The Magic of You (16 page)

If she wanted to pass out her favors to the general public, that was her business, but he wasn’t going to contribute to her downfall. She’d get pregnant eventually and probably wouldn’t even be able to name the father. But some dumb bastard who had fallen for her game was going to get stuck owning up to it, and that person wasn’t going to be him.

And she didn’t really want to get married and end her fun. That was probably a ruse just meant to flatter, since she was so incredibly beautiful. But she had proved tonight how opposed she was to marriage when she had done everything possible to hide herself from Lady Beecham.

He should be relieved. He was relieved. But that didn’t end his problem. As enticing as the girl was, as much as he might want her, he wasn’t going to be drawn into her sensual trap.

“You know,” Drew continued as he wrestled off his boots on the other side of the large bed they were sharing, “despite our numerous complaints against this country, you have to say one thing for the English. They’ve got one hell of an accommodating town in merry old London. Whatever excitement you’re after can be found right here. Why, they’ve got vices I’ve never even heard of.”

“I take it you enjoyed yourself tonight?” Warren said dryly.

“‘Enjoy’ doesn’t half describe it. Boyd and I met this luscious—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Drew.”

“But she was exceptional for the price in the way of talent, and pretty besides, with the loveliest black hair and blue eyes. Reminded me of Amy Malory, though she wasn’t as pretty as our fair Amy.”

“Why the devil do you mention
her
?”

Drew shrugged, unaware that his brother had gone stiff behind him. “Now that you mention it—”

“You mentioned it.”

“Whatever—I’ve had that sweet thing on my mind quite a bit since seeing her again.”

“So get her off your mind,” Warren gritted out. “She’s too young, even for you.”

“The hell she is,” Drew disagreed, still unaware of the dangerous currents he was stirring up. “But she’s the type you’d have to marry, and that’s not my type. Still”—he sighed quite regretfully—“she makes me almost wish I were ready to settle down.”

Warren had heard enough. “Go to bed! And if you snore tonight, I’m going to smother you with your pillow.”

Drew cast a surprised look over his shoulder. “Well, aren’t you in a swell dandy mood. Just my luck to get stuck sharing a room with the family grouch.”

It was the last provocation Warren could stomach for a day filled with them. He came up swinging. Drew ended up sprawled on the floor. He lay there for a moment, fingering his cheek, then lifted his head so he could see his older brother, still sitting in the bed.

“So
that’s
what you missed out on,” Drew said, as if Warren’s testy mood were perfectly understandable now. He chuckled as he pushed himself up to his feet. “Well, come on, then, I’m game.”

Warren didn’t need any further coaxing, Five minutes later, they’d added a few extra charges to the hotel room in the breakage of one chair and the bed frame. Clinton would not be pleased, since he frowned on Warren’s propensity toward brawling. Drew didn’t care one way or the other, always happy to participate in Warren’s favorite form of exercise, and his black eye wouldn’t hinder him, since he wasn’t actively trying to seduce any of London’s young lovelies.

Warren, however, couldn’t have been more pleased with the outcome. He’d deliberately put his mouth in the way of Drew’s fist, and the split lip he’d counted on, and got, would keep him from doing any kissing for the next few days. On the off chance he lost his head again and succumbed to Amy’s so-tempting seductions, the pain from his sore mouth would bring him to his senses.

The exertion had also tamed his temper for the moment, enough that as he settled down next to Drew on the mattress they’d moved out of the wreckage of the bed frame to the floor, he finally recalled that Lady Amy owed him a promise for giving in to her plea not to take on those thieves. Anything he asked for, had been the deal. Somehow she’d made him forget about that afterward, but he wouldn’t forget again. That would be, after all, the end to his problem.

Chapter 19

The business that the Andersons had to attend to the next morning took less time than anticipated, the office Thomas had found yesterday afternoon approved of unanimously by all, the lease agreed upon and signed within the hour. The three-room space needed work, however, but only minor repairs that a carpenter and a painter could accomplish in a matter of days. Clinton and Thomas went off to acquire the furnishings, Boyd to find the laborers.

