Dangerous to Love (11 page)

“I’m warning you, I won’t be threatened in my own home. I have two brothers, both of whom are experienced duelists. You will answer to them if you try to harm me in any way.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Perhaps we should invite your brothers to join us? They might be interested
to know that their sister is not the innocent she pretends to be.”

Her eyes flashed at the threat. “I was innocent, once, before I met you.”

He shrugged and pulled out a chair. “That is what I wish to discuss with you. Sit, Victoria, or I shall be forced to make you sit.”

In pent-up silence, she stalked to the chair he held for her. With one disdainful glare, she seated herself. Calm and dignity, she belatedly decided, those were her best weapons. The silence lengthened. Finally, she looked up at him.

When he saw that he had her attention, he smiled. “I have been exercising my mind,” he said, “to try and discover what Serena Ward, baronet’s daughter, was doing at The Thatched Tavern, and why she would surrender her virtue to the first man she chanced upon.”

His words kindled a spark of alarm. She had more to fear than the loss of her reputation. A moment’s reflection steadied her. He was curious, but he could not prove anything.

“Answer me.”

She bristled at the command. “I did not surrender my virtue. It was stolen from me.”

His sigh was exaggerated. “Somehow, I just knew you were going to take this tack. That is not how I remember it.”

Her dignity was unshakable. “I can only repeat, I did not surrender. I fought you tooth and nail.”

“Come now, Victoria. We both know that is a blatant untruth.”

There was acid in the sweet smile she bestowed on him. “And we both know that you are an unconscionable libertine with a penchant for innocent young girls. Well, I give you fair warning, Julian Raynor. You had better stay
away from my young sister or I shall lay charges against you.”

He stared at her, an eloquent tension gripping his features. “Now what maggot have you got in your brain? I am not a libertine, nor do I have a penchant for innocent young girls, least of all your sister.”

“Why should I believe you when I distinctly remember that you tried to steer
me
into a life of debauchery? And I was an innocent, was I not?”

“Hardly debauchery. I asked you to be my mistress.”

“An honorable offer, I’m sure,” she said, and sniffed.

“At the time, I did not know who you were. I took you for an actress.”

She pounced on this. “Hah! Your own words condemn you, sir, for you are admitting that you prey on weak, defenseless women.”

His eyes lightened with reluctant laughter. “Now that is where you are wrong, Victoria. It never once entered my head that you were a weak, defenseless woman. But we are digressing. Why me? That is what I want to know. And where was your escort?”

Her hands curled into fists. His indolent manner, his mockery, and his careless and totally erroneous assumptions touched her to the quick. Calm and dignity, she reminded herself.

“What are you implying? That I was overtaken with a sudden infatuation the moment I set eyes on you? That I find you irresistible? If you must know, you have the opposite effect on me.”

“What effect is that?” he asked politely.

She searched for words to express herself. “You make me so uncomfortable that I can never be in the same room with you but I am overcome with the strongest urge to take to my heels.”

She had heaped abuse on him, and he stood there
laughing at her. Calm and dignity were forgotten as she sprang to her feet. Burning with indignation, she made to stalk past him only to be forcibly restrained when his hands cupped her shoulders, wrenching her round.

Unsmiling, he said, “I would advise you to curb that temper of yours. Now, answer my questions. What were you doing at The Thatched Tavern? Where was your escort, and why did you play out that little charade for me?”

Once, when she was learning to ride, her mount had got the bit between its teeth and had bolted with her. The experience of conversing with Julian Raynor reminded her of that harrowing ride. There was no restraining him once he got an idea in his head.

Shrugging out of his grasp, she took a careful step backward. “It is not so unusual a thing for ladies of fashion to amuse themselves by visiting such places.”

“Very true, but not unescorted.”

“As to that, I became separated from my escort. Oh, I don’t blame him. He didn’t desert me. I was supposed to wait for him.”

“Your escort deserves to be horsewhipped for leaving you unprotected. Do I know him?”

She smiled at his vehemence. “Oh no, Major Raynor. My escort that night is no concern of yours. I refuse to divulge his name.”

