Never a Gentleman (8 page)

She was completely unprepared to have Diccan slip up behind her and lift the plate from her lap.

“If I might steal my wife, gentlemen,” he greeted them. “I’m feeling just the slightest bit jealous of the military right
now.”

“Don’t be daft, man,” one of the men objected. “You have the bonniest lass in England.”

His smile seemed genuine. “Yes, but I feel I must perform some impossible feat to have her smile on me as she does you all.”

Grace knew that he was proffering his
ton
face, but she couldn’t help blushing. If only it were true. Allowing Diccan to help her to her feet, she dipped a curtsy
to the men she had always considered to be her family and took the arm of the man who now actually claimed that privilege.

“I don’t wish to drag you away from the party,” he told her, his head bent close enough that she could feel the tantalizing
whisper of his breath against her hair. “But I must be in London.”

For a moment, Grace stared blankly up at him. Was he leaving her?

“Kate’s dresser has packed for you,” he went on. “I need you to bid farewell so we can leave.”

He spoke as if her acquiescence was a foregone conclusion. She found herself stammering. “But we haven’t even seen your father.”

His smile was dry. “Oh, he won’t be here. He doesn’t hold with drinking. Or revelry. Or happiness.”

Just then, Lady Kate sidled up, Grace’s pelisse and bonnet in hand. “Looks like you managed to winkle her away.”

“You knew about this?” Grace demanded, feeling betrayed.

Kate’s smile was rueful. “He did tell us he had to go. I offered to have you return to London with me, but I think he’s right.
You two need to present a united front right now.”

Grace sighed. “You’re right, of course.” The sense of dislocation growing, she accepted her plain gray bonnet. “It was just
a surprise.”

“I have to collect Bea from home,” Kate said. “But the minute we reach London, Diccan has promised that Bea and I can help
you look for a house. Bea will be so excited.”

Grace couldn’t help but smile at the thought of sweet, loyal Lady Bea. Grace was not as certain as Kate, however, that Lady
Bea would approve of this sudden marriage.

Grace was tying the ribbons of her bonnet when a sharp voice stopped her cold.

“Where are you going?”

She turned to see Phillip striding over to her.

Diccan took gentle hold of her elbow. “I’m taking my wife back to London.” he said.

“Tonight?” Phillip demanded, drawing attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s already gone six.”

“Tonight,” Diccan repeated. “I have business there that cannot wait.”

“Business.”

“With the government.”

Phillip crossed his arms and planted his feet, a living barrier. “This marriage needs to be consummated.”

By the abrupt hush around her, Grace knew that the entire room had heard him. She felt her stomach go hollow. “What?”

Diccan let go of her long enough to grab the young Hussar by the arm and drag him into a side parlor. The occupants, a brace
of Guards who had been throwing dice, took one look at the expression on Diccan’s face and fled. Her own heart skidding around
in shock, Grace followed with
Kate and shut the door, just in time to hear Diccan berate young Phillip.

“If your aim is to humiliate my wife,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “you’re doing a bang-up job.”

But Phillip wouldn’t back down. “You know what I mean. What good does it do if you’re allowed to set the marriage aside? Give
me your word.”

“I’m standing right here,” Grace reminded them both, through the sudden constriction in her throat. “And while I sincerely
appreciate your help, Phillip, this is no longer your concern.”

He swung on her, and suddenly she realized that even after his years on campaign, he really was still a very young man. “I
promised to protect you, Gracie. He might not want to bed you, but he must, or the marriage could be overturned.”

Grace literally lost her breath. She knew it was probably true. But to have it stated so baldly stripped her pride bare. She
felt all her insecurities gather in her chest like sharp-taloned birds.

“You have my word,” Diccan said abruptly. “The minute I have concluded the pressing business I have, I will gladly bed my
wife.”

Another duty to be performed, Grace heard in her head.

“My, you two certainly know how to make a woman feel attractive,” Lady Kate drawled, her eyes cold. “I’m certainly glad you
aren’t courting
me
.”

No one was courting her either, Grace wanted to remind her.

“This is too important,” Phillip insisted. “I don’t trust him.”

Feeling oddly superfluous, Grace sighed. “He gave his word,” she said, laying a hand on Phillip’s arm. “You cannot ask more.
You should be happy for me.” And then, because there was no other way to end the argument, she perjured her soul. “
I
am.”

