Edith Layton (25 page)

“Aye,” Rafe said fondly, “she had me going to.”

“Ewen knew. But she fooled me. I thought that taming such a hoyden would be impossible. But we made her into a passable girl, didn’t we? And then a mannerly, literate girl. But while we were gone, she finally become a woman. And what a job of work she made of it! Who could have guessed?

“But look at her,” Drum said with a quizzical smile playing on his lips at the thought. “Maybe just because of her strange experiences, she has the best of man and boy and girl and woman mingled in that delightful body now. Grace and valor, allure and honor? Where can you find that in a woman? A rollicking sense of humor and the compassion to temper it. A strong,
well-informed mind and the body of a courtesan? Virtue and experience. A vixen and a boon companion. Everything a man could want in a woman, and never expect to find. The bard could have said it: ‘Aye. Here was a Gilly, when comes such another?’”

Rafe looked at his friend, saw the longing in his face, and the tension in his body, even though he appeared to be at ease. But Rafe knew him too well. “You feel that way, and you’re just sitting here?”

“My family,” Drum said in a low voice, as though to himself. “M
y name
. My father.” He shuddered. “With all she has, Rafe, you know very well what she has not. A name. A family. A background, for God’s sake! It’s not like olden days when after a man rescued a damsel from the dragon, he simply took her to wife. Life is not a bedtime story. I have responsibilities. To my family. But by God, to myself, too! Which is stronger, I wonder? That’s what keeps me pinned here as time ticks away, bringing us closer to her wedding day—to him.”

He opened his eyes. They were startlingly blue, filled with anger and pain. “Did you know that rake, Wycoff, accused me of being a ‘dog in the manger’ the other night?” He laughed bitterly. “That was what started me thinking seriously, at last. He saw it, and God knows who else has. Well, if anyone can see how it is with us, I’d better have my ducks in a row before I see her again, hadn’t I? But a dog in the manger, indeed! I have a claim on that ‘bone,’ thank you. She’s mine, and always has been. You know it, Rafe. If I ask her to cast off Ryder, she will!”

He waved a hand at whatever his friend was going to say. “Yes, I know. Cockscomb. But I’m not. I know exactly
what I see in the mirror each day. Nothing to set women’s hearts aflame. But nothing to disgust them, either. Ryder may be a masterpiece of manly graces. But I do well enough for myself and have always done.”

“Gilly doesn’t care about looks,” Rafe said, troubled. “You know her better than that.”

“I know. And he’s good-natured and less cynical and kind to his mother, too. But I have an advantage. I know her. And she knows me.”

“Knows you? Good God! Like saying Wellington is a soldier! She’s hero-worshipped you since the day you met. We all know that. It was almost a joke. Except none of us dared make it to Gilly.” Rafe smiled. But then he sat forward, his expression serious. “Fish or cut line, Drum. You’re not cut out to be a cad. If you want her, be damned to the world and take her. Or leave her. It’s not fair otherwise. It can’t go on like this. For her or you—or poor Ryder. Because the lad’s got eyes in his head. And if you keep shilly-shallying, letting her know you’re interested but hanging back, what about when she does wed him? What sort of marriage would it be with him knowing what she was yearning for before she wed him? Not to mention him wondering what she might be dreaming about while her head’s on the same pillow as his? Not fair.”

Drum raised an eyebrow. “That’s the longest speech I’ve ever heard from you. I don’t know whether to applaud or knock you down.”

“Try it,” Rafe said casually.

“No, you’re right. Time isn’t giving me an answer. But it is time for one.” He uncoiled his long body and rose to his feet.

“Where are you going? Want company?”

It was astonishing how that long craggy face could light with amusement. Drum gave his friend the kind of smile that made men follow him into danger, and women gladly step into it with him. “I’m not sure where I’m off to, and thanks for the offer, but I’m best off by myself. Because I’m poor company even for myself. Thank you, old friend. I’m going to go walk until I find an answer my heart and my mind can agree on. I will, if it kills me.”

He stretched his lanky body, turned, and then suddenly turned back. “Rafe? What would you do?”

“Damned if I know. I hope I never have such a question.”

