In the Heat of the Bite (30 page)

“He has. And he has sought my father’s permission.”

“And?” the duchess prompted.

“And he received it. The banns will be read.” Rhiannon held up her thumb and index finger, and pointed to the inch of space in between. “But I have a small problem.”

“You have the man ready to drop at your feet and declare his everlasting devotion, Miss Sinclair. You have him by the bollocks, as one with less dignity than myself might say.” Cait giggled from across the room but turned it into a cough against her closed fist.

“I might have had him by the bollocks at that moment, Yer Grace. But as soon as I left him, he moved on to another.” She bit back the tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. Oh, dear, the duchess would never forgive her if a storm cloud ruined her good Aubusson rug.

“Moved on to whom?” the duchess barked. “And how do you know this?” She sat all the way forward, as though ready to bound from her chair, though with her considerable girth, “bound” might be the wrong word.

“Ginny,” Rhiannon called to her sister from across the room. “Come and tell Her Grace about the lass he was with.”

“So, you didn’t see this assignation, Miss Sinclair?” the duchess wanted to know. She regarded Ginny with her nose in the air. Even from her lower position, she appeared to be looking down at the girl.

“No, Yer Grace,” she sighed. “Ginny did.” If Rhi had seen it herself, she would have felt the need to cleave the lightskirt into two pieces with a lightning bolt.

The duchess motioned impatiently for Ginny and Caitrin to sit. “Out with it, gel. I’m not getting any younger while you stand there.”

“I was in the garden, and I saw Lord Blodswell with a lady. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.” Ginny drew in a deep breath, as though she needed fortitude. They all needed fortitude.

“
Where
did she kiss him?” the duchess asked.

“I… in the garden,” Ginny stammered.

“Where on his body, gel?” the duchess demanded, stamping her foot in frustration. Ginny wrung her hands together nervously.

“On his face. She petted his face, and then she kissed him. And he didn’t pull away. And then she asked him if he planned to be really naughty. Or at least that’s what it sounded like.” Ginny was fighting to remain composed, Rhiannon could tell.

“What did this ladybird look like?” Her Grace’s eyebrows drew together so deeply that a vee formed in the loose skin between her eyes.

“It was dark—” Ginny began.

“Oh, I certainly hope it was, after what your sister was doing with him in the garden,” the duchess said as she cast a wicked glance at Rhiannon. “For which you are to be commended, my dear.” She patted Rhiannon’s knee. “Did you see her features at all?” The woman turned her icy eyes on Ginny.

“Well, her eyes were dark. I canna be sure of the color. But she has red hair. Well, reddish brown,” Ginny clarified. “And it wasna pinned up properly. It hung down her back like a wanton.”

The duchess harrumphed and Rhi hoped the woman didn’t wonder what Ginny knew of wantons.

“And she dinna wear gloves. Her hands were exposed, and she had long, pointy fingernails.”

The duchess nodded as though that meant something to her. “A tiny little thing, was she?”

Ginny nodded. “Aye, and she had a voice like a siren and a smile so wicked it made me want to shiver.”

“Callista,” the duchess sneered. “She sounds just like Callista.”

“Who is Callista?” Rhiannon asked.

“Who
was
she,” the duchess corrected. “I knew a woman like that back before I married Hythe. Callista de Burgh exuded sensuality in everything she did. I’ve never seen such confidence in a woman. She had half the men in Town falling at her feet.”

“Well it canna be the same woman,” Ginny said. “She’d be old now.”

The duchess’ brow creased with annoyance. “Of course it’s not the same woman, Miss Ginessa. And she wouldn’t be
old
. She’d be my age. Please refrain from opening your mouth unless you have something helpful to add.” Then she refocused her attention on Rhiannon. “What I meant, Miss Sinclair, was that I am familiar with that sort of woman.”

Had Matthew always cavorted with that sort of woman? Rhiannon leaned forward in her seat. “Was Lord Blodswell’s grandfather enamored with this Callista?”

The duchess shook her head. “I said she had
half
the men in Town falling at her feet. The other half, my Hythe included, were more discriminating.”

