A Season to Be Sinful (36 page)

That is really too bad of you, mlord, she said stopping him mid-stride with her sternest look. It is yet another example of your impoverished sense of humor and sets a poor standard for the boys.

Sherry brought his back foot up to meet the forward one and stood as though at attention. You misunderstand. My purpose was but to show these fine fellows how easily they might be caught out. He glanced at the boys. Did I not say she had eyes in the back of her head? I offer proof of it now.

Pinch chortled. Sure, an we knew that!

Midge was gleeful. She caught ye fairly, mlord.

And er just moonin about, Dash said. Shed ave stopped ye when ye put a finger to yer lips otherwise.

Lily flushed, but Sherry was intrigued by this last bit of intelligence. He regarded Dash thoughtfully. Mooning about? Was she?

Oh, yes, mlord. All dreamy like. He tilted his head to one side and stared vacantly toward the world map at the head of the schoolroom. Parting his lips, he offered a breathy little sigh. As his thin chest heaved, he wrapped his arms around himself.

My, Sherry said, much impressed with this mimicry. You belong on the stage, Master Dash.

He belongs under the palm of my hand, Lily said under her breath. Since she had never raised more than an eyebrow at them, no one was particularly concerned by her observation. Sherry, in fact, chuckled. The dark look she gave him was blithely ignored. You should not encourage them.

Sherry merely grinned. Lady Rivendale is making plans to go to the village this afternoon, he told the boys. And I am here to say she is desirous of the company of three young gentleman. Do you know any?

Im quite certain they do not, Lily said wryly. Really, my lord, how will they ever learn if her ladyship is forever indulging them with treats and trips?

Time spent with Aunt Georgia is an education unto itself.

Im sure. She regarded the boys a moment. They were sitting at attention, hands folded on the table, knees and feet perfectly aligned under it. Here was proof that unholy innocence was not simply an oxymoron. Go on, she said. And, pray, conduct yourself in a manner that will bring no embarrassment to her ladyship.

The haste with which the scoundrels vacated the schoolroom bordered on unseemly.

Sherry gave Lily a sidelong glance. I was afraid you would not let them leave.

Lily put out an arm as he began to advance on her. No, my lord. No. I am perfectly serious. No.

What are you saying no to?

The glint in your eye. She took one step backward. Then another. You are a villain to come here and disturb my lessons.

Disturb? There you are in the wrong of it. I came to teach you a lesson.

Lily felt the window at her back. Her arm was still stiffly extended, but now her palm lay flat against Sherrys chest. You must not kiss me here.

Kiss you? My dear Miss Rose, that is the very least of what I intend to do.

Eyes widening, feeling a shade desperate, Lily looked for some avenue of escape. She glanced to her right and left, then saw she might evade him by ducking low.

Sherry pivoted to one side and showed her the path was clear to the door. I am all for a merry chase.

The look Lily gave him was meant to pin him where he stood. She noticed he seemed oblivious to it. There was nothing for it but to make a full confession. I was mooning, Sherry, and I cannot thank you for making me admit it. It is lowering enough that the scoundrels saw me and tattled.

Sherry took immediate advantage of Lilys falling arm and moved in. He placed his hands on the window, bracing himself on either side of her shoulders. His lips twitched. I should like to hear more. Please say there is more.

Well, you figured largely in my imaginings.

That sounds promising.

And I simply couldnt think of anything else. There, I have said it. You cannot kiss me here because it will not end there, and I will never be able to teach in this room again for thinking about it.

He grunted softly, not terribly sympathetic. Then perhaps you can appreciate how difficult it is for me to attend to correspondence at the desk in my library.

Lilys knees sagged. The heels of her hands rested on the windowsill and kept her upright. Do you see, Sherry? I am liquid. You really must not touch me, else I will become a puddle.

Now there is an argument that convinces. Although his tone was mocking, he was not proof against the appeal in her eyes. Oh, very well. I cannot be gracious about it, however, and you shouldnt expect it of me.

Finding a measure of strength had returned to her legs, Lily pushed herself up a fraction. Are you pouting?

He considered it for a moment. Yes, I believe I am.

Lilys laughter was cut short by Sherrys sudden shift in attention from her to some point beyond her shoulder. She turned around as he straightened and looked for what had caught his eye on the landscape.

An eddy of dust rose up from the road where two riders were approaching from the south. Except for the obvious difference in the color of their mounts, they were indistinguishable from each other at their present distance from the house. They rode with their heads bent, the tails of their black frock coats flapping behind them. Neither possessed an enviable seat.

Do you know them? Lily asked, looking back at Sherry.

Yes. Sighing, he stepped away from the window. I will not be long with them.

Sherry? Lily could see that everything about his demeanor had changed. It was suddenly difficult to remember that he had been teasing her so effortlessly only moments earlier. Will you be all right?

He nodded. It is nothing. An annoyance, really. Bending his head, he touched his brow to hers. Tell me where Ill be able to chance upon you later.

She could have pointed out that if she told him, it would hardly be true that he could chance upon her. He was asking her to participate in her own ravishment. Honesty compelled her to admit she was naught but looking forward to it. The music salon. I should like it if youd play for me.

Certainly. After kissing her chastely on the crown of her head, Sherry departed the schoolroom.

At Sherrys request, Mr. Wolfe showed the visitors to the gallery and brought them refreshment. Sherry did not join them immediately, but rather let them cool their heels in what was perhaps Granville Halls least comfortable room for doing so. There was space enough for pacing the floor, but as this could only be accomplished under the watchful eyes of every Grantham who had come to the title before Sherry, it was not particularly restful. The portraits of the former viscounts were famous for the way their eyes seemed to behold one who was beholding them. Most guests to Granville reported an uneasy admiration for the impressive collection, which included portraits by Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Hogarth, and Daniel Mylens, who was once court painter to Charles I.

