In the Brief Eternal Silence (15 page)

“I hardly find that possible when you have
every intention of, of—”

“Making love to you, Miss Murdock?” he
finished for her. “Well, that shall certainly be a challenge.”

Whereas milord seemed to have had no qualms
in traveling to Gretna Green with no proper chaperone, he seemed
rather more concerned about doing the same on a journey to London.
He summoned a messenger to their room, directed him to seek out
Lord Tempton, Earl of Edison, at the local gentry's hunt that
morning, and entrusted him with the message that the Duke of St.
James would be in need of his and Mister Tempton's services after
all.

Then he sat back to wait, and as he did not
take kindly to cooling his heels in any one place for any length of
time, he made a steady inroad into the opened bottle of brandy and
presently started another.

Miss Murdock, not much happier to be stuck in
the inn's salon, watching his lordship's drinking erode away the
few, very few, commendable qualities she had been able to find in
him, merely picked up the London newspaper that had been left with
her earlier, took a seat away from St. James and near a window and
began to pass the time by reading.

The only noise in the room to disturb her was
the occasional clink of bottle on glass.

Some two hours had gone by, and as once again
she heard him pouring, and the clinking was rather more pronounced
and more jarring than it had been before, she turned in her seat
and gave him an accusing glare.

He met her brown eyes, the gold of his own
ominous in their warning. “Do not start, Miss Murdock, for I am
beyond the recall now, and I have been known to get surly on these
occasions.”

To which Miss Murdock with a mumble beneath
her breath for once heeded him, for the expression of his face was
too forbidding for her to doubt his words. She turned back to her
newspaper, wondering however she was to deal with him on a long
journey to London.

Having been half-consciously waiting for
relief in the form of the Tempton brothers, she caught sight of
them immediately out of her window when they rode up to the yard
some time later. She let the paper, which she had now perused
several times in search of those articles she may have missed on
her prior reading, drop in her lap as she watched them dismount.
“They are here, milord,” she broke the heavy silence. When she got
no response, Miss Murdock turned to him.

His change of clothing, which had made him
look so fresh a few hours ago, were now wrinkled and crumpled as he
sprawled in his chair. He had loosened his cravat, the first few
buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing the white column of his
throat and a pale glimpse of upper chest. His hair had escaped the
neat ponytail he had put it in before and now skewered about his
dissipated face. His booted legs were stretched slothfully before
him, and two empty bottles of liquor and a freshly opened bottle on
the table beside him confirmed her fears that he had drank with
silent, determined moodiness for the past hours.

His eyes were slits in his pale face, his
dark brows drawn into a knot above them, and even as she watched,
he moved his hand from the table, balancing a goblet in his fingers
and brought it to his mouth.

Miss Murdock gave a sigh and moved toward
him. She removed the glass from his hand, with some difficulty as
he seemed reluctant to give it up, and set it with distaste on the
table. She was forced to move it back further when he again reached
for it. “I think you have had quite enough, milord,” she told
him.

He gave a soft curse. “What are you doing,
Miss Murdock?”

“Buttoning your shirt and your cravat,
milord, if you can endeavor to hold still for a moment. The
Temptons are here, and it will not do for them to see you as
such.”

He brought his hands to both of hers, pinning
them to his chest, where she felt his heart thumping beneath her
palms, and she raised her large eyes to his drink clouded ones. “I
can manage, Miss Murdock,” he told her. “I wished to acquire a
wife, not a nanny.”

And Miss Murdock, despite feeling her face
coloring, told him, “Then you should act as a man and not a child,
milord.”

He drew a deep breath, one that made her
hands go up and then down with the movement of his chest. She
became aware that she was leaning over him, that his boots were
stretched out to either side of her skirts, and that he was making
no sign of moving to sit up straighter nor to release her hands so
that she may again stand erect. Instead, his eyelids drew up, like
the hoods on a snake's eyes drawing back when something has roused
it, and she found herself lost in the deep golden depths of them,
aware that his nostrils were flaring and that her own chest were
hurting as she held her breath.