Rhiannon released a breath, not that Matthew’s actions five decades earlier really meant anything at this point. Still, the duchess’ answer brought her a bit of relief. “So
yer
Lord Blodswell had more discriminatin’ taste?”

The duchess shrugged. “Well, he was fond of her. In a very brotherly sort of way. He most definitely was not part of the throng who followed her from room to room, however.”

“What has this ta do with anythin’?” Ginny asked. “It’s the
current
Lord Blodswell ye need help with, Rhi.”

The duchess narrowed her eyes on Ginny. “The two of you may go.” She gestured to Cait and Ginny absently, motioning her hand toward the door. “Our planning will go better without interference.”

“I canna go home. No’ without a reason for bein’ gone when Aunt Greer woke up,” Ginny said quietly to Rhiannon.

The duchess sighed as though dealing with Ginny would try even Job’s patience. “You may wait in one of my parlors, Miss Ginessa, and then I’ll escort you myself to Cooper House. By the time I’m through with your aunt, you will have gained not only her forgiveness, but also her favor. Now, go.” She motioned toward the door again.

“Rhi, will ye be all right?” Cait asked softly.

“I do not gobble up debutantes, Lady Eynsford. Pray keep Miss Ginessa company somewhere, anywhere else, for the time being.”

As soon as the pair exited the private sitting room, Rhiannon found herself completely alone with the Duchess of Hythe, who looked more alive than Rhi had ever seen her.

“I do have an idea,” the duchess began. “How daring are you, Miss Sinclair?”

Matthew dropped into the seat behind his mahogany desk and closed his eyes. The pounding in his head had only intensified, beating like an African drum, ever since he’d left Thorpe House. He placed both hands on his temples, hoping to massage the pain away, but to no avail.

“You look nearly as bad as you did in Edinburgh.” Alec MacQuarrie’s voice came from the threshold.

Matthew opened one eye to glare at his protégé. “It’s just a headache.”

“I didn’t think we were supposed to get those.”

Matthew scrubbed a hand across his face. Apparently, he was to have no peace. “Trying to sort out women can give any man a headache.”

Alec chuckled. “Good to know.” He pushed himself from the doorjamb and walked farther into Matthew’s study. “I’ll just indulge in
Brysi
’s offerings and wash my hands of the whole lot.”

“That’s a wonderful plan.” But not for Matthew. He didn’t want to wash his hands of Rhiannon. Even if he could partake of another, he had no desire to do so. He wanted to bask in her mischievous hazel gaze. He wanted her soft lips to trail up and down his skin. He wanted to strip her of every stitch of clothing and hold her in his arms for all eternity.

What he didn’t want to ever see again was the scathing, hurtful glare she’d cast in his direction before scrambling out of Thorpe House.

Alec folded himself into a chair across from Matthew. “So what is it you’re trying to sort out? How she can stomach to surround herself with those dogs?”

Matthew snorted. He wasn’t all that thrilled with
those dogs
, either. Eynsford could have been a tiny bit more helpful this morning. Blasted Lycan. “Honestly, I don’t have any idea, Alec.”

His friend’s eyes settled on Matthew. Concern and devotion filled their dark depths. Confiding in Alec might be the very best thing. After all, the Scot had known Rhiannon most of her life. His insight could be most useful.

Matthew sat forward, leaning his elbows on his desk. “She was happy to see me last night.” More than happy. He’d gone to bed smiling at the memory of her gasps echoing in his ears. “And then this morning at Thorpe House, she looked at me as though I’d killed her best friend.”

Alec’s brow rose with amusement. “I’m assuming you
didn’t
kill her best friend since Sorcha’s safely tucked away in Scotland.”

And he’d thought Alec could be of some use. Matthew scowled at the Scot. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, no,” Alec protested. “Go on. Rhi wasn’t happy to see you this morning.”

Matthew shook his head. “I would have thought it had something to do with Weston Hadley’s injury, but she made some comment about me being a
man
, as though it were the vilest of curse words.”

“That sounds like Blaire more than Rhiannon.”

“Something happened. I’m just not certain what.”

“You thought it might have something to do with some injury?”

