The Saint (13 page)

She wasn't going to solely blame herself for yesterday anymore. She had begun to do so, in part because of Fleur, in part because it had seemed an inexplicable lapse on his part when thought of any other way. But if he hadn't been a saint when young, he probably had not truly become one later, and, in light of this news, the lapse had not been inexplicable after all.

It would be nice to blame him completely instead, but her memories wouldn't let her. Fine. They both were to blame then.

Or not, depending on how you looked at it.

She didn't feel inclined to blame anyone. That embrace and those kisses had been glorious and exciting. They had produced an intimacy such as she had never known, and a connection that seemed unbreakable. That was why she sensed his presence all the time, and why her heart beat so hard when he moved nearby. She admitted now that she had been hoping for some recognition that he also felt the invisible links forged by that brief passion.

She threw an arm over her eyes and groaned. An experience like that might transport her, but it would hardly turn a man like the Viscount Laclere inside out. He had once had the great Catalani as a lover. A few kisses and gropes with a raw recruit to passion could easily be forgotten.

She would simply have to forget as well. Clearly he expected her to.

She tried to fix on that decision. Her head was willing but her heart would not cooperate. She kept seeing that look in his eyes and experiencing anew the exciting magic of his embrace. Her chest filled with a hopeful joy that urged her to sing, and then emptied with a disappointing sadness that almost moved her to tears.

She sighed and sat up. She didn't recognize the sad, confused person she had become. She needed to find the Bianca she had been before yesterday.

She would simply step backward and pick up the strands. She would renew her plan to make him send her away, only this time to Baltimore. Leaving had become essential now. She couldn't live the next ten months like this, absorbed by a man who obviously regretted their behavior and only wanted to keep his distance from her.

She needed to settle matters quickly. She would have to do something very shocking, something Vergil could neither ignore or forget.

An obvious solution presented itself. Vergil could rationalize a lapse with himself by blaming himself, but he would hardly miss the implications if she lapsed again with another man soon after. He might have affairs with women like Catalani, but a good brother could not permit a Catalani to live with Charlotte.

Who should the other man be? Not Nigel. Vergil might decide to call him out.

Dante?

She felt more like her old self than she had in twenty-four hours. Planning her next move helped keep her mind off the sadness that nibbled inside her.

Yes, Dante would do very well, and a rake would hardly disappoint her.

The next day the party spread out along the shores of the lake, enjoying a lazy afternoon. They had brought books and sketching pads with them in the carriages, and lots of parasols for the ladies. Dante and Cornell Witherby had stripped off boots and stockings and waded with fishing rods into the low water.

Dante walked out of the lake. She caught his eye while he dried himself. She smiled. After he pulled on his boots he came over.

She had never realized how susceptible men were. If he weren't a rake, she might have felt guilty.

Dante lounged beside her. “You do not sketch?”

“I never learned. My education was not the typical drawing room variety.”

She noticed Vergil rising from his spot and meandering into the trees. As if his movement had been a cue, the other members of the party began regrouping. Pen and Catalani carried their parasols over to Fleur.

“Your walk in the lake must have been refreshing on this warm day,” she said. “I envy you.”

His lids lowered and he regarded her with that private look. She knew he was remembering her own dip in this lake the day he first arrived. It reminded her that she played a dangerous game here. She had better choose her moment with the greatest care.

“I tire of sitting. I think that I will take a turn,” she announced.

“May I join you?”

“That would be kind.”

The path formed a large circle through the trees and brush. She guided him in the direction opposite that which Vergil had taken.

“Will you be leaving with the others tomorrow?” she asked.

“I think that I will stay a few more days.”

“Charlotte says that you find the country boring.”

“This visit has been anything but, thanks to your company. And you? Can Laclere Park occupy you during the months ahead?”

“I confess that I doubt it. Fortunately, Pen has spoken of a visit to London soon, so that Charlotte can begin choosing her wardrobe for the season.”

“I will make it a point to be there when all of you come.”

They strolled into a spot where the trees fell away and only tall grasses and bushes flanked the path. Down a low hill, a little clearing filled with flowers lay near the lake.

“Look, bluebells. Help me down so I can pick some.”

Dante was only too happy to help her down the hill. She knelt amidst the fragrance and began plucking up the buds. With an encompassing glance that noted their isolation, he settled down beside her.

She peered toward the tall bushes hiding the path, looking for Vergil's dark hair. He should be passing this way soon.

“You are very lovely there, surrounded by those flowers, Miss Kenwood. They make your eyes even bluer.”

“Call me Bianca, Dante.”

He looked like a man pleased with a sudden good turn in fortune.

Still no Vergil.

“I am honored that you agreed to walk with me today. I was concerned that my behavior in the library had left you angry and afraid.”

“Not angry. But a little afraid, I will confess.”

“Such a reaction is what one would expect of an innocent girl. Kissing you like that was an inappropriate thing to do. I can only offer as an excuse that I was overcome by how lovely you looked in that subtle light.”

“You do not need to apologize. I was not insulted, just surprised. If I reacted strongly, it was because of that.”

“May I take that as encouragement that my addresses find some favor with you?”

It sounded like something Vergil would say. Only Vergil had said nothing of the kind before kissing her, and now this rake did. Men could be very confusing.

“That depends on your intentions.”

“Completely honorable, Bianca, I promise you.”

He hadn't touched her. He hadn't even moved closer. How much encouragement should a rake need? She glanced anxiously toward the path.

“Not too honorable, I hope.”

He smiled in both surprise and delight, but he still didn't move. Where had this sudden inconvenient restraint come from?

“You cannot know how happy this makes me. Now, we should resume our walk and return to the others.”