Drum nodded. “Good enough. Thank you.”

He couldn’t just
not
see her again, Damon thought as he paced his room. It had been two days. If he didn’t call on her soon his family would drive themselves and Gilly mad with their speculation. She had to make a clean break, and his disappearing before it was time wouldn’t help. But the damnedest thing was that his damnable pride was holding him back, he thought, and sank to a chair.

It was wrong to abandon her in the lion’s den. B
ut she’s abandoned you
, a sly voice said. Yes, the Earl of Drummond was her idol, and yes, she’d known him for years, and yes to all the rationalizations he’d made on her behalf. The truth was that he’d offered her everything he was and had, and she’d thrown him over at the mere appearance of another man. He simply hadn’t measured up. It hurt like an ache in his every bone.

His hands fisted until they were white-knuckled. The sudden tension made him glance down at them.
Fight for her
, that damned Wycoff had suggested? If he ‘wanted her, and needed her’? But she wasn’t a bone to be growled over by two dogs. She was a person with her own needs—and they clearly didn’t include Damon Ryder.

He’d never asked for a woman’s hand, so he’d never been hurt like this. But he’d wanted her from the minute he’d laid eyes on her—or rather from the moment she’d laid hands on another man, he thought, smiling in spite of himself, remembering his fierce, gentle, beautiful Gilly. He couldn’t forget. Not her laughter, not her tears, not the taste of her lips, or the feeling of her close to him. Not her sad past or the dreams he’d had for her happy future. But he’d lost her, and he wanted her still, and yet there was nothing he could do.

Wycoff was wrong. A man couldn’t fight for a woman who didn’t want him. Or shouldn’t. Because who would he be fighting, after all? Only her. She was the only impediment to his having her.

It would be one thing if he thought she was doing a ruinous thing. Then he’d fight to save her, if only from herself. But in this case? What could the Earl of Drummond offer her? Damon laughed aloud. A title, a fortune, a dream fulfilled. I
f
he offered.

Damon scowled. Drummond hadn’t asked for her hand, he’d have heard about it. Damon had been getting notes from his mother for the past two days. She was fretting about why he hadn’t come back. She’d even tossed Felicity back to her sister, imagining it her fault. Well, it was an ill wind that blew no good.

Damon stood and looked out the window. The sun was already setting. The days weren’t as long as they used to be—autumn was coming. And with it their wedding that was not to be. And Gilly was all alone in London, despite his relatives. Which is what she’d most feared. Whatever she’d decided, she didn’t deserve to be deserted. She wasn’t doing it to hurt him, after all. But she’d be hurting now.

He remembered how hard it had been for her to cry. How it had wrenched her rather than refreshing her, the way tears ought to. He couldn’t make her do it again. If he had to hide his hurt, it would be better for his character, he supposed. It would definitely be better for her. That decided him.

He’d force himself to dine with her tonight, and every night until she left him. Even if it made him choke. Because he’d be swallowing his pride along with his dinner. And he realized that might be more than a man like him could swallow. But he would. So be it. No one had ever said it was easy being a man. Just ask Gilly, he thought, and smiled—though it hurt.

The moon was clearing the tallest rooftops when the carriage pulled up to the Sinclairs’ townhouse. A long, lean gentleman stepped out and quickly took the short flight of steps to the front door. He raised the knocker and then pulled off his high beaver hat, showing sleek dark hair black as the spaces between the moon and the stars overhead. The flickering gaslight at the side of the door made his shadow blur and leap as he stood waiting, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The smile vanished as he heard a footfall behind
him. He spun around, a silver pistol already in his gloved hand. This was night in London, and he was always prepared for it. He pointed the nose of his pistol at the wide chest of the man now poised a step below him. A man who was already crouched, the blade in his hand reflecting the dancing gaslight, his expression unreadable in the capering shadows.

Drum relaxed, lowering his pistol. “Good evening, Mr. Ryder,” he said coolly, pocketing the pistol. “Good thing there’s a light here, or it might have been your last evening. You startled me. Unwise. Force of habit, you see. I expect I could have got off a shot before you used your blade.”

