Rules of Surrender (16 page)

”I have heard that it is.“

Adorna pondered the powers of such a statue, then shrugged a dimity-covered shoulder. ”They would be annoyed at having to come back, but they’ll do it for you.“

Wynter recalled his alternately fond and fearsome memories of his uncle Ransom. And Aunt Jane, for all her distracted artist’s air, could call down the wrath of hell when she chose. ”I would hate to be Lady Howard facing them when they’re annoyed.“

”It’s almost worth calling them in just to watch.“ Adorna burbled with pleasure.

Wynter realized she loved this: the social whirl, the games, the constant challenges to her supremacy. Adorna skated atop the scandal broth as lightly as a fairy.

He—he was more like Uncle Ransom. He could go to Austinpark Manor and be satisfied to raise his children, ride his horses and take lessons from Charlotte. Lessons that had nothing to do with her beloved etiquette.

Every day he came into London, visiting the clubs, the prizefighting parlors, the theater. Anywhere his board of directors might be, there Wynter went and put on an act of indolence and stupidity unmatched in thespian circles. He smiled foolishly at Shilbottle, slapped Hodges on the shoulder, wagered with Sir Drakely and downed a bottle with Read. And when he had asked enough foolish questions that he had them convinced of his idiocy, he went to the office and checked their work.

Still he couldn’t yet pinpoint the bastard who, in Wynter’s absence, had been draining money from the firm. Now it was worse than that. Now the books showed an occasional, unexplainable increase. He understood embezzling, but why would someone put money
into
the business? Was it being done to confuse any auditor? Or did it signal the fear his return had caused?

His mother urged him to take Cousin Stewart into his confidence. Stewart knew more about the business than anyone, she said, and wasn’t it Stewart who had sent the letter that had reached him at last? The one that told him about the confusion of finances and begged him to come home?

But to Wynter’s way of thinking, Cousin Stewart had reason to resent Wynter’s intrusion, perhaps even more than the others. Wynter trusted no one. He had abandoned Adorna at his father’s death and left her to deal with the business, so this he must do—set a trap and catch the culprit.

As he had already set the trap to catch Charlotte.

He had spent hours working on it so far, and all for one small kiss.

Ah, but those hours were time well spent, for in that one kiss he had tasted the desire, doubt and dreaminess of an untouched maiden. He doubted that Lady Miss Charlotte fully comprehended how her life was about to change, and so much to the better.

”Wynter, I want you to meet Lady Smithwick,“ Adorna said. ”You remember playing with her children at Fairchild Manor, don’t you?“

He did, and a more raucous bunch he’d never met. ”Lady Smithwick.“ Taking her hand, he bowed low and raised her fingers to his lips, taking care to give her his best smile.

Lady Smithwick was about his mother’s age, but she hadn’t aged well. Fat smoothed the lines from her face, and she jiggled when she giggled. She giggled now, and blushed up to her hairline and down to her bosom. ”Adorna, you didn’t tell me little Wynter had grown up to be such a handsome devil.“

Adorna tapped her cohort on the arm with her fan. ”But surely you heard the rumors.“

Lady Smithwick’s blue eyes bulged. ”Well… yes. Do you mean to say they’re true?“

”That he’s become a barbarian?“ Adorna laughed softly. ”The sort of barbarian who breaks a lady’s heart without even trying.“

He knew without being told he should play to his mother’s coaching. Ducking his head with simulated boyish allure, he cast upon Lady Smithwick a smoldering look which admired and seduced.

Lady Smithwick clapped her hand over her heart. ”Yes. I see. Would you wait here?“ Her gaze clung to his. ”My daughter is quite lovely. Young. A maiden. I’ll bring her to meet you.“ Pointing toward his feet, she commanded, ”Stay here. Don’t leave.“

Adorna watched her scurry through the crowd and, ignoring her instruction, led him farther into the chamber. ”Martha, how good to see you. Your cap is divine. Lady Declan, I can tell by your air of savoir faire that you have just returned from the continent. Why, Lord Andrew, you’ve gone and grown up!“ She fluttered her lashes at the young man. ”How handsome you are. Come, dears, and meet my son. It’s so thrilling to have him home at last. He has been quite the world traveler, you know. He…“ Her voice faltered, then returned. ”He has so many tales to tell. Wynter, why don’t you tell them?“

Wynter sought the cause of her disquiet and saw Bucknell on the fringes of the gathering crowd, watching Adorna and frowning.

