Sweeter Than Sin (19 page)

"That bad, eh?"

"It's
your
romance we're concerned with at present, not mine." He drained off the last of his brandy. "Assuming I have one."

"I shall refrain from further barbs," said Rafael, after rising and pouring them each a fresh measure of the amber spirits. "Though given the merciless teasing you've given our friends over the years, I'm not sure you deserve it."

"Actually I do. I had an encounter with Lady Kyra this afternoon, and along with giving her some brotherly advice on life, I put in a good word for you, though I'm not sure
you
deserve it."

"Touché."

Jack was in a strange mood, for after his usual sardonic chuckle, he turned pensive. "The truth is, you more than deserve it. You are kind, principled, generous, strong, and source of steady support for your family and friends. You'll make an exemplary husband."

Rafael raised a brow. "Implying you won't?"

"You know my temperament. I'm the opposite. Headstrong. Rash. Impulsive." A pause. "Selfish." Jack made a face. "Always have been."

"On the contrary, on the battlefield I saw a calm commander of his men, a brave, resourceful leader who had the courage to make the most difficult decisions under fire."

A spasm of surprise flitted over Jack's features. In a low voice he replied. "Nay, I was a coward, Rafe. At the moment of reckoning, I held back, too afraid for my own life to risk coming to your aid. God knows, I'm ashamed of myself, but I can't keep silent any longer. You must know the truth about what a weak-willed, lily-livered knave I really am." A harsh sigh rent the air as he raked a hand through his hair. "I don't deserve your good opinion."

Shock momentarily had Rafael tongue-tied. When finally he reordered his wits, he set aside his glass and steepled his fingers. "Damnation, Jack you are a man made of flesh and blood, not an automaton fashioned of brass gears and steel plates. In the chaos and confusion of fighting, with smoke stinging your eyes and screams piercing your ears, it is impossible to think rationally, or have any clear recollection of your actions."

Rafael closed his eyes for an instant, recalling the heat, the noise, the smells, and most of all, the fear. Gritty as gunpowder, it had hung heavy as a shroud in the air, distorting all normal perceptions. "You think you hesitated? For how long would you say?"

Jack's brow furrowed in fierce concentration. "At least a minute. Maybe two."

"It was no more than a blink of an eye," he shot back. "I turned just as you flung yourself down from your horse to come to my aid. You paused only to wipe the blood from your eyes, and then... I saw it all happen as if it were moving as slowly as a minuet. You charged forward, heedless of the slashing steel. At that same moment, an enemy blade sliced across my thigh, knocking me to my knees. Stunned and helpless, I looked up and saw a saber rise—and knew in the next instant that my life was over."

Rafael locked eyes with his cousin, refusing to let him flinch away. "But like a whirling dervish, you flew past a pair of hussars and knocked my attacker off balance. The saber blow meant for me caught you square in the chest. I tried to rise, but a musket butt smashed against my skull and everything went black. When I awoke, I was in a hospital tent, and you... I was informed you were dead."

Jack's face had gone deathly pale.

"So if anyone is a coward, it is I."

"Y-you're mistaken," said his cousin. "I am certain..." He pressed his fingertips to his temples. "That is, almost certain..."

"You've always been too hard on yourself, cuz."

"Trying to measure up to you is no easy task," came the whispered response.

"
Dios Madre
." He chuffed a wry laugh. "And here I wished I could be more like you, with your outgoing, easy manner and the ease with which you made friends."

Jack added his own gruff chuckle. "This is, you know, a very un-English conversation. Gentlemen are expected to keep a stiff upper lip."

"Yes, well I am half-Spanish, and we are known for our hot-blooded emotions. Alas, my weakness may have inadvertently rubbed off on you."

Jack took a long swallow of his brandy.

"But perhaps we should agree to stop talking about weaknesses or strengths and simply accept—and celebrate—who we are."

"Another very un-English suggestion. We are supposed to strive for perfection."

Rafael swore a cheerful oath. "What nonsense! Perfection doesn't exist. It's far better to strive for... demanding the best of yourself. I have come to believe that is enough."

"Hmmm." Jack spun his glass between his fingers, setting off a cut crystal winking of amber sparks against the far wall. "Then let us leave the past behind and drink to being... better men in the future."

"
Salud
." The burn of the brandy took on a more mellow fire. "It is good that we have slain our own inner dragons, but now we must turn our efforts to helping Lady Kyra."

"As to that, I was able to enlist some unexpected help this afternoon in the village," said Jack. "I encountered an old friend, Miss Harriet Farnum, whom I've known for ages since I attended Eton with her older brother. Her father is a well-respected senior diplomat with the Foreign Office, and because of her travels, Harriet is very intelligent and independent-minded. Not only that, she remembered Kyra as being exceedingly kind to her during her first Season. So she and her companion, who are spending a month at Northfield Grange, were quick to offer their assistance when I hinted that Kyra was in need of moral support during the upcoming ball."

"Friends are a powerful influence," mused Rafael. "It gives you strength to know you are not alone."

"Precisely," replied Jack. "With all of us marshaling our efforts, Matherton is in for a rude awakening if he thinks he can intimidate Kyra into acquiescing to whatever havey-cavey plan he has in mind."

"Indeed he is." Rafael slowly clenched his hand into a fist. "Up to now, she has been on the defensive, but as we have learned from our military experience, the best time to take the offensive is when an enemy has grown overconfident that he holds the advantage."

