Barbara Pierce (23 page)

Kilby was silent.

Now that he knew for certain that his rival for her affections was not a rival at all, Fayne was determined to convince her his offer was sincere. “I could only think of two reasons why you might reject my offer of marriage.”

She blinked slowly at him. “Only two?”

So she thought at the moment that he was an arrogant arse. He could charm her out of her ire. “I thought you might have rejected me because you loved Lord Darknell.”

Kilby turned away and sighed. The quarrel with the viscount had been painful. “Not the love he demanded,” she said, sounding miserable.

“Good,” he said, ignoring her gasp. “Then it means you are free to love
me
.”

She had no acerbic response to his arrogant statement.

Fayne slid his hand up to her face, and adjusted it so she was forced to meet his steady gaze. “That leaves my family. You are worried that they will never accept you as my duchess since they believe you were my father’s mistress.”

“In part,” Kilby conceded, her lip quivering with emotion.

“Kilby, what is it?” he asked, suspecting there was more to the meeting with his father than he had guessed. “Does it have something to do with why my father was in your private sitting room the night he died?”

She nodded and covered her eyes with her hand. “Have you ever wondered why Lady Quennell is so determined to help me find a husband this season?”

“Not really. Your chaperone does not seem any more mercenary than the other matrons sponsoring a daughter or niece this season,” he teased, hoping she would smile.

If anything, Kilby appeared even gloomier.

She removed her hand from her eyes and took a deep breath. “It all began when word reached us that my parents had drowned.”

He listened without interrupting as she told him about her brother, Archer, and his cruel accusations that stole her father from a grieving daughter, and severed a blood tie that prevented a brother from easing his lust with the one person forbidden. Fayne surmised the details she was reluctant to speak aloud, and the revelation made him want to kill her brother. She spoke of her fears for Gypsy, and the viscountess’s plans to find a man outside Nipping’s influence. Kilby also admitted her own plans to examine her mother’s past through the eyes of people who knew her. She wanted proof that her brother was lying as she had suspected.

“And my father?” he asked after she was finished.

Kilby idly circled his flat nipple with her finger. “He claimed to know both my parents. Your father was the one who suggested visiting me while Priddy was out. I desired privacy, and the meeting was respectable,” she added defensively. “We were in the drawing room. I had to get something from my sitting room and—”

Fayne took her fingers, which were stroking his chest, and brought them to his lips. “The old scoundrel followed you upstairs.” His father would not have been able to resist an opportunity to coax a lady from her private sitting room into her bed.

Kilby looked relieved by his understanding. “Yes. He tried to kiss me, but I moved away.”

Fayne laughed until the muscles in his stomach ached. “I would have thought less of him if he hadn’t.”

She closed her fingers around his hand. “And then he just collapsed without warning. His coloring distressed me and his breathing was rapid. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand. I think he was trying to reassure me.” Kilby shook her head sadly. “I am so sorry, Fayne. Your father was gone by the time one of the servants heard my cries for help.”

She buried her face in his neck and cried. Fayne’s own
eyes burned. His family’s pact with Lady Quennell for secrecy had placed a guilty burden on Kilby. He supposed she blamed herself because she had not been able to save the man who had died in her arms. Nor could she explain to anyone the reasons why he had been there in the first place.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured into her hair. He pushed back her head and kissed the tears streaking her face. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What?” she croaked, her voice strained by her tears.

“If my father had to die without his family at his side, it comforts me to know the last face he saw was yours, my pretty little wolf,” Fayne said, meaning every word of it.

They held each other until the sunrise chased away the shadows in the room.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, madam,” Archer said, storming into the Quennell breakfast room unannounced. Usually immaculate, his clothes were wrinkled and he had a day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw. His disposition was equally brusque. “Where is Kilby?”

Archer shouldered past the two footmen who tried to keep him from approaching the table where the viscountess sat alone. He braced his hands on the surface of the table and glowered. Priddy refused to be intimidated by the young marquess. Carefully setting aside her fork, she said with false cheer, “Good morning, Archer. Pardon me for saying so, but you look absolutely bedraggled from your journey. If you like, I could summon my butler and have him prepare a room and a hot bath for you.”

