Amanda Scott (10 page)

“Look here, aren’t we discussing Giles?”

She gritted her teeth. “Flippancy does not become you, my lord. You know perfectly well that Giles is no more than a mischievous little boy. To turn him over to a gruff, short-tempered, bellowing man like Vicar Scopwick simply is not to be thought of. You simply must find someone else, and that is all there is about it.”

His eyes narrowed ominously. “You may express your opinion, Miss Wingrave, but do not, if you value a peaceful existence, endeavor to dictate to me.”

But Emily no longer cared about peace. The more she thought about poor Giles under the vicar’s huge thumb, the more incensed she became. “You expect Mr. Scopwick to use physical force,” she said fiercely, “to beat and bellow learning into poor Giles.”

“I expect him to set Master Giles on the straight-and-narrow path, certainly, but I doubt that Scopwick will do anything to the boy that he does not deserve.” His tone was grim.

“He will bully Giles as he bullies everyone,” Emily said, her hands on her hips. “You are simply taking the easy route, sir, turning your own responsibility over to Mr. Scopwick when with but a little effort you might win the boy over by gentler means. If only you would—”

“That will do,” Meriden said curtly, rising to his feet. “I have listened to all I wish to hear on this particular subject.”

“But I have not finished—”

“Oh, yes, you have. I agreed to hear your opinion, but I never agreed to let you command the tune. I have made my decision and I mean to abide by it. Moreover, I will thank you to keep your long nose out of this affair in future. I know I indicated willingness to listen to you, but you are no more capable of offering a simple opinion than you are of flying, so you will be wiser henceforward to tend to your own business and leave mine to me.”

“Giles is my business,” Emily said haughtily, standing her ground in defiance when he stepped closer to her again. “And I’ll thank you, your lordship, to refrain from making personal and disparaging remarks about my features.”

“About your long nose?” He grimaced. “You may not like the description, Emmy love, but ’tis true enough. You’ve a damned long, interfering nose, and—”

His words ended in a gasp when Emily’s right hand, quick as light, flashed out and made sharp contact with his left cheek, leaving a dark imprint in its wake. Appalled by what she had done, Emily stepped quickly back away from him, a little frightened by the look of cold fury that leapt to his eyes.

Meriden rubbed his cheek without taking his gaze from her. “You do realize what you deserve in retaliation for that little display of bad manners, do you not?”

“You provoked it.” But she took another step away from him.

“You deserve,” he went on as though she had not spoken, “to be put across my knee and soundly spanked.” He took a step toward her. “Punishment in kind is my way, madam, whenever possible.” He took another step toward her, then another.

She backed away step for step; then, eyeing him warily, she said, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you truly believe that, Emmy love?” he asked softly, taking yet another step toward her.

Throwing dignity to the wind, Emily turned and fled, snatching at the door latch and flinging the door wide.

Meriden caught her in the great hall. “Not so fast, my little vixen,” he said, his grip firm upon her shoulder as he forced her to turn and face him.

“Jack, be sensible.” The words tumbled out. “Merritt, William, the other servants … You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

He held her tightly with both hands now. “Look at me,” he commanded.

Hoping to placate him, she obeyed instantly.

“Now, answer me this. Do you honestly believe I will not dare to punish you as you deserve?”

She bit her lower lip, unable to drag her gaze from his. But then she shook her head. She had no doubt whatever. “Please,” she muttered, looking away at last, only to become more aware than ever of the presence not just of Merritt and the footman but also of a number of other interested servants. “Please, can we not go back into the library to finish this discussion?”

“No,” he said, “that would be too easy. You chose to come out here, so you must accept the consequences. Now, look me in the eye and tell me how sorry you are to have behaved so badly.”

His mocking tone served only to infuriate her the more, and though she looked straight at him as he had ordered, she had no intention of apologizing and every intention of describing his character to him in terms that she hoped would leave him limp. She uttered not a single word, however, for the moment she lifted her chin and opened her mouth, Meriden’s right hand moved to cup the back of her head and he bent to stop her lips with his own.

