The Diabolical Baron (33 page)

She nodded, then walked out the door. The cloud
burst had ended and pallid sunshine shafted down
through the trees as showers of droplets shook from
the leaves. She pulled Richard’s coat around her, shivering with a chill that had nothing to do with tempera
ture. The rest of her life was in her hands, and she
feared that her strength was not equal to the challenge.

Chapter 13

The Hanscombes’ descent on Wildehaven late Wednesday afternoon signaled the start of two
days of upheaval. Lady Hanscombe and Lady Edgeware circled each other like wary cats on neutral terri
tory.

Gina threw herself into her sister’s arms,
bubbling with happy chatter, while her fiancé, Gideon,
followed her around like a love-struck moonling. Sir Alfred eyed the rich acres and fabulous stables with
barely concealed cupidity, elated at the prospect of
such a rich son-in-law.

Jason steeled himself against the invasion with
tight-lipped politeness. While Caroline’s relations might be vulgar, he could be grateful that she wasn’t. Not for the first time, he gave thanks that his mad
wager hadn’t produced a really disastrous bride. He
could not even blame her for standing between him
and Jessica; had it not been for the betrothal, he would
never have found his love again.

The pain of losing her
a second time lay just under the surface of his iron con
trol, but a thread of peace was woven through. There
was comfort in finally understanding why she left,
and knowing she loved him as intensely as he loved
her.

It was a feeble thing to support him for a lifetime.

As Jason pointed out to George Fitzwilliam over a
late brandy on Thursday night, he had won the basic
principle of their bet: his fortune and title had easily
gained him a randomly chosen bride. George cheer
fully conceded the point; he cared little for abstract
ideas. His chief problem at the moment was deciding
whether he should be more enamored of Caroline or
Jessica. On the whole, Caroline’s imminent marriage
made her a safer choice; with Jessica, there existed at
least a possibility that his passion might not remain unrequited. He sighed romantically and said, “You’re
a lucky dog, Jason. Perhaps the hand of the Divine was at work when you made your wager.”

Jason raised an eyebrow ironically and replied,
“What is that cryptic remark supposed to signify?”

“Why, that you and your exquisite bride were Des
tined for Each Other. Since your paths might never
have crossed under ordinary circumstances, the bet
was part of a Higher Flan.” His soulful look was com
posed of equal parts sentiment and brandy.

Jason snorted disdainfully, half-amused, half-
pained. If a Higher Power had involved itself, it
showed a damned unpleasant sense of humor to bring
Jessica so close while keeping her out of his grasp.
“You have been reading too much Byron.”

His friend looked hurt. “One could hardly find a
better leg shackle than Caroline! Her beauty, her grace, her sweetness of disposition ... why, she is a diamond
of the first water!”

Jason suddenly felt very tired. The face he saw in his
dreams was not that of a paragon—merely the most
vital, lovable woman he had ever known. “Perhaps
you should marry her yourself.”

The offer was not quite a jest. If it was money Sir Al
fred wanted, George Fitzwilliam had more than
enough.

But the problem was not the money. It was
Caroline’s ill-timed passion for himself that was caus
ing her aunt’s regrettable attack of nobility.

Even half-disguised, George was not about to fall into that trap. He looked sorrowful and said, “Not fit
to touch the hem of her dress. Content to worship her
from afar.”

Fortunately, Lady Edgeware entered the study be
fore the conversation could deteriorate any further
into mawkishness. George almost choked on his
brandy as he struggled to his feet, since even drink
could not destroy his manners.

She waved a hand in his direction. “You needn’t rise
on my account. Unless of course you are about to re
tire?” The last sentence was accompanied with a
meaningful glare that had the hapless George mum
bling his goodnights and fleeing the room in less than
sixty seconds.

Jason watched his friend’s rout with a dry half-
smile. “I can only hope you are not persecuting my
servants as much as my friends. Would you like some
thing to drink?”

Her ladyship lowered herself into the still-warm
chair so recently vacated. “I’ll have some of the brandy
you hide away from your guests.”

Her nephew silently poured the dark amber fluid
into a glass and passed it to her. She took a deep swal
low and sighed in satisfaction while Jason watched her
through narrowed eyes. Since there was a decanter of
the same brandy in her room whenever she visited, it seemed unlikely she had come merely to drink. She
obviously wanted to discuss something but showed
uncharacteristic hesitation to do so. Suddenly bored,
he prompted her, “Did you wish to say something to
me? A comment on my land management perhaps? Or a criticism of my politics?”

Her chin came up sharply and she glared at him.
“It’s your marriage I want to talk about! Are you really
going to marry that child?”

He raised a dangerous eyebrow. “You disagree with
my choice? I have done exactly what you wished—
found a healthy young woman of respectable birth to
carry on the Kincaid line.”

She scowled. “It’s not her birth that is deficient. It’s her spirit.”

He found himself defending her. “She has strengths
and resources that I doubt you have seen yet.”

“She’s too soft for you, boy—you’ll be bored in a
week. Someone like that aunt of hers would be much
more in your style.”