“It might be my concern if he chooses to avenge your honor. An enraged beau—”

“He was not my beau—”

“—or brother.”

She opened her mouth and quickly changed direction when she perceived his trap. “There is not the least likelihood of anyone avenging my honor.”

He lifted a dark brow cynically. “I see. Go on.”

She took a moment to arrange her thoughts in order
before saying, “I panicked. It’s as simple as that. When the militia arrived, I panicked, fearing that they would learn my identity and escort me home in disgrace. You see how it was. You were there and, as I thought, offering a way out of my dilemma. It never entered my head that things would go so far.”

“So the presence of the militia did have something to do with it,” he said, as though thinking aloud. He had braced one hip on the edge of a long library table, and seemed to be mulling over what Serena had just told him.

She didn’t want him to think too closely about the presence of the militia that night. Her clear blue eyes unflinching, she said, “Now that you understand all the circumstances, you must see that any reference to that night, any memory of it, fills me with loathing and disgust. We can have nothing more to say to each other, Major Raynor. Please leave this house and in future, if we should happen to meet, do me the kindness of refusing to acknowledge the acquaintance.”

He stared at her long and hard, then shook his head, mocking the pose she had adopted. “I think I prefer Victoria to Serena,” he said. “So, you are determined to make me the villain of the piece? Loathing? Disgust? That is not how I remember it, but we have already had this argument.”

He paused, then inhaled sharply as if steeling himself to perform an unpleasant duty. “I am at your service, Miss Ward, willing to make amends for my unknowing villainy. Tell me what you wish me to do.”

Marriage was implicit in his offer. Reluctance was evident in the insulting way the offer was made. Pride, as well as her own inclinations, dictated only one answer. “I have told you what I require of you, Major Raynor. I never want to see you again, nor ever wish to speak with you again.”

Nothing registered on his face but polite interest. “Have you considered that there may be consequences from our night together?”

She couldn’t prevent the flush that stole from throat to hairline. It was pride, again, that kept her eyes on his. “There is nothing to fear on that score,” she said, and immediately began to count off days in her head.

“Good God! Surely it occurred to you before now? When last did you have your woman’s courses?”

She gasped. “Even if I were with child, I would never lower myself to accept you for my protector or my husband.”

A muscle tightened at the corner of his mouth. “It is, I know, a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. If that day should ever come for you, I wish you to know that I would still honor the obligation my conduct has unwittingly incurred.”

“That day will never come,” she said scathingly. “I would as soon take up a life of debauchery as trust myself again to your honor.”

His eyes darkened to slate. He bowed stiffly and retreated a step. “You have made your sentiments clear. Your obedient servant, ma’am.”

His hand was on the doorknob when she called out to him. “I have been meaning to return this to you,” she said, holding out his fifty-pound note as though she had laid hold of a dead rat.

He looked at the note, then glanced at the pained expression on her face. “Ah,” he said, “that rankled, did it?”

She did not deign to reply to this, but merely lifted her hand a fraction, waiting for him to take the note from her.

“Give it to Victoria,” he said flippantly, viciously. “She was worth every penny of it.” He opened the door, then said over his shoulder, “Oh, and if you should happen to
see her, you may tell her that my original offer still stands.”

She waited till she heard the sound of the front door close upon him before venting her spleen. With one sweep of her hand, she sent books and papers flying from her brother’s desk. She was tempted to rip the note into tiny shreds, but instead stuffed it in her pocket, promising herself that one day she would make Julian Raynor eat it.

Flynn entered a moment later. “Well?”

“Well what?” she said brusquely, and brushed by him.

He followed her into the hall and up the stairs. “Did the major offer marriage?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied coolly.

“What does that mean? Either ’e did or ’e did not.”

“His reluctance was insulting—not that it matters. I would not marry that man if—”

“Yes, yes, I know. If your life depended on it. If ’e was the last man on earth. And what does reluctance ’ave to say to anything? You surely did not think ’e would be overjoyed to find ’imself caught in the parson’s mousetrap?”

She halted on the stairs and turned to face him. “Flynn,” she said sweetly, making him wince, “the major has promised to
give
me the one thing I desire above all others.”

