’s shoulder, Corinna sent him a speaking look.

“Certainly,” Ian said. “We can begin tomorrow, if you like.” Obviously she wished to learn the game so she could try to win back Bucephalus. She wouldn’t beat Sparks, but perhaps the attempt would soothe the goddess’s ruffled feathers—if that was indeed the fantastical root of the trouble. If so, her plan to begin immediately suited Ian well. The sooner he was out of Corinna Mowbray’s body and she was out of his life, the better he would be.

Ian turned away from Mowbray’s curious stare.

Much better.

C
ORINNA SCANNED THE CRATES
of leather-bound volumes. She crossed her arms and released a sigh of satisfaction. Ian would thank her for this someday, even if he failed to appreciate it now. Every man of wealth and position should have a respectable library, whether he was a cretin or not.

A cretin who had nearly convinced Lord Pelley to sell her a publishing company. A cretin whose desk, which she had gone through this morning, included careful accounts of not only his several estates and sizeable thoroughbred breeding operation, but records of his mother, brother, and sisters’ finances, birthdays, anniversaries, servants, and miscellaneous interests.

The door to the study opened. “Mr. Chance,” the butler intoned.

“Come now, Simmons. My brother doesn’t need me announced.” Gregory strolled into the room. His attention went instantly to the piles of books. “Who died?”

“I bought them.” Her father might believe it, but she couldn’t very well invent a deceased relative to Ian’s brother.

Gregory drew the top volumes from a stack. “Pliny? Pico della Mirandola?” His skeptical brow lifted. “For what purpose?”

“It seemed time.”

“To resume your university days?”

“To provide you with some of the resources you require for a career in government.”

Gregory set the books down carefully. “This is—” he halted. He shook his head once. The gesture reminded Corinna of his brother. “This is somewhat—”

“Surprising.” Corinna pulled a trio of volumes from a crate and handed one to Gregory. “Dante Alighieri,
On the Monarchy
. In the past I have not encouraged you to any particular pursuit, but I will now. You have a fine mind, Gregory, and a talent for drawing out a man while remaining diplomatic. You would do well for yourself with a seat in Commons, or a position in the Home Office, I believe. Sir Robert Peel intends to make changes that will require a whole new slew of willing assistants. You should speak with him.”

Gregory ran his finger along the book’s spine. “I admit to being surprised, Ian. You’ve never said anything about this before.”

No doubt because his older brother was an idling rogue with a skull full of taffy instead of brains.

But that wasn’t fair. Not any longer. Ian must have a considerable measure of sense to own and manage such a renowned stable. Corinna had known of his success before, but her morning’s research into his affairs had borne the weight of his accomplishment upon her. And however much time he spent at the gaming tables, he still possessed his fortune when many gentlemen might have lost it long ago, or at least depleted it considerably.

“Be that as it may,” she said, “I am saying something now. What would you like me to do to assist you in this?”

Gregory’s eyes widened. “To assist me?”

“Yes. Would you like to become acquainted with anyone in particular, someone working for the crown with whom you are particularly interested in making a connection?”

Gregory’s brow creased, then he chuckled.

“What is it?” Corinna asked.

“Well, it’s just that for a moment there you sounded like Corinna Mowbray.”

“Good Lord, no.” Drat. Was her approach here too outrageously off the mark from what Ian might do?

Of course it was. It didn’t matter how many horses Ian took to the winner’s circle, or whether he remembered to send his mother flowers on her birthday every year. If he had his way, right now he would no doubt be sleeping away a night of excess in some stunning widow’s bed.

The door opened again and Simmons said, “Lady Corinna Mowbray.”

Ian entered. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Gregory smiled openly. “Hello, Lady Corinna. What a pleasure to see you here. We were just speaking of you.”

The wretch. Is this how gentlemen went along, covertly making fun of ladies? Making fun of her?

Ian did not rise to the bait. He clasped a reticule uncomfortably in his gloved hands and looked remarkably pallid. But perhaps that was merely the stark black gown and pale skin. She’d always thought the severe style looked sophisticated and striking on her. She might have to reconsider.

“I’ve come to assist with these books.” He took in the chaos of a dozen crates in various states of overflow. Corinna nearly laughed. He looked nothing less than panicked.

