Authors: The Choice
She nodded, unsure. He was unsure himself. The desire to take her into his arms was a powerful goad. But the knowledge that there was no one for her to depend on but himself now was a more powerful deterrent. He’d wait. Even if the sight and softly floral scent of her was tempting him badly. He thought of other negatives in order to quell the powerful urge to ignore his conscience. He thought of one of the worst.
“Apart from that, what if Felicity came in?” he asked,
half joking. “She’s probably just outside the door. As soon as she doesn’t hear voices, she’ll burst in. I refuse to entertain her, much as I yearn to entertain myself and you. So,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away from temptation, “since my family bored you to bits with stories about my youth, your turn. Tell me some silly ones about yours. You never have, you know.”
“I do know,” she said sadly, “because I haven’t any. Or at least, the silly ones aren’t the kind anyone else would understand or enjoy. At least, anyone else of breeding.”
“Let me judge that.”
“Well, your family talked about your frogs and ponies and puppies and such. And your governesses and tutors and—”
“I know what they talked about,” he groaned. “Enough! Tell me about your childhood.”
“The pranks I played?” She considered it. Then she grinned hugely. “All right, my fine friend. We had games sometimes, too. See, there was this anvil outside of Higgin’s tavern. Tavern? Huh. Blue Ruin was all he served, and in dirty earthen jars at that. But it was a busy place. It used to be a blacksmith’s shop, way back, and when Higgins inherited the place, he left this huge anvil out front as a gesture, I suppose. Or maybe because it would be too much work to pick up and cart away. But strangers didn’t know that.
“Well, the lads and me, we used to cover it over with a gunnysack sometimes, when we got bored and had nothing else to do. Which wasn’t often, but even street rats play. They do,” she said, diverted, “down to the
oldest, scaliest of them, the real ones—rodents, I mean. You can see them frolicking in the gutters near the drains some spring nights. It’s truth! Anyway…” She recalled herself.
“Sometimes, in the evenings, you’d see a sailor and his lass, or a poor working cully out to impress some mort, you know? Walking along, him trying to tell her how he’s the best. Her, trying to pretend she believes it. So if we saw a couple like that, we’d send one of us over, the smallest, to say, all pathetic, ‘Mister, could you give me a hand with my sack? I got to get it to the cart, and can’t lift it, no way. So, I’m hoping maybe a fine, strong, flash cove like yourself could help me…?’
“The cove would see this skinny little kid, and he’d puff out his chest, and say, ‘Why sure!’ And he’d bend over and start to lift like he thought he was picking up a gunny sack, only to find it was attached to the bottom of the world…. Oh lord!” she said, laughing to remember it. “Some did certain injury to themselves, and not just their pride, and that’s sure. Ruptured six ways out of seven for all we knew, but they’d always let out a howl. We’d run like roaches when the lamp is lit, laughing all the way!”
But then she sobered. “T
hat
, Damon,” she said seriously, “is one of my silly childhood stories. Cruel more than childish, not so much a prank as laughter for the misfortune of others. But I suppose we felt the world owed us a chance to deal pain, too. Sometimes, too, we’d pester some cully who was foxed. Just playing, mind, because otherwise, say if we turned out his pockets, then it was work. And that kind of work was best left to the dives anyway….” She saw Damon’s
expression. “You know, the forks. Lud! I vow to give up the cant, and see how it creeps back! Drum would have my head! I mean pickpockets.
“The other games were tag and run, but it was from danger most of the time, and so where’s the fun in that? Sport?” She sighed. “Not much of that. Or at least, not the kind I fancied. Want stories about particularly funny hangings at Newgate? That was considered fine sport for most street rats, though I never saw the joy in it—except for that once when I had a personal interest. And I wouldn’t call that ‘fun.’
“You want charming tales about animals? Puppies, maybe?” She scowled. “There were dog fights, but I hated them. Because I like dogs. And where I lived, dogs worked, or starved. No one was fed just to play with, except for pretty little girls, and that would be by—aye, not something I want to discuss, or you’d care to hear. Kittens? Try touching the kitties in my neighborhood, and a mother cat the size of a pony might remove your face for you. Let me see…birds? Yes. Cockfights. I know all about them. I didn’t watch. But sometimes, if I was lucky, I got coin for caring for them between the fights, feeding and watering them and tending to their coops, because the best fighting cock is no more than poultry, after all.