“I did not come here for pleasantries, Viscountess. I came for Kilby,” he said flatly.

Priddy’s fingers fluttered to her throat. Her throat constricted painfully at the thought of losing Kilby so soon. She felt that she was so close to fulfilling her plans for her
young charge. “Why would you want to take her away from London? The season has barely begun. Besides, your sister is enjoying herself immensely. It would be cruel to tear her away from her new friends.”

“New friends?” the man bellowed, causing Priddy to involuntarily flinch. “I know what you are about, madam. You thought you had deceived me, but no longer. Bringing Kilby to town had nothing to do with her acquiring a social polish that you claimed she lacked. Your true aim was to see her betrothed to a gentleman of your choosing.”

Priddy had never doubted Archer’s intelligence. He was, after all, his father’s son. She had simply hoped his own selfish motives would keep him believing her simple subterfuge until she had whisked Kilby safely out of his foul hands.

“My dear boy,” she said, intentionally belittling him. “No one has misled you. What did you expect would happen when Kilby was introduced to polite society? Your sister is a charming and beautiful young lady. I thought you would be pleased when you learned that she has attained the regard of a few gentlemen.”

“A few?” Archer seethed, pushing off from the table and pacing. “Since Kilby’s arrival in town, I have received ten letters. Three were from concerned members of the
ton
who thought I should know that my sister has been observed on several occasions flirting with a notorious rake, one of the
sauvages nobles
.”

Oh, dear! Her hand in her lap curved into a fist. It was inevitable that town gossip would reach Archer’s ears. Keeping her expression carefully blank, she said, “And which gentleman would that be, my lord? After all, there are four of them.”

“I am in no mood to parry words with you, madam.” Priddy tensed as Archer circled her, his body visibly shaking with fury. “You are aware my sister has caught the
roving eye of the Duke of Solitea. What were you thinking?” he demanded. “The man is entirely unsuitable for my pl—uh, sister.”

Oh, she knew why Archer was furious about the Duke of Solitea’s attentions toward Kilby. He was not concerned about his sister’s reputation. The duke was plainly a threat to the marquess’s twisted ambitions for his sister. The Duke of Solitea might not have been her first choice for Kilby—that awkward business with his father had ruined him as a possible suitor—but he was a man Archer could not control, which in the viscountess’s opinion made Solitea perfect for Kilby.

“Unsuitable?” Priddy lifted her delicate brows in feigned puzzlement. “The gentleman comes from a well-connected family, has more wealth than Croesus, and has just inherited the dukedom. Such a match for Kilby would be advantageous.”

She sensed her words inflamed him. During her forty-five years, Priddy had had a few dreadful experiences with violent gentlemen. She had recognized the signs in Archer’s flawed temperament years earlier, long before his parents’ deaths. She was certain Archer was close to throttling her for her interference. Still, there were two footmen in the breakfast room with them. She prayed Archer was not so provoked as to attack her openly.

“I disagree,” he snapped. “You do not comprehend the damage you have wrought by encouraging Kilby in this manner.”

She exhaled softly when he did not hesitate behind her chair and continued his agitated saunter around her table. “Really, Archer, do you not think you are being a tad dramatic? You told me that you desire Kilby to marry—”

“A man of my choosing!” the marquess countered, ignoring her defense. “Did you forget our arrangement? No, the Duke of Solitea will not do. The Carlisles have always
been embroiled in one scandal after another. Can you believe that one of the letters I received actually hinted that Kilby might have been involved in the old duke’s death?”

Oh, this is too much!
She doubted the Carlisles would stoop so low as to inform Archer of Kilby’s misdeeds. One of the servants had to have gossiped to one of their betters. What good was a bribe, if one did not have the satisfaction of secrecy?

“No. No, I do not believe it,” Priddy said crisply. She reached for her teacup again and took a contemplative sip. The tea was tepid, but it eased the dryness in her throat. “What are you implying, my lord? That our Kilby murdered the former Duke of Solitea so she could marry his heir? Preposterous!” She gave him a pitying look. “Honestly, Archer, your pacing is making me twitchy. Sit down and I will have one of the servants pour you some hot tea.”