That left Drew and Warren with time on their hands, and Warren with unwelcome company. He wanted to go by Berkeley Square and have words with Amy, but couldn’t do that with Drew tagging along. He considered picking
another fight with his brother just to get rid of him, but now that he had the means to solve his little problem, his mood was too pleasant for him to feign unpleasantness.

Drew, however, saved him from simply suggesting he disappear, which, knowing Drew, would have had the younger man sticking to his heels the rest of the day instead. Drew, apparently, had other plans himself.

“I’m going ’round to a tailor Derek recommended. This fellow can turn out formal togs in a matter of days for the right price.”

“And what do you need with formal wear here in London?” Warren asked.

“Boyd and I have been invited to a ball at the end of the week. Actually, the invitation included us all, but I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I’m not. And you’ll be sailing by the end of the week,” Warren reminded him.

“What does that matter? I’m still game for a few hours of romancing.”

“Ah, I forgot. You’re famous for kissing and running, so what, indeed, does it matter?”

“A sailor’s bad luck.” Drew grinned unrepentantly. “And you don’t?”

“I don’t make promises to women that I don’t intend to keep.”

“No, they’re too frightened of your damn temper to try and extract any.”

Warren didn’t take the bait, and even put his arm around his brother’s shoulders to confide,
“I’ll give you matching shiners if you insist, but I’d just as soon not.”

Drew laughed. “Got it all out of your system last night, eh?”

“For the time being.”

“Glad to hear it, but of course it won’t last. Your mellow moods never do.”

Warren frowned as Drew left him. Was he that hard to get along with? His crew didn’t think so, or he wouldn’t have kept so many regulars for so many years. He did, of course, have a temper, and there were certain things that easily provoked it. Drew’s constant cheer, for one. His younger brother’s carefree nature simply rubbed him wrong, possibly because he could remember a time, so long ago, when he’d been much the same—before Marianne.

He put it from his mind as he headed for Berkeley Square and an end to another, more pressing irritation. His mood was still good, however, and even improved the closer he got. No more days like yesterday. An end to temptation. He could get back to enjoying this visit with his sister. He could concentrate on opening the newest Skylark office for business. He might even consider acquiring a temporary mistress for the duration of his stay.

Maybe he ought to attend that ball with his brothers after all, just to see what the
ton
had available in the way of easy virtue.

The French ex-pirate, Henri, was the butler for the day, and it took only a few moments
after he answered the door for Warren to learn that he’d come at the wrong time. Georgie was napping. So was Jacqueline. And the other three Malorys in residence had gone out.

Warren’s disappointment was crushing, the good mood he’d finally attained shot down to the lowest dregs. He’d been prepared to have an end to frustration, and here he was beset with it again. He could have waited, of course, but his impatience would only make his mood worse, and if Georgie got up, he’d end up taking it out on her. So he left, but how to kill time in a town he didn’t know?

Well, there was one other thing he’d been meaning to do. An hour later, he’d found the sporting hall he was looking for, made arrangements with the owner at considerable cost for personal instruction, and was discovering, rather quickly, that he knew next to nothing about serious fisticuffs. A brawler was what he’d always been and it had served him nicely—until James Malory.

“Not like that, Yank,” the instructor complained. “That’ll knock the average man on his arse, but if you want him to stay down, do it like this.”

Warren didn’t exactly have the temperament for this kind of criticism, but he was going to put up with it if it killed him. The reward would be the ability to smash his brother-in-law in the face and not get demolished for it.

“You’ve got the body to do considerable damage, but you need to use it properly. Keep ’em up, now, and make use of the power behind your right.”

“Well, fancy this,” uttered a voice Warren recognized all too well. “Any particular reason you’ve gone into training, Yank?”

Warren turned to face James Malory and his brother Anthony, who had come up to the ring, the last two people he cared to see just then. “One,” he said with clear meaning.

James grinned. “D’you hear that, Tony? I do believe the chap is still after my blood.”