Damon shrugged and sheathed the knife. It disappeared into an inner jacket pocket. “I suppose,” he drawled, “but it would have been the last shot you ever fired.”

The butler’s face was very white as he stood frozen in the doorway, watching. He cleared his throat when he was sure all weapons were gone, saying in almost normal tones, “My lord. Mr. Ryder. Do come in.”

Drum stepped in, Damon followed. Before they could finish handing their hats to a footman, Damon’s mother and father came hurrying into the hall.

“Thank heavens!” Elizabeth Ryder said.

“Good thing you got our note so soon,” her husband said with relief. “I was just about to go out myself.”

“
That
you would not!” his wife said angrily, “because what use would you be? That is to say, where would you look? I let Alfred and Martin go, but what they can do, I don’t know, because they don’t know town ways, and are hardly town beaus. At least they’re younger,
and together. They’ll likely drive in circles until they come home as it is. I sent for Damon and here he is. What luck the earl is here, too. If
he
doesn’t know London, I don’t know who does. Now I can rest easier.”

“What note? What’s the problem?” Damon asked anxiously.

Now his mother looked uncomfortable. His father made a sour face.

“There was a note delivered. Gillian read it,” his father said, avoiding Damon’s eyes, “and before the cat could lick her ear, she was calling for a carriage. Or so the servants say. We were out, and she was alone here, and said she couldn’t wait. She said she’d explain all later. Then she went out into the evening, and that’s the last anyone’s seen of her. It was well over two hours past. We sent for you when we saw it was coming on to full night. And now it is.”

Damon grew rigid. He turned his head and looked at Drum. But the earl was looking as shocked as he was.

“At least she took her maid with her,” Damon’s mother said. “So it’s not as though she’s alone.”

“Where?” Damon demanded.

But now both his parents seemed to be having difficulty looking at him. “She didn’t say,” his mother said uneasily. “She left a hasty note, but it was only two lines.”

“Who, then?” Damon chorused with Drum.

“Well, there it is,” Elizabeth said helplessly.

“You don’t know?” Damon asked, in shock.

“Worse,” she said miserably.

“
Wycoff
,” his father spat. But it sounded like a curse.

Damon echoed the word as though it was one. Drum stood arrested, a muscle working in his clenched jaw.

“She said it was urgent, and that she had to see him now,” his mother said apologetically, holding out the brief, much-read note.

“No,” Damon said, shaking his head as if shaking off a punch. “One thing I’d swear to. She’d never run away with him. It’s not in her makeup, it isn’t her style. She’s impetuous, yes. But no giddy fool. If she wanted to go away with him,” he told Drum bitterly, “at least, be sure she’d tell
you
chapter and verse before she did. She’d go to him if he summoned her, though. If she thought he needed her. God help her, she thought he was a friend. An amusing, if eccentric, friend. Damnation!” he said angrily, his eyes wild with light. “She thinks she’s invincible. I blame myself, because I let her think it. She’s strong-willed and clever and fast on her feet. But no match for a man bent on mischief!”

“But he’s not a villain,” Drum said carefully. “A faithless lover and a adulterer, of course. A rake, a reprobate, certainly. But not a villain.”

“Then why send for her?”

“Perhaps he is in difficulties,” Drum said thoughtfully.

“Certainly,” Damon scoffed, his hands clenching. “A man of his age, rank, and reputation would definitely ask a beautiful, fragile young woman to come out into the night in London to help him if he was in trouble. Makes perfect sense. I will kill him. It doesn’t matter if it’s my right anymore. I’ll do it if he’s even
thinking
of hurting her.”

“After me,” Drum said, nodding. “Right, then. We’ll go to his house first.”

“And then?” Damon asked.

“Then, we’ll see. Oh, Mr. Ryder,” Drum told Damon’s father as he went out the door. “Kindly send a note to my friend Rafe—Lord Dalton—at Steven’s Hotel. He
will
stay there in spite of their table. Tell him what’s happened. Tell him I need him.”

“No—you won’t need anyone else,” they heard Damon mutter, as he went back down the front steps with the earl, “not if I find Wycoff first.”

