Ravishing in Red (12 page)

“
H
e has come,” Celia announced, running into the greenhouse. “I was walking past the library window when movement outside down the lane caught my eye. He is on horse. He appears quite magnificent.”

“Of course he has come,” Daphne said. She began un-tying her apron. “If he had waited much longer, we would have had to go to him. He would not want that.”

Audrianna wished he had not come. This was going to be horrible.

“I will not countenance this,” she said to Daphne. “It is not fair to expect him to pay, quite literally, for something that was not his fault.”

“Intentionally or not, unavoidable or not, you were compromised. Worse, the whole world is assuming more than is true. He knows that he cannot let it stand unaddressed.”

“I will not accept payment for this scandal. To do so would make me . . .” Complicit. Truly soiled. Perhaps, to his mind, even calculating.

“Then your mother will, in your name. I daresay he intends to do it that way in any case, for appearance’ sake. You will not have any choice.”

Daphne beckoned her to follow into the front sitting room. Celia went to the door, to let Lord Sebastian in.

He entered the drawing room alone, looking sober, determined, and fairly hard. There could be no illusion that this was a simple social call. All the same, Celia’s description had been apt. He did appear magnificent. Tall and dark and commanding, he greeted Daphne and herself.

Daphne invited him to sit. He chose to remain standing. Daphne perched her ethereal self near the window, making clear that she intended to remain as chaperon and negotiator. Audrianna sat as far from Lord Sebastian and the pending humiliation as was possible.

“You have no doubt come because of the rumors that are spreading,” Daphne offered after an awkward pause.

“In part, yes.”

Audrianna could only imagine the other part. Fury, most likely, that his name was being impugned so maliciously, and over the daughter of Kelmsleigh no less.

“My aunt, Mrs. Kelmsleigh, is understandably distraught for her entire family,” Daphne said. “Coming on the heels of the false accusations about her husband—well, she fears they are all hopelessly ruined now. She believes that her younger daughter’s future will be as compromised as Audrianna’s. Aunt Meg sees destitution around the corner for them all.”

Lord Sebastian smiled, but it was not one of his winning smiles. Tight and hard, his expression said that he knew where she was going and he did not care to be led to that point by anyone, including her.

“I take responsibility for the current scandal, Mrs. Joyes. I will not do so for whatever came before the night that I met Miss Kelmsleigh, no matter how much you or her mother want to tie it together.”

“Then let us confine our conversation to the night that you met my cousin, sir, and the attendant consequences.”

“The conversation that I came here to have was with Miss Kelmsleigh, much as I am sure you would be a pleasant partner in any discourse.”

“My cousin is too innocent to begin to know how to have the conversation that is necessary. Ideally a male relative would do this duty, but since there is none, I am obligated to—”

“I am right here, Daphne,” Audrianna interrupted. “I am hearing every word. Please stop referring to me as if I am not even in the room.”

Daphne looked over, as if she had indeed forgotten that Audrianna was in the room.

“Mrs. Joyes, I think that Miss Kelmsleigh will acquit herself well enough today,” Lord Sebastian said. “If she can travel to Brighton alone, confront an unknown man, and brandish a pistol, a brief conversation with me will be a small thing in comparison.”

“I agree that this conversation must be between Lord Sebastian and me,” Audrianna said.

Her rebellion surprised Daphne. “Considering the topic, that is most indelicate.”

“I lost undue consideration for my own delicacy some months ago, dear cousin. Independent women, I have learned, must put such indulgences aside.”

Lord Sebastian moved his attention away from Daphne in such a manner as to indicate dismissal. “The day is fair, Miss Kelmsleigh. Shall we tour the garden again?”

Audrianna planned never to be alone in any garden with this man again. “I would much prefer a turn along the lane, if that is acceptable to you.”

“As you wish.”

She fetched her gray pelisse and lilac shawl from pegs near the library, then joined him at the door where he waited for her. Daphne remained in the drawing room, her thoughts hidden behind a mask of serenity.