Emily’s mouth clamped shut as her whole body went rigid with shock, but a masculine chuckle originating from the direction of the baize door beneath the stairs brought her quickly and angrily to life. Both fists flailing, she beat at Meriden’s arms and waist, but he only moved his left arm to embrace her, clasping her tightly against him, pinning her right arm between her body and his arm. Her left hand was still free, but it seemed to have no effect whatever upon him until her slim fingers curled into claws and moved toward his right cheek.

“Don’t do it, love,” he warned, his breath warm against her swollen lips. “If you do, you will get what I originally promised you, right here and right now.” When her fingers relaxed and her hand dropped to her side, he murmured, “That’s my good lass,” and his lips claimed hers again.

Intending merely to suffer the indignity in silence until he had finished, Emily was dismayed to feel her body leaping in response to his touch. As his fingers moved in her hair and his other hand caressed her back and shoulders, unfamiliar sensations swept through her, bringing fiery heat to her cheeks and to other parts of her as well. Her lips began to move softly against his, and when he ran the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, she trembled, sighing with a sound in her throat that was perilously near a moan. Meriden’s lips felt firm against hers, then soft and warm. The scent of him, of buckskin, leather, and lemons, was heady stuff. His tongue was gentle, pushing at last between her small white teeth to explore the interior of her mouth. She strained upward, against him. Then, suddenly, she was set free.

As she stumbled back, striving to regain her composure, he grinned at her. “Learned your lesson, or do you want more?”

“Ooh!” she exclaimed, her right hand rising almost of its own accord to slap the grin from his face.

He caught her hand easily this time. “Naughty,” he said, still grinning at her. “You don’t seem to learn very quickly, but I can continue these lessons indefinitely if you like.”

Emily drew a long breath, seeing from his expression that to persist in fighting him would be nothing less than foolhardy. “You may release my hand, sir,” she said quietly. “We have provided the servants with gossip enough for a fortnight, I shouldn’t wonder. I have no wish to entertain them further.”

Meriden looked around then. “Good Lord,” he said, grimacing comically, “we’ve drawn a large audience, have we not? Here, you lot, unless you belong in this hall, don’t let me see your faces again today.”

The hall cleared rapidly. Only the butler remained, his eyes carefully averted.

Meriden looked ruefully at Emily. “An outrageous thing to have done. You needn’t tell me so. But I did warn you that when I lose my temper, I do outrageous things.”

She wished more than anything just then to be able to tell him he ought to think shame to himself, to read him a lecture on the proper behavior expected of a gentleman toward a lady, but remembering what he had said about giving one’s best ammunition to the opposition only to find it used against oneself, she held her tongue. Her behavior certainly had been nothing to claim as a standard. Moreover, her body was still playing games with her mind. Even more than she wanted to tell him how despicable his behavior had been did she want him to repeat it.

That last thought startled her, and without another word she turned on her heel and left him standing there staring at her retreating rigid back. She did not see the wide smile that lit his eyes and softened his countenance as he watched her go, for the simple reason that she did not look back.

Upstairs, she turned toward the corridor leading to her bedchamber, but the drawing-room door had been left ajar and Sabrina had heard her coming up the stairs. Popping her head out the door, she hissed, then gestured frantically, giving Emily little choice but to join the others inside.

Miss Lavinia and Dolly were there, but there was no sign of Oliver or Saint Just, and Emily found herself hoping they were not overindulging themselves in the port. She had little time to think about that, however, before Sabrina demanded to know if she had been successful in her mission.

“I have scarce been able to think of anything else!” Sabrina exclaimed, pulling Emily into the room and shutting the door. “Pray tell me that you have succeeded in changing Jack’s mind and that you have not set up his back at one and the same time.”

Emily, believing she had been mauled and pulled about entirely enough for one evening, gently withdrew her arm from her sister’s grasp as she said stiffly, “I cannot tell you what you wish to hear, Sabrina, for the simple reason that the man is as stubborn as an ox and a mannerless oaf besides.”

“Oh, dear, then you have vexed him again. Oh, Emily, why must you cross swords with him every time you speak to him, when you were used to handle Papa and the boys so easily? I do wish you could discuss matters civilly with Jack without always coming to cuffs with him.”