There was a soft tapping on the door, and
then it was flung open with no further ceremony and Lord and Mister
Tempton strode in, panting, as they had evidently made haste upon
receiving their summons. Miss Murdock tore her eyes from St. James'
stare at their entrance, her face flaming with embarrassment, and
tried frantically for the release of her hands from his lordship's
chest.

He released them with a brief chuckle, which
set her hackles up all the more, and with a little squeak, she
straightened, turned in a flurry of skirts, and hid herself by
going to the far corner of the room. She remained there under the
pretense of searching for something in her reticule, which to her
chagrin, she managed to spill in her fluster.

“Up to your old tricks, again, I see, St.
James,” she heard Bertie say as she dived to the floor and
scrambled after her belongings. “Lucky we arrived when we did.”

St. James buttoned his shirt, straightened
his cravat. “I dare say it is,” he agreed in a lazy voice. “For
Miss Murdock has rather more charms than I initially gave her
credit for.”

Ryan Tempton strode over to Miss Murdock who
rose to her feet, snapping closed her reticule. “I say, Miss
Murdock, are you all right?”

“I am—I am fine, Mister Tempton,” she
managed. “It was not at all what I am sure it looked to be. He is
very drunk, you know, and I was merely attempting to button his
shirt and redo his cravat so that he could look more presentable.”
Somehow this explanation only seemed to make the situation worse,
for she supposed that Mister Tempton's mind would quite naturally
wonder why his lordship's cravat and shirt were undone to begin
with.

But Mister Tempton placed a gentle hand on
her arm, and she looked up the tall length of him and into his
concerned face. “I am certain that it was all innocent on your
part, Miss Murdock, but I can not doubt that Lord St. James, being
St. James, took it in another spirit altogether.”

“Oh my!” she said, his words giving her a new
and unpleasant perspective. “You mean to say that he may have
thought that I was—I was initiating. . . ?”

“I'm afraid that is very likely what he
thought.”

Miss Murdock, feeling quite horrified, said
in a small voice, “Oh. I see. I must be more careful in the
future.”

“Do not blame yourself, Miss Murdock, for I
am sure you could not have known! I am equally certain that had St.
James not been so drunk he would not have presumed, well, what he
presumed. In all likelihood, he will not remember it when he
sobers, so you need not feel embarrassed or the need to explain to
him.”

“Yes. Of course, I am sure you are right,
Mister Tempton. But I do admit I feel very foolish, indeed.”

“You must realize, Miss Murdock, that St.
James has not had much cause to associate with decent young ladies
in his life.”

“So I have come to understand,” she
acknowledged.

“I am glad that you shall not hold it against
him, for he really is a dependable fellow, if perhaps at times a
bit difficult. And I am glad that we have been summoned to
chaperone you, for I must admit that I was feeling quite a bit of
concern for you, not that St. James would offer to harm you,” he
hurried to say, “but simply because of his lamentable
reputation.”

Miss Murdock smiled up at him. “And I am
grateful that you and Lord Tempton could see your way clear to
assist us, for I must admit, I was somewhat worried that this. . .
arrangement milord has in mind shall be difficult enough without a
lot of gossiping to accompany it.”

Ryan asked her, “It is true, then, that St.
James has plans to offer for you?”

“In fact, Mister Tempton, he already has,
much to my astonishment and, I confess, my dismay.” She paused for
a moment, then continued on in an even lower voice, “I take it that
you were there, when the duke and my father were discussing. . . my
future?”

Ryan made a sympathetic noise in his throat.
“I am reluctant to admit that I was, Miss Murdock, only because it
shows badly upon me that I did not do more to stop their shameful
behavior. I advised milord quite strongly against it, and was quite
scandalized when he made it known that he meant to carry out his
plans immediately. I thought at the time that it could not be
anything short of terrifying for you, but nothing I could say, nor
Bertie even, would dissuade him. I am only grateful that he has
indeed offered you marriage and has not toyed with you in any
way.”

