A Lady Never Surrenders (16 page)

Whatever the case, he couldn’t endure watching how matters played out. Better that he get away where he could think. Where he could breathe. Where he wouldn’t make a fool of himself over a woman he had no business desiring.

Before
she
made a fool out of
him.

H
ETTY WATCHED
Mr. Pinter walk off and wondered if perhaps she had gone too far. The way he had looked at Celia …

“There you are,” said a voice close by.

She turned to see General Isaac Waverly approaching.

The faint flutter in her chest at the sight of him, looking so dashing in evening attire, made her smile ruefully. Who would ever have guessed that after all these years a man would come along who could make her heart race and her blood run quick? She had thought herself too old for such things.

Apparently she was wrong.

Isaac cast her a knowing grin as he approached. “I’ve been charged with telling you that it’s nearly time to bring out the cake.” He offered her his arm. “Maria wants to have the family all together for it.”

Shifting her cane to her other hand, she took his arm with a smile. “Lead on, kind sir.”

As they skirted the room, he nodded to where Mr. Pinter was now deep in conversation with John. “What’s that all about?”

“I am not sure,” she said, “but I believe that Mr. Pinter is going off tomorrow for a bit. He told me it had to do with a lead he has in Lewis’s and Pru’s murders, but he would not say exactly what.”

Some sound nearby made her turn her head. But there was no one near them, no one standing in the open door to the card room, which they were passing. So why did she feel as if she were being watched?

She shook off the thought. All this talk of murder had her jumpy.

“Pinter is leaving for the day?” Isaac commented. “That’s a pity.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t you noticed how he looks at Celia sometimes? I think he might have set his sights on her.”

“I thought so, too. Until just now.”

“Just now?”

“He did not react exactly as I expected when I—” Oh, dear, perhaps she should not mention that. Isaac might not approve.

“Hetty?” Isaac prodded. “What mischief have you been up to now? You weren’t warning him off, were you?”

The disapproval in his tone made her bristle. “And what if I was? The man is the love child of a light-heeled wench and God knows whom.”

Isaac’s jaw tautened. “I didn’t know you were such a snob.”

“I am
not
,” she protested. “But given his circumstances, I want to be sure he is interested in Celia for something other than her fortune. I watched my daughter marry a man whom she thought loved her, only to discover that he was merely a more skillful fortune hunter than most. I do not want to make that mistake again.”

He sighed. “All right. I suppose I understand your caution. But Pinter? I’ve never seen a less likely fortune hunter. He talks about people of rank with nothing but contempt.”

“And does that not worry you? She is one of those people, after all.”

“What it tells me is that he doesn’t think much of marrying for rank or fortune.”

She gripped his arm. “I suppose. And I must admit that when I hinted I could disinherit her if she married too low—”

“Hetty!”

“I would not do it, mind you. But
he
does not know that. It is a good way to be sure how he feels about her.”

“You’re playing with fire,” he gritted out. “And what did he say to it?”

“He told me she would never marry anyone as low as him, then tried to convince me to rescind my ultimatum for her so she could marry a man she loved. And that was after I made it clear that it could not be him. He was very eloquent on the subject of what she deserved. Accused me of not knowing her worth, the impertinent devil.”

“Good man, our Pinter,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” she said, bristling.

“A man in love will fight to see that the woman he cares for is given what she deserves, even if he can’t have her.” Isaac eyed her askance. “Even if some meddler has dictated that marrying her would ruin her future forever.”

A chill ran down Hetty’s spine. She had not considered her tactic in quite that light.

“Be careful, my dear,” Isaac said in a low voice. “You’ve been dabbling in your grandchildren’s lives to such good effect you’ve forgotten that the heart is beyond your purview.”

Was he right?

No. He was ignoring one very important thing. “Suppose he really is in love. What about her? She never has anything good to say about him.”