“Ah, I smell a project,” Gregory said much more cheerfully than when he’d entered earlier. “I was on my way to Tattersall’s just now, but if you’d like me to stay and help I would be happy to have a go at it.”

Ian lowered his brow.

“Yes, thank you, Gregory,” Corinna said. “For a short while, perhaps. You can begin with that crate,” she gestured. “It contains the works that will be most particularly of interest to you. Political tracts.”

“All right.” Gregory smiled, darted a cheerful glance at Ian, and set to the crate.

Corinna cast Ian a look of challenge. He met it without expression, then watched his brother begin unpacking. After a moment he placed the reticule on the table and put his hands to the books, too.

~o0o~

By the time Gregory left for the horse auction, they had emptied several crates and begun to shelve the books. As soon as the study door clicked shut behind his brother, Ian spoke.

“All right. Enough. You’ve had your fun at my expense.” He glanced about. “My considerable expense, it seems. How did you manage my signature on the bank draft?”

“I did not need to. I instructed your secretary as to what I required and he purchased the lot.” She wiggled her brows. “He tried to hide his astonishment, but he was so excited about the commission, he whistled.”

“He always whistles. He’s happy with his work.”

“He is even happier now.” She paused, slipping a final book into place and moving toward the sitting table in the center of the chamber. “Gregory is, too.”

“Meddlesome females always meet their comeuppance eventually, Corinna. You would be well served to remember that.”

“He wants a position in the Home Office.”

“He hasn’t mentioned that to me.”

“Yes, but when
you
mentioned it to him this morning as a possibility, he was remarkably pleased.”

Ian seemed to hesitate a moment—an odd, uncharacteristic action. Then he moved toward a side table and lifted the lid of an enameled Sevres box. “Now let us move on to the real purpose of this appointment.” He drew forth a deck of cards.

Corinna shifted a few books to the edge of the table and sat.

“What game will we play?”

“We will not play.” He sat across from her. “I will speak and you will listen, if you are capable of such a thing.”

“Oh, I am. I can be quite disciplined when sufficiently motivated.”

He cast her a peculiar glance, then began dealing the cards. “I will tell you what you must look for in an opponent’s actions, speech, and facial expression. Then I will tell you how you must comport yourself at the table.”

“Shouldn’t I practice the particulars of the game? I don’t even know yet what I will be playing.”

“The game or the skill of the player matter much less than the man playing it.”

“Or woman.”

“If you bring to the table the correct demeanor and temper, you will win most of the time.” He finished the deal, his hand pausing in a patch of sunlight streaking through the window glass. “In the event that no one plays dishonorably.” The words hung in the bright air like a shadow.

“Ian...” She held her breath. “How do you do it?”

He met her gaze. “How do I do what, Corinna?”

“Win so often.”

“How do you know that I win? Attending to the gossip columns now? I wouldn’t have thought it.”

“Your friend Stoopie told me so the other day. And you have a pile of gentlemen’s vowels in the drawer of your desk here. You must always win.”

“Not always.”

“Frequently.”

His gaze seemed to harden. “You wish to know if I play dishonestly.”

Corinna’s mouth went dry. “No.”

“You have every right to know. You’re walking about in my skin now, after all.”

“I don’t want to know that,” she said hurriedly. “What I mean to say is, I know you play honestly.”

One brow lifted. “This is a change.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it was thirteen years ago. I should hope I’ve changed since then,” she said with asperity. “And— and—” Why on earth was she stuttering? “And I did not entirely understand the way of things at the time. Later, my mother explained.”

“Did she?”

Obviously, he would not assist her in this. But the other night he had apologized after he wronged her. Given what he’d done at Lady Fairchild’s, speaking with Lord Pelley, she could at least return the favor, even if she was thirteen years late.

“I’m sorry I said those things to you that night at your family’s ball.” She spoke across the desert in her throat. “I didn’t really know what I was saying. Several days later Mama mentioned how your mother was so unhappy and I asked why. She told me your father had lost a great deal more money than was generally known, and the incident with the duke was his final, desperate effort to recoup his losses. I didn’t understand until then what your family was suffering, trapped in the countryside because of what the earl had done without the rest of you having any idea of it until it was far too late.” She paused, then forged ahead. “I didn’t understand how it must have affected you, in particular.”

