Almost Heaven (51 page)

“I hope that hasn’t anything to do with why you can’t like him,” her husband teased.

“Jordan, do stop. I’m worried, really I am. He’s-well, he almost frightens me. Even though he seems very civilized on the surface, there’s a forcefulness, maybe even a ruthlessness beneath his polished manners. And he stops at nothing when he wants something. I saw that yesterday when he came to the house and persuaded Elizabeth to agree to marry him.”

Turning, Jordan looked at her with a mixture of intent interest, surprise, and amusement. “Go on,” he said.

“Well, at this particular moment he wants Elizabeth, and I can’t help fearing it’s a whim.”

“You wouldn’t have thought that if you’d seen his face blanch the other night when he realized she was going to try to brave society without his help.”

“Really? You’re certain?”

“Positive.”

“Are you certain you know him well enough to judge him?”

“Absolutely certain,” he averred.

“How well do you know him?”

“Ian,” Jordan said with a grin, “is my sixth cousin.”

“Your what? You’re joking! Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“In the first place, the subject never came up until last night. Even if it had, I wouldn’t have mentioned it, because until now Ian refused to acknowledge his relationship to Stanhope, which was within his rights. Knowing his feelings about that, I regarded it as a compliment that he was willing to admit
our
relationship. We’re also partners in three shipping ventures,” he saw her staggered expression and chuckled. “If Ian isn’t an actual genius, he’s very close to it. He’s a brilliant strategist. Intelligence,” he teased, “runs in the family.”

“Cousins!” Alex repeated blankly.

“That shouldn’t surprise you. If you go back far enough, a vast number of the aristocracy have been connected at some point by what we called ‘advantageous marriages’. I suspect, however, that the thing that confuses you about Ian is that he’s half Scot. In many ways he’s more Scot than English, which accounts for what you’re calling a ruthless streak. He’ll do what he pleases, when he pleases, and the devil with the consequences. He always has. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him or of what he does.”

Pausing, Jordan glanced meaningfully at the couple who’d paused to look at a shrubbery on the front lawn. Ian was listening to Elizabeth intently, an expression of tenderness on his rugged face. “The other night, however, he cared very much what people thought of your lovely friend. In fact, I don’t like to think what he might have done had anyone actually dared to openly insult her in front of him. You’re right when you aren’t deceived by Ian’s civilized veneer. Beneath that he’s a Scot, and he has a temper to go with it, though he usually keeps it in check.”

“I don’t think you’re reassuring me,” Alex said shakily.

“I should be. He’s committed himself completely to her. That commitment is so deep that he even reconciled with his grandfather and then appeared with him in public, which I know was because of Elizabeth.”

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“For one thing, when I saw Ian at the Blackmore he had no plans for the evening until he discovered what Elizabeth was going to do at the Willingtons. The next I knew, he was walking into that ball with his grandfather at his side. And that, my love, is what we call a show of strength.”

She looked impressed by his powers of deduction, and Jordan grinned. “Don’t admire me too much. I also asked him. So you see, you’re worrying needlessly,” he finished reassuringly. “Scots are a fiercely loyal lot, and Ian will protect her with his life.”

“He certainly didn’t protect her with his life two years ago, when she was ruined.”

Sighing, Jordan looked out the window. “After the Willingtons’ ball he told me a little of what happened that long-ago weekend. He didn’t tell me much – Ian is a very private man – but reading between the lines, I’m guessing that he fell like a rock for her and then got the idea she was playing games with him.”

“Would that have been so terrible?” Alex asked, her full sympathy still with Elizabeth.

Jordan smiled ruefully at her. “There’s one thing Scots are besides loyal.”  

“What is that?”

“Unforgiving,” he said flatly. “They expect the same loyalty as they give. Moreover, if you betray their loyalty, you’re dead to them. Nothing you do or say will change their heart. That’s why their feuds last from generation to generation.”

“Barbaric,” Alexandra said with a shiver of alarm.

“Perhaps it is. But then let’s not forget Ian is also half English, and we are
very
civilized.” Leaning down, Jordan nipped her ear. “Except in bed.”

Ian had run out of diversions and resigned himself to going indoors, but as they reached the front steps Elizabeth turned and stopped. In the voice of one confessing to an action she isn’t certain was entirely wrong, she said, “This morning I hired an investigator to try to locate my brother, or at least find out what has happened to him. I tried to do it before, but as soon as they realized I had no money they wouldn’t accept my promise to pay them later. I thought I would use part of your loan for Havenhurst to pay him.”

It took a conscious effort for Ian to keep his face expressionless. “And?” he asked.

“The dowager duchess assured me that Mr. Wordsworth is extremely good. He’s frightfully expensive; however, we were finally able to come to terms.”

“The good ones are always expensive,” Ian said, thinking of the £3,000 retainer he’d paid to an investigator this morning for the same purpose. “How much did he charge you?” he asked, intending to add that amount to her allowance.

“Originally he wanted £ 1,000 whether he finds news of Robert or not. But I offered to pay him twice his fee if he’s successful.”

“And if he isn’t?”

“Oh, in
that
case I didn’t think it was fair that he receive anything.” she said. “I persuaded him I was right.”

Ian’s shout of laughter was still ringing in the hall when they entered the drawing room to greet the Townsendes.

Ian had never enjoyed a dinner of state, or dinner
a deux
as much as he enjoyed the one that evening. Despite the scarcity of furnishings at Havenhurst, Elizabeth had turned the dining room and drawing room into an elegant bower of fresh-cut, artfully arranged flowers, and with the candles glowing in the candelabras, it was as beautiful a setting for dining as any he’d ever seen.