What was the matter with the man? If he loved Adorna, why didn’t he take her? His mother had certainly indicated her willingness.

”Tell them about…“ Adorna tugged him down to her level, then said, ”You’ve got to keep them enthralled until Lady Howard arrives. We need her to scotch the rumors that are destroying your reputation.“ She drew away as if she’d imparted a suggestion for a story.

Wynter smiled and nodded. He wanted Lady Howard here, too, but for a different reason.

Looking around at his audience of wide-eyed ladies and jaded men, Wynter knew he could keep them entertained. With every intention of fabricating a whopping lie, he said, ”My adventures are so slight as to be almost negligible. Saving an English ship by fighting off a shipload of pirates is not so great an accomplishment.“

”Lord Ruskin, this is my daughter, Miss Fairchild.“

Lady Smithwick had returned with the most gorgeous blond girl Wynter had ever seen. She was exquisite, she was smiling at him—and she left him cold.

He really only had interest in one woman, and she was at home with his children.

”Won’t you tell us your story?“ Miss Fairchild asked.

”Because you have asked.“ Wynter sent her a smoldering look, too, and when she simpered he wondered if English ladies had an unlimited capacity to believe themselves adored. ”The pirates of the Barbary Coast are powerful and ruthless, especially Abdul Andre Kateb. None dares speak his name without respect for he will have your head separated from your body.“ Lady Declan gasped, and Wynter bowed to her. ”Ah, it is as I suspected. This tale is not for the drawing room.“

”No, no,“ Lady Declan protested, aware she was the object of some glares. ”I was momentarily overcome. Please, tell us all.“

”As you wish, dear lady.“ He held out his hand to her. ”But only if you take the precaution of sitting down. Such a delicate constitution might not withstand the shock.“

All the women suddenly discovered a delicate constitution, and seats had to be found for them before he could begin again. ”The first I knew of the pirates was their black flag fringed in red—the symbols of death and blood. They came on us like a hammer, ramming us with their ship and boarding us even as we foundered. The captain, as stalwart an Englishman who ever sailed the seas, urged us to fight for our honor and the honor of Britain, and every one of the brave lads aboard did their duty. You would have been proud of English warriors if you could have seen it, my ladies.“ Wynter beamed on them.

Enthralled, they beamed back.

Lady Smithwick asked, ”Did you fight?“

”I was young and had no experience, so although I begged to fight, the captain ordered me to stand aside.“

”Oh.“ Lady Declan sagged in disappointment.

”But our lads, they fought so bravely Abdul Andre Kateb himself came out of his cabin, where his slave girls had been servicing him—“

Bucknell stepped out of the fringe of the crowd. ”Surely not a topic for the drawing room.“ His sardonic gaze made it clear that he, at least, didn’t believe the preposterous tale.

Wynter placed the flat of his hand on his chest and bowed. ”My apologies, my lord and ladies. I forgot myself.“

”Of course you did.“ Adorna smiled at Bucknell, her innocent, guileless smile. ”It’s good to be swept into improper behavior occasionally.“

”No, it’s not,“ Bucknell snapped.

Wynter wanted to watch the tussle between his mother and her suitor, but his audience stirred restlessly, so he began again. ”Abdul Andre Kateb stepped onto the deck, bare-chested, ugly and evil clear to the core.“

”You could tell that just by looking at him, could you?“ Bucknell asked.

”Yes, he could,“ Adorna answered.

Lady Smithwick turned on the quarreling sweethearts. ”Shh!“

They quieted, but Wynter observed an exchange of glares. ”The other sailors were engaged, fighting for their lives, and that wicked pirate came slashing through them with his cutlass“—Wynter slashed in demonstration—”headed right for our wounded captain.“

”He was wounded?“ Lady Declan asked.

”Wounded. Yes. By a shot from a cowardly pirate too frightened to face him in hand-to-hand combat.“

”I have extensive contacts in the Admiralty,“ Bucknell said. ”I could recommend this captain for commendation.“

”It was a merchant ship.“ Adorna moved toward him until they stood face-to-face. ”You know that, my lord.“

”What I know, my lady, is that you—“ Bucknell stopped and glanced around. Every eye was fixed to them. Taking Adorna’s arm rather forcibly, he said, ”We’ll talk elsewhere.“

As they left the chamber, two ladies put their heads together and began to whisper.