“Well, he’s come to the right place to figure out how to go about it, hasn’t he?” Anthony replied. To Warren, he said, “Did you know Knighton trained us both? ’Course, that was quite a few years back and we’ve learned a thing or two since then. Perhaps I’ll give you some instruction myself.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Sir Anthony. I don’t need
that
kind of help.”

Anthony merely laughed as he turned to his brother and said cryptically, “He doesn’t understand. Why don’t you explain it to him while I go and collect my bet from Horace Billings over there.”

“What’d you wager on this time?” James asked.

“Can’t you guess?”

“The sex of my daughter?”

“Her name, old man.” Anthony laughed. “I do know you so well.”

James smiled fondly after his brother before he returned his attention to Warren. “You ought to take him up on his offer. He’s the only man I know who has a chance of beating me, though it’s a slim chance. And despite what you’re thinking, he’ll teach you proper just to see me knocked down. He’s like that, you know.”

Warren had witnessed these two brothers interact enough to realize that James was likely right. He wished he and his own brothers could manage that kind of ribbing without coming to blows.

“I’ll consider it,” he replied curtly.

“Excellent. Now, I’d offer the benefit of my own expertise, to keep things sporting, mind, but your sister would probably accuse me of seeking revenge or some such silly thing, since I wouldn’t be nearly as gentle with you as Tony will. By the by, that’s a splendid cracked lip you’ve got there. Anyone I know?”

“So you can congratulate him?” Warren said testily. James just smiled, so he added, “Sorry to disappoint you, Malory, but it was no more than Drew and I having trouble sharing the same bed.”

“A pity.” James sighed. “The thought of you making new enemies while you’re in town would do wonders for my disposition, it truly would.”

“Then I’ll be sure not to inform you if I make any,” Warren said.

That infernal blond brow cocked. “If? Oh, you will, Yank. You bloody well can’t help it, you’re such a powder keg. You really ought to toughen up that American hide of yours. It pricks much too easily.”

The fact that Warren hadn’t exploded yet—though he was damn close to it—led him to remark with a degree of smugness, “Notice I’m improving.”

“So you are,” James had to agree. “Commendable, truly—but then, I’m in a splendid mood, having hired a nurse for Jack this morning.”

In other words, James wasn’t even trying to be provoking, but Warren didn’t see it that way, and he gritted his teeth over that name. “That reminds me. Georgie suggested I ask you why you named your daughter Jack.”

“Because I knew how much it would irritate you, dear boy. Why else?”

Warren managed to hold onto his temper—barely—to point out in a reasonable tone, “That kind of perverseness isn’t normal, you know.”

James laughed at that. “You expect me to be normal? God forbid.”

“All right, this isn’t the first time you’ve gone out of your way to be irritating, Malory. Care to tell me why you do it?”

James shrugged. “It’s a longtime habit I can’t seem to break.”

“Have you tried?”

James grinned now. “No.”

“Habits have their beginnings,” Warren said. “What started yours?”

“A good question, so put yourself in my place. What would you do if not a bloody thing in life held interest for you, if there was no challenge left in chasing a pretty skirt, and if even the prospect of a bloodletting duel had become positively boring?”

“So you insult people just to see if they’ll erupt into violence?”

“No, to see what bloody asses they can make of themselves. You do very well, by the way.”

Warren gave up. Talking to James Malory took every ounce of patience and self-control he possessed, and he didn’t have an abundance of either to begin with. It must have shown in his expression, because James added, “Sure you don’t want to have a go at me now?”

“No.”

“You will be sure to tell me when you change your mind, won’t you?”

“You may depend upon it.”

James laughed in hearty approval. “Sometimes you’re as amusing as that bounder Eden. Not often, but you do have your moments.”

Chapter 20

With Henri storing Mrs. Hillary’s trunks in the attic—the newly hired nurse had only just settled into her room next to the nursery—Amy once again opened the door for the arrival of all five Anderson brothers. This time they were expected. Georgina had invited her brothers to dinner and intended to share it with them in the formal dining room. There’d been a bit of a row with James over that decision, since he’d insisted she wasn’t ready to leave her room yet, but they had compromised by having him carry her downstairs.