Only once did he have a bad moment, and that was when Elizabeth entered the dining room carrying a tray of food, and he thought she’d cooked the meal. A moment later a footman walked in bearing another tray, and Ian inwardly sighed with relief. “This is Winston, our footman and cook,” she told Ian, guessing his thoughts. Straight-faced, she added, “Winston taught me everything I know about cooking.” Ian’s emotions veered from horror to hilarity, and the footman saw it.

“Miss Elizabeth,” the footman pointedly informed Ian, “does not
know
how to cook. She has always been much too
busy
to learn.”

Ian endured that reprimand without retort because he was thoroughly enjoying Elizabeth’s relaxed mood, and because she had actually been teasing him. As the huffy footman departed, however, Ian glanced at Jordan and saw his narrowed gaze on the man’s back, then he looked at Elizabeth, who was obviously embarrassed.

“They think they’re acting out of loyalty to me,” she explained. “They – well, they recognize your name from before. I’ll speak to them.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Ian said with amused irritation. To Jordan he added, “Elizabeth’s butler always tries to send me packing. “

“Can he hear?” Jordan asked unsympathetically.

“Hear?” Ian repeated. “Of course he can.”

“Then count yourself lucky,” Jordan replied irritably, and the girls dissolved into gales of laughter.

“The Townsendes’ butler, Penrose, is quite deaf, you see,” Elizabeth explained.

Dinner progressed among bursts of merriment and revelations about both Alexandra and Elizabeth that amazed Ian, including the fact that Alexandra was evidently as handy with a rapier as Elizabeth was with a pistol. So entertaining was Elizabeth that Ian found himself ignoring his very satisfactory meal and simply lounging back in his chair, watching her with a mixture of amusement and pride. She sparkled like the wine in their crystal glasses, glowed like the candles in the centerpiece, and when she laughed, music floated through the room. With the instincts of a natural hostess she drew everyone into each topic of conversation, until even Jordan and Ian were participating in the raillery. But best of all, she was at ease in Ian’s presence. Artless and elegant and sweet, she turned to him and teased him, or smiled at something he said, or listened attentively to an opinion. She wasn’t ready to trust him yet, but she wasn’t that far away from it, he sensed.

After dinner the ladies adhered to custom and adjourned to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy their port and cigars at the table.

“Ian was lighting a cigar the first moment I saw him,” Elizabeth confided to Alex when they were comfortably seated in the drawing room. Glancing up, she saw the worried frown on Alexandra’s face, and after a moment she quietly said, “You don’t like him, do you?”

Alex’s gaze flew to hers while the faint disappointment in. Elizabeth’s voice registered on her. “I-I don’t like the things he’s done to you,” she admitted.

Tipping her head back, Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying’ to know what to say, what to think. A long time ago Ian had told her he was half in love with her, yet now that they were betrothed he’d never spoken a word of it, had not even pretended. She wasn’t certain of his motives or his feelings; she wasn’t certain of her own, either. All she really knew was that the sight of his hard, handsome face with its chiseled features, and bold amber eyes never failed to make her entire being feel tense and alive. She knew he liked to kiss her, and that she very much liked being kissed by him. Added to his other attractions was something else that drew her inexorably to him. From their very first meeting, Elizabeth had sensed that beneath his bland sophistication and rugged virility Ian Thornton had a depth that most people lacked. “It’s so hard to know,” she whispered, “how I ought to feel or what I ought to think. And I have the worst feeling it’s not going to matter what I know or what I think,” she added almost sadly, “because I
am
going to love him.” She opened her eyes and looked at Alex. “It’s happening, and I cannot stop it. It was happening two years ago, and I couldn’t stop it then, either. So you see,” she added with a sad little smile, “it would be so much nicer for me if you could love him just a little, too.”

Alex reached across the table and took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “If you love him, then he must be the very
best
of men. I shall henceforth make it a point to see all his best qualities!” Alex hesitated, and then she hazarded the question: “Elizabeth, does he love you?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “He
wants
me, he says, and he wants children.”

Alex swallowed embarrassed laughter. “He what?”

“He wants me, and he wants children.”

A funny, knowing smile tugged at Alexandra’s lips. “You didn’t tell me he said the first part. I am much encouraged,” she teased while a rosy blush stole over her cheeks.

“I think I am, too,” Elizabeth admitted, drawing a swift, searching look from Alex.

“Elizabeth, this is scarcely the time to discuss this – in fact,” Alex added, her flush deepening. “I don’t think there
is
a really good time to discuss it – but has Lucinda explained to you how children are conceived?”

“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth said without hesitation.

“Good, because I would have been the logical one otherwise, and I still remember
my
reaction when
I
found out. It was not a pretty sight,” she laughed. “On the other hand, you were always much the wiser girl than I.”

“I don’t think so at all,” Elizabeth said, but she couldn’t imagine what there was, really, to blush about. Children, Lucinda had told her when she’d asked, were conceived when a husband kissed his wife in bed. And it hurt the first time. Ian’s kisses were sometimes almost bruising, but they never actually hurt, and she enjoyed them terribly.

As if speaking her feelings aloud to Alexandra had somehow relieved her of the burden of trying to deal with them, Elizabeth was so joyously relaxed that she suspected Ian noticed it at once when the men joined them in the drawing room.

Ian did notice it; in fact, as they sat down to play a game of cards in accordance with Elizabeth’s cheery suggestion, he noticed there was a subtle but distinct softening in the attitudes of
both
ladies toward him.

“Will you shuffle and deal?” Elizabeth asked. He nodded, and she handed the deck of cards to him, then watched in rapt fascination as the cards seemed to leap to life in Ian’s hands, flying together with a whoosh and snap, then sliding out in neat little piles that flew together again beneath his fingers. “What would you like to play?” he asked her.