“Yet she blushes whenever he enters a room. And she stares at him a good deal. Or hadn’t you noticed that, either?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.” Gazing up at him, she softened her tone. “But I do not want her hurt, Isaac. I must be sure she is desired for herself and not her fortune. Her siblings had a chance of not gaining their inheritance unless the others married, so I always knew that their mates loved them, but she…” She shook her head. “I had to find a way to remove her fortune from the equation.”

“I still say you’re taking a big risk.” He glanced beyond her to where Celia was talking to the duke. “Do you really think she’d be better off with Lyons?”

But she doesn’t love him … If you’d just give her a chance—

“I do not know,” Hetty said with a sigh. “I do not know anything anymore.”

“Then you shouldn’t meddle. Because there’s another outcome you haven’t considered. If you try to manipulate matters to your satisfaction, she may balk entirely. Then you’ll find yourself in the sticky position of having to choose between disinheriting them all or backing down on your ultimatum. Personally, I think you should have given up that nonsense long ago, but I know only too well how stubborn you can be when you’ve got the bit between your teeth.”

“Oh?” she said archly. “Have I been stubborn with you?”

He gazed down at her. “You haven’t agreed to marry me yet.”

Her heart flipped over in her chest. It was not the first time he had mentioned marriage, but she had refused to take him seriously.

Until now. It was clear he would not be put off any longer. He looked solemnly in earnest. “Isaac…”

“Are you worried that
I
am a fortune hunter?”

“Do not be absurd.”

“Because I’ve already told you that I’ll sign any marriage settlement you have your solicitor draw up. I don’t want your brewery or your vast fortune. I know it’s going to your grandchildren. I only want
you.
”

The tender words made her sigh like a foolish girl. “I realize that. But why not merely continue as we have been?”

His voice lowered. “Because I want to make you mine in every way.”

A sweet shiver swept along her spine. “We do not need to marry for that.”

“So all you want from me is an affair?”

“No! But—”

“I want more than that. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you in my bed. I want the right to be with you whenever I please, night or day.” His tone deepened. “I love you, Hetty. And when a man loves a woman, he wants to spend his life with her.”

“But at our age, people will say—”

“Our age is an argument
for
marriage. We might not have much time left. Why not live it to the fullest, together, while we’re still in good health? Who cares what people say? Life is too short to let other people dictate one’s choices.”

She leaned heavily on his arm as they reached the steps leading up to the dais at the front of the ballroom. He did have a point. She had been balking at marrying him because she was sure people would think her a silly old fool.

But then, she had always been out of step with everyone else. Why should this be any different? “I shall think about it,” she murmured as they headed to the center of the dais, where the family was gathering.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle for that. For now.” He cast her a heated glance. “But later this evening, once we have the chance to be alone, I shall try more effective methods to persuade you. Because I’m not giving up on this. I can be as stubborn as you, my dear.”

She bit back a smile. Thank God for that.

N
ear midnight, Celia came out of the retiring room, then stopped short. She had the strangest sensation someone was watching her. But a quick glance around showed that no one was there. How odd. A servant must have passed by and glanced her way.

Though it was early, the ball was ending, so the staff was already scurrying about, putting things in order as the musicians packed up their instruments. Maria and Annabel had gone to bed at eleven. Virginia and Gran appeared to be headed there now, as Gabe and the general joined the other gentlemen, who seemed to be gravitating toward the card room, even her suitors.

The Plumtrees were here somewhere, but Jarret said they planned on staying at the inn in Ealing. Thank heaven. At least she didn’t have to worry about running into Ned in the hall tonight.

She hadn’t seen him in years until this summer, when he’d been caught trying to hurt Giles and Minerva. Even then, she hadn’t been alone with him, which was why when he’d approached her at the ball, she’d had quite a start.

Fortunately, he hadn’t had time to do more than ask her to dance. She’d refused. Then the duke had come along, and she’d told her suitor she needed to speak to Maria about the cake. That had extricated her from Ned. She’d managed to avoid him the rest of the evening, too.

Him and Jackson.

She sighed. She hadn’t tried to avoid Jackson, curse him, but he’d clearly tried to avoid
her.
Indeed, he’d disappeared from the ball after his conversation with John, the one that had followed his worrisome conversation with Gran.