Still, Phillip glowered at Diccan. “She has friends, Hilliard.”

Diccan delivered a perfect, courtly bow. “And a husband.”

Grace felt Phillip’s hand tense, as if he would strike Diccan down. Lady Kate must have noticed too. “Oh, good,” she said,
blithely taking his arm and turning him to the door. “That’s settled. Now, Captain, let’s celebrate with a bit of that smuggled
champagne. I vow I have a prodigious thirst.”

And out the door they went, leaving Grace behind with the bitter truth lingering in her mouth.

She was still staring after Phillip when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Diccan rub at his temple. “I’m sorry, Grace,”
he said quietly. “That was quite uncalled for.”

She shook her head as if it didn’t matter. “I’m the one who should apologize. I think you’ve had your word questioned one
too many times today.”

“Blast my word!” he snapped, and she thought she could actually see pain in his ghostly gray eyes. “It’s you who’ve been insulted
beyond bearing. And I can’t even stay to mitigate the insult.”

Grace couldn’t believe it. He was sincere. That alone could have made her fall in love with him. “Thank you,” she said, lifting
up on her toes to brush a kiss against the temple he had been rubbing. “But we have to go.” Pulling on her gloves, she smiled.
“Besides, there is a sizable pile of coin on the floor waiting for those soldiers to return. Let us give them a chance to
finish the game.”

She turned so she couldn’t see the expression on his face and swept out the door. And that, she thought, would be that.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. Whether it was to counter the insult Diccan felt had been dealt her, or to dissipate the
gossip, he left the parlor with a far different expression than when he’d entered. Once again laying her hand on his arm,
he smiled at her, as if the two of them had a secret. Grace smiled back, hoping he couldn’t tell how much that simple gesture
meant to her.

No matter how quickly he had to leave, he strolled through the room as if he wanted to do nothing more than spend time with
his wife. He even laughed when he caught sight of the gamblers, who paced in agitation outside the door. “Not a ha’penny is
lost, gentlemen,” he assured them.

The soldiers promptly slipped back into the parlor and their game.

“I’ve arranged a post-chaise,” Diccan was saying, his head bent to Grace’s. “I hope it will be comfortable enough.”

She found it even easier to smile. “My dear Mr. Hilliard,” she said. “I am accustomed to traveling by bad horses and worse
feet. I can bear anything as along as I am sheltered from the weather.”

He shook his head, evidently amused. “I must accustom myself to having an intrepid wife. And you must accustom yourself to
using my given name. It would look passing strange if you addressed me with the same familiarity as the postman.”

She nodded. “That is just what Kate said.” She couldn’t help but grin. “Although she had a few rather more colorful suggestions
as to what else I could call you.”

Diccan chuckled. “I’m sure she did.”

They had made their good-byes to the crowd and had just reached the door, when Diccan brought her to a halt. She looked up
to see a smile in his eyes.

“Well, kiss her, you clunch,” he murmured, echoing the command they’d heard in church.

Grace felt as mesmerized as a rabbit sighting a hawk. His touch froze her and his eyes warmed her. She thought her heart would
tumble right out of her chest. Lord, what would happen when he touched all of her?

“Yes… ahem, um, thank you.”

This kiss was different than the last. Longer, deeper, slower. Grace felt Diccan’s fingers against her face and caught the
faint scent of tobacco and sandlewood soap. She tasted champagne on his lips and thought, distractedly, how soft they were.
How clever, nipping and seducing and testing her own lips, as if staking claim. There was a spark, a glow, a delicious fire
that seemed to live in his lips, and it swept through her, winding through her chest and belly. She felt as if her feet were
melting to the floor. He must have felt it too, she thought, her heart tumbling in her chest. How could he not, when it flared
so hot?

And then, Diccan stepped back. Grace opened her eyes to see him straightening, his expression perfectly composed. She was
still caught in a web of pleasure, humbled by the gift of his kiss, and he’d felt nothing. A lesson she should take to heart,
she imagined, the glow abruptly dying into ashes.

