Larken (10 page)

As he followed her from the lake to where the horses were tethered, his gaze fell to the sway of her hips. With a monumental effort, he loosened his collar and forced himself to look away. No good could come from the thoughts racing through his mind, nor did he wish Larken to suspect he found her comely. In fact, if he didn’t think about something else quickly, he’d be obliged to dive into the lake to quell his desire.

Larken glanced at Brandon when she reached her mare. “Can you help me up?”

“Certainly.”

He laced his fingers together to form a stirrup, and Larken mounted Juniper successfully. When she smoothed down her skirts afterward, however, she inadvertently flashed him a broad expanse of her shapely lower extremity. Sweat broke out on his upper lip, and he blotted it away with a handkerchief. Larken really was a beauty, but lust was not love and a bargain was a bargain. She’d agreed to be his wife in name only, and he mustn’t go back on his word.

Larken dressed for dinner that night in an eye-catching sapphire blue gown. She’d shied away from the strong color in the shop, but Nell and the clerks had been so enthusiastic, she was persuaded to buy it. As she examined her reflection, she was pleased with the way the tight basque bodice accentuated her tiny waist and the color flattered her skin. Nell tucked a jeweled comb into her smooth twist for an elegant look. Although Larken was pleased with her toilette, she thought it was a shame her gown would be wasted on Brandon.

Myles was clad in a sailor suit, and Larken smiled with pleasure at his smart appearance. In turn, his expression of delight at her dress made her heart sing.

“You’re so pretty!”

“Thank you, young sir. And you look like a young gentleman! Are you ready to go downstairs?”

He bowed and offered her his arm with all the solemnity of a man four times his age. When they entered the drawing room together, Brandon had not yet arrived. While they waited, Myles tested the seat cushions on the sofa.

“Remember your manners,” Larken said.

He stopped bouncing. Larken poured two small glasses of sherry at the sideboard and took a tentative sip. The sweet wine didn’t taste nearly as bad as she remembered, and gave her a pleasant, relaxing glow. She was pouring herself a second glass when an impeccably-clad Brandon arrived. The wine did little to blunt her sudden breathlessness.

“You look just like Lord Apollo!” Myles exclaimed.

“Nothing quite so lofty, I’m sure,” Brandon said. “I’m sorry if I’m late.”

“Not at all.” Larken curtsied. “May I offer you some sherry?”

She plucked the waiting glass off the tray and delivered it into his hands.

“Why…thank you,” he said. “Very considerate of you.”

“May I have some?” Myles asked.

“No.” Brandon and Larken spoke at the same time.

“You wouldn’t like it,” she added.

“How was your dancing lesson?” Brandon asked.

“Lord Rowe says I’m making great progress.”

“He’s funny,” Myles said. “He tells jokes.”

Larken laughed. “Yes, he and his sister are charming. They never fail to send their regards to you.”

“When are they to be here next?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perhaps I’ll stop by. I’ve always enjoyed their company.”

His attention turned to Myles, and Larken managed to take a deep breath. Would she always feel so tightly wound up when her husband was near?

Chapter Seven

Throwing Down the Gauntlet

B
RANDON
W
AS
R
ELIEVED
that Myles’ presence gave him somewhere to focus other than Larken’s bodice. Unfortunately, his blood had already been stirred and it was all he could do to behave normally. She’d been rendered even more stunning by the color of her gown, which was absolutely bewitching. It was his own fault, of course, for urging her to obtain a new wardrobe. Although in his mind’s eye he’d imagined her clad in something more matronly, she
was
young and to expect her to dress like his grandmother was unfair. Why on Earth had he invited her to dine when it was becoming increasingly clear she’d awakened a raging beast within him? Yes, he owed her the truth, but her proximity was lighting him on fire.

Conversation at dinner centered mainly on Myles and how well he’d settled in at Graceling Hall. Larken offered her comments every so often, but she seemed content to have Brandon’s attention focused on the lad. Brandon tried not to stare at her, but his eyes had their own agenda. Fortunately, the meal was a good one and served to distract him admirably. By the time he’d eaten a piece of pound cake with custard sauce, he almost felt relaxed. Apparently so did the boy, since his eyelids could not stay open.

“It’s grown quite late and I should take Myles upstairs.” Larken tucked her napkin beside her plate. “We’ll say good night then.”

“No, I’d like you to stay awhile longer. I’ll ring for a servant to escort the lad to bed.”

Myles waved good night sleepily on his way from the room. After the dishes were cleared, Brandon poured himself a snifter of brandy.

“Myles is enjoying his riding lessons, but I’d like to develop a schedule for a few school lessons,” Larken said. “Do you have any notion—”

“I’m sorry, but let’s not discuss Myles for a little while. I want to talk to you about a few other matters.”

Silence reigned as he sipped his brandy.

“Something’s been bothering me about your situation,” he said finally. “Although your father was a gentleman, you came here with few possessions and no money at all. Didn’t your parents leave you anything?”

“If they did, it’s now in the hands of the Howleys. All I had when I came to them was what the authorities could salvage of our luggage on the train and the personal effects my parents were wearing when they died. The Howleys took my parents’ jewelry and watch too, but I stole them back.”

He peered at her, aghast. “Your foster parents stole from you?”