“So, no frogs in my pockets, or pup at my heels, or ponies or cuddly kitties. But I did have the charge of fowl with sharp spurs at their heels. Those are my stories. Now, you still feel the same about me telling your family that?”
“Someday, you’ll tell them. And they will laugh,” he said, “and the sad stories will make them admire you
even more.” He wasn’t lying. He meant her own family, her children and his.
“You know?” she said, cocking her head to the side. “You reminded me of the old earl when you said that.” Her voice softened, as did her expression, thinking of the viscount’s father. “So kind, so willing to accept me. When I first met him, I acted like I didn’t care what he thought of me. I’d only been out of my boy’s clothing for a week. That was after Ewen and Bridget’s honeymoon, when we went to visit him. We weren’t Ewen’s wards then. Oh no. But even so, even then, Ewen didn’t want to leave us on our own for fear we’d come to harm, or leg it back to London by ourselves, which would come to the same thing. So he took us along. The earl had been ill. Thank goodness, he was better by that time, and thank God he stays so! But back then, four years past, he was meeting Bridget for the first time, too. Well, there was nothing for him to find fault with in her!
“But me! I didn’t know how to walk in a gown, or where to put my legs when I sat down. Drum and Rafe had already started to teach me, but it’s not easy to get the hang of, you know. Well, you don’t,” she said on a giggle. “But I promise you, it is!”
Her expression grew faraway as she spoke, and Damon smiled, because this was a happy memory. “And what was I doing in an earl’s home, after all? Not just a house, mind, but a castle! He must have wondered, I thought, and that was all right, for I was, too. Bridget insisted I come along, and I did for Betsy’s sake.
“Oh, I swaggered,” she said with a shake of her head
and a soft smile. “But I was in an agony of discomfort, missing my breeches, for I could be a passable boy. But I was miserably aware of what an inadequate female I was and looked, and defiant with it. And here he was an earl, no less, and see how he was staring at me. A slum brat in his house? Well, so I was, but I was no man’s amusement, and would die before I let that happen again in any way, I can tell you. I was ready to leave if I had to.
“As it was, I saw his lips quirk as his son told him about me. I glowered at him, my worst face, ready for insult. But he heard my story, and must have heard it from Ewen in a letter before, I think.
“He saw my expression. Well, how could he miss it? I must have soured milk in the whole district. At least, I know I tried. ‘Here’s a firebrand,’ he chuckled. ‘Good for you. How dare I judge you, right? Know just how you feel. Put me in a gown and I’d snarl, too.’” Her voice grew low and gruff as she imitated the old man, and Damon grinned, hearing it. “‘Want a sword or a dagger, my girl?’ he asked me. “‘I doubt poison’s your way, is it? You’re straight as a lathe, aren’t you? Well, give me an honest enemy, though I’d rather stand as your friend, believe it or not.’
“I didn’t, but he was my friend from that day forth,” she said in amazement. “He agreed to me and Betsy staying on in the castle instead of being fostered out. No, in fact, he insisted on it. He said the place was too lonely, especially now with his only son married and occupied with his new wife. He taught me to be a lady as much as the governess he hired on did, even more than Drum could do. And with less teasing. Drum
always made me mad as fire, and then I did things his way just to show him I could. But sometimes I did dreadful things to spite him, too. The earl only looked sad when I was bad. That worked better. I tried hard, for him.
“Why, the only reason he didn’t take on legal responsibility for me and Betsy was because of his fears about his health. He’d been so ill that winter and the cold still affected him. That’s why he spends so much time at his villa in southern Italy even now. He was—is—a real gentleman, blood and bone. Not high in the instep, and yet I know few men higher in morals and manner. I miss him,” she sighed. “His wisdom, and his kindness.”
“You haven’t had enough of that in your life,” Damon said.
