A Lady of Persuasion (42 page)

“Don’t anyone try anything funny,” Montague’s nephew said.

Toby sighed. “For God’s sake, man. Do you honestly think you’re going to shoot us? I may be just a baronet, but Jem there is an earl. Murdering a peer of the realm is a certain ticket to the gallows. And you’re surrounded by witnesses.” He gestured broadly at the spectators pressing in around them, all of whom had gone stone quiet. “Not to mention, the Colonel’s election would never stick. Someone would have him declared incompetent and removed from office, and where would that leave the poor old fool?”

“Well, then he’d have been an MP, wouldn’t he? Even if only for a while. The poor old fool would die happy.”

“This is pointless,” Toby said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter what you say. I won’t do it.”

The gun swung back to point at him. “You really think you’ve earned this seat in Parliament?

You think you want it as badly as the Colonel does?”

“No, and no,” Toby answered. “But my wife wants me to have it with a righteous passion.

And I love my wife more than I love the Colonel.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, and Montague’s nephew’s face turned an impressive shade of purple.

“I’m sorry,” Toby said, lifting his hands and flashing a disarming grin, “but it’s the truth. She’s prettier.” He slowly extended one hand toward the man. “Come on, now. Let’s not do things this way. I have great respect for your uncle, I do. So does everyone here. We can work out some other way to honor him—declare him the borough’s sergeant-at-arms, perhaps. Tell your cousins to lower their guns. Let’s all head into the tavern for a pint, and we’ll discuss this like civilized folk.”

And just when Toby was sure he had him—just when the man’s face faded to a pinkish hue, and the barrel of the musket lowered a fraction—it all went to hell.

From the back of the crowd, a panicked cry went up. The sounds of hoofbeats on stone and horses whinnying quickly followed. Spectators began to scatter, though the armed men surrounding them held their ground. Madman Montague had trained them well.

“Oh, no,” Toby whispered. “No, no, no.” His heart plummeted to his boots. He couldn’t possibly be reliving this nightmare.

But evidently he was.

The crowd parted, just as it had that day. And here was the carriage bearing down on them, the horses driving at breakneck speed.

And there, perched on the tufted leather, clutching the irons for dear life, her face a pale mask of terror—was Isabel.

“You can stop now,” Bel called.

The driver hauled on the reins, drawing the horses to an abrupt halt in the center of the village square. Bel didn’t even wait for someone to help her down. She leapt from the open carriage as soon as its wheels slowed and raced toward her husband.

“Toby,” she said, gulping air. “Toby, I need to talk to you.”

He stared at her, keeping his hands raised near his shoulders, as if he was afraid to touch her.

Well, and really—who wouldn’t be? Bel’s hands flew to her face. Heavens, she must look a sight. What bits of her that hadn’t already been covered in soot were now dusty from the road, and her hair was blown every which way. And of course, Toby was turned out in magnificent splendor, every inch the tall, dashing gentleman.

“You look marvelous,” she told him, just because she could.

“Thank you,” he said slowly, taking in her appearance. “You look … rather singed. But I’m very glad to see you, despite the fact that you nearly scared me into an early grave just now.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking out her skirts. “I told him to drive like the devil was on our heels. And I am a bit crisped at the edges, aren’t I?” She laughed. “It’s to be expected, I suppose. I spent my morning dueling a dragon. They haven’t called the election yet, have they?”

He shook his head no.

“Oh, good. Truly, I apologize for scaring you. I just had to speak with you right away.”

“Yes,” he said, still holding his hands up. “You, and several other people.”

He twisted his head from side to side, and for the first time since she’d driven into the square, Bel looked at something other than her husband.

Oh, my
.

Here was her brother. And Lord Kendall. And a half-dozen men surrounding them all with guns. She took a startled step back, tripping over something that felt like a stick—not that she was going to look down to verify it.

“Toby?” she asked in a cautious voice. “What’s going on?”

“Well, you see—”

A big red-faced man poked Toby in the chest with the barrel of a musket. “What’s going on is that we have guns. And you’ll listen to us.”