“They were lauded in the papers for their generosity in taking in the Miracle Orphan, but it was quite a profitable move on their part. I don’t know what became of my parents’ estate in North Yorkshire, but the Howleys took everything of value I had with me when I moved into their home, as well as any money people donated to me through the newspaper fund.”

Anger surged within him. “I’ve never heard of anything so outrageous! They should be jailed for what they’ve done!”

“Perhaps, but I daresay Mrs. Howley is still seething with resentment for my taking back what was mine.”

Her fingertips crept to the locket around her neck.

“Was that your mother’s?” Brandon asked.

“Yes. She was wearing it when she died.” She paused. “My parents perished because of me, you know.”

“What?”

“It was my birthday, and they’d taken me to London for a weekend to celebrate. We were on our way home when the train derailed.”

“That’s not your fault!”

“It is, actually. I could have chosen Scotland instead, but I wanted to go to town. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t have been on that train at all.”

“I’m certain your parents wouldn’t want you to burden yourself so, but I think I understand how you could feel culpable. I feel that way about my brother’s demise.” He took a long sip of brandy. “You may have wondered about the relationship between me and Myles’ mother, Mariah Pettigrew.”

Her eyes dropped to her wine. “Truly, it’s none of my business.”

“She was my fiancée.”

Larken’s expression remained impassive.

“You guessed as much,” he said.

“I saw her portrait in the attic and suspected some sort of intimate relationship between the two of you.”

“She gave me that portrait as an engagement present. I was young and foolish, and I couldn’t imagine living without her by my side.”

“If you’re trying to tell me Myles is your son, I guessed that much too. I just don’t understand why you don’t acknowledge him.”

“Although I wish otherwise, he’s not mine.”

Her eyebrows rose, and Brandon read disbelief in her eyes.

“A few months before Mariah and I were to marry, she ran off with my brother Theo. Myles is my nephew.”

Larken gasped.

“I took it quite personally, and saw it as the ultimate betrayal by the two people I loved most in the world. Our father was furious with Theo, and disinherited him immediately. When Mariah discovered he was penniless, she refused to marry him. My brother was disconsolate at her abandonment, but I turned a deaf ear to his pain. We had a horrible argument, and shortly thereafter he went off to Liverpool in a fruitless attempt to talk Mariah out of her plans to sail to America.”

“If she knew she was with child, why didn’t she marry him?”

“I believe she didn’t discover her condition until after she’d made the crossing. By then, Theo was dead. When Mariah’s parents learned about her illegitimate child, they disavowed her. Fortunately, her aunt agreed to take her in.”

“How utterly tragic.”

“Yes.” Another swallow of brandy. “Although Theo wronged me, I shouldn’t have spoken to him in anger. I believe he took his own life because of it.”

“You can’t know that for sure. Does Myles know he’s your nephew?”

“Not yet, but I mean to tell him when he’s older. The circumstances would likely be too confusing for him.”

“You can be assured I’ll keep your confidence. I only want the best for him.”

“I know.” He met her gaze. “I thought you should understand exactly why I’m not keen on marriage.”

“Because you’re still in love with Mariah?”

“No, I’m finally free of that particular burden, but my faith in the institution of marriage has been forever broken.” He shook his head. “I’m done with love and romance now. It’s all claptrap as far as I’m concerned.”

As Brandon’s story sank in, Larken tried to decide how she felt about what he’d told her. She’d been mistaken in her assumptions, and the facts certainly absolved him of spurning Mariah Pettigrew in her time of need. Brandon had been the victim of genuine betrayal, both at his fiancée’s hands and those of his own brother. Trauma was difficult to overcome, as she very well understood—but by turning his back on more tender emotions, he’d chosen to remain a victim of circumstance, and to involve her as well.

She stared at him, perplexed. He was young—perhaps twenty-six—and yet he’d decided his romantic life was irrevocably over. Nothing about her could tempt this handsome, virile man from his self-imposed emotional exile? Well, perhaps not, but his position wounded her feminine pride and prompted a retaliatory challenge of sorts.

“I’m glad you’ve been completely honest with me,” she said. “Perhaps I should make a confession of my own. One of the reasons I accepted your offer of marriage is because I’m un-marriageable.”

His eyebrows lifted. “In what way?”

“Forgive me for being blunt, but you’ve been so open that I feel as if I should do the same.” She paused. “You see, no man would ever be interested in having me in his bed.”

Larken couldn’t believe such vulgar words could spill out of her mouth without a blush, but it was rather easy to do after several glasses of wine and in the face of so much indifference.

Brandon cleared his throat, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me?”

A seemingly embarrassed shrug. “It’s a little humiliating to admit, but there it is.”

She gave him a smile. If he gave in to his curiosity and asked her to explain her previous assertion, he couldn’t possibly be as indifferent to her as he might believe.

“Would you…”

She met his gaze. “Yes?”

When he turned a deep shade of crimson, she almost felt sorry for him.

“That is to say…would you care to elaborate?” he managed.

“About what?”

“Ah…why no man would be interested in bedding you?”

Triumph. “Oh,
that
. Are you sure you want to know? It’s scandalous and I wouldn’t want to make you blush.”

“Not if you’d prefer to keep it private.”

“I’d like to keep it private, but I’ll tell
you
because you don’t care a whit.” She lowered her voice. “I have scars on my back from the train accident.”

“Scars?”