“He has in fact been most adamant about
marriage,” Miss Murdock responded. “And although I have become
aware of some of his reasoning, I still cannot think that this
shall alleviate his problems in any way, but shall in fact, add to
them. But no, Mister Tempton,” she added, “you can at least rest
easy in your mind that I was not terrified in the least, for it was
all rather comical, as my father was passed out cold and the duke
hardly in better shape. Watching him and his groom carry my father
into my home in the middle of the night, with milord, of course,
cursing roundly and abusing his groom in the most unsavory manner,
was worth a lot of entertainment to me. And the poor duke was most
shocked, I daresay, at my appearance, for I was in the most
dilapidated sleeping costume, and when I went to make him breakfast
and coffee, I sooted my cheek and burned my hand. And all this
time, we are arguing, and he is quite furious, both that I should
be so uncooperative and at the fact, I am sure, that he had saddled
himself with such a plain bite, when although he claims to have no
care what his future wife looks like, I am sure he was hoping for
an incomparable, for wouldn't any man?

“So you see, Mister Tempton, it was not
terrifying in the least, but all merely very funny and odd. And as
I have convinced him to allow me a season in London instead of
eloping off to Gretna Green, I can not find it in my heart to feel
sorry for myself, for I am sure it is the grandest adventure I
shall ever have. And I am not worried in the least, for after the
duke has fully sobered and had a few days to think about it, I am
sure he will cry off in a most undignified manner, and I shall
return home with exciting stories to tell of my sojourn in London
and my encounters with the wicked Duke of St. James.”

Ryan was laughing, all the concern now washed
from his face as she had intended, stretching the good points and
squelching any doubts in her voice. Now he told her, “By Gad, but
you are a good little trooper, Miss Murdock. If any one is able to
come out of this the better off, I am sure it shall be you. Why
having your season could be the making of you, and I for one, will
look forward to seeing you. You shall certainly lighten the mood of
what has become, I'm afraid, a bit of a bore.”

He took her arm in his. “Now, we should
probably assist my brother in helping St. James to his feet and
readying him to go. How ever he shall drive his curricle, I do not
know, and I for one, am not about to attempt driving those wild
beasts of his that he calls horses.”

“Oh, they are really not so bad,” Miss
Murdock said with just a little pride in her voice that she had
managed them well enough earlier that morning, when apparently they
were well-known for their hard to handle temperaments. They turned
then to assist with his lordship, found to their surprise that he
was already upon his feet, coat on and buttoned and although he was
conferring with Bertie, he interrupted his conversation with that
man at the sight of the two of them returning from the far corner
of the room. He gave them both a quizzical look and then raised one
silky eyebrow at Miss Murdock. “Discretion, Miss Murdock. I only
require discretion. And an heir that I can confidently claim as my
own, first, if you please.”

Ryan dropped her arm, his face flushing, and
he stammered, “I say, St. James! That was entirely uncalled
for.”

To which his lordship bowed. “Perhaps,” he
admitted. “And if I have put the wrong connotation upon your little
tête-à-tête, I apologize.”

“I would not interfere in your business,
milord, even if I do not agree with it,” Ryan hasted to say.

“You misunderstand me, young Ryan,” St. James
told him in a smooth if somewhat drunken voice. “You may interfere
with my business all you wish. It is the interfering with my
betrothed that I would look so unfavorably upon.”

Ryan appeared to take offense at this glib
response, but Bertie stepped between them. “No harm done, St.
James. Ryan is aware of his responsibility, that he must look
higher than Miss Murdock if he is to secure his own future. Very
well for you, milord, do not get me wrong. You have money you see!
But for Ryan, t'would not do at all, as well he knows it, so there
is no call blustering at the boy when I am certain he was merely
showing a courteous concern for Miss Murdock's welfare.”

St. James nodded. “Ah, yes. The old 'slights
where there are none, and insults where there are only slights'
speech. I remember. Well, can not hurt to let him be warned, but I
will not badger him further.”