Edith Layton (21 page)

I
f
was such a tempting, dangerous, daring word for such an unimaginable change. But Drum’s azure gaze was clear and intent, and his eyes never left hers, and so she dared to imagine it.

Damon, the requested glass of lemonade in his hand, approached Gilly and then stopped where he stood, feeling foolish. Worse, feeling a sickness that had nothing to do with his bruises. Because he saw where she was looking, and recognized that look. And it wasn’t at him. Or for him.

“L
ook!” Gilly cried in delight, rushing up to Drum the minute he set foot in the house the next morning, waving a card under his nose.

“Vouchers!” she cried. “For me! Which is only an elegant way to say ‘invitation,’ my dear sir, as you well know.” She strutted in front of him, fluttering the card in front of her eyes in a parody of a lady with an ornate fan. She dropped the pose and looked up at him, her eyes shining. “But this is mine! For Almack’s! Oh Drum, thank you
so
much! I know I’m a fool to care for such nonsense, but look! Now I’m as proper as a parson, welcome as sunshine
anywhere
I want to go in town. Even if I don’t care to go, at least now I’ve a choice. I’ve been waiting and waiting to tell you. It came this morning but it seemed like a year till you
came so I could thank you.” She grabbed his hand. “Oh, thank you!”

Rafe smiled, but Drum looked blank. And Damon, lounging by the window, looked inscrutable. His mama, however, did not.

“But Gillian…” she began to say.

“‘Miss Gillian Giles,’” Gilly read from the card with glee, “invited to that hallowed place. Hah! Now, that’s put the icing on it!”

“I’m sure it has,” Drum said, “but the thanks don’t go to me. I intended to see to the matter, but between my bout with your fiancé yesterday, and then summoning enough energy to go to that party last night, I forgot to so much as make inquiries.”

Gilly frowned. “But I was so sure! Wait! It must have been the earl! You probably mentioned it to him, and he acted. Of course! He has the influence, who else? What a dolt I am! So thank you anyway, and I have to give him more thanks soon as I see him again.”

“I never said a word,” Drum said. “I would have, but I confess I never thought it meant so much to you.”

“But Damon knew,” his mama said in exasperation. “He called in a few favors to get the thing done. I thought you knew, Gillian. He did some services for some people, and he…”

“And he is delighted you’re happy, Gilly,” Damon said quietly, “and there’s an end to it.”

“But you don’t know anyone in London,” Gilly blurted, swinging around to stare him.

“They weren’t in London at the time,” Damon said. “Or at least, not the people I did favors for. Neither was I. It happens Lady Sefton has a friend in America, the
Burrells have a cousin, that kind of thing. When I was there, the war between our countries was only over for a few years—there was still some suspicion of the British, they were uneasy. But I was well known and made all kinds of useful friends. I carried some messages, lent some aid.” He shrugged. “I didn’t do much, but when you’re so far from home any help seems like a lot. You know I was a trader. Favors are as important as goods to a successful trader. Enough about that. When would you like to go?”

“I’m very sorry, Damon,” Gilly said quietly. “It never occurred to me. You never said a word. Go? Oh, to Almack’s? I don’t know. When do you?”

“It’s up to you.”

“Well,” Drum said, “if you’re in such raptures about it I should think we should go as soon as may be, if only to show them what they were missing.”

“Then we will!” Gilly said.

“Fine,” Damon said. “It’s not my idea of fun, but I’m at your command.”

“Gallant,” Drum commented dryly. “But we can’t tonight, child,” he told Gilly. “We’re promised to the Richmonds, to go to their party at Vauxhall, remember? Any rate, the place is thin of company in summertime. Best leave it until autumn and make a grand entrance. But—I’m forgetting. You’ll be married then, won’t you?”

“Well, I don’t see what difference that will make,” Gilly said crossly.

“Don’t you?” Drum murmured, looking at her for a long moment. “Well then, we’ll plan to go this week, then, shall we?”

“Yes,” Gilly said gaily.

“Friday night?”

“Absolutely,” she replied with a delighted laugh.

They began talking about gossip then, and laughing together. But Damon didn’t. His eyes were gray as sleet as he watched the pair. Nor was he the only one who realized he hadn’t been asked what his plans for Friday night were.

They danced again that night. But this time, it was in the open air, beneath towering trees, under flowing torchlights that couldn’t hide the fact of the endless night sky above them.

