How to Beguile a Beauty (8 page)

“You're very brave.”

“No, Tanner, I'm not,” she told him quite sincerely. “And truth to tell, I don't care for adventure, not even a little bit.”

He laughed, and then winced as his wound finally seemed to give him pain. “I'll try to remember that next time I'm with you and someone comes at me with a horsewhip. Sometimes, Lydia, a man is left with no choice.”

“No, I suppose not. But now that I've had a moment to consider the thing, I rather believe you enjoyed pummeling the man. Perhaps you only turned your back on him in order to encourage him to violence.”

Tanner shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps you're right.”

She directed a long, level look at him, seeing a side of the man she'd never realized existed. A man who had gone to war, had learned the lesson of kill or be killed. An honorable man, yes, but very much a man. And was there anything more dangerous than an honorable man?

She turned and quickly headed up the stairs.

T
ANNER SAT IN HIS STUDY
,
several velvet-clad boxes of varying sizes spread out on the desktop in front of him. They were all there, all of the pieces he'd brought to town with him, including the emeralds Jasmine had worn last evening, and which she'd returned, as always, the moment they were in his coach.

She'd said the Malvern jewels made her nervous, and she always seemed happy to be shed of each piece, even as she thanked him for allowing her to wear them.

She had told him her only jewelry was a single strand of pearls that had been her mother's, and they were badly discolored because her father didn't trust any of their servants enough to allow them to wear them while they went about their duties, so that the contact of their skin and the oils on that same skin would keep the luster of the pearls bright.

He rubbed at his head after playing Jasmine's words through his mind. Good Lord, the woman could talk the ears off a donkey. But at least he knew that she owned only a single strand of discolored pearls, and that her father mistrusted his servants. For whatever that information was worth.

Had Jasmine told him all of this before they'd left Malvern hall in hopes that he would do just what he'd done…give her the loan of some of a few minor pieces of the Malvern jewels? Or did she just talk because she delighted in the sound of her own voice?

Either way, the pieces were now here, in London, and Justin had seen the emeralds, all but declared them paste.

Tanner looked down at the signet ring he wore on his right hand, the one his father had worn before him, and his father's father before him. He slipped it off, holding it up in front of him, trying to catch some of the morning sunlight. Fashioned of heavy, dark silver, deeply carved, the ring sported a center stone, a moonstone that was reportedly worth a small fortune. Now he wondered if it was real.

He propped his elbows on the desktop and pressed his chin against his folded hands. The move caused the large white bandage on his cheek to pull at him, so that he sat back once more, gingerly touching his fingertips to his cheek.

The cut wasn't as deep as it had been bloody, as Molton was as inept with a horsewhip as he was incapable of holding his drink. Most of the blow had been absorbed by Tanner's shoulder, with only the very tip of the whip finding his cheek. And if he was left with a scar it would be a small price to pay for his arrogance and, as Lydia had put the thing so succinctly, his stupidity.

Tanner smiled at the memory of Lydia's civilized outrage, that had almost immediately turned to a cool efficiency that had gotten them all out of the ballroom
and into the coach with no one the wiser. What had happened after that, with Molton, he had no idea, nor did he find himself able to care. If the man had any sense at all he would have taken Tanner's advice.

After all, it was either lie, or tell the truth. And as the truth would make the man look an utter ass, Tanner felt fairly confident Justin would never hear what had actually happened out there in the gardens. But, being Justin, and far from a stupid man, he'd put the pieces together soon enough once he saw Tanner's bandage.

Which was why Tanner had spent the majority of the night cudgeling his brain for a way to keep Justin from the shops, the clubs, and any chance he might hear about Molton's injury. He'd sent a note round to Grosvenor Square at first light. Rafe's answer, and agreement, had arrived an hour ago, giving his permission to take Lydia to Malvern Hall for a welcome week's respite from the Season.

“Come,” Tanner said, hearing the sharp, distinctive triple knock on the door that signaled the arrival of Thomas Harburton. He left the velvet boxes where they lay.

He watched as his cousin and estate manager entered the study, his gait hampered by the limp that had resulted from a tumble from a horse three decades earlier. The fall, and the limp, had come to Thomas courtesy of the late duke, who had recklessly crossed his path in pursuit of a fox during one of the famous Malvern hunting parties. That's when the late duke had taken him on as estate manager, to assuage his guilt.