I
t was a cramped old inn, lopsided with age, squeezed in between many others on a bustling street opposite the crowded wharves. Even with the heavy, bottle glass windows shut and the shutters closed against the night, the stench of brine, garbage, and dead fish was pungent.

“Your nose can tell you the tide is obviously out,” Lord Wycoff said with a slight smile, “but it will be in soon, and then I’ll be gone. And so I’m glad you came in time.”

Gilly stalked the room in agitation. “To think something I said could make you do such a rash thing,” she said. “I never meant…”

“I know,” he said gently, watching her light up the dim parlor like a little roving candle, her bright head
down, a dark frown on her white brow as she prowled the private dining room he’d taken. It was all he could do to force himself to sit still and not take her in his arms. But it wasn’t the time or place, and the time was not yet right.

“You were talking about your dreams,” he explained. “That made me remember mine. I haven’t enjoyed this life I’ve led, did you think I did? No, I indulged myself, that’s never the same as enjoying oneself. I only did what a man of fashion in my position could in my situation. Cuckolded? Why then, I’d two choices. Retire to the countryside where I wouldn’t be mocked or pitied. Or pay back, so it would appear it was my own choice.”

He shrugged. “I was not cut out to be a recluse or a scholar. I chose town life. Sometimes, I admit, I was amused. Sometimes, I grant, I found pleasure. But it was always tainted. Sometimes—forgive me for speaking so broad to a young woman, I’m sure you’ll understand it’s only for reasons of clarity—but I admit there are times that tainting sexual matters make them better. Subterfuge and a whiff of danger can do wonders for the dullest affairs. I don’t understand why dirt can enhance what should be the most beautiful of human encounters, but so it is, sometimes. But only sometimes, unless you’re the sort of person who can only enjoy that kind of pleasure.

“It appears I am not,” he said with another shrug. “I want better. My soul—and there are legions here in London who’d guffaw at the very idea of the existence of my poor, pathetic, tattered soul—yearns for more. The other night you gave me an inkling of how I might find it. I’m acting on it before my usual cynicism poi
sons the one pure idea I’ve had in a long, long while.”

She wheeled around to face him. “But your children!”

“They’ve funds. I’ll write. I do little more than that with them now. They’re both in school, and have been for years. I’ve never allowed them to be contaminated by their parents, my dear.”

“But to throw everything over! To leave England and start anew—with all you have here? It doesn’t make sense!”

He looked at her with tenderness, appreciation, and muted lust. What other respectable female would have answered his impulsive summons at all, he wondered? What other would have come out into the night now, trusting him as a friend? No, he decided, it was no dishonor to himself that she was the only friend he wanted to speak with before he left. Because she was singular, and because he couldn’t quite bear to give her up yet, or to leave off trying to secure her for himself.

“What am I giving up?” he asked. “Parties, gossip, easy lovers? I’m sure they have such in the New World, too. Faithless wives and friends, and lesser men and boys, all who avoid my eyes because they’ve had her and don’t want me to know it? Now
that
might not be there for me. Exactly my point. I might find something new.”

“And so you’ll give up all?” she asked incredulously.

“No,” he laughed. “I’m not such a fool. I’m going, for an extended stay. But I haven’t decided to extend that quite to forever—yet. I’m leaving options open, as well as my mind. But I’m leaving behind the memories, the
way you said those who go to America do. I’m taking my name and my money. I may discard the first, in time. I have an heir to carry it on in better fashion, after all. I may even leave the money behind, too, if I can find a way to make more. But only a fool burns his bridges entirely, and I’m never that.”

She looked away, her face growing pink. He noted that with interest. “If I find better there, who knows what I’ll do in time?” he said, angling his hip off the side of the table he’d been perched on, and strolling over to where she stood.

“Time and distance do astonishing things,” he said, standing next to her, looking down at her, keeping his hands at his sides with effort. “Or so I’ve heard. And so you said. Gilly, do you want to come with me and try it for yourself?”

She startled, looking up at him in shock.

He smiled. “You said it’s what you wished. I’m here to grant that wish if you like. You don’t have to share my bed, and I regret you can’t share my name. T
his
name, at least,” he added with emphasis, trying to judge the expression in those strange beautiful golden eyes of hers. “The ship leaves on the next tide, and time and tide wait for no man or woman. I offer a ticket to a new land, my hand in friendship, and limitless possibilities.”

