Ripe for Pleasure (31 page)

“No, my lord.” He stopped a hairbreadth away, so close she could have sworn she felt the heat of his lips. “I’ve been abducted
twice in the last month by members of your family. A third time is simply too much to ask.”

He rested his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses just touching. His fingers dug into her, and she almost thought
she could feel them tremble. “I’m sorry, Vi. I’m so sorry. My mother, my cousin, my whole blasted family. Damnation. I’m not
any better than the rest of them.”

Viola smiled and kissed him, lips softly molding to his. Now probably wasn’t the opportune time to tell him she rather liked
his mother. That horrifying disclosure could wait.

He pulled her into his lap and swung around so that he was supine on the settee with her half on top of him. Viola balled
up one hand and propped her chin upon it.

“You’ve a leaf in your hair. Two in fact.”

“I came up the ivy.”

“Risking life and limb to save me?”

“Quite literally, only to discover that Rapunzel doesn’t want to be saved from the tower after all.” He let his breath out
in a long, slow exhalation. “What have they offered you? An annuity? A new life on the Continent?”

“If I want, yes.” She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Outwardly he was calm, resigned, but his rapidly
beating heart told a very different story.

“They’ve also offered—”

“Leonidas Roibert Vaughn!”

Viola pushed herself upright as the duchess burst into the room. Leo swung his legs down and sat up, but didn’t rise. His
hand fisted in her skirts, holding her on the settee beside him.

“Hello, Mamma.”

“Did you read the letter I left you?”

“How else would I have known where to come? Or how urgent the need to follow was? I’d have caught you on the road, save for
Beau’s presence. Was that your doing also?”

The duchess made a rude sound in the back of her throat, and her gaze met Viola’s for a brief moment. Viola choked back the
urge to laugh. Had his mother hobbled his pursuit? Such an act did seem to fall within the scope of her genius.

“Mrs. Whedon is still deciding if she wishes to stay or go.” She glared at them both, pushing Viola even closer to laughter.
“And you were commanded to give her the room to make the decision without undue influence.”

Leo stood, towering over his mother. “Mrs. Whedon is
going to be Lady Leonidas before the night is out, so
going,
as you so delicately put it, isn’t an option for her.”

“I highly doubt that, my boy.”

“Eleanor, do stop torturing the children.” The duke appeared behind his wife, his wig replaced with a silk banyan cap.

“We’ve two witnesses now, and no reason to wait.”

The duke’s expression went from benign amusement to furious in a snap. The tassel on his cap swung jauntily beside his ear,
adding an air of the ridiculous to the scene. “You’ll be married in the family chapel like a good Christian, or you won’t
be married at all. Is that clear, Leonidas?”

“You and Mother married over the anvil.”

“Your mother wasn’t—”

The duke caught himself, cheeks flushed with rage or embarrassment. Viola took pity on him. “Your father wasn’t marrying a
notorious strumpet, my lord. Best to put as good a face on it as possible, don’t you agree? Banns would be in very bad taste,
but a priest and a chapel with your family in attendance? I won’t be married in any other fashion.”

Leo swung about, expression harried and confused, like a man who’d been bitten by his own dog. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no. Which is more than you have any right to expect.”

“Not a no.” Leo grinned at her, suddenly looking very much like his mother as he did so.

“What can I say, my lord?” Viola plucked the leaves from his hair. “Your mother wore me down.”

CHAPTER 33

T
he mail coach rocked precariously. Charles winced as the scrawny woman beside him dug her elbow into his bruised ribs as she
flailed to retain her seat. The wound Leo’s bullet had left was a fiery, throbbing reminder to stick to his purpose. A string
of startled oaths erupted from the rooftop passengers, and the same tiresome woman clapped her hands over her ears, pressing
the black silk of her bonnet hard against them.

News of his cousin’s betrothal had reached him via the dowager, precipitating this uncomfortable and harried trip north. He’d
always thought Leo a fool, but this was beyond anything. Bad enough that his cousin had been spoiled and indulged until he
believed the universe centered entirely upon him, but now he was set to besmirch his family name by bestowing it upon a whore.

That the duke and duchess would allow such a thing was beyond reason, beyond understanding. At least Lady Glennalmond had
fully partaken of his horror. Never before had he felt the slightest bit of sympathy with her,
but in this, they were of one mind: The wedding had to be stopped.

She’d paid his passage on the mail, ensuring that he would arrive before the dowager, upon whom the wedding ceremony waited.
He’d promised to unite his voice with Glennalmond’s in protest. To talk sense into Leonidas. To do whatever it took to see
that the wedding didn’t happen.

