Dusky Duke and the Gypsy Pirate Princess (9 page)

♣♣♣

Greyson slid into the chair his grandmother indicated. They were early to the salon for pre-dinner drinks. Only a few others were present. “What have you done, dear?” his grandmother questioned.

“Which event in particular are you referring too?” he asked drily.

She waved to several eligibles on the veranda talking. “How did you manage to get them to start talking to each other without being in a group in one day. I haven’t seen you do anything? The girls practically gave the token to the boys and are - from what I can tell refusing to ask for it back.”

Greyson looked out the French doors at the girls flirting one on one with the boys. His lips tipped up at the corners. “Don’t you believe I can accomplish the impossible in one night?”

“Yes, dear. But I want to know how.” His grandmother tapped him on the knee with her fan.

“I simply made a wager with Miss Honesty that the girls cannot win this game.”

His eyes met his grandmothers as they smiled in conspiracy. “And what does she win for this fate?”

“The emerald locket.”

“The one you have already tried to give her.”

Greyson nodded.

“And what would you acquire if she fails?”

A low chuckle was his only answer.

The duke and duchess of Devonshire watched the progress of the game with amusement. Each girl had cornered a boy and processed to engage him in conservation without asking for the token. The boys looked at each other in confusion, but seemed to be enjoying the attention. As the gong sounded, Greyson watched in delight as every girl held her hand out to the boy they were talking too. The girls squealed in happiness as the token was handed over and all the guests were quickly escorted to the dining room. The boys grumbled in frustration as they finally caught on and followed the girls and their parents to the table.

Greyson’ grandmother leaned toward him as he seated her at the table. “She is indeed smart, and I am delighted to see you understand this, and know how to use it to your advantage.”

Greyson inclined his head. As he moved down the table from one end to the other, his eyes met Honesty’s. He had expected to see triumph, but instead discovered her eyes filled with worry and concern. Had something happened to one of the children?

Greyson sat in his chair and greeted his closest dinner guests; the silly Miss Tiffany and her great aunt Mildred who was hard of hearing. Greyson tried not to cringe and his thoughts returned to his concern for Honesty.

♣♣♣

Late that night as Honesty left the nursery; she was not surprised at all when Greyson stepped into the dimly lit hall. The night sky was clouded and only enough light filtered in the tall windows to see dark outlines of shapes.

She stopped before him, “Your Grace.” Greyson’s frown deepened. He didn’t like it when she used his title in private. As far as that went, he didn’t like it when she used it in public.

“Darling?”

“Your Grace, you must stop seeking me out, in public, but especially in private. This situation cannot continue. It is most inappropriate. If we are discovered I shall be compromised, and I cannot face that again.”

Greyson heard the fear in her voice. What did she mean ‘again’?

She twisted her hands together in front of her. “This isn’t going to work. I know you think you have feelings for me, but . . .”

He stiffened as she discounted his so called ‘feelings’. That word seemed to small and inadequate.

“We cannot be seen together!  My mama has forbidden it. . . and we cannot keep meeting like this . . if I must, I will not leave my room to go to the nursery. I will do what I have to so as to avoid meeting you here.”

The distress in her voice echoed in his heart. He moved toward her and pulled her hands against the starched fabric of his vest to lie over his heart.

“Please, Grey, please just leave me alone,” Her fear wretched at his soul.

“What happened to cause this change of heart?” his voice was low and soothing.

“Reports are starting to filter back to mama about the day on the beach. She is very mad. She is threatening to send me and the children home. Maybe that would be for the best. Then Pretty can stay for a little longer.” Her voice trailed off in a whisper as he pulled her closer.

They stood in the darkness and silence for a minute as she soaked up the comfort of his embrace. His forehead leaned against her, but for his arms loosely around her waist and her hands against his heart otherwise their bodies did not touch. “Why can’t Lord Bryon just propose?”

Greyson rocked his forehead back and forth on hers in a negative motion. “We are waiting for your father to arrive.”

