Candice Hern (31 page)

She shrugged. It had seemed so logical when she had planned it, but appeared so unutterably stupid now. "I know it sounds silly, but I wanted to punish Mama and Aunt Beatrice for humiliating me in public. Oh, don't roll your eyes at me, I told you it was silly."

"Worse than silly. How does it punish your aunt and mother to ruin your own life, I'd like to know? It would hurt you more than them."

"I thought it would make them feel bad. I know it was stupid, but I was mortified to learn about Aunt Beatrice and Lord Thayne. It was so embarrassing. I had wanted him for myself, you know, and to learn that he and my aunt were ... well, I was mortified."

"Your aunt did a very courageous thing by coming forward like that and admitting she and Thayne were lovers. She could have kept quiet, but she did it to save your reputation, my girl. You ought to have thanked her rather than try to punish her."

"Oh. I suppose you're right. I never thought of it that way. But don't you find it a bit embarrassing? I mean, she's so
old
."

"She is not so old, and she is a beautiful woman. Besides, Thayne loves her to distraction."

"He
does
?"

"He wants to marry her."

"But she has refused. I heard them argue about it."

"I hope she will come around eventually. Otherwise Thayne will be miserable and will make everyone around him miserable in the bargain. Besides, I have known him for years and never knew him to fall in love. I would like to see him happy. He deserves it. He saved my skin more than once in India."

"He did? How?"

"I owe him my life. I got caught up in a rebellion in the Punjab at one time, and sat for two hours with a dagger at my throat while Thayne negotiated with the fellow holding it. And he negotiated for more than my hide. Thayne worked like the very devil to ensure Bonaparte did not get a foothold in India, as he had been trying to do. Lord Minto, the governor-general, depended upon his skill with the languages and his diplomacy. Not to mention his courage. Well, I shall not bore you with my eternal admiration for Thayne. Suffice it to say that I hope your aunt will change her mind and make him happy."

It was strange, but listening to all the important things Lord Thayne had already done with his life made him seem older and wiser and somehow better suited to a woman like Aunt Beatrice than to a younger woman like herself. Or Lady Emmeline Standish. Such a man would not want a frivolous girl for a wife. And Emily knew that girls her own age could be terribly frivolous. Only look at what
she
had just done! No, Lord Thayne was much better off with Aunt Beatrice, even if she was a bit older than him. She really ought to marry him.

"She can be very stubborn," Emily said.

"So can he. My point, though, is that you should not be so quick to condemn your aunt for having an affair. Or to punish her for it. She is a widow, a mature woman, and can do as she pleases. And she loves you. Look how she came charging after you when you bolted."

"So did you."

"And for similar reasons."

"Would you really have killed Lord Rochdale if he'd ... well, you know?"

"I would have tried. The thought of you with that man set my blood to boiling. Thank God he did not harm you."

"He did kiss me."

"Did he, by God? And did you enjoy it?"

"I was too busy being frightened to enjoy it."

"Are you frightened of me, Emily?"

"Only when you start talking about killing people. But no, you do not frighten me."

"So, if I kissed you, do you think you might pay attention enough to enjoy it?"

"I might."

"Let's see if you can."

He lifted her face in his hands and dipped his head until his lips very gently touched hers. They were surprisingly soft, and cool from the night air. It felt very nice. More than nice. She felt a little tingle skitter down her back, and her skin turned to gooseflesh.

He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. And all at once, like the sun breaking over the dawn horizon, a smile spread across his face and lit his eyes.

"So?" he asked.

"I liked it," she said sheepishly.

"Good. Let's try one more time."

And they did. And she liked it even more.

Afterward, they strolled back toward the house with their arms around each other.

"Jeremy?"

"Hm?"

"Would you really love me if I weren't beautiful?"

"Yes. It pleases me that you are so pretty to look at, but I love what's inside even more."

"I thought of you a lot after that horrid ball."

"Did you? You were very cool to me when I called on you."

