Edith Layton (4 page)

He’d missed his family in that alien land. But he did
find himself. And found to his surprise that fellow wasn’t much different from the Damon Ryder he’d known at home in England. Except eventually much richer.

Only back in England for two weeks, and he’d found himself a gem of a girl to wed, he mused now. But he’d have to work for that, too. He had to get to know her, discover if this love at first sight would turn out like all the others had. If his luck held, she’d be as perfect for him as he imagined and he’d make this mockery of an engagement a reality. If she wasn’t, he’d played the hero and saved her reputation.

Either way, he didn’t see how he could lose. He picked up his pace. He couldn’t wait until morning to see her again, and try his amazing luck once more.

“I
don’t want her hurt,” the gentleman said as he paced.

“Nor do I,” Damon agreed, “which is why I said what I did.”

The Viscount Sinclair paused and gazed at Damon, taking complete measure of the man who sat before him in his study. His dark face was intent as he tried to stare down his visitor.

Damon looked back, humor in his steady gray gaze. Other men might have squirmed under that fixed regard. Damon relaxed. He had a clear conscience.

“You told society you were going to marry Gilly,” Sinclair finally said. “She told me why, and I thank you for it. I’d have Dearborne meet me for what he did, with his choice of weapons. But it would only fuel more
gossip. It’s how he gets away with such outrageous behavior. But I won’t forget,” he added in a way that made Damon almost pity Dearborne. “Still,” Sinclair said, frowning, “a declaration of love and marriage before all of London society? Rash. You went so far to protect a stranger?”

“I’ve hopes she’ll become less of one,” Damon said mildly.

Sinclair’s thin eyebrows shot up. “You’re prepared to actually go through with it?” he asked incredulously.

“I am…although she says she’d have to be two weeks dead before she’d do it. An impediment to my plans, you’ll agree.” His fierce host couldn’t suppress a sudden grin as Damon went on serenely, “I had no choice, my lord. Not after what that bastard said. It was my reputation as well as hers. Still, all’s well that ends well, and I have great hopes this will. Now she’s got her reputation back and fashion smiles on her. Dearborne looks like an idiot, which is the least he deserves. What he really needs is to let Gilly have at him again. But I’m not that cruel.”

His host grinned wide at the thought as Damon added, “And whether or not you believe it, the idea of marrying Miss Giles grows more pleasing to me by the hour.”

Now the viscount looked thunderous again. “You don’t know what you’re suggesting. No—hear me out.” He sat, at last, perching on the edge of his desk. Though he faced Damon, now he fidgeted with a pen he’d picked up instead of looking at him. His voice grew troubled as he tried to explain. “There’s no finer young woman in London for a man to marry, in my
opinion. But there are few as ineligible. Oh, I’ll dower her well. I made her and her sister my wards almost five years ago. I’ve seen to their education and upbringing since. I did the best I could for them, and it was the least I could do. I owe them much. I like them, too.

“Gilly is bright, brave, and beautiful. But it’s no secret she has no family but her sister. She’s not common in any sense but birth…but the truth is she has no claim to being anything but a child of commoners, London born and bred. That’s not all….” He saw the sudden alarm in his guest’s eyes and added quickly, “There’s no murder or insanity being hidden, I assure you. But the rest of her history is hers to tell, if she chooses.”

He levered himself up from the edge of the desk and began pacing again. “I’ll only say that whatever I did for her, she’s a remarkable young woman to have raised herself to what you see now. Her history doesn’t impel her to wedlock, nor do we blame her, nor will we urge it on her. Though,” he added in a softer voice, “we do hope she’ll find the happiness we have.”

“I understand your wishes for her happiness, though not her history, of course,” Damon said.

“It’s not mine to say more,” Sinclair said abruptly.

“Well, then,” Damon said amiably, “I’ll wait to see if she confides in me. In the meanwhile no harm can come of my courtship. I promise you that.”

“But it might, there’s the point,” Sinclair said in annoyance. “What if she grows fond of you? It isn’t impossible. She said she might marry one day, in spite of everything. You’re considered a catch on the mar
riage mart. But what could be more futile for her than to form an attachment to you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Damon said. He rose to his feet, his face set and cold. “You’re telling me that I’
m
ineligible?”

“Of course not! Just the reverse. What would your family say about such a liaison?”