“Oh, well,” she said, embarrassed. “I’ve had more than my share since I met the Sinclairs, and there’s truth.”
“Now you have me, and I’ll try to give you even more.”
Her face grew sober. “I don’t want you to want me for charity’s sake, Damon. Good as it’s been for me, I’ve had enough of that. Pity isn’t a bad thing, but it rankles, after a while.”
“Do you think what I feel for you is pity?”
“I don’t know. That worries me, sometimes.”
“Don’t let it. I feel admiration. I feel a kinship, even though our cases couldn’t be more different. And I feel desire. Too much of that right now, I think.”
He bent toward her again, and this time brushed his lips across hers. They shared a long, sweet kiss. He was the one to end it.
“Enough excitement for Felicity,” he said regretfully, putting her at arm’s length. “I’d better go while I can. I’ll be back at noon tomorrow and stay all day, and for as long as I can into the evening. You won’t be on your own, Gilly,” he said as he rose. “Not while I draw breath.”
“I didn’t mean you had to be my nursemaid!”
“You don’t want me here?” he said, checking.
She stood up, and reached a hand to his cheek. “Vain creature. Want me to sing your praises, do you?” she asked on a crooked smile. “Too bad.”
“Too good,” he said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss into her palm.
Well, so she was alone again, Gilly thought after he left her, but it wouldn’t be for too long, and then it wouldn’t be so bad. It would be different than she’d thought, all right. And she still thought he was too good for her. But if he wanted her, so be it. Her feeling about being unfaithful to her dream lover was fading, as all dreams did, after a time. Damon was a solid reality. One she began to think she could maybe even learn to love. She certainly had learned to love his touch. She missed it. Damn the fellow for being such a gentleman, she thought tenderly, and bless him for it.
Still, she was nothing if not resilient. She’d make do, she thought on a grin, and went to bed smiling.
“Miss Gilly is in the morning room with your mother, Miss Felicity, and your sisters,” the butler reported when Damon gave him his hat.
Miss Gilly was suffering in the morning room, along with his mother and his sisters, Damon thought when
he came to the doorway and paused there. Gilly sat apart from the others, by a window, the sunlight making her hair gleam like a halo. That was the only radiant thing about her. She looked miserable. His mother didn’t look happy either. Nor did his sisters. But he wasn’t alarmed. Felicity was in full gabble, and so it only made sense.
But then a noise in the hall behind him made Gilly pick up her head. Her eyes widened. They filled with amber light, her expression changing from weary misery to full joy in a heartbeat. She stood, and he could literally see her spirit fly back into her slight frame. She fairly radiated rapture. He was touched, and gladdened, and very moved by her overwhelming reaction to him. He stepped forward, a smile on his lips.
But she kept staring—beyond him. Radiant, grinning ear to ear, she flew past him and fairly flung herself at the man who’d silently stepped into the house behind him. Damon turned to see.
Gilly pumped the tall, elegant stranger’s hand, threw a mock punch at his lean middle, clapped him on the shoulder, and danced around him, beside herself with joy.
“Drum! Oh Drum, oh thank God, D
rum
!” she cried.
T
he new arrival was a tall, slender, exquisitely dressed gentleman, maybe a few years older than Damon himself, perhaps a few years younger than the Viscount Sinclair. It was hard to say, since the long face was so smooth and well schooled to a gentleman’s amused composure. Straight jet hair, the kind Damon previously had seen most often on American Indians, was brushed back from a high forehead. His features were an inch from homely and a yard from handsome. But Damon didn’t doubt women would consider that bony face attractive, if for no other reason than the intelligence and humor that animated from unexpectedly fine azure eyes.
Though he didn’t look much like his cousin, Ewen Sinclair, there was nevertheless a reminder of the vis
count in the man’s expression and demeanor. This, then, was the redoubtable Drum, Earl of Drummond. Given his usually practical Gilly’s boundless admiration for the man, Damon had expected no less. But he had no time to think about it.