Jason felt as if a fist had slammed into his stomach.
Had Honoria noticed something in their behavior?
Still, it was an excuse to talk about Jessica. “She’s a glo
rious creature but what makes you think she is my ‘style’? She said once that you disapproved of her
more than any other woman in London.”

“She was a headstrong wench but she’s grown into a
woman of character. She’ll stand up to you, make you
think.” His aunt took another draft of brandy, then
added in a neutral tone, “Besides, I’ve seen how you look at her when you think you are unobserved.”

“Are you proposing I jilt my betrothed to marry her
chaperon? A fine scandal that would make!”

His aunt looked suddenly sad. “It would be quickly
forgotten. A marriage of convenience is well enough if
you have no special preference. But when Kincaids fall
in love, we never get over it. I never did.”

Jason felt acutely uncomfortable at his formidable
aunt’s display of vulnerability. “I didn’t know you
considered love a worthwhile component of mar
riage.”

She shrugged. “I never had a chance to find out for
myself When I met someone who made the blood
shout in my veins, we were both married past redemp
tion and found little joy in it. But it’s not too late for
you. Unless the fool woman won’t have you.”

“You exceed the limits allowed even to opinionated
elderly relations,” he said forbiddingly. He rose,
downing the rest of his brandy in one gulp. “Can I see you to your room?”

“You may not,” she said acidly. “I may be elderly
and opinionated, but I am quite capable of finding my
way around the house I grew up in.”

He nodded indifferently. “In that case, I will see you
on the morrow. Unless you are too foxed to show
yourself then.”

She banged her glass down on the polished ma
hogany table and glared after him as he left the study.

He left feeling mildly pleased at having scored at
least one point on her, but a wave of depression pre
vailed by the time he went to bed. Even the brandy he had consumed could not still his restless twisting and
turning. His mind tormented him with imaginings of
how she would look in his bed, the glorious auburn
sweep of hair patterned across his pillows, her arms
open to receive him ...

Knowing that she was under his own roof was well-
nigh unendurable. He was still tossing at two in the morning when he was disturbed by a small sound at
the door.

For a moment he permitted himself the fantasy that
she had come to him, but the crazy hope died as the
sound resolved itself into a scratching, accompanied
by a distinct “Mre-oo-o-wp!”

He heaved out of the tangled covers and opened the
door before Wellesley could do permanent injury to
the carved panels. His unwelcome guest was half-
grown now, no longer a kitten. The light of the nearly
full moon was so bright in the hallway that he could
see green glints in the hopeful eyes. He exhaled
wearily and considered his options. He could leave the
beast to cry and scratch at the door for the rest of the
night. He could summon his mastiff Rufus and offer
the cat for a snack. He could drop it from the window
and find out if felines were as resilient as generally
supposed.

“All right, then,” he said. “Come on in. But mind you don’t snore.”

While having the cat in his bed in no way compared
with having its mistress, there was comfort in lying
there and hearing friendly purrs from a spot near his
head. He rubbed his face once against the soft fur, then
lay back and relaxed. In a few minutes they were both
asleep.

* * * *

Caroline Hanscombe was a badly frustrated young
woman. For two days she had been attempting private
speech with her father, with a singular lack of success.
He kept slipping off to evaluate the Radford property,
visit an old crony in the neighborhood, or absorb his host’s port in breathtaking quantities, while Caroline
spent much of Thursday and early Friday greeting
guests arriving for the ball. Though Lady Edgeware
was the official hostess, Caroline was the main object of attention and had to make herself continually available. It confirmed her in her belief that becoming a social lioness was not to her taste.

She determined to fight free of her unwanted engagement if at all possible, and had decided on her
strategy. First and most important, she must talk with
her father to find just how desperate his financial
straits were. She would offer him. both her inheritance
from her mother and the money from the music pub
lisher. The latter was not a great deal, but she was
preparing to send off a collection of quartets and trio
sonatas she thought would be acceptable and there
should be some profit from them.

Even if the money were enough to take care of the
worst problems, she knew her father would be reluctant to release her from her daughterly obligations—
she had seen his covetous examination of Wildehaven.
Therefore, the next vital step would be talking to Gina
about her engagement to Gideon. Would her father be able to forbid the marriage even if he tried? Caroline was hazy about the legalities but knew that settlement
papers had been signed. Perhaps that would protect
Gina.

And finally, she would have to speak to Jason. So
cially it was acceptable for a female to end an engage
ment, though a man would be greatly censured for the
same act. Still, she owed him respect and gratitude
even if she didn’t love him.

How would she react if he
dropped his polished detachment and confessed that
he loved her? If he did indeed care, it would be shat
teringly difficult to break the engagement.

Only the
thought of Richard—the slow smile, the harmony of
their minds and interests, the sense of rightness—gave
her courage to go forward. If they were to be together,
it would have to be through her actions.

* * * *

Mid-afternoon Friday had brought her no closer to
her peripatetic parent, so she determined to accost him
that night at the ball. He would have to be in
attendance for hours, so at some point she would carry
him off to a side room if she had to use brute force.

As guest of honor, she’d
been packed off to her room to
rest before the evening’s festivities, so she invited her
sister Gina in for a comfortable coze. It was their first
chance for private speech and there was much to discuss.