“I don’t think so,” Bel said, turning to stare up at the man. “I’ve just traveled three hours by carriage at a thundering clip”—she turned to her husband—“and Toby, you know how I hate traveling by carriage.”

“Yes,” he said, flashing a gorgeous smile. “I know.”

She turned back to the man with a gun. “Anyhow, I’ve suffered through three hours of torment just to speak with my husband, and guns or no guns, he’s going to listen to
me.”

“Bel,” Gray said in a low voice, “perhaps you should—”

“Dolly, please don’t take this the wrong way. But why are you even here?”

“I’ve been asking him the same thing,” Toby said.

“As have I,” Lord Kendall said dryly. “Perhaps we’d have received a more satisfactory answer if we called him Dolly.”

“Dolly?” A few of the men with guns began to snicker.

Bel clenched her hands into fists and dropped her gaze to the ground. Why was it that whenever she had something important to say, the people around her couldn’t stop laughing?

Her eyes caught on Toby’s walking stick, where it lay at her feet. That must have been what she’d tripped over earlier.

“Enough,”
the red-faced man shouted.

The laughter ceased.

The man continued, “Beggin’ pardon, my lady, but Sir Toby doesn’t have time to listen to you just now. Sir Toby is going to make his way onto that hustings platform and make a little announcement. Or else.”

“Or else what?” Bel asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? Or else I’ll shoot him,” the man ground out, jabbing Toby again with the gun.

“Oh, please,” Bel said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not going to shoot anyone.”

“My lady,” he snarled, his face reddening further, “I suggest you go back to your—”

She never did hear that suggestion in its entirety. Bel crouched, grabbed Toby’s walking stick, and came up swinging. She smacked the oaf in the head with its blunt ivory knob, and he slumped to the ground with a thud, unconscious.

Bel yelled at him anyway. “I’m speaking to my husband, you … you … Oh, you’re not worth it.” She held the stick aloft and turned to Toby. “You were right. It does come in handy.”

“Yes.” A burst of laughter escaped him. “Yes, it does.”

She looked around at the other armed men, who had all lowered their weapons, seemingly bereft at the loss of their leader. Then she looked back down at the unconscious brute. “Did I truly just do that?”

“Yes, you did,” Toby said, coming forward wearing a smile handsome enough for the devil.

“And it was magnificent.” He took the walking stick from her hand and let it fall to the ground before folding her into his arms. “My God, Isabel, I—”

“No, wait!” She pushed away from him. “Toby, I came here to talk to you.”

“By all means,” he said, still smiling. “I’m listening.”

“I came here to say that I…”

He nodded encouragingly. “That you …?”

“That I’m so angry at you!”

His face shuttered. “Oh.” He shifted his weight, flicking a self-conscious gaze sideways.

“That’s what you’ve come all this way to say? That you’re angry at me?”

“Yes,” she said, her hands balling into fists. “Yes. You need to know. You need to see me for who I truly am. I”—she jabbed a finger in her chest—“am a woman who gets angry.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. How could you? I didn’t see it until just today. I’m not selfless, Toby. I’m certainly no angel. And I can’t be mad. Didn’t you tell me, if you’re aware that you’re mad, you’re not mad?”

He nodded.

“Then I can’t be insane. What I am is angry. I get angry, all the time, in the most useless ways.

I get angry at things I can’t hope to correct, like injustice and violence and oppression. I get angry at things years in the past—at my brothers for leaving me to grow up alone, at my poor dead father for being an intemperate lecher, and at my poor dead mother just for going mad. I get angry when people make fun of the old and infirm. I go positively livid when I see a maltreated child.”

“I understand,” he said, stepping toward her.

“No, you don’t,” she insisted, tears stinging her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly understand.

You’ve always been happy, always been so loved. You can’t know what it’s like, to see people in pain and feel that suffering, all tangled up with your own. To need some way to channel all that anger into something good … or you’ll simply go mad with it.”

