Rules of Engagement (30 page)

"No!"

"I saw your face. All you could think while she screamed was that she could be dead soon, and you wanted everything to be different."

Kerrich clutched at his composure. "I wished I could have saved her the pain. Of course I did."

"If you were so bloody indifferent, why didn't you get a footman to hold her? You could have left the room."

"No!" Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Kerrich blotted the sheen of perspiration from his forehead. "That is, I felt responsible, and thus should be there."

Lord Reynard pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it worriedly, shook it, raised it to his ear.

"What's wrong?"

"I was afraid, with the load of manure around here, that the works on my watch would be ruined."

"Grandpapa, that is not funny!"

"Ah, you've lost your sense of humor." Putting the watch back in his pocket, Lord Reynard leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Have you thought she might have taken seriously what you poked at her in fun?"

With a glance at the footmen standing sentinel, Kerrich did the same. "Do you mean, have I thought she might be increasing? Yes, I've thought of it. In fact, it's… likely. I deliberately didn't use the French sheath because I thought if every other method of getting her to marry me failed, she'd have to come to me and—"

"Wait." Lord Reynard put his hand on Kerrich's forearm. "You thought that woman would come to you and beg—"

"I didn't say beg!"

"—beg you to wed her because she was with child?" Lord Reynard's fingers tightened, and he burst into laughter. It was an insulting laughter, one that mocked Kerrich's intentions and his intelligence.

Unfortunately, Kerrich knew he deserved it. He waited patiently until his grandfather had finished, then handed him a handkerchief to wipe his wet eyes. "I don't want her to marry me only because she's increasing."

"You're a picky bastard, aren't you?" Lord Reynard sighed. "You're in love with a quick-witted woman who has as much pride as you do and who doesn't need you. She'll survive without you. Hell, she'll prosper without you. And why do you love her?"

"Because she's quick-witted, proud and capable." Kerrich hated this. He was handsome, he was wealthy, he was well connected and he had nothing to offer Pamela that she desperately needed. He had only love to offer, and he could take a chance and offer it, or never tell her and regret it for the rest of his life.

"This is what you do," Grandpapa instructed. "You figure out what you want. Then you tell her. Then you ask her what she wants, and you listen to what she says. Then you give it to her, and maybe she'll take it, and you in the bargain, and maybe someday, if you don't blunder too badly, she'll love you."

Kerrich stared at his grandfather and remembered the fantasies she had shared. "I already know what she wants."

"Then what are you waiting for? Give it to her."

"Yes. Yes, I will, but first…" Confession was good for the soul, Kerrich told himself. "Grandpapa, I
was
the full moon on a foggy night." Then he braced himself for Lord Reynard's amazement.

Instead, Grandpapa said, "Did you think I didn't recognize the Mathewes family jockum? I've been holding one of my own for eighty-nine years."

"Eighty-four," Kerrich corrected automatically. His grandfather knew? He knew?

Kerrich smiled, then chuckled, then roared. All these years, Kerrich had been so careful to keep the truth from his grandfather, and he always knew?

The footmen stared, his friends gathered around and tried to convince him to tell them the jest, and the wagerers laughed as if Kerrich's merriment tickled them, too.

When Kerrich had recovered enough to talk, he told the onlookers, "You'll have to get the tale from Lord Reynard. I'm off to make my darling's dreams come true."

Pamela was occupied with teaching the class called "Maintaining the Proper Governess Decorum," so Hannah didn't bother her. Indeed, Hannah didn't bother Pamela with almost anything, since her friend had not recovered from the gunshot wound as Hannah had hoped. She had begun to suspect Pamela's problem was not so much a residual weakness as a melancholy of the spirit. Not even Hannah's vivacious projections of fame and fortune for the Distinguished Academy of Governesses could cheer her, and when Pamela was not excited about making money, Hannah diagnosed serious problems. Man problems.

She had subtly questioned Beth about Pamela's experience at the hands of that despicably handsome Lord Kerrich, and Beth had just as subtly evaded her. Unhappily, the child was disconsolate, too, and that left Hannah with no recourse but to wait until one of them opened up to her.

She had already waited over a month.

The door to the study stood open. She sailed in—and it shut behind her. Swinging around, she found herself facing Lord Kerrich, his hand flat against the door, and a giggling Beth.

He bowed. "Miss Setterington, I hope you will forgive this unorthodox intrusion, but I have a favor to ask of you."

His arrogant assurance set her teeth on edge. "What would that be, my lord?"

So he told her.

"I don't understand why you can't travel with Beth to Brookford House." Pamela sat on her bed and watched as Hannah packed a bag for her. "I'm still weak from my wound."

Hannah ignored her.

"There's so much for me to do here."

Hannah held up a plain, white pair of pantalettes and frowned at them. "A little lace trim would not go amiss, Pamela."

"For what purpose?"