The morning damp had long ago dried on the grass that flanked the lane. A warm sun hinted at better weather to come, but a crisp breeze chilled enough that Audrianna was glad for her shawl.

Lord Sebastian paced beside her, his boots crunching the twigs littering the ground. His serious countenance suggested that he did not care for the day’s mission, and resented that courtesy obligated him to offer apologies, concern, and the acceptance of blame.

Audrianna glanced back at the shrinking house. She assumed that she would see Daphne at a window, keeping watch. No fair head showed there, however.

“Matters have taken an unfortunate turn,” Lord Sebastian finally said. “The scandal grows. I have let the truth of my wound be known, but as with Sir Edwin and the innkeeper, the truth sounds fictional compared with more commonplace explanations.”

“I have seen some allusions to it in the papers, so I am aware of this. It was good of you to come and warn me, however.”

“It is, I regret to say, on everyone’s lips.”

“It is not fair at all. However, life often is not. I will live this down as I have the other misfortunes in my life, and I am sure that you will as well.”

“You are too understanding.”

“If this were the normal sort of compromise, I doubt I would be. However, the most peculiar circumstances attend our situation, and I think that the normal rules do not apply.”

“The world does not care what you or I think, Miss Kelmsleigh.”

“I find that I do not care one way or the other what the world thinks anymore, so it is even.”

“That is very brave of you. And very foolish.”

Her moral satisfaction in doing the right thing passed in a snap. Irritation took its place. She had just let this man off the hook, and he now insulted her.

“You should be glad for my foolishness, and not scold, sir. Daphne and my mother hatched a plan to demand compensation from you. Had we not taken this turn, and had I not insisted that we speak alone, I think that you would be a good deal poorer by now.”

“Mrs. Joyes would have negotiated to no avail. I will make no payment.”

“Of course you won’t. You are not guilty. Why should
you
pay?”

Her emphasis made him smile sardonically. “Oh, I will pay, Miss Kelmsleigh. One way or another, there will be an accounting. However, laying out a sum of money to you and your family is the least promising alternative.”

“Then we are agreed. We will brave it out and pay what we must to the court of gossip, and that will be that. Come, let us return to my cousin and make that clear, and be done with all of this.”

She turned on her heel toward the house. A firm hold on her arm stopped her after the first step.

“You misunderstand, Miss Kelmsleigh.”

She looked down on that gloved hand that so easily, and discourteously, controlled her movement. The memory flashed of him doing this in the garden, and where that had led. She ventured a glance at his face and thought she detected his own fleeting memory in the way his eyes warmed for a second.

He let her go, but his own stance, now blocking the lane, made it clear they would not be returning to Daphne just yet.

“Five years ago, even two, I would have done it your way,” he said. “Or even your cousin’s way. Today I cannot afford to. My character has been insulted and my honor badly impugned.” He removed a paper from his pocket. “This is what I mean.”

She took the sheet and unfolded it. It bore a crude, ribald engraving. A woman who looked vaguely like herself sat on a bed in dishabille with one breast already bare, resisting the groping embrace of a man who looked a lot like Lord Sebastian. Outside a window one could see the sign of the Two Swords. Beneath it, vaguely visible in the moonlight, were half-buried kegs of gunpowder.

She kept staring at that bare breast. “This is shocking. I knew Mr. Trotter had put a picture on my sheet music, but it was not anything like this.”

“Mr. Trotter is the least of it. The print houses compete with each other, and worse than this can be bought for mere pennies.”

She handed him back the engraving. “Perhaps I should demand compensation after all, if I am being shown so scandalously.”

“That would solve nothing. It would only confirm the worst rumors, and be an admission of guilt on my part.”

“So, it is hopeless all around. Thank you for being honest with me. I think the only choice is for me to go live somewhere else.” She made a little laugh to hide her dismay. “Brazil, perhaps.”