“Callista scarred one of the Hadley twins last night in a temper. If Rhiannon was upset about it, I’m sure she would have just told me so. Even still, I don’t think she’d be angry with
me
. It’s not as though I inflicted the gash.”

Confusion crossed Alec’s face. “Are you saying she actually scarred the dog? But you told me Lycans could heal themselves just as we do.”

Matthew nodded absently. “They do with any normal injury, aside from something that kills instantly anyway. Broken neck, that sort of thing.”

“But Hadley didn’t heal?”

“He
healed
,” Matthew stressed. “But he’ll wear Callista’s mark across his face ’til the end of his days. But as I said, I don’t think that’s what Rhiannon is angry about. It wouldn’t have anything to do with me being a
man
.”

“Go back,” Alec said. “If Hadley has healed, why does he wear Callista’s mark?”

“Because it was inflicted by vampyre flesh,” Matthew explained, then added when he saw Alec’s eyes flash with delight, “and, no, you may not go about disfiguring Eynsford, his pack, or any other Lycan. The last thing we need is a war on our hands.”

“Just a little scar?” Alec asked, the gleam still present in his eyes.

“No scarring Eynsford. It might bring you a bit of satisfaction in the moment, but you’ll have a lifetime of moments afterward when you’ll regret the action.”

“So you say.” Alec slumped back in his seat.

Matthew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Do you think Lady Eynsford would thank you for it? I was on the receiving end of her scathing glare this morning too, and I’d rather not repeat…” He let his voice trail off as an idea struck him. The clairvoyant Caitrin Eynsford
had
been furious with him too, hadn’t she? “Do you suppose they’re not angry with me for something I’ve done, but for something I
will
do?”

Alec shrugged. “You’re sure you haven’t done something to deserve her ire?”

“I’ve done nothing.” Matthew frowned. “Nothing at all. Good God! What awful thing do you suppose I’m going to do?”

“Scar Eynsford?” Alec put in hopefully. “Or sever one of his limbs perhaps?”

Matthew glared at his friend. “You’ve been exactly no help, Alec. Thank you so much for visiting.”

What did Rhiannon think he was going to do? What future crime had Lady Eynsford seen?
He’s a man after all.
Rhiannon’s words echoed in his mind. That wasn’t even a usable clue. That could mean a million things, because he
was
a man after all.

Rhiannon didn’t think she’d heard the Duchess of Hythe correctly. “I beg yer pardon?”

The old woman cackled with glee. “How else are you to find out what you’re up against, Miss Sinclair?”

Rhiannon shook her head. “If I was discovered, I’d be ruined.”

“A risk worth taking. Do you love him?”

A tear streamed down Rhiannon’s cheek, just as a deluge pitter-pattered against the window. At least the rain had transpired outdoors rather than in. Rhi swiped at the traitorous tear as she nodded. “That’s why this hurts so much, Your Grace.”

The duchess offered Rhi a handkerchief. “Of course it does. And that’s why you’ll want to find out what he’s up to. The sorts of places he frequents. The sort of people he calls friends. Until you enticed him into polite society, Miss Sinclair, no one had seen neither hide nor hair of him. But he must go places, see people. After the bloom is off the rose, he’ll return to those pursuits. It’s the way of men. And once you’ve said ‘I do,’ it’s too late to back out. No, no, it’s best to know up front what sort of scoundrel you’ve given your heart to.”

Matthew hadn’t even waited until their vows were said before he’d returned to those pursuits, had he? Rhiannon twisted the handkerchief in her hand. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about following him. I’ve never been very good at subterfuge.”

Her Grace grinned. “Recruit that Radbourne fellow to go along with you. He seems willing to do your bidding. And if anyone is adept at hiding, though in his case from creditors, it’s Viscount Radbourne.”

“And if we’re caught?”

“I have a feeling Radbourne never gets caught. Take it from me, Miss Sinclair, that fellow knows how to stay hidden in the proverbial shadows. And you need to know what you’re getting yourself into with Blodswell. You’ve given the man your heart. It’s time to find out if that was a wise decision. And if you discover his sins are darker than you can bear, it is better for you to learn such details before you say your vows. It’s not too late for you to reclaim your heart, after all.”