“Which is?” he asked cautiously.

“His everlasting absence,” she retorted and continued on up the stairs.

Flynn watched her progress in simmering silence. Not for the first time, he reminded himself savagely that Serena was her own worst enemy. After a moment’s inward debate, he turned on his heel and quickly left the house. His destination was Julian’s gaming house in St. Dunstan’s Court.

As Serena approached the door to Catherine’s boudoir, it opened, and a gentleman came through it. Serena frowned. “Lord Charles?” she said. “I did not know that you were present at Catherine’s levee.”

“Didn’t you?” he said. “Oh yes, I was there, in the background. Good day to you, Miss Ward.” He left her so abruptly it was almost uncivil.

Serena’s eyes trailed him as he descended the stairs. She did not like Lord Charles Tremayne. Now that she thought about it, he put her in mind of Julian Raynor. But whereas Raynor reminded her of an alert black panther, Lord Charles had the look of a tawny, sleepy-eyed lion. The difference was superficial. They were both predators.

When she entered the boudoir, she saw that Letty and their guests had all taken their leave.

“Serena, help me?” Catherine had donned her long chemise and was being helped into her corset by one of the maids. Serena went to assist her. The maid was happy to relinquish the strings of the corsets into Serena’s capable hands and moved about the room, tidying and straightening cushions.

“He’s very handsome, wouldn’t you say?” Catherine peeped provocatively over one shoulder, then faced the mirror.

“Who?”

Shaking her head, Catherine laughed softly.

The strings of the corsets suddenly tightened and the laughter turned into an agonized squeal. Aware that her sister-in-law was in one of her capricious humors, Serena dismissed the maids.

“Say when,” said Serena without much sympathy and hauled vigorously till, by degrees, Catherine’s tiny waist was whittled down to a man’s handspan. When her victim
croaked a hoarse protest, Serena eased back on the strings and deftly tied them in a bow.

It was some time before Catherine was able to chance movement. After slipping into the discarded negligee, she gingerly reseated herself at her dressing table and waved Serena into a chair.

Catherine’s lips were twitching. “Who?” she said and laughed in open mockery.

“All right, he’s handsome,” admitted Serena with obvious reluctance. “He’s also dangerous. I could tell that just by looking at him.” And she never spoke a truer word.

Catherine’s dark eyes danced wickedly. “As I remember, that’s exactly how I thought of your brother when I first set eyes on him.”

“You can’t compare Jeremy to the likes of Raynor.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Well .  .  . think of Raynor’s reputation. He is a notorious rake.”

“And brothers can’t be rakes? Oh dear, I think I’ve shocked you.”

Smiling, Serena shook her head. “I know you are teasing me, Catherine. Jeremy is above that sort of thing. Oh, I don’t say—”

Catherine’s laughter drowned out Serena’s words. “The reason you never got to hear of Jeremy’s adventures, my dear Serena, was because you were his little sister. Who would dare to tell you? But I knew of them, and I don’t mind telling you, now, that for the longest time it spoiled your brother’s chances with me.”

Serena’s delicate eyebrows winged upward. Though she and Catherine were genuinely fond of each other, and they were close in age, the nature of their relationship had prevented shared confidences. This was something new.

Shrugging off this unsavory picture of her brother, which she was sure was exaggerated, she said casually, “I
met Lord Charles in the corridor.” When there was no response to this, she went on more boldly, “He looked like thunder.”

At these words, Catherine giggled. “I think he was jealous of Julian, you know, when he doused me with the perfume. If looks could kill .  .  .” She shook her head, and laughed.

Bristling with indignation, Serena demanded, “What right has Lord Charles to be jealous? He is not your husband. I .  .  . I wish he would not make a nuisance of himself by intruding where he is not wanted.”

Catherine’s face registered astonishment. “Poor Charles! You
have
taken him in dislike. Serena, it is the fashion for eligible young gentlemen to attach themselves to a particular married lady. It means nothing. Charles and I have known each other since infancy, and your brother Jeremy knows it. Charles is as much Jeremy’s friend as he is mine. He is not intruding.”