The coach swayed wildly again, another chorus of oaths bursting forth from the roof. Charles smiled at the discomfiture of
his fellow passengers. Especially the spindly governess who continually poked and prodded him with every bony joint in her
body.

Did Augusta know to what lengths he was willing to go to ensure that Leo didn’t have his way this time? He had an inkling
that she might. She’d been quite emphatic about preventing the wedding and had laid the entire dilemma at Beau’s door, blaming
her for running off and alerting her brother before the duchess had time to get Mrs. Whedon safely out of the country.

And she was right. Something had to be done about Beau as well. She was entirely too cocksure for her own good, a terrible
hoyden who’d bring nothing but shame to her family. Rather like Leonidas, when one thought about it.

And there was still the matter of the prince’s treasure to sort out as well. Charles bent his head to one side, his neck popping
audibly as he stretched. Yes, he and his cousin were due for a serious reckoning, and Leo was going to pay in full for all
the trouble he’d caused.

•     •     •

Viola held her breath as the low rumble of a distant argument erupted into full-blown shouting. The modieste brought in from
Edinburgh to make her wedding gown was frozen in position, lips pinched closed on her pins, fingers holding the silvery drugget
to Viola’s corseted torso. The heat of her fingers leaked through the layers of fabric. The gentle pressure threatened to
send Viola tumbling over.

The duchess and Lady Boudicea were staring at each other, tension evident in their shoulders and necks. The sound of a door
slamming caused everyone to jump. The shouting continued, growing louder, angrier.

“Glennalmond is an ass.” Lady Beau’s voice broke the silence, and Viola gasped for air. The modieste tsked and set a pin.

“Whether it’s true or not, dearest,” the duchess said with a wry tone, “it’s rude to call your eldest brother an ass. Leave
such remarks to Leonidas.”

Lady Boudicea rolled her eyes and Viola gave her a weak smile. The brothers had been at each other’s throats for days. It
was enough to make Viola wish she’d never agreed to postpone the wedding until Leo’s grandmother could be fetched from London.

“Lord Glennalmond has a right to his opinion,” Viola said.

“No, he doesn’t,” the duchess said with a hint of asperity. She closed the ladies’ magazine she’d been idly perusing and tossed
it onto the table beside her. “He has an obligation to accept his father’s authority and to support his decision.”

“And if His Grace were to decide he’d had enough of
this nonsense and sent me on my way? Would Lord Leonidas also have an obligation to accept his father’s authority and decision?”
Viola asked.

The duchess made a rude sound, blowing air out her nose in a little huff. “Yes,” she answered plainly. “Though I doubt very
much that he would.”

“So they’re too similar for their own good?”

“If only they were. No, my dear, they’re as dissimilar as brothers can be, aside from being stubborn, which comes of being
Scottish and entirely too sure of their place in the world.”

“Which comes from being the sons of a duke,” Viola said baldly.

A trill of laughter erupted from the duchess. “Yes, I rather think you understand perfectly. It’s rare that either of them
sets their will against the duke’s, however.”

Viola caught both lips between her teeth. Yes, she understood whom she was marrying. Did Lord Leonidas? If his brother wouldn’t
bend, wouldn’t accept her, could he live with that estrangement? Could their marriage survive it?

“Stop worrying about Glennalmond,” Beau said. “Rosy pictures of family harmony aside, they’ve never been close. Charles was
the bigger loss. To all of us.”

“Beau!”

“Mamma!” Lady Boudicea parroted back. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. And you know it is. If Leo’d brought home an heiress, Glennalmond
would have said she had a squint. If he’d brought home a diamond of the first water, Glennalmond would have found fault with
her dowry. He’s contrary and prickly and downright impossible most of the time.”

“And he’s your brother.”

“I’m well aware of that fact, and I love him—don’t think for a minute I don’t—but half the time I’m not sure he loves me.
And so, Mrs. Whedon, please don’t take his tantrum to heart. When the deed is done and you’re Lady Leonidas, he’ll come round.
I promise.”

“I’m not sure I have any right to hope or expect that he will. He’s not wrong. I
am
a very poor bargain for his brother in the eyes of the world.”

“This isn’t about what the world thinks.” The duchess fixed them both with a steely eye. “This is about family. Glennalmond
will come round, because, however put out he might be at the moment, eventually he’ll remember that family comes first.”

“Either that or Leo will beat some sense into him,” Lady Boudicea said in entirely too cheerful a tone.

CHAPTER 34