"I find those little furbelows cheer me." Hannah folded the pantalettes and placed them in the bag. "You could use some cheering."

"Have I been glum?" Was that why Hannah insisted Pamela go on this dreadful trip that would end in her seeing Kerrich and hearing his voice? Because if that was it, Pamela could change. "I'm glad you told me. I'm just tired, that's all. I'll make an effort to be more blithe."

Hannah put down the petticoats she had deemed travel-worthy and took Pamela's hands. Looking right into her eyes, she said, "Dear, I'm not trying to tell you I don't need you here. It took the three of us, Charlotte, you and I, to start the Distinguished Academy of Governesses. Without the support, knowledge and combined income of all of us, we could never have succeeded so quickly. But we have reached the time of which we dreamed. The school is organized, the placement agency is popular, and the whole structure needs only the lightest of hands on the reins. A chance like this, a chance to travel to Brookford House, should be seized and enjoyed."

"But you—"

"Beth likes me very much, but you are her particular friend and dear guardian. You must take her."

The only time Hannah sounded this firm was when she was speaking to a recalcitrant student.

Pamela put her hand on her back. "I hate to mention it, but the place where the thief stabbed me is painful, too."

"He stabbed you on the other side." Hannah stuffed Pamela's boots into a second, still-empty bag. "I think to travel you should wear your new light blue dimity with the white flower pattern—"

"I should be still in half-mourning for my father," Pamela objected. Besides, she'd picked out that color because Kerrich had once suggested she would look lovely in that shade, and to wear it in front of him seemed an admission of sorts.

"You're almost out." Going to the cupboard, Hannah brought out the gown. "Besides, you never cared before."

"I do now." Pamela did, too, and was prepared to be stubborn about it.

So Hannah proposed the perfect solution. "Then you shall carry my gray cashmere shawl with the embroidered flowers along the hem. They're blue, too, and will match the dress, and the gray will make everything proper." Hannah laid the gown across the bed next to Pamela, then took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You don't have to stay at Brookford if you don't wish to, Pamela, but you are going. And Pamela?"

"Yes?"

"You might think about leaving your father's watch behind."

Shade from the magnificent oaks dappled Pamela, Beth and Lord Reynard in the luxurious open carriage as it traveled along the wooded drive toward Brookford House. The wheels crunched as they rolled over the gravel and the breeze carried a hint of autumn. The huge park boasted an extensive wilderness and a fishing pond, all of which Lord Reynard had pointed out with pride. To Beth's great excitement, she spotted a deer, and even Pamela found reluctant serenity among the green, red and gold leaves.

"Coachman," Lord Reynard said, "stop at the top of the rise."

The trees thinned. The carriage slowed. The house came into view.

Pamela's mouth dried. A green sweep of scythed grass swept from the shore of the lake to the edge of the stone piazza. The Italianate house rose three stories high and stretched twelve windows wide, an architectural marvel of rosy stone and Ionic pilasters. The peak at the top of the portico was rife with intricate floral carving. A stone railing surrounded the roof, and chimneys of various heights rose above it all. Overall, the effect was one of mellow beauty set among the sylvan hills.

Beth exclaimed, "Bless my soul. This one's bigger than the one in town!"

"Much bigger," Lord Reynard said. "Almost two hundred rooms, with forty-seven bedchambers and twenty baths—with plumbing! It's really too big for a single man and, as Devon has recently discovered, it's a dreadful place to housetrain a puppy."

Beth giggled.

The carriage lurched onward.

Lord Reynard said, "Devon bought it in Norfolk so he could be close to me. I live not far from here, Miss Lockhart, on the Mathewes family estate."

"Oh." Pamela found herself wanting to fidget as the drive wound closer and closer. "How pleasant that the two of you are close."

"Devon's a good grandson and a fine man." Lord Reynard nodded. "Don't you think so, Miss Lockhart?"

"A very fine man." If he hadn't been, Pamela wouldn't be in this state of apprehension. Brookford House loomed, inundating her with the impression of wealth and comfort. A small group of people stood lined up on the steps, craning their necks as the carriage approached.

Then she saw
him.
Kerrich, standing on the piazza waiting for them to arrive. The house became nothing but a backdrop, a place where he could be viewed, and she was lost. Drowning in desire and need and love, seeing only him and wanting to launch herself into his arms.

As the carriage came to a halt and the footman opened the door, he strode forward, as handsome and arrogant as the first time she'd seen him in the study of the Governess School. But this time, his gaze danced from one to another, and he smiled broadly. "Welcome to my home!" he called.

Beth did what Pamela longed to do. She jumped from the carriage into his embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his arms clasped her close, and he spun with her in a delirious dance of joy.

"I missed you, Devon, I missed you," she said.

"I missed you, too, Beth. There's been no one to laugh at me when I lose a wager on the horses."

His back was turned to the carriage, but Pamela could have sworn she saw him kiss the top of Beth's head, and she swallowed. Beth had pined for him; apparently, he had missed her, too.