“My father,” Honesty gasped. “You have sent for my father? That is brilliant! I cannot believe you sent for papa so Lord Byron can ask him in such a public setting. Oh, you beautiful man,” she grabbed him around the neck and hugged him in delight. Greyson hugged her back and marveled that as intelligent as she was, she failed to grasp the idea that he could have summoned her father for any other reason than for Lord Bryon’s proposal.

She pulled back, and looked at him in the darkness, “then it is more important than ever that we stop meeting each other.” She stated firmly, “we cannot do anything to mess this up.”

“I’m not giving you up,” Greyson stated quietly into her hair.

“Grey, please be reasonable.” She leaned her head forward, her forehead now rested on his shoulder, fear made her voice raspy. “If you don’t leave me alone, I will tell mama something to get myself sent home. I will not allow myself to be in a compromising situation such as this again.”

“But it would solve so many problems, then you would be expected to marry me,” his voice filled with light humor.

“No, Grey,” Her voice was firm with conviction in the dark. “I refused to be forced into marriage because of society's conventions last time, and I would refuse again.” And with those words hanging in the air, Honesty turned and marched into her room and quietly closed the door.

Greyson raked his hand through his hair for the millionth time. Her words had been branded into his mind. She had been compromised. How compromised? And by whom? Whoever he was, Greyson was going to find him and kill him slowly. If she had been compromised, and had flatly refused marriage that meant the situation had not been her choosing. Greyson had never wanted to strangle someone as badly as he did now. He would find the fiend and slowly squeeze the life out of his miserable body.

Greyson paced the length of his study and back. But if she had been compromised within the first weeks of her season, why wasn’t there a scandal? Why had she just disappeared without everyone including Robert who had been there knowing about it? It didn’t make sense.

Greyson thoughts took another path. Honesty had told him repeatedly that she did not do anything right. That she was always messing up. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she had told him she expected to do something so embarrassing that he would send her and her family away. He remembered the seriousness in her eyes when she had told him that as soon as he got to know her a bit he would change his mind about his feelings. Greyson slapped his hand down hard on his desktop. The reason she had not reacted strongly to his declaration of undying love was because she truly didn’t believe it was possible. She believed that he would come to his senses shortly and then they would what? Just become friends. No, that he would go on with his life, and she would go home and back to being a nanny and governess for her siblings. This separation she was insisting on made sense in a tangled sort of way. If their light flirtation – because she refused to see it as anything else – was standing in the way of her sister’s future happiness than Honesty would have no qualms in giving it up. 

A knock sounded on his door. Greyson jumped to his feet and ushered his grandmother in.

“You requested my presence? I have yet to have breakfast, you know.” SarahBeth Buckingham eyed her grandson in intense curiosity. He looked like he had not slept at all. His black hair was standing at odd angles away from his head. He had never summoned her to his private sanctuary before; and certainly not before breakfast.

Greyson pulled up a chair next to his grandmother’s and proceeded to repeat what Honesty had told him. They discussed what facts they knew and Greyson’s impressions of the situation. “In short, I want to know what happened. I want to know who he was, and why there was no scandal.”

His grandmother nodded her head in understanding, her mouth puckered in at sharp bow. “It may be hard to ask questions of events that happened five years ago without stirring old questions up. And if the scandal was squashed then, by poking around we may resurrect it.”

Greyson's eyes were flat with anger. “I trust you to do your best, but I want to know who that son o’. . .” Greyson caught himself at the last second and remembered who he was talking to, “rogue who hurt my Honesty was.”

His grandmother patted him on the knee in comfort.

♣♣♣

With difficulty Greyson respected Honesty’s request that he not seek her out either in public or private. He watched from a distance as she stuck close to her mother and sister’s sides. She seemed to have lost interest in the token game, and although the girls were trying, the boys were repeatedly in possession of the necklace at dinner. Greyson watched from his study window as each day Honesty was escorted around the gardens by one Lord Byron, always in the presence of her sister Prudence, during the hour that Mrs. Williams was occupied with the duchess.