Ian’s steady gaze did not alter.

“I felt absolutely wretched,” she continued, her chest tightening at the memory of guilty shame that had weighed upon her for months afterward. “But you didn’t make it easy for me to apologize, just as you are doing now sitting there in complete silence. You gave me that piercing stare of scorn and said horrible things, so when I discovered the truth of it I could not bring myself to apologize because I didn’t think you deserved it.”

“It seems you’re still having the same trouble.”

Corinna peered closely at him, trying to discern in her hazel eyes his usual mocking glint. She could not find it.

“I am not,” she said firmly. “I am apologizing.”

“You’re making a hash of it.”

He was laughing at her. But—dared she imagine it—with good humor?

“Is this my first lesson in effective demeanor and temper?” she asked.

“Ah. A quick learner.”

She could not prevent herself from smiling. “Well, as I said, I do have an extraordinary facility to learn when sufficiently motivated.”

“Then shall we put that motivation to good use now?” He palmed the remains of the deck.

Corinna’s chest felt much lighter. “Let’s.”

~o0o~

“This is exhausting. Give me a dozen Shakespearean sonnets to memorize and I will not disappoint you. But this...” She allowed her words to trail off in weariness.

“You don’t have to do this at all. It is your choice.” He gathered the cards and stacked them deftly in one hand. His actions were so unlike hers, clean and entirely in control, as though it cost him no effort whatsoever. It disconcerted Corinna to see her own limbs behave with such masculine ease.

“Why can’t you simply play him instead?”

“We have already discussed this.”

“No, you commanded it, like Caesar ordering the seizure of Gaul.”

“Gaul will not be threatened this time.”

“You don’t believe this will have any effect on our situation, do you?” But he must be as desperate as she to have his life back. His body.

“At present, I don’t know what to believe, Corinna.”

She bit her lip. “How must I go about arranging this game? Where can I find Mr. Sparks and how do I entice him to play with me?”

“You needn’t entice him.” He stood and moved toward the desk. “I will write a note to him indicating my—
your
intention. He will be eager to play.”

“Lord Grace mentioned how you had beaten Sparks badly once before.”

Ian nodded. He drew a sheet of foolscap from a drawer and dipped a pen in the inkpot.

“What will I wager against the horse?”

“Five thousand pounds.”

“Five
thousand
?”

He looked up from his task. “You may withdraw from this at any time. It’s only money to me.”

It wasn’t. But she didn’t want to tell him she guessed that.

“I won’t. When will you ask him to meet me?”

“Friday.”

Her stomach hitched. “Three days? But we’ve only just begun—”

“You will know everything you must by then.”

“I will?”

The corner of his mouth crept up. “Quick learner.”

Corinna didn’t know why her cheeks should grow warm. She harbored no false modesty about her own intellectual capabilities. “I am. Of course. That’s right.” Foolish. Tongue-tied. Silly. With
Ian Chance,
the man upon whom she had sharpened her wit when she was still a girl.
Preposterous
. “You should be going.”

“I will shortly. I must write a message for my secretary. Despite your rifling through it as though you own it, this is actually my desk.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you haven’t gone looking into places you shouldn’t have this past sennight.” She chuckled.

His gaze turned up to hers and the laughter died in her throat.

“I have indeed,” he said simply, and returned to his task.

Corinna stood and went to a partially emptied crate of books.

“Remain as long as you must, of course,” she said. “My reputation has withstood much worse of late, as you well know, and my father knows of the business that brings me here. At least I haven’t a husband to wonder what keeps me in another gentleman’s house in the middle of the day for so many hours.”

His head remained bowed over his work. “Why did you never marry, Corinna?”

The question stole the air from her lungs. Why
did
she never marry
? Not why
hadn’t
she yet
,
but
did
, as though it were a settled thing.

“I suspect you are grateful for my unmarried state at this point.” She cast him a glance.

He was looking at her now, and lifted his brows.

“Your experience with Lord Abernathy left a— hm—bad taste in your mouth, I should say,” she said with a small grin.