“You look rather anxious,” said a voice beside her.

She glanced over to see her sister standing there. Relief coursed through her. It had been a long time since she’d had a good chat with Minerva, and if ever she needed such a thing, it was now. “Are you staying the night?”

With a laugh, Minerva glanced over to where her husband was headed into the card room with Jarret. “It appears so. Why?”

Making a split-second decision, Celia grabbed her sister’s arm. “Because I need some sisterly advice.”

Minerva smiled broadly. “
That
I can give. I’ll meet you in your room in half an hour. Just let me get out of this gown and into something more comfortable.”

A short while later they were snug in Celia’s room with a roaring fire, some chocolate to drink, and plenty of blankets to wrap about them as they sat on Celia’s bed in the candlelight.

“So tell me, dearest,” Minerva said as she lifted the cup of chocolate to her lips. “What is it you need advice about?”

Celia sighed. “My suitors.”

“Ah.” Minerva sipped some chocolate. “You did seem rather beleaguered by gentlemen this evening. The duke danced with you three times. That’s practically a proposal of marriage.”

Celia stared into her cup. Should she tell Minerva? Perhaps she should. Her sister had a way of cutting through all the nonsense to get right to the bone of things. “Actually, he’s already proposed marriage.”

Minerva looked startled. “Why, that’s wonderful!” She eyed Celia closely. “Isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure.”

Her sister’s gaze sharpened. “Do you love him?”

“I wish people would stop asking me that,” Celia muttered under her breath.

“What people?”

“Gran.” She swallowed. “Mr. Pinter.”

“Mr. Pinter?” Minerva echoed with decided interest.

“It’s not what you think,” Celia protested. “I hired him to find out the truth about my suitors, so he wanted to know if I was in love with any of them.”

Minerva arched one eyebrow. “And why should he care?”

“That’s what
I
said. And ever since, he’s been baiting me in front of them and telling me awful things about them to blacken them in my mind.”

“Even Lyons?” Minerva said.

“Well, no. I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard about the madness in the duke’s family, but beyond that, Jackson hasn’t found a single thing—”

“Jackson?”

Celia colored. “Mr. Pinter.” When Minerva kept staring, she added sullenly, “We’ve been in each other’s pockets because of the investigation. That’s all.”

“Ah.” Minerva sipped more chocolate. “Get back to the part about the duke offering marriage.”

“It wouldn’t be a love match. His Grace just figures that since I need a husband and he might have trouble finding a wife, what with the madness in his family and all, we could simply … agree to marry.”

“I see. And you approve of that?”

Celia stared sightlessly at the printed bed hangings, with their faded blue and yellow flowers against a light green field. “I don’t know. I mean, I like him well enough, I suppose. We’ve known his family forever. He doesn’t seem to care about the scandal in ours, and he’s an excellent shot—”

“That would certainly be at the top of
my
list of requirements for a husband,” Minerva broke in, eyes twinkling. “‘Must be able to hit a bull’s-eye at fifty paces.’”

“Fifty paces! Are you mad? It would have to be a hundred at least.”

Her sister burst into laughter. “Forgive me for not knowing what constitutes sufficient marksmanship for your prospective mate.” Her gaze grew calculating. “I hear that
Jackson
is a very good shot. Gabe said he beat everyone today, even you.”

“Don’t remind me,” Celia grumbled.

“Gabe also said he won a kiss from you.”

“Yes, and he gave me a peck on the forehead,” Celia said, still annoyed by that. “As if I were some … some little girl.”

“Perhaps he was just trying to be polite.”

Celia sighed. “Probably.”

I didn’t kiss you “properly” today because I was afraid if I did I might not stop.

“The thing is…” Celia bit her lower lip and wondered just how much she should reveal to her sister. But she had to discuss this with
someone
, and she knew she could trust Minerva. Her sister had never betrayed a confidence. “That wasn’t the first time Jackson kissed me. Nor the last.”