How to Beguile a Beauty (17 page)

T
HE COACH CARRYING
Sarah and the other servants had yet to catch up with them, so Lydia was grateful for the services of one of the maids at the Crown and Sugarloaf in assisting her with her bath and in buttoning up the back of her gown. She would have liked to wash her hair, but that would have made her unconscionably late for supper, so she refrained.

Mostly, she was grateful to not have to share a chamber with Jasmine. Try as she might, she could no longer be comfortable around the girl.

Not that she was
judging
her. Although she certainly disapproved of her behavior with her Bruce Beattie, she had convinced herself that Jasmine had been seduced by a cad without a shred of moral rectitude, and she could not be blamed for allowing her silly young head to be turned by Mr. Beattie's amorous attentions.

“And aren't you a prig?” Lydia said to her reflection in the mirror hung over the dressing table. “Jasmine is living a great adventure. What are
you
doing?”

Since the answer to that question was
nothing,
Lydia didn't bother saying it aloud. Instead she applied herself
once more to the reason she could no longer like Jasmine Harburton.

The girl was selfish. Brainless. Reckless. Juvenile. Self-serving. Pretending to be something she wasn't, and probably hadn't been for some time.

Up to something.

Yes, that was it—that last one. Jasmine Harburton was
up to something.

But what?

Thanks to Nicole and a lifetime of watching her do her mischief, Lydia had developed a talent for sniffing out mischief, conniving. Nicole's mischiefs had always been harmless, if at times bordering on the dangerous—like her midnight rides on her Juliet, dressed in the cast off trousers of their male cousins. But they had never been sly or mean.

Lydia didn't think she could say the same about whatever Jasmine was up to, she and her Mr. Beattie.

She didn't know why she felt that, she just did. And that left her with a dilemma she didn't want to think about: whether or not she should tell Tanner what she knew, what she thought.

First of all, she would be telling tales out of school about Jasmine and her…friend. Secondly, and nearly as important to Lydia, she would be condemning herself as a snoop.

So, no, she wouldn't tell Tanner.

That left Justin, didn't it?

He would only laugh to hear that Jasmine had been carrying on clandestinely with the local schoolmaster.
And he'd be delighted that she had snooped, because he would have done the same thing.

Yes, that's what she'd do. She'd bring Justin into her confidence. Because he was silly, he was smart, she was certain he was not easily shocked, he might even have some suggestions for her…and although she hoped he liked her, it wouldn't break her heart if he didn't.

Only Tanner could do that.

“Lydia? Are you ready to go down to supper?”

Once again she put her hands to her breast, feeling her heartbeat skip at the sound of Tanner's voice on the other side of the door. Unless she did something about that ridiculous overreaction, she might soon do her heart some injury.

How long would he insist on walking on virtual tiptoes around her? How much longer could she let him be such a gentleman?

Because Nicole was right when she'd said, oh, so many times, that always being good was horribly
fatiguing
. It hadn't used to be, but it was now.

She crossed to the door and opened it, and then stepped back, inviting Tanner inside, telling him that she would be just a moment, as she wished to check on something in her reticule. My, lying was easier than she'd imagined.

He'd also taken the time to bathe, and his dark blond hair was even darker as it curled behind his ears, one lock falling onto his forehead. Her fingers itched to touch it.

He looked relaxed in his evening clothes, which were well-tailored, but not fitted to his form in the way
Justin's were. Tanner clearly favored comfort over fashion, and she was glad, as she also would like to think that she wore her clothing, it did not wear
her
. Lovely as her gowns looked now that the necklines had been lowered—and, as she'd found out as she'd had to draw in her breath in order for the maid to fasten the last of her buttons, Nicole must also have instructed the seamstress to make them more formfitting—she missed the comfort of how they had been.

“I've invited someone to join us in our private dining room,” Tanner said as she pretended to hunt for something in her reticule. “I hope you don't mind. A soldier I met along the road. He's also traveling to Malvern.”