Greyson leaned his head against the hot glass of the window as he watched the three stroll through the garden. Honesty spent her time smelling the roses while the other two had eyes only for each other. Greyson was surprised that no one had reported to their mother this fact. It wasn’t as though the pair was any good at hiding their infatuation. Greyson frowned, and realized that he was holding them a bit in contempt because they were not masters at concealing their inner feelings as he was. After all, he knew himself to be so begotten he couldn’t think straight, and yet no one, but a chosen few knew of this condition. Four of those he had informed himself: Robert, Lord Bryon, his grandmother, and of course Honesty. However, Honesty didn’t really count as she was the object of his obsession. On top of that, she didn’t even believe him. Why should she, as far as she could see he had turned it off easily when she had asked.

Where was her father? Greyson was about to send a carriage for the man. He needed to show up soon. Greyson grimaced; this whole courtship was not going as he had planned. He had foolishly intended for them to be engaged before the masque he had planned for her. The masque was to be the finale of their extended season. All the guests would leave within two days after that. Time was running out. He had no intention of letting Honesty leave him. She belonged in his arms. He let his mind wander, with the imagines of her laughing as she danced in his arms as he twirled her around the dance floor in another perfect waltz. The emerald locket sparkling from her throat; her beautiful, silk gown rubbing against his legs.

He jerked his head up. Dress – she didn’t have a dress for the ball, and it was only a week away. He growled at himself. She needed a dress. Maybe she could borrow one of Teresa’s. No, Greyson remembered that the last time the Honesty had borrowed his sister’s dress. It had been too short and her scuffed boots had shown. Shoes – she would need shoes also.. . And new petticoats, and under things. His mind paused on the image of her in said under things. Greyson groaned; her father really needed to get here soon.

♣♣♣

Greyson smiled in delight, but without surprise when Honesty was ushered into his study the next morning.

She stomped in and stood behind the leather chair. Her back straight and her hands clinched against her sides. She stopped and glared at him.

“Good morning, Darling.”

His soft spoken words were the final straw, the anger rolled off of her in waves. “You arrogant, despicable, odious, . . .” He could see her scrambling for more names to call him. “you. . . . you are. . .” words failed her.

“Caring . . . concerned . . . generous . . . Stop me when I find one you like.” Greyson had moved to the front of his desk and leaned nonchalantly against the wooden surface.

“You,” she moved closer and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “You,” she repeated, “cannot give me clothes.”

“You are welcome.” He smiled gently at her, ignoring her rage.

“I will not accept a gift of a ball gown from you,” she shouted as she stomped her foot in frustration.

He reached forward and slipped an errant, dark curl back behind her ear, his touch slow and gentle. She spun away from the contact and stomped to the window. She stared out trying to get control of her emotions.

“And I believe the offer of the party clothes came from my grandmother, not me.”

“Your sister,” she corrected him, her voice stiff, her teeth clenched.

Greyson’s eyebrow went up, “Better still.” His voice was low and soothing.

“You can’t do this kind of thing, it is not right.” Greyson heard the quiver of tears in her anger.

“I am allowed to take care of you?”

“No, you are not. You have no right. Just stop. Stop giving me things: jewelry, books, clothes,” she waved her hands in exasperation.

“I knew you did not have a ballgown, and I wanted to make sure that you and your sister were dressed correctly so that you could enjoy the festivities.” He moved toward her slowly, he wanted to take her in his arms, but realized at this second she was likely to rip out his eyes.

“Me and my family’s clothing situation is none of your concern,” she declared.

“Everything about you is my concern.”

“You have made everything so much worse.” Honesty glared at him, “You don’t understand. Now mama is all, but bragging that Pretty is expecting a proposal from you soon. She will never accept Lord Baron’s offer now.”

Greyson frowned. “I am sorry that your mother is choosing to misinterpret ‘my sister’s’ intentions.”

“When she finds out that we are lying to her, she is going to be humiliated. There is no way to fix this mess.” Honesty wrapped her arms around her own middle, and the anger faded from her voice.

Greyson reached forward and pulled her stiff body into his arms. “I will figure something out.” “At this point, you cannot decline the clothing, without explaining to your mother why you are refusing my sister’s offer.”