But even guilt would not have held Thomas in the position. Tanner's father must have trusted the man.

Now Tanner looked at him. And wondered.

“I received your note, Your Grace,” Thomas said, wincing slightly as he lowered his considerable bulk into one of the pair of chairs facing the desk, the ring of keys he always wore at his waist jingling almost merrily. “I've set Jasmine's woman to packing, and we'll be ready to leave tomorrow. I'll be on my way yet today, to prepare Malvern for your welcome. I'm sorry to hear of your accident. I can see why you wouldn't wish to be seen in public with that bandage.” He narrowed his watery blue eyes and tipped his head as he looked at the large white square stuck to Tanner's face. “I thought people wore those cages on their faces when they fenced. And little balls stuck to the tips of the swords?”

“It was an impromptu match, and I may have been a little deeper in my cups than I'd imagined,” Tanner lied easily, and then turned to another subject. “I don't wish to leave the Malvern jewelry in town while I'm gone. Is this the lot of it, Thomas?”

The estate manager leaned forward on the chair and began picking up the cases, opening them one after the other, before sitting back with another grunt. “Six pieces, yes. Jasmine won't hear of keeping any of them with us. Makes her nervous, you know. Pity to uproot the child from all the gaiety, don't you think? But not a problem, not at all. I mean, you'll only be gone the week. Unless you're planning on a more intimate atmosphere?”

Tanner ignored the man's not-well-veiled suggestion. “You know, on second thought, perhaps I should take this opportunity to have these pieces at least taken to my jeweler's. For cleaning, you understand, and to be sure none of the stones are loose.”

“I can arrange that for you, Your Grace,” Harburton said, not so much as a blink betraying any nervousness in the man.

So Tanner pushed a little harder.

“Thank you, Thomas. But I'd much prefer to do it myself. And, as I recall, Jasmine's birthday is next month. Perhaps I'll see some little bauble that might serve as a present.”

Harburton merely shrugged, as if he didn't much care either way who delivered the jewelry to Bond Street. “One and twenty she'll be,” he said, a whiff of righteous indignation entering his tone. “Could have given you a pair of heirs by now. Your father made it very clear, Your Grace, what his wishes were in the matter.”

“Thomas—”

“Such a pretty girl, if a little silly, but getting long in the tooth, you know. And nobody else daring to come near her, thanks to everyone thinking you'll be declaring yourself any day now. Putting those jewels around her neck is as good as a notice in the
Times,
that's what I say.”

“Yes, Thomas, I know what you say, have said quite repeatedly,” Tanner said. “Now, if you'll excuse me…”

The estate manager got to his feet, pressing his hands hard against the arms of the chair and wincing as he
stood. “Dog in the manger, that's what they call it, you know. Won't have her, won't let anyone else have her. Your can turn me off, Your Grace, your own cousin who stood at your father's side, Lord rest his soul, for more years than I can count. Stood as well as I could, that is, with this messed-up hip I got no thanks to him. He wanted you with my Jasmine, to atone for his guilt, as I see it. Damn near his last words. He owed me, Your Grace, and he knew it. And so do you.”

Tanner looked up at the man, his expression blank. “Are you quite through, Thomas?”

Harburton's face split in a wide smile. “Now, now, you know how I can be when my hip is paining me. Damned weather, more often raining than not. Don't you pay me any mind, Your Grace. Just a loving papa, worrying over his one lone chick. You want to take my Jasmine home, then that's where we'll be going. Do you both good, spending time together.”

Tanner rubbed at his forehead. “We'll be accompanied by Lady Lydia Daughtry, the Duke of Ashurst's sister as well as Baron Justin Wilde, if he agrees. A small party, but we'll try to make it a merry one.” He looked up at Harburton once more. “Nothing more. Understood, Thomas?”

“Understood, Your Grace. And Jasmine will be that pleased. Said she and Lady Lydia hit it off a treat last night. But, then, my Jasmine is so easy to love, isn't she? I heard the Bad Baron was back. You were friends with him once, yes?”

“I am honored to consider the baron my friend, yes.”
Tanner looked at the velvet cases one last time. “There will be no mention of the past, Thomas, is that clear?”

“Wouldn't be so crass, Your Grace. Besides, wouldn't want him shooting me in the back like he did that poor fellow he killed.”

Tanner raised a hand to call back the estate manager and correct him, but then realized he was so grateful the man was leaving that he didn't want to do anything to prolong the farewell.