“Oh?” she said absently. “That was very nice of you. Ah, now I remember. I left that handkerchief in the pocket of my riding outfit.” She put down the reticule and walked over to him. “Did he say where he had fought?”

Tanner seemed to hesitate before answering her. “Quatre Bras. He said he was Fourth Foot, and I know they were there, among other sections of the battlefield during the course of those two days.”

Lydia felt a fist forming in her midsection, but ignored it. “It's all right, Tanner. But thank you for warning me.”

“His name is Benjamin Flynn. He's Irish.”

“Oh my goodness, Tanner, stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to dissolve into a puddle of tears any time I see an Irishman who may have fought at Quatre Bras, or anywhere else for that matter.”

“I know that,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair, performing an action in frustration she'd only moments earlier wished to do for quite another reason entirely. “I only thought it fair to warn you.”

“And now I've been warned.” She took another step in his direction, close enough to him now to be aware of the clean scent of his soap. “Have you noticed, Tanner, that we're alone here together? You and I. Nobody else is in this room with us. Please. Stop opening the door to anyone else, to any other time.”

He lifted her hands in his, slowly kissing first one, then the other, as he looked down into her face. “If this room were filled to the rafters with other people, along with the shades of a thousand more, I would see only you.”

What a beautiful thing to say to her. She'd never heard anything more beautiful. “Tanner…”

“I so want the two of us to spend time together at Malvern. I want…so many things. But I don't want to rush you,” he said, just as she was about to—well, she didn't know what she had been about to say. Just
Tanner
.

“We've known each other for nearly a year,” she pointed out, and then immediately wishing she hadn't, for all that did was bring back the memory of the day he'd told her about Fitz. The day she'd railed at him, physically beaten at him, screamed out how much she hated him. “That is to say…”

“May I kiss you, Lydia?”

She swallowed, the action almost painful. Her mouth
had gone suddenly dry, her tongue all but cleaving to the roof of her mouth. She could only look at him.

“I'm sorry. It's still too soon. I apologize—”

He didn't say anything else because she had gone up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. She wouldn't allow him to say anything else. Wouldn't let him be honorable, and polite, and so stuffed full of
goodness
that he would walk away from her, even now.

His arms went around her and she sighed in relief, sighed right into his mouth, for he had opened his over hers, an action that sent a wave a giddiness racing through her.

She slipped her arms up and around his neck, fearing that he would come to his senses before she could understand what it was his kiss was doing to her, and held on tight. Her first kiss. Her second love. Reality dueling with the dream.

Reality winning.

Tanner withdrew slightly, but only to slant his head so that he could draw her more closely against him, bite softly at her bottom lip before fully taking her mouth once more.

His hands were on her waist now, nearly spanning it, making her feel small, but not fragile. Instead, she felt real, perhaps for the first time in her life; knowing who she was. She was Lydia. She was a woman, with the desires of a woman, not the dreams of a half child.
Alive
, for the first time in her life.

The three quick, staccato knocks on the door just behind them were more than enough to have them spring
ing apart rather like guilty children. The sound of Justin's voice as he asked, entirely too jovially, if Lydia happened to know where Tanner had taken himself off to.

Tanner kissed her one last time, quickly, and then put a finger to his lips.

Lydia nodded, took several deep breaths, and finally answered, “No, Justin, I'm sorry. I don't know where he is. But I'll be down directly.”

“Shall I wait for you?”

She looked at Tanner, who shook his head, pointing to her…was he pointing to her mouth? “Uh…thank you, but no. I'll see you downstairs.”

“Very well. And if you see my good friend Tanner anywhere, do tell him to behave.”

“Um…yes. Certainly. I'll tell him.” Lydia turned shocked eyes on Tanner, who merely rolled his as he shook his head in clear exasperation. “He knows you're in here,” she whispered, and then pressed her ear against the door, listening as Justin's footsteps faded down the hallway.