“O
h
,” she breathed, and he watched the light go in and out of her eyes. “Huh,” she finally exclaimed, “how I wish I could! I’ve made such a mess…. But I have to stay and see it through. I can’t run. You can,” she said, those remarkable eyes searching his, “because what’s done is done. But I haven’t done anything yet. That’s
my
problem.”

Gilly paused, tilted her head, and regarded him closely, trying to see him with new eyes. She considered him for the first time as a man and not as a possible seducer, or an arbiter of fashion, or even as a friend. He was lean, immaculate, handsome in a severe sort of way, with smooth brown hair and darker, knowing eyes. Of middle years, she supposed, though she couldn’t judge a man’s age after he passed his thirtieth birthday. With a wonderful sense of humor, a strange sense of honor, and, she was sure, a care for her as a person and as a woman. She spoke honestly, as she always did.

“If I had already botched things completely, I think I’d go with you,” she said, thinking aloud, “though it would nigh kill me to leave my Betsy. My sister means a lot to me, but in time, I suppose if I did well there she could follow me. I could make a home for her. I’d hate to leave Bridget and Ewen and the old earl. They’re my family. But if I shamed them, I’d go without looking back, lest I shame them further. And as for Drum…and Rafe. And Damon!”

She shook her head. “The truth is, I feel like a ball in play—like when I was young, and we tossed one back and forth over the heads of the others, never knowing where it would land or who’d catch it. I can’t leave until I know where I’ve landed.”

“Gilly,” he said softly, “you’re not a plaything. Your destiny is in your own hands, and no others’.”

She stared at him. And then slowly nodded. “Yes. I suppose I don’t want to know that, do I?”

“Take one or the other, or damn them both and come with me,” he said, casting his dice for the last time.

“And what if I’ve already lost one and don’t know if the other would ever want me?”

“Then it’s simpler still.” When she didn’t answer, but stood looking lost, he smiled, but with difficulty. “Well, there’s an answer—of a sort. Enough for me, at least. I have to get my bags and go to the ship, time’s passing too fast, as always. But hear me, Gilly Giles. My offer stands. I’ll write and let you know my whereabouts. I’ll always have room in my house and my heart for you. It was good of you to come to say good-bye. But it’s time for that, I think.”

“Good-bye, my lord,” she said and stood on tiptoe and kissed his smooth, shaved cheek.

“No,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She braced herself. He’d been a perfect gentleman. If he kissed her now, she couldn’t protest. She’d come alone, in the night, and deserved what she got. But she wished he wouldn’t.

He didn’t. He bent his head and kissed her forehead, and took away his hands and stood back. “I amaze myself,” he said. “But that was not my objection to your farewell. I just wondered if you would call me by my Christian name, just once.”

“Oh, I would,” she said in surprised relief, “if I knew it.”

“Hathaway,” he said.

“Good-bye, then, Hathaway,” she said, and blinked against the tears that prickled her eyes. “Such a lovely name. And such a nice man you are, you know? I wish….”

“No!” he said in mock alarm, putting up his hands. “Your wishes are powerful stuff, my dear Gilly. Enough. I’m going half way around the world on the force of one
set of your wishes. Don’t complicate my life more!”

She grinned as he smiled down at her. “Remember, I’m yours for the asking. But Gilly, though it’s against my best interests, I’ll repeat what I’ve told you before. If you’ve difficulty making the decision, as regards me or any other man, it’s not the right decision. You’ll know when you find him, and there will be no questions asked or answered when you do. It will just be. You’ll see.”

“And if I don’t ever find him?”

“For a sensible chit, you do talk nonsense. Now I’m off to further shores. Good-bye, my dear. No. Good-bye, my dearest.” He looked at her one last time and then bowed, opened the door, and left her.

D
rat
D
amon
, she thought, as she scrabbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. He’d taught her tears, and now she couldn’t turn them off! But she refused to go out to the common room weeping like a ninny. She’d left her maidservant there and could imagine the gossip that would cause if the girl saw her bawling. Bad enough she’d gone haring off into the night when she’d got Wycoff’s—H
athaway’s
—note asking to see her one last time before he left England, maybe forever. She didn’t need to ruin his name any further. But her name, she thought on a damp sigh, was probably entirely blackened by now, what with her broken engagement—and now this!