"I know. I didn't want to face you."

"Why?"

"Because you were right. About how my beauty would not bring me happiness. I was still pretty, but my reputation was in shambles, thanks to Mama. And it was then that I realized you were right. That in the end, beauty does not matter. Character is more important."

"And that, my girl, is why I love you. Because you are smart enough to figure that out for yourself."

He took her in his arms and kissed her again.

Gabriel sat with Rochdale in a small library while the ladies and Burnett shared a cold supper in the dining room. He had asked for a moment alone.

"I want the truth, Rochdale. Were you planning to bed that girl?"

Rochdale slowly swirled the brandy in his glass and took his time answering. "I might have done, if I hadn't known to expect a rescue party. She admitted she'd told her cousins what she was doing, so I knew Lady Somerfield would come after her. As much as I'd have enjoyed it, I did not wish for her ladyship to find us in the act. A pity. But there you have it."

"And so you
had
hoped to bed her. An innocent young girl."
Rochdale smiled. "What would
you
do if an exquisite creature like that threw herself at you? She's a headstrong little vixen. She will not take no for an answer."

"You tried saying no?"

"Well, perhaps not precisely. But I could see what she was up to. I was at that ball, too, you know. I saw what happened. The girl was embarrassed about your affair with her aunt. And angry enough to get back at her by doing the same thing."

"She did this because of Lady Somerfield and me?" One more disaster to plague him with guilt. All because he'd forced his way into Beatrice's house and made love to her.

"That is what she led me to believe," Rochdale said. "She told me more than once that what she was doing by running off with me was no worse than what her aunt had done with you."

"Good God."

Rochdale grinned. "Of course, she had no idea what that meant. The girl is as innocent as a babe."

"And knowing that, you still agreed to bring her here?"

He shrugged. "She is too naive for her own good. Perhaps I have taught her a lesson. I gave her a bit of a fright, I think. Kissed her once. Nothing fancy, fairly chaste. But I hinted there was more to come, and she trembled like a leaf. That girl needs to be married off, and soon."

"Burnett will do his best to make that happen."

Rochdale uttered a disdainful snort and rubbed his eye. "Damned spindle-shanked puppy. This eye will be black for weeks, I have no doubt."

"You cannot blame him. He loves the girl. He would have killed you if you had ravished her."

Rochdale leaned over and glared at Thayne. "I do not ravish young girls. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not
ravish
anyone. They come to me willingly. If they think better of it later, that is not my concern."

"I want a promise from you, Rochdale."

"Oh?" He lifted a challenging brow.

"I want your solemn oath that no one will hear a word from you about what happened here."

"I have told you, nothing happened."

"I do not want it known that Miss Thirkill was ever here. Or that she ever concocted this scheme, or that you were ever in communication with her at all. Do I make myself clear?"

Rochdale took a long swallow of brandy. "Abundantly clear. Though I have no idea why it is any of your damned business."

"There has been enough scandal involving Lady Somerfield and her family," Thayne said. "I want this incident kept quiet. I will tell you now that if I ever hear so much as a whisper of this tale from anyone other than the six of us here tonight, I will come after you with ten times the fury you saw from Burnett."

"Egad. Such drama. I am quaking in my boots."

"I will have your word, Rochdale."

He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "You have it. My lips are sealed on the matter."

"I shall depend upon it."

"You take an uncommon interest in that family, Thayne."

"I do not wish for Lady Somerfield to suffer any more scandal."

Rochdale grinned wickedly. "It was bound to happen to one of them sooner or later, what with their secret pact. Got yourself well and truly caught up in that one, didn't you, old boy?"

"Secret pact?"

"The widows' pact. All those charity widows. She didn't tell you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't you? Well, I suppose it's only fair that you know, since you got involved in it. Those pure-as-snow charity widows, two of whom are seated in the next room, are all on the hunt for lovers. Cazenove learned of it by accident, or figured it out on his own, I've forgotten which. They have a secret pact, those women, never to marry, to find the best lovers, to use the fellows for their own pleasure, and to share with the rest of the group every private detail. Rather amusing, isn't it? I suppose that's what they think
we
do at our clubs and they want to do the same."