He stretched out a hand. “Darling, please. Let me—”

“And you,” she said, ignoring his hand and leveling a finger at him. “When women flirt with you, I get so angry I could stick them with pins. When men point guns at you, I get so angry I’ll club them with sticks.”

The oaf at her feet began to moan and stir.

“Be quiet,” she told him, “or I’ll do it again.” To Toby she asked, “What did he want, anyway?”

Toby tilted his head and regarded the crumpled figure. “He wanted me to withdraw my candidacy.”

“Oh!” A wild giggle bubbled up from her chest. “That’s what I meant to ask of you, too.” She tapped the man’s shoulder with the toe of her boot. “So sorry.”

“I can’t withdraw my candidacy,” Toby said, frowning, “or Colonel Montague will win.”

“So?” Bel asked.

“So … he’s ancient, deaf, and insane.” Toby crossed his arms. “I can’t allow it to happen, in good conscience. Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted a husband in Parliament.”

“I wanted you,” she blurted out. Her hand went to her throat. “I wanted you, from the very first moment I saw you. I’ve been pushing you into all these political and charitable roles ever since, so I could pretend I had some nobler cause in mind. But I didn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Isabel …” He came toward her again, arms open.

“No.” She stayed him with an open palm. “I’m not done being angry yet.”

“Oh.” His arms fell. “All right. I’ll just… wait for you to do the embracing, then.”

“That would be best.” She sniffed. “Toby, of all the things and people I’m angry at, I’m most angry at you. I trusted you, and you lied to me. And I understand why you did it, and I can even forgive you … but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. So I’m angry at you for lying, but I’m angrier still at how deeply you’ve made me care.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and she dabbed at them impatiently. “You made me love you, Toby, so much I could hate you for it.” She smothered a sob with her palm. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

“The part about love?” he asked.

“No,” she choked out through tears. “The part about hate.”

From that very first kiss, he’d made her feel
everything
—the good and the bad. He brought all her passions to the surface, when she’d worked so long to subdue them. It was infuriating and wonderful and so very frightening. She just didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately, he seemed to have an idea.

“I lied,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I lied to you again just now. I’m not going to wait for you to do the embracing.”

His arms went around her, and Bel rested against his strong, solid chest, shedding tears and soot all over his coat.

“Hush, love,” he said, rocking her gently. “It’s all right. Haven’t I told you, time and again?”

He pulled back slightly and tilted her face to his. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

She kissed him. Tightened her arms around his neck, stretched up on tiptoe, and kissed him, in front of everyone. In front of hundreds of gaping spectators, in front of six men with muskets

… good heavens, in front of her
brother
.

And it was wonderful. Everyone cheered. Even the men with guns.

Well, perhaps not her brother.

“Don’t do this,” she said, between nibbles at his lips. “It’s not too late to withdraw from the race.”

“I have to win,” he murmured.

“No, you don’t. It doesn’t matter to me whether or not you serve in Parliament. I won’t force you into this.”

“I’m not being forced.” Putting some distance between them, he took her hands in his. “I know it wasn’t my original intention, but now I want to serve, for several reasons. It’s my duty as a gentleman of privilege, for one. And I want to honor Mr. Yorke’s legacy, for another. In many ways, he was a father to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bel said. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when he died.”

“I know. I was sorry you weren’t, too—but I knew it was my own fault.” He kissed her hand.

“But Isabel, the largest reason I want to be elected to Parliament is this: I want to do it for you.”

“Haven’t you been listening? You shouldn’t do this for me.”

“Of course I should. I love you, and there’s no better reason to do anything.”

“But—”

“Shh.” He took her in his arms again. “It’s my turn to have my say, all right?”

She nodded.

He spoke softly, only to her. “Isabel, you were right about me. I’m capable of far more than this frivolous life I’ve been leading, and I knew it long before we met. For years now, I’ve wished for some greater purpose, and you were right to push me to find one. But you don’t get to choose it for me.”

“No, of course not.” She stroked his cheek. “I was wrong to even try. That’s why I want you to withdraw from the race.”