Beyond A Wicked Kiss (22 page)

"Really? Does she hold me in such esteem, then? I would not have credited it."

"At the risk of jabbing at your Achilles' heel, it is most likely your title that she holds in esteem, not you. Margaret is nothing if not practical."

"I am relieved to hear it."

Ria sighed audibly, unaccountably eased that she hadn't insulted him. There was no predicting how his mind might work. Truth be told she was no longer certain of her own. "She will be civil toward me," Ria said. "But that is only in front of you. She will avoid me outside of company, and if she cannot, I will do well to avoid her."

"She sees you as a threat to her marriage?"

"Yes, though I have given her no reason to view me in that light."

"But Tenley has."

"I cannot say. I am not privy to what manner of conversation passes between them. All I know is that from the very beginning, she has been suspicious of me."

"Is she jealous by nature or circumstance?"

Ria did not understand and her puzzlement showed clearly in her expressive eyes. "You will have to explain that to me."

"Some people are jealous at their very core. They want what they do not have simply because they do not have it, and rarely is need a consideration. There is also jealousy that is predicated by the fear of losing something that has been acquired. Circumstantial, if you will."

"Then Margaret is the latter. Not petty by nature, but afraid Tenley will be unfaithful."

With good reason, West thought, for it seemed his brother had something more of their father in him. "Tenley says that she is easily distressed."

"He is right. Her nerves are pulled taut, and it requires very little to upset the balance, yet she was not always thus."

"You left Ambermede soon after Tenley set up residence with his countess."

"Yes, but it was entirely my idea."

"But Westphal and Tenley did not support it. Did Lady Tenley?"

"She was..." Ria paused, searching for the right word. "Encouraging."

"And you have stayed away since then?"

"No. Your father remained at Ambermede for at least four months out of the year, so I never stopped visiting. However, I preferred to go to London when he was there and Tenley was not. I have an affection for the children that Margaret does not begrudge me, though she is wary of it." Ria's shoulders rose and fell with her sigh. "I have often thought that if Tenley were to recognize the truth of what it is that he feels for me, Margaret and I could count ourselves as something close to friends."

"Something close to friends?" he asked. "Why not friends?"

"Such friendship as we might enjoy would always be tempered by what has come before it. I accept that. There is also the matter of our different interests. Margaret enjoys pursuits that are considered wholly feminine, while I am for embracing ventures that—"

"That tweak the boundaries between men and women?" West asked with wry inflection. "Yes, I am beginning to appreciate it."

"That is probably for the best," she said, ignoring his mild sarcasm. "It will help us deal well together."

West very much doubted it, but he did not offer that opinion. "I am all for tweaking boundaries," he said, rising from his chair. He closed the distance to the sofa in two lithe strides and dropped to the cushion beside her. Surprise kept her immobile long enough to allow him to set his arm along the curved back and close to her shoulders. "Will you trust me?"

"Of course, but—"

West knew that was no answer that she had given him. No matter how she meant to finish the sentence, the addition of
but
negated what had come before it. He accepted it as affirmation anyway and turned slightly toward her, dropping the arm at her back so that it embraced her shoulders, and circling her waist with his other. He pulled her close, the action so swift and strong that she could not counter it. Her arms were trapped neatly at her sides, and when she stiffened in reaction, it merely brought her flush to his body.

He hesitated a fraction of a second, his head cocked to one side, then lowered his mouth to hers. "Trust me," he said again, his voice something less than a whisper, husky and intense. Then his lips covered hers.

West realized his memory had served him false. This kiss was more of everything he remembered—sweeter, hungrier, deeper, greedier—and his own reaction was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. He had not meant to break his promise that he would not throw down the gauntlet a second time.

Of all the ill-conceived plans...

That thought flickered through his mind as wildly as a candle flame caught in a draft. He could not steady it, yet it would not be extinguished. He closed his eyes to it instead and kissed her with more urgency, listening for that thing outside himself that would call a halt, knowing that he did not want to.

"Oh my!" Margaret Warwick Fairchild, Lady Tenley, stepped into the library ahead of her husband. She knew his view of the pair on the sofa was unobstructed, because her height was not sufficient to block it. She wished that she might turn and gauge his reaction to what they were seeing. It was certain he would be struggling to put an indifferent face on it West did not permit Ria to break away in a guilty start. He lifted his head slowly, steadied her with a long, significant look and a roguish smile, then drew back his hand at her waist. He kept his arm about her shoulders, while his head swiveled in the direction of the door.

"It seems we are caught out," he said with considerable sangfroid. "That was unanticipated."

Ria knew it was a lie but not because she heard it in his voice. Those carefully modulated tones of his gave nothing away. She suspected now that he'd heard Tenley and Margaret approaching before they ever twisted the door handle. He had meant to be caught out.

Lady Tenley raised one hand to her lips to help stifle her smile. "Apologies are in order, I think." She hurried to the sofa as West released himself from Ria's side and came to his feet. "You should be able to expect a measure of privacy in your own home. The manor is that, now, is it not?"

"Let us not make too much of it," West said graciously. "I know I am the interloper, and you are kind to make us welcome."

Ria watched Margaret flush becomingly and could hardly credit how the warmth transformed her sharply cut features from haughty to charitable. The difference was so striking that Ria actually blinked. This was something more than she could have anticipated, and she knew very well that Margaret was not merely responding to the title of the man before her, but the man himself. Risking a sideways glance at West, Ria could not discern that he found Margaret's reaction in any way out of the ordinary, yet she was quite certain this was a new experience for him.