He ignored her offer. “No, of course not. Kilby could not harm a soul. I merely brought it up as testament to your dereliction of duties. You have much to answer for, madam, and I have traveled half the night for your explanation!”

“Well, storming into my home and threatening me will not grant you the answers you seek.” She set down her teacup. Clasping her hands together, she gave him a considering glance. “The duke has been dead for weeks. If you really feared that Kilby was involved in some nasty mischief, you would have been pounding on my door sooner. So tell me, what has truly brought you here, Archer?”

Sensing she was willing to be reasonable, he calmed slightly. “If the letters notifying me about Kilby’s unsavory dalliance with Solitea and your incompetence as a chaperone were not enough to bring me down to London, the other letters I received in the post confirmed it. Three of the letters were from gentlemen who want my permission
to court Kilby. The other four were outright proposals of marriage. Confound it, these gentlemen are demanding to meet with me and discuss her bloody dowry!”

Priddy applauded the good news. She had anticipated that Kilby would be embraced by the
ton.
Evidently, once she had obtained the admiration of a young, handsome duke, others had been spurred to vie for Kilby’s hand. The Duke of Solitea’s continual interest had eased many concerns the viscountess had that the Carlisle family had viewed Kilby’s association with the old duke as something reprehensible.

Priddy smiled, noting that Archer was less than pleased by this news. “Excellent tidings, my lord. You must be thrilled your sister has so many admirers,” she said, awaiting his explosive response.

“No, damn it, I am not,” Archer snarled. He stomped about, acting like a boy on the verge of a tantrum. “None of the bounders who petitioned me are worthy of her. If these men are a fine example of the company Kilby has been keeping, then you leave me no choice but to remove her from your care. Where is she?”

“Right behind you, brother. Were you looking for me?” Kilby asked, standing in the doorway. Her troubled gaze shifted from Priddy to her brother.

“Have your maid pack your belongings, Kilby,” Archer ordered brusquely. “We have imposed on the good viscountess’s hospitality long enough.” He grabbed Kilby firmly by the wrist and dragged her toward the door.

Frightened, Kilby appealed to Priddy. The viscountess rose from her chair and slapped down her napkin. “Archer, you are being ridiculous.” She followed after them.

“What has happened? Let go of me,” Kilby said, using her other hand to free her wrist from his brutal grip. “Priddy, what is going on?”

“Your brother received some troubling letters,” the viscountess said, whacking Archer’s arm. “Release the poor girl at once. She has done nothing wrong. If your parents had lived, they would have brought her to London. Kilby deserves to find happiness!”

They crossed the front hall to the stairs. Archer eyed the steep incline. “I respect the long friendship you shared with my parents. However, you have no say in our family’s business. Keep out of it, madam.”

Kilby clutched the newel before he could haul her upstairs. “Wait! What letters?” Had someone written to him about the former Duke of Solitea or, worse, her relationship with Fayne? “For heaven’s sake, stop twisting my arm and answer me!”

“Archer has received numerous letters from several gentlemen of the
ton,
” Priddy explained, rushing up the steps and extending her arms as if to bar Kilby’s brother from passing. “Some were merely requesting permission to court you, and others were offers of marriage. Is that not wonderful? I told you, my dear, you are a success!”

The room reeled at the other woman’s revelation. “Marriage offers. From whom?” Her brother’s unexpected arrival and decision to remove her from London were beginning to make sense.

“We never got around to the names, did we, Archer,” Lady Quennell said crossly. “Now that Kilby is here, do you care to share them with us?”

“I owe you nothing, madam. Especially now, since I have witnessed firsthand the results of your interference.” Archer tugged on his sister’s arm. “Kilby, I have no patience for your obstinacy. Release the post!”

Without warning, he maliciously bent several of her fingers back. Crying out, Kilby let go of the newel and jerked her injured hand out of his grasp. Maddened by her
disobedience, he moved closer and wrapped his fingers around her nape.