“One way or another, the man has to go,” he muttered to himself, stacking the velvet cases one on top of the other. “An allowance, something. Whatever it takes…”

“Talking to yourself, old sport? Not a good sign, that,” Justin Wilde said from the doorway.

“Justin, come in,” Tanner said, getting to his feet. “Was nobody at the door, to announce you?”

“As I know who I am, I felt I could manage to announce myself. That your cousin I passed in the foyer? The man has the look of a frightened rabbit, or he did once I announced my name.”

“Yes, my second cousin and estate manager, Thomas Harburton. Jasmine's father. I had all these boxes spread out on the desktop when he was here. Said I might have my jeweler look at the pieces. Clean them, check the stones, the clasps, that sort of thing. The man didn't even blink.”

Justin reached inside his waistcoat and pulled out a jewelers loupe. Leave it to Justin to own his own. “Perhaps because he's innocent. Perhaps because I was incorrect in my assessment of last evening. Or,” he added,
opening one of the velvet cases, “perhaps he's less the buffoon than he looks. Lined up on the desktop, you say? I don't think I can award you any points for subtlety, old friend.”

“It was a bit cow handed, wasn't it?”

“Far be it from me to comment on the obvious. Although I believe I'll make an exception concerning that plaster stuck to your handsome face. You should have feinted to your right before you turned. But perhaps your fears for the lady clouded your instincts.”

Tanner sat down, his eyes hard on his friend. “How?”

“How? Oh,
how.
I was there, of course.” He opened the case and put the loupe to his eye, screwing up his handsome features in order to hold the thing tight. “Garnets.” He put down the case. “Hardly worth the effort to steal them. But pretty enough.”

“The bloody hell with the garnets. You were there, in the gardens?”

“It seemed the most logical place. After all, Molton was obviously looking for some sort of confrontation. If I was gone, had deserted the field as it were, who did that leave?”

“Me.” Tanner got to his feet. “I think I could do with a glass of wine. Would you care for one?”

“At this early hour? Of course, I would. I would have made myself known to you, Tanner, but you seemed to be deep in conversation with the Lady Lydia, so that I was loath to interrupt. For a man who says he lays no claim to the lady, you seemed rather…intent. At any rate, Molton and his trained monkeys showed
up just as I had decided I should be no friend at all if I did not give you and the lovely lady some privacy. Happily, I hadn't gone yet, and was about to announce myself when Molton went on the attack. That was a wisty castor you placed on his phizz, as my coachman would say.”

Tanner handed him a glass of wine, and took a sip from his own glass. “I left him there with his nose pouring blood. Molton. And left the the whip as well, now that I think of it. You, ah, you didn't
do
anything, did you?”

“Did I confront the man who would have horsewhipped my friend, you mean? The bumbling, stumbling, yet dangerous creature who would bring two well-born thugs with him to face one defenseless man? A pig of a fool who would frighten a woman such as the lovely Lady Lydia, with his only wound a slight rearranging of his nose? Tanner. Do you really want me to answer that?”

Tanner shook his head, then chuckled under his breath. “No, I don't think I do.”

“Good choice,” Justin said, raising his wine glass in a mocking toast. “So, when are we leaving for Malvern Hall?”

“You listen at keyholes now, as well?”

Justin smiled. “I confess it. I may have been on the other side of that door longer than politeness dictates, only hastening back down the hallway to the foyer once I was convinced you weren't going to wring that idiot's neck. Although I rather like that appellation he gifted me with. The bad baron. But I'm hardly that. Encroaching mushroom, isn't he?”

“My father did cause his injury all those years ago,” Tanner said. “And, according to Thomas, he and my father grew very close over the course of my father's final illness.”

“You weren't there?”

“I was on the peninsula. My father left no last letters to me. Not that I expected any. We weren't very compatible, and when I took myself and my seed off to be killed by some Froggie—my father's words, not mine—we became permanently estranged. I can believe he might have seen a marriage between Jasmine and myself as a way to roll the Harburton estate in with ours. But I highly doubt the marriage was his last wish. Those the emeralds?”

He stepped closer to Justin as the baron lifted the necklace and used the loupe to inspect the center stone, then moved his inspection to the smaller stones.

“Well?”

“Let me just say that I wouldn't hope to use this piece to secure a loan, were I you.”