Because Gilly gave out a yip that sounded like a dog being hit by a wagon. Startled, Damon wheeled to stare at her, ready to protect her. A second later, she sank into a deep, beautifully executed curtsey, and when she rose there were tears trembling at the tips of her lashes, though she was smiling tremulously.
“My lord,” she said, offering her hand to the white-haired gentleman who had come into the room with the Earl of Drummond.
“Gilly, you were lovely when I left,” the Earl of Kenton, the Viscount Sinclair’s father, said, “but I vow something new has made rainbows in your eyes since we last met.”
“My tears at seeing you again,” she said simply, and came into his welcoming embrace, now weeping openly.
“Now,
he
is called ‘my lord’ and gets a curtsey deep enough to mine in,” Drum commented dryly. “Yet I only get pummeled. Do you note the disparity, Rafe, old friend?”
“Note it?” a redheaded gentleman who had been standing in the shadows behind the earl complained. “I don’t even get so much as a ‘howjado!’”
“R
afe
!” Gilly shrieked. The old earl, with a smile, released her. She hugged the harsh-faced, military-looking gentleman hard, and then stepped back and threw a mock punch at his shoulder. “Now,” she
exulted. “Oh, now my life’s completely right again!”
There was a silence. Everyone stared at the new arrivals. The butler had come bustling up and stood looking flustered. But no more than Damon’s mother and sisters did.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” Damon said smoothly, stepping forward, “since Gilly obviously has her wits to let. But who could blame her? She’s ecstatic at seeing you again. I’m Damon Ryder, at your service, my lords, and very pleased to meet you.”
“The C
atch
!” Drum said, his eyes alight with mischief. He gave Damon a brief bow. “I give you good afternoon, sir. More than that, congratulations on nabbing our Gilly.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed at Drum’s first words, but he inclined his head in a sketch of a bow. When he faced the new arrivals again his expression was as serene as theirs. “The Catch himself, my lord. May I present my mother, and my sisters Margaret, Mary, and Bethany? And our Cousin Felicity?”
“Delighted,” the older gentleman said, bowing. “I’m Kenton, father to Sinclair.” He hardly had to say it. Ewen Sinclair’s eyes looked at them from a gentler face, and from less of a height, but the family resemblance was clear. If the earl had been ill, his years in Italy had mended him; all that remained of his story was in the deeply tanned lines in his face. “I’m also uncle to his cousin here, Drum, Earl of Drummond. I’m also happy to make you known to my close friend, this redheaded fury, Lord Dalton, best known to us as Rafe. And I’m most proud to declare myself friend for life and devoted servant of Miss Giles.”
“Pardon our dropping in unannounced,” Drum explained, “but then, we always do. We didn’t expect company to be here at Sinclair’s townhouse. We’ve just arrived in town, you see, and nothing would do but we hasten to see our Gilly immediately. Gilly, Ewen, and Bridget and that sly Max, too. And the baby we’ve never met. But it seems too placid here. No one’s bawling except Gilly. Where is my cousin?”
“He took his family home to Shropshire,” Damon said. “You missed them by a day. There’s a contagion among children here in London and they didn’t want to risk Max and the baby being infected. We’d have gone with them but Gilly’s still waiting for the last of her new wardrobe to be finished.”
“That I’m not!” Gilly sang out. “It’s Bridget who insisted. I was ready to leave, too, but I’m
so
glad I didn’t. I’d have missed you! I’d have killed myself!”
“Doubtless, and who could blame you?” Drum said sweetly. “But I prefer a wedding to a funeral. I’m delighted you listened to Lady Sinclair. Italy’s a colorful place, and I haven’t a thing in black to wear that’s decent, you see.”
“Well, you’ve grown very niffy-naffy,” Gilly said, her head to the side. “Continental airs, my dear Lord Drummond?”
Drum laughed. “Can’t play any of my new tricks off on you, can I? I
have
missed you, my dear.”
She linked her arm with Rafe’s and turned a saucy grin on Drum. “My job, dear sir, is to keep your feet on firm ground, or so you always said.”
“So you did, and so you do,” he said, “and mine was to keep you out of scrapes.”