Honesty groaned, “This is so unfair. I didn’t even do anything this time and it is still my fault.”

Greyson was distracted by the feel of her in his arms, and the faint smell of vanilla in her hair. He leaned his head forward his lips near her ear. “I have missed you, Darling.” His mouth slid to place a kiss on the top shell of her ear.

He let her go when she jerked out of his arms and quickly put the chair between them. “Why do you insist on saying inappropriate things like that?” she scrubbed at the spot on her ear with her hand in an attempt to erase the kiss.

Greyson chuckled softly, “Just because I am not seeking you out, does not mean I have changed my mind.”

Honesty glared at him.

“Never misunderstand, I am only honoring your request until your father arrives.”

Her glare turned to a question.

“I have sent a carriage for him.”

Her mouth formed a silent ‘o’.

There was a knock on the door. At Greyson’s grandmother appearance, Honesty curtsied and, after apologizing for her abruptness, fled.

Greyson stood in the doorway and watched her disappear down the hallway. His grandmother settled herself in the high-back chair and waited. Greyson moved a chair to her side and sat, “Grandmother, what a surprise.”

SarahBeth observed him closely. He leaned back seeming unhurried to find out why she had sought him out.

“I think I have received the answers you wanted.”

Greyson sat forward.

“I sent a letter to my sister in town, and she has written me back, a rather, long letter. It seems that she was present the season that your young lady came out, and she remembers her. After some quiet digging, she discovered what she believes is the truth from Lady James, a cousin to Lady Cantwell. It seems that Lady James and her cousin Lady Cantwell are not at this time on speaking terms because of a dispute that occurred last spring at a family gathering.”

Greyson looked at his grandmother with vexation, “What does it have to go with Honesty?”

“Well, dear, I am trying to tell you. Lady James is not on speaking terms with Lady Cantwell and, therefore, much more likely to share dirty little family secrets than at other times. This is a benefit to us as she was willing to disclose the details of what happened to Honesty.”

This statement had Greyson’s attention.

“Well, according to my sister, Lady James told her that five years ago when Honesty came to town, Lord and Lady Cantwell’s oldest son became enthralled with the beauty and was distressed with the young lady’s rebuff. Lady James reported that he had started making embarrassing scenes at several events because of his uncontrolled jealousy for the attention Miss Honesty was receiving from all the young bucks.”

Greyson nodded his head.

“It seemed that the young man, Dalton Cantwell, managed somehow to spirit Honesty away at a ball and no one realized she was missing until early the next morning when they were discovered in his bedroom by his mother. It seems that Miss Honesty claimed to not remember anything that had happened and flatly refused to marry the young man. Lady Cantwell was upset by the situation, and didn’t want her son to marry a nobody from Conway, so Lady Cantwell paid the Williams a large settlement and Mrs. Williams took Honesty and went home. The reason that there was not a scandal is because no one knew it happened, but the Cantwells and the Williams.”

Greyson frowned as several facts still did not make sense to him. “Thank you, grandmother.”

She nodded, “Evidently the Williams promised that Honesty would not come back to London as part of the deal. Anyways at the end of that season, it had been arranged that Laura Snodgrass should marry Dalton Cantwell.”

Greyson wondered briefly how Laura Cantwell was going to enjoy being a widow.

♣♣♣

One night after dinner in the game room, several of the young ladies got into a debate with several of the young men about the skills of men compared to women. This discussion had arisen from the fact that Honesty had soundly beaten any and all contenders in chess, all of them male, and many of them skilled in the game.

Lord Goodman shook his graying head as his game pieces dwindled on the board. “How can one so pretty, play so ruthless in a game of men? It just doesn’t seem right?”

“Are you implying, sir, that a girl must be homely to be smart?” Honesty said as she captured his queen.

Lord Goodman frowned with vexation at the board, “Present company excluded, I have found this to be the case.”

His daughter, Sarah, huffed, “and which category do you feel I am in, father?”

“Why you are beautiful,” her father responded, not realizing the trap that he had just set for himself.