Gabriel was speechless. A block of ice seemed to have lodged itself in his chest. She'd
used
him?

"I trust you gave Lady Somerfield the best you've got, old boy, for you can be sure the rest of the women know every move you ever made."

Good Lord. Had Beatrice regaled her friends with all those
Kama Sutra
positions? Everything they'd shared in private?

"And as for your noble gesture at that infamous ball," Rochdale continued, clearly enjoying Gabriel's discomfort, "you mustn't take her repudiation personally. None of them plan to marry. Marianne was an exception, of course, since she and Cazenove had loved each other for years, though they never admitted it. But the rest of the charity widows? All you'll ever get is a bit of pleasure and nothing more. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It's a perfectly reasonable philosophy, if you ask me. Just be sure not to have an off night with one of them. The rest are bound to hear about it."

The block of ice in Gabriel's chest exploded into a thousand angry shards. Icy rage filled him. How many kinds of fool had he been over her?

No more. He was through with her. He'd had enough.

* * *

The drive back to Town was only marginally more comfortable than the drive out. Grace had given up her seat to Emily, which meant that she would drive back with Lord Rochdale. And so Emily and Jeremy sat side by side on the opposite bench making calf's eyes at each other. Finally, something good had come out of all that had happened. Jeremy was so charming and full of life. He would make Emily happy.

Ophelia would be furious at first, since he had no title, but she would accept the situation well enough when she learned of the fortune he'd made in India. Emily no longer cared what her mother wanted. It seemed that her mother's inexcusable behavior had shaken her so thoroughly that she came to understand how unimportant the quest for rank and fortune was in the long run. Beatrice wondered if Emily would ever reconcile with her mother, and suspected that if she did, it would not be for a long, long time.

Sitting beside Gabriel on the drive back was worse than sitting across from him had been. Instead of only their knees bumping, now their whole bodies brushed against each other from time to time. But there was no hint of warmth between them. He'd grown so cold and stiff-necked, she might have bumped against a stone statue.

Beatrice suspected Grace's drive back with Rochdale might be at least this uncomfortable. Poor Grace.

Gabriel's chilliness was a puzzle. Beatrice thought they had got through this episode rather well together, without coming to blows or shouting at each other. In fact there had been a few moments between them that had made her think they could eventually overcome their recent friction and at least remain friends.

But now she began to doubt it. He had not spoken a single word to her since before they had left Twickenham.

Why did men have to be such difficult, prickly creatures?

When the carriage turned into Brook Street at last, it was close to midnight. Jeremy leapt down and offered his hand to Emily. They walked up the steps to the entrance and stood close together, deep in conversation at the front door. Beatrice wanted to give them a few moments alone before interrupting them, so she lingered behind with Gabriel at the carriage door.

"May I ask," she said, "why you have grown suddenly so cold toward me? I realize we have been at odds, but this is something new."

"Perhaps it is because I learned something new, something you would rather I did not know."

She looked at him, puzzled. What could he have learned in Twickenham that he had not known before? "What is it?" she asked.

He glared down his nose at her in his most obnoxious lordly manner, as though she were an insect. "Let us just say that I learned what our love affair — correction: our sexual affair — really meant to you."

"What are you talking about? You know what it meant to me. I told you often enough."

"But you never mentioned that it was merely a game, that I was little more than your toy, your sex toy, to be played with and discarded."

"My sex toy?"

"Don't deny it, Beatrice. I know about the widows' pact."

Her mouth dropped open. Good God. How could he possibly know about the Merry Widows? And how could he have learned about it in Twickenham?

Oh, dear Lord. Rochdale. Rochdale must have told him. But how did
he
know? And how
much
did he know?