“Oh, my family.” Damon laughed and sat again. “My lord, I’m the strayed lamb, or rather, the prodigal son returned—which is why I went away in the first place. I’m the baby of my family,” he said to the Sinclair’s puzzled expression. “I’ve four older brothers, each more handsome and clever than any man has a right to be. And three beautiful older sisters, each as opinionated and stubborn as any man I’ve ever met. And a doting mama and a fond papa. For as long as I remember I’ve delighted them by simply
being
. When I inhaled, I was applauded for remembering to take the next breath. No one expected anything of me but smiles, no one ever frowned at me except for not smiling. I left England because of a surfeit of love! And to prove I was as much of a man as any of my brothers—or sisters.”

Damon smiled nostalgically. “I had to show them—and myself—that I could make my own way in the world. I did, and spectacularly. That’s not bragging, but you ought to know that I’m wealthy in my own right now. I did it myself. I may not have a title, but I’m well to grass, my lord. There’s the reason for me being a ‘catch.’ As for Gilly, it’s not just that she doesn’t want to fish for me, although I’ll admit I find that refreshing. It’s that I’ve traveled to America and traded with French, Indians, and Dutchmen, and never met anyone
like her. She has the heart of a lion in that pretty little body of hers.”

Damon saw the Viscount’s sudden glare, and said peacefully, “Glower as much as you like, my lord, I’m not a eunuch and won’t pretend I am. She is a beauty and no mistake. But I won’t do more than appreciate that fact in a philosophical kind of way—until she agrees to make our charade the truth. I’m hoping she will.”

“Hold that thought,” Sinclair said with a frown. “You don’t know her yet, nor all about her. She’s clear as spring water. If she trusts you, you’ll know more. Then we’ll see. But in the meantime, well then, so be it. Let the courtship commence, but only a courtship, mind you. I
f
she still agrees.”

“She saw the necessity because of my announcement last night. I see more, of course. We’ll see.”

“And I begin to see what made you so successful,” the older man said with a wry smile. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”

“Of course,” Damon said. “It’s just that I have a terrible memory and that’s one of the words I tend to forget.”

“And the other words?”

“‘Never.’ ‘Impossible.’ And ‘You can’t,’” Damon said promptly.

“Damn!” Sinclair said on a broad white smile. “My Bridget was right! A catch, indeed. You almost make me wish our little Margaret was twenty years instead of not yet twelve weeks old.”

“There are some things even I can’t change,” Damon said with a great deal of mock sorrow.

He’d never taken a living statue driving in the park before. It was an interesting experience, with such a very lovely statue, but devilish dull. He told her so.

Gilly turned her head so quickly she didn’t even blink against the blinding sunlight that made Damon seem only a dark shape where he sat on the high driver’s seat next to her.

“W
hat
?”

“You haven’t said a word since we left your house,” Damon remarked, regretfully leaving off looking into those shocked, sun-drenched amber eyes so he could guide his horses again.

“Yes, I did. I said the weather was fine and that you had a handsome carriage.”

“Oh, is that what you mumbled a while back? Thank you, so it is, and yes, it is very fine. The rig is rented, I took it out for your approval. I thought you’d like the gold and brown colors. I was trying to match your hair and eyes. You nod? That means yes? You know, when I first saw you I was reminded of some sort of elfin person, but now I wonder if I was more right than I knew. Does daylight deprive you of speech? You seemed so witty and spirited in the night. Or is it just that you were up celebrating so late last night after you landed my declaration that you’ve no voice left now?”

“Well!” she said, sarcastically, “I like that!”

So did he. He stole a quick glance. Her cheeks were blushed with indignation. It suited her dusky rose carriage dress very well. He’d been disappointed to see her flaxen hair tucked up under a charming straw bonnet. But that did show the purity of her bone structure
clear, and pointed out the fact that her face didn’t need even such glorious embellishment. He was glad the bonnet had a brim to shade that translucent skin from the light. Although, he mused, it might be good to see a few freckles marching across the bridge of that straight little nose. It would make her seem a little less perfect, a little more warm and human. Lord! She was a lovely creature. It made a man yearn to see just how human she was.

“I didn’t say anything because I was just enjoying the ride,” Gilly lied. “It’s a nice carriage, and I haven’t been driving in the park for a while.”

She turned her head so he wouldn’t see the truth in her eyes. The truth was it was hard to look at him even now. This morning he’d looked so fine, the sight of him when he’d called had robbed her of conversation. She’d gaped at him, then stood mute, which must have shocked Bridget and Ewen, too. She winced now, remembering the viscount’s quick question when he saw her face as she walked to the front door with Damon. “Are you sure you want to go, Gilly? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know.”