It was only then she heard the cheer go up around them. Diccan blinked, as if pulled abruptly back from somewhere, and delivered
a smile of surprised delight to the crowd. “Well, now I know that I have something over most of His Majesty’s soldiers,” he
said, sounding triumphant.
“None of you lot were smart enough to snatch my Grace up before I did.”

Ignoring the howls of protest, he gave them all an insouciant tip of the hat, wrapped his arm around her, and led her out
the door. The evening air was cool against Grace’s heated cheeks. The light was softening, so that even the crowded, noisy
inn yard seemed more elegant. The post-chaise stood a bit off to the side, the door open, a square, balding man in livery
standing beside it.

Hours in a coach with Diccan, she thought, her heart once again skittering around. What would he do? What would she say?

Nothing, evidently. Diccan was accepting saddlebags from a groom, and a saddled horse stood in the shadows. “By the time you
reach London,” Diccan said, leading her over to the carriage, “I will have arranged everything to your satisfaction. Try and
rest if you can.”

“You’re riding?” she asked stupidly, looking up at the lowering sky. “It’s going to rain.”

His smile was lazy. “Which is why I’m riding. You know how bad the Dover Road is. I can’t afford to get stuck in the mud.
Biddle will be with you, and he knows the road better than the highwaymen. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

As long as they weren’t stuck in the mud in the middle of nowhere
, she thought, resentment thickening her chest. With a quick peck on her cheek, Diccan swung into the saddle and rode off,
leaving her to stand alone in the inn yard, staring after him in stunned silence.

B
astún
,” she hissed.

“That doesn’t sound complimentary at all,” Lady Kate murmured as she came up alongside her.

Grace sighed. “Your cousin could use some manners, Kate.”

Lady Kate laughed. “Oh, no, my dear. Manners he has. It’s courage he seems to lack. It’s nice to see that my handsome Diccan
is as subject to a normal husband’s fidgets as anyone else.”

“Hmmph.”

With a lilting laugh, Kate reached up to sweep Grace into an enthusiastic hug. “Oh, but I’m going to miss you, my little colonel.
Promise you’ll still recognize me when you’re a proper matron.”

Grace hugged back, suddenly feeling as if she were losing everything familiar. “I won’t be far,” she said. “In fact, I have
a feeling I’ll be by quite frequently, asking for advice on marriage.”

“Good Heavens, don’t expect
me
to know.” Wiping her
eyes, Kate pushed Grace into the coach. “Now, get along. The sooner you go, the sooner you get there.”

The door shut, and Grace gave her friend a final wave. It was when the coach lurched into motion that she realized she wasn’t
alone in the carriage. Diccan’s valet sat opposite her.

“Oh. Hello,” she greeted the mournful little man. “Biddle, isn’t it?”

He regally bowed his head. “Indeed. You have no maid, madame?”

“No. Lady Kate offered hers, but I don’t usually use one.”

His opinion obvious in the pursing of his lips, he kept his silence. He looked very much like a hound, all jowls and sad eyes,
even his ears pendulous. Most amazingly, though, Grace realized that his feet didn’t reach the floor. He was probably no taller
than Lady Kate.

Grace spent a fruitless hour trying to get to know the dour little man. But no matter what conversational gambit she used,
Biddle answered with no more than monosyllables. And she didn’t have the courage to ask the question she really wanted answered;
how in the world the diminutive valet managed to get a jacket over the six-foot two-inch Diccan Hilliard’s shoulders. Did
he use a stool? Stand on a hatbox? Bounce on Diccan’s bed?

She must have given herself away, because without looking away from the view out his window, Biddle spoke. “I jump, madame.
Like a bunny rabbit.”

Grace was startled into a laugh. “Thank you, Biddle. I’m impressed. Mr. Hilliard’s coats never show a crease.”

Without looking at her, he rewarded her with a small nod.

“You don’t approve of Mr. Hilliard’s marriage to me, do you?” Grace said.

He kept his gaze out the window. “I don’t approve of anything my master does, madame.”

She blinked. “Then why valet for him?”

Finally she got a reaction, and it was pure shock. “Not do for the first gentleman of fashion? What can you be thinking?”

So, Grace thought, as Biddle turned back to the scenery. No cozy conversation about Diccan or valeting or the diplomatic life.
What else could she do to keep herself occupied for the next fifty miles?