She sniveled one last time and marched to the door. But before she could grasp the latch, it swung open, violently.

“I just met up with him in the hall,” Drum said angrily, looming in the doorway, looking like a thun
dercloud, “and the only reason I didn’t challenge him was because he said there’s time if I hurry. So tell me. Quickly. What did he do to you?”

“Him? Oh, you mean Hathaway?”

“H
athaway
!” Drum said wrathfully.

“Yes, that’s his name. And he didn’t do anything but make me cry like a baby because he’s leaving England, and it might be for good.”

“You love him?” Drum asked, astonished.

“No! I like him very well, though. But not like
that
. And what are you doing here, might I ask?” she asked defensively.

“What am I doing here? Have you run mad? You’ve pulled some rare stunts in your day, my girl, but
this
! Have I taught you nothing? You go in the night by yourself to meet with a renowned rake? The Ryders suspect the worst. As did I. Bad enough you’ve shocked his family—what will happen to that so brilliant match of yours? Your Catch will wriggle right off the hook after this!”

“No,” she said, looking down at her feet, “I let him go already, you see.”

It was suddenly quiet. She glanced up and saw the shock in his face. He ducked his head all the way and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, all the while studying her. She refused to avoid the brilliance of his stark blue gaze.

“You’ve broken off with him?” he asked, frowning. “Because of…Wycoff?”

“No. Because of me. Lord Wycoff was leaving England. He only wanted to say good-bye. And I don’t give this much for custom,” she said, snapping her fingers
under his nose, “if it comes to my friends. Fine friend I’d be letting him go away for years without so much as a fare-thee-well from me, just because of propriety!”

“Indeed,” he said, studying her face, “I see. It’s typical of you. But you ought to have waited for someone to accompany you.”

“Yes. I should have done. But at least I took a maidservant. I was in a tearing hurry. Well, you know how I am, Drum.”

“Yes. At least, I think I do. Gilly, just why did you leave Ryder?”

But now she glanced away. That was answer enough for him. He smiled. “Gilly,” he asked softly, “had it anything to do with me?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “There it is, I don’t know.”

“Gilly,” he said with warning, tipping up her face with one long finger, “look at me, and answer. Was it because of me? Because if it was, then that’s fine.”

Her eyes flew to his. She held her breath.

He saw it. “Yes. I’ve been thinking, you see. About things I ought to have thought about long before. But how could I? I was gone so long, looking for rainbows when they were in my own backyard. Lovely Gilly, steadfast Gilly, clever little Gilly to have grown up behind my back like that.”

She stared, scarcely breathing. L
ovely, indeed
, he thought with rising delight. Because he’d questioned his decision to the last, even when he’d come to this place and seen Wycoff going up the stair. But now, looking at her, all doubt fell away. How could a man doubt his heart when he looked into those amber eyes? At
that piquant little face, that fine-grained skin, full plump mouth, that little tilted nose, those shapely little breasts? He’d liked her, admired her, been amused with her spirit and verve and courage for years. And now to find desire holding as firm a grip on his body as affection for her did on his heart? He knew what he’d decided was right. Not easy. And not what anyone—least of all himself—expected of him. But right.

“Lovely Gilly,” he said with a smile. “Wilt thou marry me?”

It seemed to Gilly that her heart stopped. Her blood certainly did. She felt a buzzing in her ears, she blinked and stared, and wondered if she’d heard right.

D
rum
? Asking
her
that? And not as a jest, because he wasn’t laughing, not even smiling anymore, but only looking at her lips like a lover?

His own lips were close. That unique face of his, not in the least handsome, but the intimate vision of her every dream, so dearly beloved, was so close. At last. So close she could see how smooth-shaven he was, how clear his skin. The lucent blue of his long eyes was hidden by his half-closed eyelids as he drew even closer. She could feel his sweet, soft breath, and she took in her own as she leaned toward him as though compelled….