She ducked around him and strode toward the house. She did not want to converse with him anymore. That engraving made her face heat whenever she pictured it. She did not begin to know what “worse than this” meant. She feared that her likeness was now doing the most obscene things on a thousand images.

Twigs crunched firmly behind her. “Miss Kelmsleigh, it was not my intention to come here today, impart bad news, and leave you distressed.”

“How could I not be distressed?” she snapped over her shoulder.

Again that gloved hand on her arm. “Stop. Listen to me. Allow me to speak, please.”

His hold gave her no choice except to stop. She did not face him, however, but instead watched the house. She did not think she could see his face again without also seeing that engraved Lord Sebastian leering dangerously while he caressed her engraved nakedness.

“We are both compromised, Miss Kelmsleigh. We will both pay. The accounting will be much less, however, if we marry.”

For a breathless moment the world stilled. Even the dead leaves ceased fluttering along the lane. Her brain emptied, unable to accommodate what he had just said.

Then she understood him all too well. She turned to face him.

“You jest, of course.”

“Not at all. It is the only solution that I see. It is much better than paying you off like some milkmaid I got with child. As the daughter of a gentleman, it is your due. But for our unfortunate history, you would be expecting it, and so would your mother and cousin.”

“Our unfortunate history—you do have a politician’s way with words, sir—would make such a match comical. The print shops will be busy for years.”

“A wedding will make our association so commonplace that the scandal will blow over before the start of the season. It will continue the fiction begun with Sir Edwin at the Two Swords. Our indiscretion will be known as an amorous one, not cynical and base.”

“Very neat
for you
. You will be absolved of having coerced me, but I will still be a woman who granted her favors to a man before marriage. Worse, to a man who hounded her father to his grave. No, thank you. I prefer to go to Brazil.”

His hand sliced the air with impatience. “Please be serious. You are not going to go to Brazil. You will end up living here the rest of your life, afraid to show your face in town, barely living down the scorn of the local people. You will be unable to give music lessons because of your notoriety and you will be completely dependent on your cousin. This property will become a cloister in which you age and die.”

His cruel, blunt predictions came as slaps to her face. She had no trouble imagining the limited, bleak existence he described. A tide of fearful desolation submerged her self-righteous ire.

“You play to win, I see,” she said.

“When I must, yes.” He stepped closer so her nose pointed at his chest. “Come now. Marriage to me won’t be so bad,” he said more gently. “You will want for nothing and live as you choose.” His soft glove lifted her chin so she gazed on his face. “And we want each other, odd though you may find that. Pleasure goes a long way to making marriage tolerable for a woman.”

She hated that he knew that he affected her. She wished his face did not awe her and that her heart did not do that silly jig while she looked in his eyes.

His head dipped and his lips touched hers. He lingered long enough to ensure the arrows began scurrying. He deliberately reminded her of the overwhelming sensations in the garden.

She allowed it, half-hoping he would make her stupid again. Only this was not a surprise in a garden, and she could not forget who she was this time.

She saw lights of desire and victory in his eyes when he stopped the kiss and looked down at her. She stepped back, away from his body and hold, and faced him squarely. An unnatural calm swept her.

“Probably you are correct, Lord Sebastian, and I do not have the courage to leave all that I know behind to seek a new life in a distant land. I still have a choice, however.”

“Of course you do.” He did not believe that. She could see he assumed it could only go one way.

“Please do not patronize me, sir. I do have a choice. A more important one than you pose. I can live the sad existence that you describe, but in doing so, I can ensure that you lose your influence in government and society. Or I can live in luxury by marrying a man who used his position to do my father and my family great harm. I would say that the honorable decision is clear, wouldn’t you?”

He displayed no astonishment. No anger. He just looked at her.

She strode away. “Good day to you, Lord Sebastian.”

A
udrianna decided to devote herself to finding the Domino. He still might hold the key to clearing her father’s name. There was also the smallest chance that he might confirm to the world that the assumptions behind the scandal were a lie.