He stared out the diamond-paned windows, giving the situation careful consideration. If only he could convince Kyra to confide in him... perhaps creating another batch of sensual chocolate treats would melt her reservations. A creamy concoction of buttercream and champagne filling a shell-shaped...

"As to a plan," said Jack after a short interlude of silence, "I have an idea."

Chapter 13

Although Kyra experienced a small flutter of nerves on the following afternoon as the appointed time for the visit approached, her two visitors quickly put her at ease. Both of the young ladies were very knowledgeable about plant life and the tour of the ducal gardens led to much interesting talk about various local and exotic specimens on display. By the time they finished viewing the collection of herbs and headed indoors for the promised viewing of her watercolors, Kyra felt that the initial chance acquaintance was perhaps blossoming into a real friendship.

Just a short while ago, the idea would have been unthinkable...

Harriet and Theo finished perusing the paintings in the portfolio, the soft rustling of paper drawing Kyra out of her private musings.

"You are truly a gifted artist," remarked Harriet as she carefully closed covers. "Both your drawing skills and your sense of color are sublime."

Kyra colored at the compliment. "You are being far too kind."

"She's not," assured Theo. "Harriet is always honest—sometimes brutally so."

"Which is why I'll likely never marry," said Harriet. "Gentlemen tend to turn a little green around the gills when I express my opinions."

"Not all gentlemen," murmured Kyra, thinking of Rafael and Jack. "But you are right—the ones who are willing to give serious thought to a lady's point of view are rarer than hen's teeth."

"Lord Leete is one of them," remarked Harriet.

"You know Jack well?" she asked, curious as to how the two of them had come to be acquainted.

"Yes, he attended Eton with my older brother and often visited during school holidays. He teased me unmercifully, but I returned the favor and so we became good friends."

"That sounds like Jack," said Kyra dryly.

"You have known him for a long time as well, I take it?" asked Harriet.

"Since childhood. We were shared a number of escapades, and got into quite a bit of mischief together." She made a face. "I fear we were incorrigible hellions."

"What fun is life without making a little mischief," murmured Harriet.

Theo repressed a chortle. "Oh dear, don't remind me of Lady Sherwood's Venetian breakfast and the curry in her punch bowl."

Harriet grinned. "The coughing and sputtering made it sound like the gardens had been invaded by an army of bullfrogs."

"We would have been banned for life from the mansions of Mayfair had she ever discovered that we were the culprits," added Theo.

"Yes, but it was worth the risk. The countess is insufferably vain and she had been boasting for weeks about how her special recipe was far superior to that of any other hostess in London."

Kindred spirits.
The laughter and camaraderie of friends. Kyra had thought that would never, ever be part of her life again. A spark of warmth pooled deep in her chest and slowly spread outward.

"Jack and I once crept down to Lord Berkeley's wine cellar on the eve of a fancy gentlemen's Hunt Dinner he was giving and replaced several bottles of his most expensive French brandy—smuggled, mind you!—with vinegar," she recollected. "I would have given anything to see the expression on the faces of the guests."

"Dare we stay for tea?" quipped Theo.

They all laughed, and the dulcet sound seemed to add yet another thread to the bond forming between them.

"You shall be missing a rare treat if you choose to leave before the maid appears with the tray. In addition to tea, I've made some hot chocolate from a special recipe given to me by Jack's Spanish cousin, Mr. Greeley."

"Oooh, I have heard he is a
very
intriguing man," said Theo. "Talk in London is that he is a tall, dark, brooding hero straight from the pages of Lord Byron's poetry."

"Mr. Greeley may look like a raffish corsair prince, but he is all that is honorable—kind, considerate, always willing to lend a helping hand. Indeed, it was he who rescued Hero from a pack of young ruffians." Kyra hoped her cheeks were not as blazing red as they felt. "And as he is working on turning his grandmother's cooking journals and recipes into a book on the history of chocolate, he creates the most divine confections as he performs his research in the kitchens of Hendrie Hall."

"A man who likes cooking and chocolate?" remarked Harriet. "He sounds like the very paragon of perfection."

"He is... very nice," answered Kyra lamely, hoping her new friend's penetrating gaze didn't cut too deeply.

"Well then, I very much look forward to meeting him." Harriet's expression gave nothing away, but a tiny twinkle seemed to dance in her grey-green eyes. "I take it he will attending the ball."

"Yes." Kyra quickly rang for the maid, hoping to change the uncomfortable subject. "As to the ball, while we wait for our refreshments, I should like to show you the sketches for the floral arrangements the head gardener and I have designed for the supper room..."

* * *

"I am still not certain this is the best plan of action," murmured Rafael as he and Jack followed the butler down the corridor.

"Trust me, it's an excellent plan. Women are often more experienced than men at intrigue and innuendo," answered his cousin.

"Kyra isn't—"

"Yes, but Harry—that is, Harriet—is. And her diplomatic experiences have made her more practical and pragmatic than most gently-bred ladies. So I am quite confident that this is a wise move. She'll be valuable ally."

Rafael couldn't hold back a skeptical scowl.

"Just remember the strategy we agreed on. After a pleasant tea time, I will ask Harriet and her friend to allow me to ride back in the carriage with them to Northfield, as I wish to catch up with my old friend. I'll explain to them that we suspect Matherton is threatening Kyra. Not only do I trust Harriet's discretion and judgment, but she also seems to have a sixth sense that alerts her to trouble in the air. As we learned in war, it never hurts to have allies in all manner of guises."