When Sherry judged they had waited long enough, he pushed open the doors from the adjoining drawing room and greeted them.

Forgive me for keeping you. This was said merely as a matter of form. Sherry did not mean it, and he expected them to know it. Moreover, he did not explain his absence. This also showed a lack of regard for his visitors that he wanted to underscore. You have been made sufficiently comfortable, I hope.

Sufficiently, the taller of the pair said. He was standing at the rooms midpoint, just to the left of the fireplace mantel. Directly over his head was the portrait of the third Viscount Sheridan, a man of enormous appetite who required a considerably larger canvas to do justice to his girth.

He glanced above him, then offered Sherry a sardonic smile. I had to stand here to get away from him.

Then pray he does not fall on you, Gibb.

The man known as Gibb shrugged and remained where he was. He was taller even than Sherry, more hollowed out in his features. A light layer of dust clung to his clothes, but he was still nattily turned out in fawn riding breeches, a crisply folded stock, and Hessians.

In contrast, his traveling companion looked slovenly, though this was more a matter of the mans nature than a consequence of the journey from London. Mr. Conway had a robust frame that was not favored by the current fashion. No corset, no matter how sturdy the whalebone stays, could reshape his barrel chest or slim the thick waist. He sat sprawled on the chaise longue, one leg stretched toward the floor, the other set carelessly on the damask fabric. His frock coat was missing a button, and his loosened stock lay limply against his shirt. His eyelids were raised only to half-mast.

Pray, do not think I will permit you to sleep there, Con, Sherry said. I can suggest an inn in the village suitable for that purpose, however.

Grunting softly, James Conway roused himself enough to reveal a pair of indigo irises.

Gibb picked up his tumbler of whisky from where it rested on the mantel. He tilted his head in Conways direction. He has a toothache.

Then allow me to recommend someone to look at it. Mr. Briggs. He is the innkeeper in the village.

Conway pressed his cool crystal tumbler against his jaw and smiled weakly.

Sherry regarded Gibb again. I hope you mean to state your purpose quickly.

Actually, Sherry, I wagered Con that you would refuse to see us. It is more than surprising we were offered libation.

You will recall that I was gone from home when you arrived, Sherry lied. And the libation is hemlock.

Gibb grinned, though on his thin face the effect was a trifle ghoulish. Conway could not muster more than a sour smile.

Well? asked Sherry.

Its Liverpool, Gibb said. The prime minister has specifically requested your services.

Surely someone informed him that I am out of it.

He wants Michel Ney, Sherry.

Le Rougeaud ? Sherry made a scoffing sound. Neys widely used sobriquet referred to not just the flaming color of his hair but the ferocity of his temper. No, I wont deliver him to Liverpool. Let the French have him.

The people love him.

Didnt Napoleon call him the bravest of the brave? The last man to leave Russian soil, fighting every step of the wayall of it backward? Certainly they love him. Ney had been named a marshal of France under Napoleon, and the man was so admired by the men he led that when Bonaparte was exiled to Elba, the Bourbon king allowed Ney to retain his rank and position.

Conway lifted the tumbler away from his cheek for a moment. He betrayed his peopleand his men. He looked to Gibb to finish the rest of it.

We know that when Boney left Elba it was Ney they sent to secure his surrender. Gods truth, Sherry, the man promised Louis hed bring Boney back in an iron cage. He might have meant it at the time, but when he saw Napoleon he laid down his sword and joined his fight again. That decision eventually cost thousands of lives. There never should have been a Waterloo.

I dont intend to argue in favor of the mans release, Gibb. A public trial is what the French deserve. They need someone to stand in Boneys place. If he is banished, then they can vent their spleen on Ney.

That is precisely what concerns us, Gibb said. We dont think they will have the stomach for it.

Badly mixed metaphors aside, what evidence do you have to suggest they wont put him to trial?

It aint the trial thatll be the problem, Con mumbled. Its the goddamn execution theyll fumble. He winced as pain spiked. Ney should have my tooth. Hed put a pistol to his own head.

Gibb knocked back his drink and set his tumbler down. There might be a better way to set the thing before you, Sherry, but Cons distilled it to the essentials. Ney will no doubt be afforded a trial, but it will not astonish if his fellow marshals form the tribunal. They might find him guilty of taking Napoleons side when he should have captured the bastard, but can they execute him? He was one of them. They made him their spokesman last year and gave him the unenviable charge of going to Boney and recommending his abdication. Ney did it, clearly not for himself but for what everyone believed was the good of France and the survival of what was left of the army. Less than a year later, when Napoleon escaped Elba, hes askedthis time by his kingto perform an almost identical task. Do you think the other marshals are not sympathetic?

Sherry shrugged. It matters not a whit to me. Did I not already say I am out of it?

Waterloo, Sherry. English lives were forfeit. Allies lost. Ney betrayed all of us when he took Napoleons side after Elba.

Perhaps the target should be Boney. He saw Gibb and Con exchange glances. Ahh, so that is being considered as well. Dangerous stuff, that. He held up one hand, making it clear he did not want to entertain discussion on that count. The less he knew, the better. Why were two of you sent all the way out here to pose the question? I admit, my curiositys piqued.

Con mumbled, Too important to trust just one of us with it.

Sherry frowned, looking from one to the other. No, thats not it. Or not all of it. Theres something youre not telling me. Were you given some instruction in the event I refused the assignment? Should I anticipate spending the rest of my days looking over my shoulder?

Bloody hell, Sherry, Con said. He tossed back his drink then pressed the empty glass against his cheek again. What do you take us for?