“Such fun!” Gilly laughed, as she caught her breath from the vigorous polka she’d just done with Drum.

Her heart was thumping, her breast rising and falling fast. She fanned herself, breathing hard; her hair had come loose and there were silvery spills of it everywhere around her flushed face. They stood by their table, waiting for Damon to bring his partner back to her own table and then rejoin them. In that moment they were alone, for all intents and purposes. Drum seized the moment.

“You’ve changed,” he said, watching her closely.

“Have I?” She laughed. “How so?”

But he didn’t laugh, and she paused to look up at him. He stood aloof, even though he was by her side. He seemed reserved suddenly, all laughter fled. His expression was thoughtful; the only thing moving in that long face was the reflected torchlight glittering in his eyes. He never took his gaze from her, her face, her breast, her eyes. She’d never commanded so much of
his undivided attention, at least not this kind of attention. He was usually lazily amused with her. He was not amused now.

Her breath became shallow, not so much slower as withheld. She breathed through half-parted lips, silencing her heart as she waited for his answer.

“I didn’t see it until now,” he said quietly. “Or rather, I saw it at once but didn’t know what I was seeing. You are changed. You used to pretend you were a woman, and it was charming, even engaging. But now—you
are
a woman, and it is so much more than that. Is it Ryder? Has he done it for you?”

Gilly grew still, lost in that so long wished for, intense regard. She’d dreamed about it but hadn’t known how it would be, and it shook her. He’d changed, too. Too fast for her to comprehend. Or had he? Again, she wondered if it was her own perception that had changed their easy camaraderie to this thing she suddenly had such trouble managing. Or believing. She looked away and took a big gulp of breath.

“R
yder
? You mean Damon? I haven’t thought about it—but yes, probably.” She met Drum’s eyes frankly. “He treated me like a woman, you see.”

“And I did not, did I? It was all a game to us, wasn’t it? Do you love him, child?”

She laughed, but it was a shaken sound. “Well, there it is again, isn’t it? He never calls me ‘child.’”

Drum nodded, “Touché. But you didn’t answer me. Do you love him?”

“I told you,” she said with a trace of anger. “He rescued me. He is a ‘Catch’ for me in every way, just as you said. I’m grateful to him, and I like him very much. In
fact, I never thought I’d like him so much as I do. What more do you want? What more could I want?”

He watched her with an unreadable expression. Then he nodded again. “You’ve answered me.”

But he didn’t seem pleased with her answer. So much so that Damon, returning, looked from one of them to the other and thought they’d quarreled. He was soon surer of it. Because they didn’t speak much for the rest of the evening. But they stole glances at each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. And since he was always looking, he soon grew as quiet as they were.

Gilly had survival skills she never had to think about, and would have been surprised to know she possessed. She’d learned to focus all her attention on one thing when there was something else bothering her she couldn’t do anything about. It was an admirable skill and kept her on the job when there was something that might have aggravated and diverted her otherwise. It was how she managed to grow up and get on with her life. It served her well now.

She’d spent a whole day preparing for her evening. She wore a bright rose-colored gown, a string of pink coral at her neck, and a single rose in her hair. A simple costume that had taken her hours to decide on. She tried on every gown in her wardrobe, matched them with a dozen shawls, washed her hair and arranged it twice, and put on five different pairs of slippers before she was satisfied. In that way, she refused to think about why she was dressing up, who for, and whether or not she was mad to have seen such longing, love,
and frustration in Drum’s eyes every time she looked—which was as often as she could. And whether she was wrong about seeing the quiet hurt slowly draining the life from Damon’s eyes.

But now she was ready, and so now she snatched up a fan, gloves, and a shawl, and went downstairs to greet her escorts. Because since Drum and Rafe had come to town she had three escorts everywhere she went—sometimes four, if Damon’s father hadn’t promised himself to friends. She never saw Damon alone. Not once since Drum and Rafe had arrived. His eyes told her he knew that as well as her own in the mirror every time she saw herself there.

His eyes, so filled with dancing light when they’d first met, so dark and thoughtful these days when they rested on her. Drum’s eyes, so blue and watchful and ever on her.

Which was why she’d never read the same book so many times trying to make sense of it in the past days. She couldn’t make sense of herself, either, and refused to try anymore. She wished Bridget were here. And she was glad she wasn’t. She went downstairs to wait for Drum—F
or
D
amon
, she corrected herself,
and my other escorts this important night
: D
rum
, R
afe, and the
E
arl of
K
enton
—as she fled the rest of the way down the stair.