Even then she couldn’t do more than mumble, “Oh no, I do.” When she heard that and realized how matrimonial it sounded, she blushed and added, “I do want to go, that is.”

Which made Bridget grin and surreptitiously poke her husband in the ribs with an elbow to silence him. Their son, little Maxmilian, grew narrow-eyed and spoke up jealously. “You don’t have to go, Gilly, if you don’t want to. Papa said so.”

“Oh, but it will be fun, Max. I’ll be back soon,” she
said to reassure him. Max was three, going on thirty, and possessive as an old bear because his friend Gilly was going out without him. So she’d pasted on a serene smile and stepped out for her drive with her false fiancé.

Now she realized she was more nervous with him than she’d been with a man since she’d been a child. Not because he threatened her…although she supposed he did, in a different way.

The dratted fellow had got himself up all in tones of gold today. Exactly like the glowing image she’d held of him through all those restless hours when she couldn’t sleep last night, pondering her rash decision to playact an engagement with him. He wore a dark gold jacket, buff pantaloons, dark brown boots, even his caped driving coat was brown. The matched team pulling the phaeton were bays. He glowed in the setting. Or at least he did when she could bear to look at him.

Gilly turned her head, pretending the sun was still in her eyes. But he was the dazzling image she couldn’t look directly at. In fact, he was just about the most handsome man she’d ever seen, outside of the ones she’d admired in their frames at the Royal Academy, or the marble ones standing in the corridors there. Only he was fully dressed. Which also made him the first man she’d ever mused about seeing without clothes.

“But if you want to chat, I’m very willing,” she said quickly, turning her head so he wouldn’t see how pink her cheeks must be from her treacherous thoughts. He made her feel like a girl again. The girl she’d never been.

“We could talk about London,” he suggested. “I’ve only been back two weeks. And so you’ll have to tell me where you’d like to go after this. We’re here now because Sinclair told me this is the place to be seen in the morning. We’re establishing ourselves today. So when we turn into the park and go down the main drive I expect to see you simpering as I gaze at you adoringly, to put the icing on our arrangement in the eyes of the world.”

“I don’t think I can simper,” Gilly snapped. “How about laughing? If you keep saying such ridiculous things I should have no trouble with that.”

“Laughing is good…but simpering would be better,” he said wistfully. “Tittering might do, too. No? Then do you think you could manage a fit of giggles? What will all the other fellows think of my courting if you don’t?” he asked mournfully. He glanced at her outraged expression and burst out laughing himself.

She liked the sound, and cocked her head to hear it. It must be the result of his travels, she decided. English gentlemen seldom laughed aloud, at least when they were with ladies. They smiled or grinned or chuckled, sometimes even coughed to cover their laughter if they couldn’t restrain it. It was rare for them to so much as show their teeth. They only let loose and guffawed when they were with other men. She hadn’t noticed that before. She did now because it was so pleasant to be treated like a companion by a man other than Ewen and his oldest friends.

She smiled back at him and relaxed. “They’re bound to think a lot of your courting because they think it was successful. Wouldn’t I just like to see that devil Dear
borne’s expression when he hears!” she added with relish. “Now he’s got the name
liar
to add to
vermin
, which he is. Oh, I hope he shrivels at how he’ll be treated now!”

“Remind me never to anger you,” Damon said seriously, “because if you don’t floor me immediately, you’ll ill-wish me into eternity.”

“I believe in repayment, ounce for ounce,” she said as seriously. “It isn’t right for people who hurt others to get off with less suffering than their victims.”

“An eye for an eye?”

“Payment in kind,” she said, nodding, “or worse, especially if the ones they hurt weren’t looking for troubles.”

“And that bothersome bit about turning the other cheek?”

“I’m no saint, Mr. Ryder,” she said, looking off in the distance. “I wouldn’t want to be one even if I could. It’s my experience that turning the other cheek only gets you slapped harder. Evildoers look for weaknesses and they don’t think forbearance is strength. But retribution, dealt swift and direct? Oh, that will do for me, thank you very much!”

Damon was so startled, he couldn’t answer. He used the moment to guide his horses through the park gates. Why was she so bitter? Who had treated her so harshly? Who had dared? Had Sinclair been such a stern taskmaster? Or was this part of the mystery the viscount warned him about?