Miss Lavinia snorted. “Impossible. No man discusses anything civilly. A man, by his very nature, sees only one side to any issue—his own. Surely you learned as much after nearly twenty years of marriage, Sabrina.”

Sabrina’s eyes welled with sudden tears. “I assure you, ma’am, that my beloved Laurence was never unreasonable.”

When she searched unsuccessfully for her handkerchief, Emily handed her a lacy one, saying, “I am sure he was not, my dear, just as sure as I am that you never gave him cause to be.”

“Very true,” said Miss Lavinia. “Never went against him. Always agreed with everything he said, just as if he talked like a sensible man, which he didn’t. A great mistake, I always thought. Men’s heads are big enough, by and large, without any encouragement to grow bigger. Much better, in my opinion, to cut them down to size now and again. Assume you didn’t accomplish that much tonight with Meriden, however.”

Emily shook her head. “He is a stubborn man.”

Miss Lavinia shrugged. “Typical, that’s all. So Eustace gets young Giles.”

Sabrina covered her ears. “Please, I beg of you, Miss Lavinia, if you love me, do not speak as though an ogre is about to devour my precious child.”

Miss Lavinia chuckled. “Stuff.”

“Indeed, Sabrina,” Emily said, “the situation cannot be so dire as that. In fact, it may be all to the good if Giles is a little frightened at first, for he may develop a healthier respect for his books as well as for his tutor.”

She was not entirely convinced of that fact herself, but she was glad to see that her words had eased her sister’s concern, and the next day when she saw Giles off to the vicarage in Harbottle’s charge, she could discern no particular emotion in the boy’s expression other than profound displeasure. While that was enough to remind her that she had a score to settle with Meriden, she could think of no punishment appropriate to the situation. Disconcertingly, whenever she attempted to ponder the matter, she found herself thinking instead about his kisses. It certainly had not been the first time she had been kissed, but she could remember no other kiss—even his own, at Christmas—that had had such lasting effects. Firmly she reminded herself that she intended never again to consider marriage, only to wonder afterward what stimulus had put such a thought into her head in the first place.

Intending to blow some fresh air through her mind, she took herself out into the garden, where she discovered that the day had warmed considerably. Espying Miss Lavinia at work in the knot garden, she went to join her there.

“Just hold those branches out of my way, will you?” commanded that lady the moment she became aware of Emily’s presence. “Dratted gardeners can’t tell a weed from a yew. Lazy, the pack of them.”

“Like all men,” Emily said sympathetically.

Miss Lavinia grinned at her. “You got spunk, gel. I like that. Don’t seem missish like most. Sabrina said you wasn’t, but knowing Sabrina.” She let her voice trail off as she efficiently plucked away some carnation gillyflowers that had overgrown an area meant to be dominated by great whites.

Emily had not closely examined the pattern of the knot before, though it was clear even from the top of the lawn that it was a double heraldic device. “Is one of those the Staithes crest?” she asked.

“The Priory’s device,” said Miss Lavinia, nodding toward the pattern on her left. “By rights, the other’s not proper to display here. ’Tis the Haworth crest. My grandfather was Marquess of Haworth. Title’s gone off to another branch of the family now, but I always liked the crest. Can you see the stag?”

Emily looked and admired, fascinated by the way the outline of low boxwood and yew hedges bordering the paths had been forced to wind and twist back upon itself, the way various colors had been woven throughout. The beds of flowers and aromatic herbs growing in the spaces outlined by the hedges were raised. In a very few of the spaces there was only sand or colored pebbles, but all the others were filled with brilliant, fragrant flowers.

Having stooped to help Miss Lavinia search for nearly invisible weeds and watch her while she tidied edges, Emily straightened at last and wiped her brow with her handkerchief, looking longingly at the calm blue waters of the lake.

“One might wish for a bathing machine,” she murmured.

Miss Lavinia chuckled. “Thought you’d had your swim for the week, but if you want to cool your feet, there are steps into the water garden on the far side before you cross the stone bridge, just where the path turns into the home wood. If you slip off your stockings and sandals, you can sit on the top step and cool yourself with no one being the wiser.”