Ria accepted West's hand when he held it out to her and permitted him to help her rise. It was less easy for her to be drawn toward him, but she followed his lead and tried not to show her relief when he kept the distance between them perfectly respectful. He released her fingertips and favored her, then Margaret, with a smile that held a question in its curve. Ria was the first to answer that smile's prompt.

"Margaret," she said softly. "I regret that I have imposed upon your hospitality. I hope you will accept my apology for being unable to give you notice of our arrival."

Lady Tenley rose to the challenge and offered a public peace. "There is no apology necessary. I think we all comprehend that our altered circumstances require some flexibility of thought and action. Notice is not required. We are family, are we not? There is no imposition."

Ria thought Margaret's tone could have been a shade less cool, but it was a good effort, and mayhap a good beginning. She promised herself that she would not take it to heart if she learned later that Margaret meant little or even none of it.

Margaret laid her hand lightly on her husband's forearm and smoothed the sleeve of his black frock coat. "Have you nothing you wish to add, my lord?"

"I have already welcomed them," Tenley said. His eyes darted between Ria and West before coming to rest on his wife. "Why has no one announced supper?"

Ria resisted making a jibe. Tenley was in a snit, and she wished above all things that she might needle him for it. Commenting, though, would be unwise; it was certain to set an uncomfortable tone for the meal.

Margaret graced Tenley with an indulgent smile but otherwise ignored him. She engaged Ria and West in conversation, inquiring about their journey, London, the academy, their health, and finally, the weather. By the time they were seated for supper, she had made them easy for silence—except Tenley, who had said little and was, in fact, praying for it.

Supper was lightly seasoned potato soup, warm, thick-crust bread, and baked trout. The fare satisfied at this late hour and Lady Tenley was delighted to accept West's compliments for the cook. Conversation resumed in fits and starts. Politics. Theatre. Books. Art. By unspoken mutual agreement, they avoided the subject of anything that could be construed as personal, most particularly the interrupted kiss. That topic was held in abeyance until the sexes divided after the meal: West and Tenley remained at the table for a glass of port; Ria and Margaret excused themselves and advanced on the salon.

Ria could freely admit that she was dreading being alone with Margaret. Their usual pattern following supper was to leave the dining room together and immediately find separate diversions. When they had no choice but to retire to the same room, they engaged in solitary interests, and such conversation as passed between them was scrupulously polite and invariably cool.

Lady Tenley was a fierce warrior, a fact that was often lost on people of short acquaintance. Her dainty, doll-like figure, porcelain complexion, small chin, and wide, aquamarine eyes served to influence assumptions that she was somehow lacking in spirit, perhaps even spine, and that she was best wrapped in cotton wool. It was naught but an illusion. She was, in fact, definite in her ideas, protective of her family, impatient with incompetence, and did not suffer fools. Those delicate features could become severe, even arrogant, when she was feeling threatened, and she had a way of drawing herself up that made her diminutive stature irrelevant.

"You will explain yourself, I hope," Margaret said once she and Ria were alone. "Do you imagine you have developed a tendre for him, or he for you? I would not have supposed you could be so lacking in good sense."

Ria sighed. "Can I not indulge a whim?"

"A whim? You will be fortunate if Tenley does not march you to the altar."

"How is that fortunate?"

"Surely you know he has a reputation of a certain kind."

"What I know is that you do not call him by name. He is Westphal, Margaret, and whatever his reputation, it will be reevaluated in light of that."

"He is your guardian. He must not take advantage."

"And he has not," Ria said firmly. She came within a moment of admitting her confusion to Margaret. The tenor of this interview was not what she had expected. Where was Margaret's relief that her affections were engaged elsewhere? Had she seen through West's charade, or was she merely testing the waters, wanting to be convinced? "I like him very much, Margaret, but you must not worry that I will allow myself to be compromised. I would not bring that shame upon the family."

"Westphal might not share your scruples."

"You are too harsh." There was no reason Margaret must know about the weapon he carried, or his trespass into her private apartments, or his insufferable high-handedness. "He has been everything kind and decent."

Margaret's eyes sharpened as she considered this. "He is not Tenley," she said at last.

Ria frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean by that?"

"He is not his brother," Margaret said. Her pause was uncharacteristically long as she measured her words. "I do not wish to be disagreeable by broaching this subject, but I must point out that you cannot satisfy your tendre for Tenley by substituting his brother."

What could she say that would be believed? Ria wondered. Denying that she had any tender feelings for Tenley, beyond that of a sister toward her brother, seemed unlikely to convince Margaret. If Ria had ever required evidence of the depth of Margaret's feelings for her husband, she had it now. Margaret could not conceive that a woman would choose another man over Tenley.

It also seemed vastly inappropriate to discuss Tenley's feelings. While Ria understood that Margaret was aware of her husband's interests, she also knew Margaret had too much pride to admit it aloud.

Ria decided there was only one direction she might take, and it was West. Neither the wordplay nor the reality of it amused her. "You will account me as shameless," she said slowly, as if the words were being taken from her against her will. "I have not known His Grace but a few days, and you are fully aware that his existence was rarely mentioned in this house, but from the outset it has been as if I have never
not
known him. Mayhap you are right, and it is the passing resemblance and manner he shares with Tenley that makes it seem so, but I do not believe it is only that. What I feel for him in my heart surpasses anything I have known. I cannot say if it is love, only that I think it might be, because my heart trips over itself when he is in the room, and my thoughts scatter like wild seed in the wind. He is irritating and arrogant and must always be right, yet I forgive him all of it, not because I want to, but because I cannot seem to help myself."