When she stepped away from the door, it was to see Tanner dipping the corner of a towel into the cool water in the basin.

“He knows,” she repeated unnecessarily. “And he thinks it's amusing. What a strange man.”

Tanner pressed the cool wet cloth to her mouth and told her to hold it there. “That will calm the slight redness I seem to have caused. Yes, Justin's a strange man as well as quick to notice things like a just-kissed mouth. I don't think we want to amuse him any further, do you?”

Lydia pulled the cloth away from her mouth and
shook her head. “We most certainly do not. How is it now?”

“Your mouth?” Tanner smiled, and her heart melted. “Eminently kissable, as always. Frankly, I should thank Justin for knocking on the door when he did.”

She felt a blush stealing into her cheeks. “Yes, I suppose we should be grateful to him.”
But I'd rather box his ears.

Tanner put a bent finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. “We have time, Lydia. All the time in the world to be sure. And tomorrow we'll be at Malvern.”

Nodding, she stepped back, away from temptation, fighting back the words
Fitz thought he had all the time in the world, too.

Tanner leaned in and kissed her cheek, lightly squeezed her upper arms. “I'm now going to do the bravest thing I've ever done. I'm going to turn and leave you here. I'll see you again downstairs.”

Once he was gone, she leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. She'd kissed him? She'd really kissed him? He may have
talked
as if he wanted to kiss her, had even asked if he could kiss her, but it was
she
who had kissed
him
. And he'd walked away?

If he got any more
honorable
she might have to box his ears, too!

After checking her mouth in the mirror, and then resorting to a bit of rice powder from her dressing case to cover a slight redness on her chin that hadn't been there before Tanner had kissed her, Lydia stepped out into the hallway, turning left toward the stairs.

She was greeted at the bottom of those stairs by a tall, well set-up red-haired man wearing a rather flattering black patch over his left eye. “Good evening, miss,” he said, bowing politely, if rather nervously. “Would you perchance be either the Lady Lydia, or Miss Harburton?”

She felt a small stab at the revealing lilt in his voice, but only smiled. “I am Lydia Daughtry, yes. And you must be Mr. Flynn?”

“That I am, my lady, standing here and feeling as helpless as the devil in a high wind that I don't recognize a duke when I'm riding next to one. Imagine, having the cheek to just go sticking out my hand to a man I should be bowing to and pulling at my forelock, I suppose. I've been pacing about out here these past five minutes or more, screwing up the courage to either sit myself down with my betters or just to take myself off.”

“If His Grace invited you, he meant what he said, Mr. Flynn.” Goodness, but he was big. Just like the captain, who could make her feel small and coddled, protected. There was just something comfortable and soothing about the lilt in an Irish voice, the softness in Irish eyes. “Now why don't you please escort me to the dining room, as I've just realized I have no idea where it is.”

Flynn inclined his head to her and offered his arm. “It would be my distinct pleasure, Lady Lydia, and my greatest hope that you tell no one I'm hiding behind your skirts.”

She laughed at that, and was still smiling when they entered the private dining room at the rear of the inn to see that everyone else was already there.

Tanner and Justin rose to their feet, shook hands with Mr. Flynn, and Tanner introduced him to Jasmine.

“It is an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Harburton,” Flynn said, bowing.

Jasmine quite pointedly ignored him. “Tanner? Can we please
eat
now. I've been patient ever so long. Really, Lydia, I would think you could have been down sooner. In consideration of others.”

Lydia felt an unaccustomed urge to box ears this evening, it seemed, because she would like nothing more than to box Jasmine's at the moment. The girl had wandered off twice today, upsetting her cousin, delaying their journey, and now
she
was complaining about being forced to wait on somebody else?

“You're right, Jasmine,” she only said, taking up the chair Mr. Flynn had pulled out for her. “I do apologize for my tardiness. Thank you, Mr. Flynn.”