Something Sinful (27 page)

She’d noticed that before, that he liked to touch her. Every time he did so now, after what had happened last night, her heart beat faster. “That’s not very confidence-inspiring.”

“Hm. What I
do
know is that the more people who know about this, the greater the chances are that someone will decide they would enjoy a war with China or an international incident involving my family. All they would need to do is toss a torch onto the roof.”

“Hence the dozen armed men lurking about.”

“Exactly.”

She studied his profile for a moment. Every time she gazed at him warmth rushed through her. After last night, the idea of being married to Charlemagne Phillip Griffin didn’t seem so terrible—even with the very high-profile life she would have to live, and the lack of freedom it would entail. Now, though, he was the one who had to decide whether they continued with their betrothal or not. Her behavior had been as unacceptable in Delhi as in London, and of course there would be consequences. Until she knew what the consequences could—would—be, she would have to enjoy this soaring feeling, regardless of whether it was just the result of a very satisfying evening or an anticipation of a life together.

“I’m going with you tomorrow,” she stated. “To St. James’s Park.”

“No, you’re not.” He gestured at his secretary, Roberts, who hurried over. “Is Farlow clear that no one is to have access to the warehouse without my direct approval?”

“Yes, my lord. He’ll have three men here at all times until he hears differently.”

“Good.”

As soon the secretary left, Sarala pulled her hand free from Shay’s. “Do you really think you could stop me?”

“No, but I keep hoping you’ll take pity on my overburdened nerves and stay somewhere safe.”

She smiled despite her determination not to. “So you’re worried about me?”

He took a last look around and started back to the coach with her, holding his hand out to her again. She took it; there didn’t seem to be any sense in denying to herself that she craved his touch at least as much as he did hers.

“I’m not so much worried,” he answered, “as I am…aware. Honestly, when you’re anywhere in the vicinity I want to strip your clothes off and make love to you again. It’s rather distracting.”

“Oh, good heavens.” Heat speared down her spine to between her thighs. “Then you’ve thought about—I mean, you said you wanted a day or two to consider—what you found out—”

“I want to marry you,” he said, stopping to face her.

“Is this because you truly want to marry me, or because a Griffin would rather suffer through an unhappy marriage than cause a scandal by calling off a wedding?”

Charlemagne released her hand to summon her coach. She’d annoyed him; she could see that in his still expression. Perhaps she was harping on the same note, but for God’s sake, in all her dreams she and her mysterious, unseen husband had been happy. For him the debate might not have signified, but for her it would be a close choice between being ruined and being married miserably.

“Our engagement party is going to be a week from Thursday,” he said finally, handing her up into the coach. “Sebastian asked me to set a wedding date before then so he can announce it that night.”

“Shay, you can’t just ignore this. I want—”

“I told you that I wanted to marry you, Sarala. Take that for what it is: a statement that I would like to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t say such things lightly. In fact, according to my niece I’m taking it too seriously. All I’m supposed to do is fight a dragon and carry you off in my arms.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t come tomorrow. I’ll call on you afterward and let you know how the negotiation went.”

He could only do that if he was successful. Sarala grabbed his sleeve. “But what if something happens to you?”

“Then you won’t have to worry about my reasons for wanting to marry you,” he said, flashing her a grin.

For a moment she scowled at his back, but that obviously wasn’t having any effect on his thick head. Blowing out her breath, she sat back in the coach as Jenny and Warrick joined her, the latter informing the coach driver to take them back to Carlisle House.

“What do you think, Mr. Warrick?” she asked him after a moment.

“That Roberts fellow is a bit high in the instep,” her father’s business manager replied stiffly, “but he seems to have a grasp on events. I could wish that Captain Blink had been more straightforward with me, but considering that those Chinese fellows have threatened to behead him and drag Lord Charlemagne off to China in chains, I think your father will be quite pleased that we extricated ourselves so easily.”

Her heart stopped. “What did you just say?”

“I—”

“They want to drag Lord Charlemagne off in chains? He never said anything about that!”

Warrick’s cheeks reddened. “Then I apologize. I certainly wouldn’t have said anything if—”

“Men,” she growled.

Her first instinct was to turn the coach around and confront Shay. She doubted she would get any more information than he’d given her previously, though—she’d learned that much about him, anyway. She could tell herself that she was angry with him for keeping information from her, but beyond that, terror and anxiety pulled at her. If something should happen to him…

Sharp worry closed her throat. She’d begun to make friends again because of Shay. She’d begun to find her footing in what was to her a foreign country because of him. Her heart leaped whenever she caught sight of him, and his kisses could curl her toes. She, who’d given up on love before she’d ever turned eighteen, suddenly felt inspired to pursue it again—and that was all because of Charlemagne Griffin. With him, her life would be…empty.

“My lady, do we continue?” Jenny asked.

“Yes, we do.” She needed to go home and change her gown into something more proper for making a call on someone. And then she needed to go see Eleanor. She hoped the sister would have an insight about how to deal with the brother.

A curricle stood in her front drive, and she frowned as she recognized the bay gelding waiting in the harness. Lord DeLayne seemed to have nothing better to do than pester her father. While Mr. Warrick hurried off to his office, she and Jenny headed for the stairs and her bedchamber. She hoped DeLayne would never know she’d returned home.

“Where did you run off to?” her mother asked, emerging from one of the sitting rooms as Sarala reached the first landing.

“I had to meet Shay about some business,” she replied, glossing over the details but pleased that she didn’t have to lie about what she’d been doing.