“No,” she giggled, “you were appointed to keep my feet out of boots—and into slippers, remember?”
He raised an eyebrow, looking over her head to Damon’s relatives. She blushed and shot a guilty glance at the puzzlement on Damon’s mama’s face.
“But what tedious guests we are!” the Earl of Kenton exclaimed. “Ladies, my apologies. Barging in and boring you with our old jests, which are amusing only to ourselves. Forgive us.”
“You’re only paying us back in kind, my lord,” Damon said. “Because if anyone’s become the expert on suffering through old family jokes, it’s poor Gilly here.”
“No! I loved every word of them,” Gilly exclaimed indignantly, and ruined it with an arch look and a cheeky grin at Drum. “Now it’s my turn. We’ll talk more later, when we’re alone,” she promised Drum. “Now, where are your traveling cases? You’re staying here, of course.”
There was a slight murmur from the ladies in the room as they looked at each other in sudden consternation. “Of course they are,” Damon’s mother said quickly. “There’s no problem. I was just saying I’d love to stay at Grillion’s, in Albermarle Street, because it’s closer to the shops. My daughters and their husbands, too. In fact, Alfred’s already staying there. He says he loves it, doesn’t he, Damon?”
“Often,” Damon agreed without missing a beat. “It’s well recommended, especially its kitchens. No wonder you’re envious.”
“There you are!” his mother said almost gaily. “Bring your bags in, please, my lords, it will take us no time to make the change.”
“Wouldn’t think of it!” Ewen’s father said, aghast.
“Don’t stir yourselves. I’ve got my club to stay at. Been looking forward to seeing old friends, in fact, nothing could suit me better.”
“I’ve got friends mad to put me up!” Rafe said immediately. “But I prefer Stevens’ in Bond Street, like most old army men.”
“But—but you
always
stay here!” Gilly cried.
“Ladies, do not so much as move a handkerchief from your rooms,” Drum said, cutting her off. “I’ve old friends here in town, too, and clubs galore to choose from, as well. And Gilly,” he said to her look of dismay, “think on. If we did stay here, you’d have to leave. Yes, that’s right. Consider. Our arrival and Mr. Ryder’s mama’s departure would make it a bachelor household, and we can’t play at that anymore.”
She murmured something that looked like a
damn
on her lips, scuffed one little slipper on the floor and frowned. Damon’s eyes narrowed. She wore a cherry red gown, her bright hair was twisted into ringlets and tied with a cerise ribbon, she looked charming as a springtime tulip in the park, but she’d suddenly become a swaggering boy again.
“You’ll be back for dinner?” she asked Drum hopefully.
“Better,” Drum said. “We’d like you all to be our guests for dinner tonight.”
“At your club?” Gilly hooted. “Gammon! They’d tar and feather any female who dared set a toe over their doorstep.”
“At one of the many London restaurants we’ve been missing,” Drum said gently, “and since when did you start speaking cant again, my girl?”
She fell still, looking adorably grouchy and guilty at the same time.
“I enjoy Gilly’s colorful speech,” Damon said quickly, “so I’m afraid it’s my fault. I encourage her.”
“No one has to apologize for me,” Gilly muttered.
“No, indeed,” Drum said. “Forgive the presumptions of an old friend. So then, you’ll be our guests for dinner tonight?”
“My dear Lord Drummond,” Damon’s mother laughed. “You can’t have thought! There’s my husband, and the girls’ husbands, not to mention my other sons and their wives. We’re a huge family. We can hardly fit around the table here. All told we’d make too big a handful for you to entertain.”
“But not too big for the Clarendon, do you think?” Drum asked, naming one of London’s most fashionable hotels.
Ewen’s father made a face. “A fine French menu, to be sure, but I’ve had enough foreign food. Speaking of Grillion’s, let’s dine there. I remember their soup particularly, and their way with a joint of beef. I find I’m quite looking forward to it, in fact.”
“Done,” Drum said. “We’ll expect you then, ma’am?”
“Why, that would be delightful,” Elizabeth Ryder said. “What do you think, Damon?”