Setting Beth on her feet, he said, "Your horse has been lonesome without you, so I hope you're prepared to ride her as much as she wants."

"Yes!" Beth yelled.

Pamela began to remonstrate, but changed her mind. Conduct was less encumbered in the country, and Beth would calm down soon.

The footman extended his hand, and Pamela reached out to take it, but Lord Reynard said, "Age before beauty, young lady, age before beauty."

Startled, Pamela pulled her full skirts back as he tottered to his feet, and when he pointed at the second footman and said, "You'll have to support me, also," she thought nothing of it.

Until he had wobbled his way down and let the footmen lead him over to Beth, leaving no one to assist her except Kerrich, and he had a hot, intent expression that she recognized as… well, that didn't look like respect, admiration
or
gratitude. Moreover, he held his hands behind him as if he had to physically restrain himself from snatching her from the carriage.

His clothing didn't reflect country ease. He wore an almost formal dark green suit, black waistcoat and silk neck cloth. His shiny boots glittered in the sunlight, and his smooth chin must have been shaved within the last hour. The rose in his lapel drew her gaze; it was gloriously red and perfectly formed, a bud on the verge of full blossom. Gorgeous. Taken altogether, he was gorgeous.

The new gown that Pamela had resisted wearing now seemed scarcely good enough, and she was grateful for the quality of the cashmere shawl and the frame of her blue-trimmed hat, which, she knew, brought out the blue of her eyes.

Kerrich pitched his voice to reach her ears only. "Welcome, Miss Lockhart. I have imagined you here at Brookford, and the reality is a greater gratification than the dream." He took one white gloved hand from behind his back and held it out to her.

"Thank you, my lord, for inviting me." Painstakingly, she laid her palm in his.

The contact was like rain after a drought. Like spring after winter. Like the first time in a long time that the man she loved had touched her.

But he didn't love her.

His fingers closed around hers and he helped her to her feet, then steadied her as she set foot onto his property. He gazed at her with the greed of a miser catching his first glimpse of gold.

He said only, "You look well. I worried that you would take on too much after you returned to work, but you appear to be robust."

"Yes, most robust. I am very strong." Silently, she winced. She made herself sound like a prizefighter, savage and grunting.

"Your strength is one of the things I most admire about you." He stood so close he filled her gaze, and she could smell the scent of starch from his clothing and the sweetness of the rose in his lapel. "But I feared you might overestimate your stamina."

"On the contrary, Miss Setterington and Beth have quite coddled me." She found herself glancing up into his eyes, then away, as if the elegance of his brown eyes with their heavy black lashes was too much for a mere woman to contemplate.

"Good," he said.

"What?" What were they talking about?

"Good that Miss Setterington and Beth coddled you."

His lips formed the words with glorious precision, and all she could do was admonish herself not to behave like a fool. "Lord Reynard and Beth are waiting for us."

"No. They went inside."

How did he know that? He'd been looking at her every moment.

With tender hands—well, she considered them tender, probably they were only polite—he turned her toward the house. "I have people I would like you to meet."

"As you wish." She would likely have agreed to anything he said. Then she realized he meant the crowd on the stairway. The servants, she supposed, but why would he want her to meet them?

Placing her hand on his arm, he brought her to the bottom of the steps. "First, let me introduce the butler, Mr. Dawson."

The perfectly groomed, slightly rotund butler bowed.

"Mr. Dawson." Pamela nodded.

"My housekeeper, Mrs. Bell."

The thin and erect housekeeper curtsied.

Why was Kerrich introducing her? "Mrs. Bell," Pamela echoed.

"The head cook, Mrs. Smith." Kerrich gestured to a broadly smiling, apron-clad woman. He continued as they walked up the stairs, naming each servant. "The senior downstairs footman, Ralph. The senior downstairs maid, Betty. The senior upstairs footman, Roger. The senior upstairs maid, Joyce. The cook's assistant, Paul."

Why was Kerrich doing this? "Mrs. Smith." Pamela smiled politely and repeated after Kerrich. "Ralph. Betty. Roger. Joyce. Peter."

Gently, Kerrich corrected her. "Paul. The cook's assistant is named Paul."

With a shock, Pamela realized—Kerrich knew them. This careless, arrogant, domineering peer of the realm knew each one of his servants, what they did, what their names were. She looked at him, wide-eyed.

"I learned their names so I could introduce you properly," he said.

"I see." She had imagined an incredibly uncomfortable visit, with Kerrich treating her coolly if he noticed her at all. Now he was introducing her to his staff as if… her mind veered away. She couldn't think that. She didn't dare. Instead, she concentrated on remembering the servants' names.

At the top of the stairs, she had made it through the ordeal with no more mistakes. Glancing toward Kerrich, she discovered he wore half a smile and satisfaction like a second skin.