She was late because of her dithering. She heard the voices as she crossed the hall to the drawing room. The house was filled with people waiting for her. Tonight, all four of her usual escorts would be there, and Damon’s father as well. Damon’s sisters and brothers and their spouses that hadn’t left town yet
were at the ready, too. Tonight, all her forces were marshaled, because tonight they were going to invade Almack’s. Gilly took a breath and entered the room.

She thought he’d like her outfit. She didn’t realize he’d love it.

Drum’s eyes widened when he saw her. He looked like he’d been dealt a body blow. Then delight leapt to his eyes, to be stilled there. He looked suddenly sad at the same time, and very guarded with it, the way he did these days and nights whenever he looked at her. “Lovely,” he said.

“You look well, too,” Gilly said, disconcerted. “All healed, or almost so. Well, so are we ready to go?”

But now the men looked at each other, and Damon’s mama and sisters looked distressed.

“Though I deplore it,” Ewen’s father, the old earl, said slowly, “it may be better to postpone our visit to Almack’s, my dear. I’m not feeling quite the thing this evening.”

“What’s the matter?” she cried, alarmed.

Damon frowned. “Nothing,” he said. “Excuse me, my lord, but as I thought, that’s not the thing to tell Gilly. Only truth will do for her. Gilly, listen….” He sighed. “The thing is that a caricaturist featured you in a sketch this morning posted in a print shop window. I bought them all when I found out, but some had already been sold. I know you’re courageous, and I never run from controversy myself. But some of us think that until the gossip wears off we ought to stay away from more. Almack’s is where gossip lives.”

Gilly back went straight. Her head snapped up. She stuck out a hand, and held it steady. “Show it to me.
No, don’t look at each other. You think I won’t see it? Or hear of it? I will. Might as well have done. Give it here, now.”

Damon took a paper from his inner pocket and handed it to her. His mama actually winced as she heard Gilly unwrap the folded print, and her husband took her hand. The old Earl of Kenton went gray in the face as he saw the blood drain from Gilly’s rosy cheeks. Drum’s face grew tight, Rafe cursed beneath his breath. And Damon watched, very still.

It was a simple cartoon. Three men stood at the apexes of a triangle with a pretty blond female at the center. One of the men was tall and gaunt, one was ridiculously handsome with eyelashes like a girl’s, one had a blunt haircut and a military air. The girl had a blindfold over her eyes and was pointing a finger.

She was labeled “
MISS G—G—
.” A balloon coming from her lips said: “
ENGAGED TO BE WED? I THINK I’LL PLAY INSTEAD! WHERE I COME FROM NO ONE CAN KNOW—BUT JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE WHERE I GO
!” The caption read: “
THE QUEEN OF THE MAY? MAY I TAKE THIS ONE, OR THAT ONE, OR THE OTHER? WHY NOT ALL THREE? IT’S ALL THE SAME TO ME, NOW I’M LOOSED ON THE NOBILITY
!”

Gilly looked up at them. “Well,” she said in a stony little voice. “So, I have enemies. Who do you think had this bit of trash printed up?”

Damon smiled. “That’s my Gilly. Attack first and feel badly later. You’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

“Much good that will do,” she said with a trace of her usual jaunty spirit. “I know about these coves,” she said, giving the paper a shake. “Seen them in enough
taverns to know; they practically
grow
there. Caricaturists? Ho! Drunks, most—mad, some. Like that Mr. Gilray, they had to tie him down nights. Or that Rowlandson, drunk and disorderly with it, and wenching whenever he wasn’t sketching. Aye, I know.”

Drum winced, and she realized she’d said more than she ought in front of Damon’s relatives. She went on, because it was too late to stop. “They make their money drawing scandal. That’s why this doesn’t make sense. Drum and Rafe have names, true. But there’s not enough in this to sell enough to buy a pint. I’m not famous enough. I think someone paid for this to embarrass me.”

“Yes,” Damon said. “I’m making inquiries.”

“Dearborne?” she asked, seeing the ominous expression he wore, her eyes widening.

“I think so, I’ll know soon.”

“But until we know more,” Drum said, “the consensus is that you ought to stay home tonight.”

“I’d never bring gossip on you,” she said simply, “but were it left to me, I’d face it out. Can’t hide this, trying will only make it worse.”