She couldn't believe her ears. “I do not want to return to the others just yet. I would rather stay here with you.”

“I am flattered, Bianca, but—”

“I want you to ask to kiss me. You said that you would and that I would not refuse. I have thought about it and decided that you were right. I would not refuse.”

He glanced around at their isolation, clearly torn. She did, too, and thought she saw dark hair finally moving between the bushes' branches.

“It would be best if we left now,” he said.

What good was a rake if he got all proper just when you needed him to do something outrageous? When you had bluntly invited him to do so? In a few seconds Vergil would move to the top of the little hill and what would he see? Nothing.

Dark hair strolled closer. She stomped a mental foot in frustration. This chance might never come again.

Kiss me, you idiot.

Dante rose to his knees and offered his hand to help her up.

She lunged.

He fell back with her weight and his arms instinctively encircled her. “Miss Kenwood … Bianca …”

She pressed him to the ground and he grappled in confusion. In the flurry that followed, she rolled so he embraced her reclining body amidst the flowers.

The world righted itself and silence fell. She looked up at a face at first startled, then dangerously sensual.

“Well, sweet girl, if you insist.” He lifted her toward a kiss.

Their lips never met. A rampaging animal crashed down the hill. A strong hand grabbed Dante by the neck of his garments and hauled him off her. Furious, savage blue eyes seared into one befuddled and astounded rake.

“I warned you,” Vergil growled.

His fist sent Dante sprawling. Then that hand pulled her up, set her right, and brushed the grass off the back of her garment with swipes that stung her bottom.

She looked guiltily at Dante. She hadn't expected Vergil to react so violently.

She faced Vergil bravely. They stared at each other, her glaring a challenge and him barely controlling his fury.

Dante staggered to his feet. “Oh, hell,” he muttered.

“Exactly,” Vergil said.

That confused her. She looked quizzically from one to the other. Vergil shook his head in exasperation and stepped aside.

Her gaze followed Dante's.

Oh, dear.

Up on the crest of the little hill, Fleur, Pen, and Catalani watched from beneath their parasols.

“I tell you, she literally threw herself at me. One moment I'm offering her my hand and the next I'm sprawled on the ground with her on top of me.”

Dante paced in front of the study's window, looking as agitated as Vergil felt.

Vergil stayed behind his desk, because if he got within ten feet of his brother he might thrash him. “Do you expect me to believe that Miss Kenwood jumped you, overpowered you, and then dragged you into an embrace? It is preposterous.”

“
Listen
to me. I'm kneeling there, about to get up. She had just invited me to kiss her and I had demurred. Then suddenly she turns into a she lion and—”

“You were
on top of her.
”

“That part is a bit confusing. It all happened so fast. I have to tell you, her behavior has been astonishing. I am shocked, to be frank about it. I can't recall that I have ever experienced anything like it.”

“You hardly looked as though you were fighting for your virtue.”

“Well, she was so insistent. And I
am
human.”

Far too human. He'd like to smash his fist into Dante's face again and then grab Bianca Kenwood and turn her over his knee.

“Nothing else for it, of course,” Dante said. “What with the ladies seeing.”

“If I discover that you decided to save time as you suggested that day in here, I will—”

“Don't know why you are so upset. It is what you wanted. I'm the one who has to marry a girl with very suspect morals.”

“Suspect morals?”

“If she is so bold with me, one has to wonder.”

Yes, one did. Especially if one knew for a fact that she had been kissing another man just two days ago. That explained partly why he was so angry. However, it was seeing them embracing that had caused the explosion in his head that still hurled sharp fragments.

She knew that such indiscreet behavior carried extreme consequences. He had spelled it out less than two days ago. How could she be so careless as to …

How, indeed?

He sank down in his chair and mulled that over. He had left first, followed by Bianca and Dante. The ladies must have begun their walk soon after. Pen and the others had caught up with him only because he had paused to think some things over. Things about Bianca, as it happened.

It all fell into place. She had planned it. She had intended him to find them together. To make him jealous? She had definitely succeeded there, but he could not delude himself that it had been her intention. A woman's revenge for what had happened in the ruins? A declaration of indifference because she had noticed him watching her? He had tried to be very discreet about that, but he might have failed.

Damn.

“You were right about one thing, Verg. I will have to be very firm with her. No matter what is in the past, I will not have her taking lovers once we are married. She will have to understand that.” The censorious line of Dante's mouth would put a bishop to shame.

“You think to dictate her behavior?”

“I'll not be made a fool.”

“Dante, you have made a fool of half the House of Lords. Do you think that young woman will permit you to preach morality?”

“A husband has his rights, and I've a reputation to consider. Despite the likely blemishes on her virtue, no doubt the result of lax supervision, she is a sweet and accommodating creature.”

Accommodating?
“You amaze me.”

“As to my own activities, I expect she will remain ignorant of that.”

“No one in England is ignorant of that.”

“It is obvious that she is in love with me, and she is, in her heart, still a wide-eyed child. I do not doubt that she will accept any arrangement that I present, and submit as appropriate to my supervision.”

Wide-eyed child? Submit?

He shook his head incredulously. Dante had assumed the countenance of a
paterfamilias
who took for granted marital devotion and obedience from his wide-eyed, accommodating wife.

He doesn't stand a chance.

“If we ignore what this reveals about her character, one could say things have worked out very nicely. I will take the blame, of course, but she has played right into our hands.”

She had certainly done that. He should be gloating in triumph, but the thought of what was to come only sickened him.

“Where is she?” Vergil asked.

“Up in her chamber. Pen has everyone in the library, trying to pretend nothing happened. The rest don't know, but it is bound to get out. I will speak with her at once and make my offer.”