“I can see majority rules,” he answered with a faint smile.
“Then excuse us while we go arrange accommodations and remove the dust of travel,” Drum said, bowing again. “We did literally come here straight from the docks. But travel makes a man edgy, and it will be a while until we wind down. At Grillion’s at nine, then.”
He turned to go to the door, but then turned back again. “Now mind, Gilly,” he said. “Put on your finest feathers.”
“Oh pooh,” she laughed, as she fairly skipped to his side and they began walking toward the hall. “As if you had to tell me. I’ve got town bronze by now. So much I feel positively weighed down. Oh, I’m
so
glad you’ve come back.”
“Of course I came back. Miss your wedding, child? I think not!”
She blinked, then put up her chin. “I think not!” she echoed, but her own smile had slipped. Damon saw it. And he could see from the way Drum tilted his head and paused for a moment that he did, too. It seemed no one missed it.
“Such good friends they are,” Cousin Felicity purred, watching them.
“Yes,” Damon said, “Gilly’s friends are her family, or at least, all she’s known of one these past years.”
“Indeed,” Felicity said, “now they’re reunited. How delightful.”
“I hope it will be,” Damon said, and meant it.
Grillion’s dining room was crowded, but the waiters had cobbled together a great table for the Earl of Kenton, the Earl of Drummond, and their guests in the center of the room. They were the focus of all eyes. And no wonder. The party was jolly, even noisy, there were a great many noble persons, and many of those hadn’t been seen in London for a long time.
All the diners in the room were dressed with care. But none caught the eye as much as the young woman
in blue at the earls’ table. She’d taken special pains with her appearance. It showed. Gilly sat near the head of the huge table, but she’d have been noticed wherever she was.
She wore an ice blue gown with a filmy gray overskirt, and an azure shawl covered her pale shoulders. The small gold locket at her throat reflected itself against her white skin, sitting in a buttercup halo, pointing up the way the candlelight made her odd eyes gleam gold. Her fair hair was pulled back from her face and dressed high with small blue flowers. But instead of looking like an ice queen, she bloomed like a rose. Her cheeks were pink with laughter, her face wreathed in smiles, and she never stopped laughing, unless it was to grin. She was everything ladylike, except that she bounced in her seat like a girl.
Damon was dressed with equal care, and by chance, in similar colors. But he looked more sober entirely, face and figure. He wore a dark blue jacket of superfine and storm gray breeches to match his eyes. The only other color was on his waistcoat, where tiny green and gold silken hummingbirds visited the dark blue morning glories embroidered there. Gilly didn’t notice. She hung on the Earl of Kenton’s every word, teased her old friend Rafe constantly, and never took her eyes from the Earl of Drummond.
It wasn’t hard for her to do. Ewen’s father had been given a place of honor at the head and she sat on his right, across from the Earl of Drummond, her friend Rafe nearby. Even if she didn’t obviously adore them, she could hardly avoid chatting with them the way things were arranged. But she didn’t address one word
to Damon at her other side. Many noted it. His sister Mary, next to him, was worried.
“It’s understandable,” Mary murmured to Damon, uninvited, noting his silence and seeing the direction of his steady gray gaze. “A reunion, after all. After the way we were carrying on all week! It’s only natural. Poor girl, no wonder she’s so thrilled to see them again. And they
are
very nice, indeed.”
“So they are,” he laughed, patting her hand. “I don’t mind, did you think I did?”
“Well, but…” she said, flustered.
“It’s only that I just discovered I’m a selfish lump,” he said seriously. “And I hate seeing my own faults. Part of it is your fault, you know, for making me the center of our family’s little universe. And I’m so used to being the center of hers that I suppose I’m feeling a little left out. I’d better get over it, and fast. What about when our children come along? I have to accept Gilly has and will have other loves, and all of them important.”
His sister looked up at Gilly, the men she was laughing with, and then down at her plate. She drew a little circle on the cloth with her spoon. “Damon…” she said hesitantly. She stopped and laughed, unconvincingly. “Well, that’s good, then, isn’t it? Why, when I remember how my George felt after our first was born…”