“Well, I have some news for you.” The marchioness held up a letter. “Firstly, His Grace the Duke of Melbourne has invited us to luncheon the day after tomorrow to discuss your betrothal soiree and your wedding. Finally that man is seeing reason, and I tell you it’s about time. I thought I was going to have to challenge him to a duel to get him to listen to me.”

The duke had actually issued an invitation to them? “That’s very gentlemanly of him,” she offered.

Lady Hanover frowned. “That’s all you have to say? As I said before, you have to show more enthusiasm, Sarala. We do not want to appear ungrateful.”

“Yes, Mama,” she said dutifully, if without much feeling. “I’m very pleased.”

“You’re impossible. That’s what you are. And Lord DeLayne is here to see you. I told him I had no idea where you were or when you would return, but he insisted on waiting. Now
he
is a gentleman. Make certain you invite him to your soiree.”

“Yes, Mama. Where is he?”

“Playing whist with your father in the library.”

“Thank you, Mama. I’ll go see to him.” She continued up the stairs.

“And ask him to stay for dinner,” the marchioness called after her.

“Yes, Mama.”

Both men looked up as she rapped on the open library door. “
Beti
,” her father said, smiling. “Is everything in place for tomorrow?”

She just barely refrained from glancing at DeLayne. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Splendid. I’ve been telling John about our adventures.”

“Yes,” the viscount agreed. “Chinese swordsmen and stolen imperial silk. It’s almost too incredible to believe.”

Damnation.
She’d never expected that her father would be such an indiscriminate gossip. “The tale is more exciting than the actual event, I’m afraid,” she lied, remembering what Shay had said about the dangers of the story spreading.

DeLayne pushed to his feet. “Oh, I don’t know about that. But don’t worry; no one will hear about any of this from me.”

Sarala inclined her head, not feeling particularly relieved. “I’m glad we can count on your discretion.”

“Of course. I came to see you this afternoon because I had a letter from Captain Amunford,” he continued. “I wondered if I might share it with you.”

She liked Charles Amunford, one of the unit commanders stationed in Delhi. “Yes, please.”

He gestured her out the door and fell in behind her. “How about the garden? It’s a very nice afternoon.”

Downstairs Blankman pulled open the front door, and they walked around to the side of the house. “May I see the letter?” Sarala asked.

He cleared his throat. “There isn’t one, actually.”

She folded her arms, utterly unsurprised. “I didn’t think so. Good day, Lord DeLayne.” Sarala turned back to the house.

“I wanted an excuse to talk with you, Sarala.”

She only stopped because he didn’t move after her and didn’t try to grab hold of her. “About what?”

With a grimace he sat on a partly rusted metal garden chair. “I wanted you to know that you don’t have anything to fear from me.”

“I don’t fear anything from you, John,” she returned, pleased by her own calm, matter-of-fact tone. The six years she’d spent helping negotiate prices for her father’s business had definitely stood her in good stead.

“I mean, I think it’s grand that you’ve caught the interest of a Griffin. You couldn’t aim higher than that if you tried. Well done.”

“I wasn’t hunting or fishing or whatever it is you’re metaphorizing. It happened, and I’m very happy.” Or she would be, if she could convince herself that Shay wanted to marry her because he wanted to marry her, and that he wasn’t merely doing his gentlemanly duty or working to come out the victor in their very personal negotiation.

“And that’s why I’m glad for you. And that’s why I wanted to assure you that I won’t do anything to put a brick in your road.”

Sarala didn’t move, despite the sudden hard pounding of her heart. “Considering that you’ve twice mentioned how you won’t make trouble, I assume you mean to. What do you want, John?”

He put a hand to his chest. “That’s rather unpleasant, Sarala. We’re simply old friends, and as such I know one or two…personal things about you. Things I would never relate to anyone. I just want to assure you of my discretion. Please don’t push me out of your life
because
we’re old friends.”

“Have I indicated any such thing? I would like us to keep the same relationship we’ve had for the past two years—not seeing one another.” She turned around again and walked back toward the house.

Halfway there DeLayne
did
grab her shoulder. “Don’t be difficult,” he said, pulling her around. “You know what I meant. You now have a very interesting circle of friends. I only want to be included among them, as I used to be.”

She pulled her arm free. “Continue following my father about as you have been, and you shouldn’t have a problem meeting a fair number of peers.”

The viscount shook his head. “Not good enough.”

Her uncertainty began to spin into anger. “Make do, John. I don’t want to see you every time I turn around.”

“Friends help friends. And now you’ve become acquainted with the bluest-blooded nobles in London. Without your guidance, I might well end up knowing only the Duke of Melbourne and Charlemagne Griffin, for example. I’d hate to have to spend all my time chatting with them and no one else.”

Black panic clawed at her. That was what DeLayne wanted, of course. That was how he did things—charm, and if that didn’t work, veiled threats. “Chat with Charlemagne about whatever you choose,” she said stiffly. “My only suggestion is that you stand well away from him when you do so. I’ve seen him box.”

DeLayne gazed at her for a long moment. “I suppose we could discuss where we’ve traveled in our lives, and who has been where. I believe I’ve been some places well before anyone else, for instance. Whether anyone else has been there after me or not, I don’t know.”

Sarala struggled to keep breathing evenly. “As I said before, do as you will. Good day.” Jaw clenched, she backed away from him.

“He’s a Griffin, my love. Do you think he would ever settle for a bundle of used goods? Especially if the rest of London were to discover such a thing?”

That would destroy her relationship with Shay. However staunchly he might wish to stand with her, the rumors would hurt him, and the Griffins. From his heated questions about who her lover had been, she had no idea what he might do in return. Regardless, even the thought of it made her simply want to curl up and die.