Wynter raised his voice to recapture their attention. ”Beardless boy that I was, I knew not how to fight, but I knew what to do. I picked up a saber from a dying sailor’s hand and advanced on Abdul Andre Kateb.“

Breathlessly, Lady Smithwick asked, ”Is that how you got that scar?“

”This scar?“ Wynter traced the mark on his face and thought furiously. ”Yes. Yes, and one on my chest which modesty forbids me to show.“ From the rapacious expression on young Miss Fairchild’s face, he could have bared his chest, or anything else, for her inspection. But looking over their heads, he saw Lady Howard’s head bobbing through the crowd, so he executed a thrilling finish of his tale, which coincided with her arrival.

He hoped the sight of him enthralling the ladies and gentlemen with fanciful tales, made romantic by his deep voice and deeper imagination, would dismay Lady Howard.

Indeed, she pushed her way in without finesse.

She wasn’t a stupid woman, Wynter would allow her that. She knew she had only moments to rescue herself from disaster. ”Lord Ruskin, you imp, you took Howard up on his invitation. Let me take you to him.“

”Of course. I would be happy to greet my old friend again.“ To once again tell the henpecked husband how to keep his wife under control. He bowed to his audience. ”If you would excuse us…“

The ladies, young and old, murmured their dismay, and Lady Smithwick trilled, ”Don’t forget to return, Lord Ruskin!“

”To you.“ Taking her hand, he kissed it again. ”And to your lovely daughter.“

While Lady Smithwick sighed, Lady Howard tucked her hand in his arm. The lacy gloves she wore had the fingers cut out. Her gown showed bosom and bare arms, attributes a lady displayed only in the evening. But she had proved herself no lady, only an amoral brunette with a voracious appetite and a salacious wit.

He despised her.

She knew it. She didn’t care. After today, he was well on his way to becoming the Byron of the age, and the hostess who had him had cachet. As Lady Howard guided him through the drawing room and down the corridor, she said, ”I’ve told so many of the really nice people about our little visit to Austinpark Manor.“ She projected her voice with theatrical flare, including anyone who was milling about. ”Everyone’s been panting to meet you.“

Bending his head so his mouth was close to her ear, he said, ”I came as quickly as I could, but first I had to take lessons in courtesy.“

”Lessons? Really? Real lessons with a teacher?“

She smirked, convinced that tidbit would propel her into the upper reaches of the gossip grapevine. ”You can’t go wrong there.“

”I’ll give you the name of my governess. You, Lady Howard, would benefit by her expertise.“

Her mouth opened, then closed, as she realized how he had set her up. She hadn’t expected the savage to have a wit. In a deadly voice, she said, ”Oh, do give me her name. I’ll write her a letter of commendation.“

He smiled blandly.

But he’d forgotten Lady Howard’s phenomenal memory. ”Wait. I heard that Lady Ruskin went to that disgraceful little Governess School and hired Miss Priss for her grandchildren. But it wasn’t for her grandchildren, was it? It was for you!“ Tossing back her head to better display her long throat, she laughed huskily. Taking a quick turn into the smoke-choked cardroom, she dragged him along to the table where Lord Howard was playing whist. And losing, if the pitiful pile of coins before him was any indication.

”Howard,“ his wife trilled.

Wincing, Howard raised his head.

”Look who’s here. Your old friend Ruskin.“

Howard squinted at Wynter through red-rimmed eyes. ”Ruskin. What the hell are you doing here?“

”Darling, he’s come because he’s been to manners school.“

She almost sang with mockery, Wynter realized, but it wasn’t him she was mocking.

She ran a fingernail around Howard’s ear. ”And do you know who this big, strong, handsome man has for a teacher?“

Howard jerked his head away and swatted at her hand as if she were an annoying midge.

Too many gamblers were straining to listen, and too many grins blossomed at the prospect of Howard’s humiliation at the hands of his wife. So Wynter intervened. ”Lady Howard, at this moment, discretion would be the better part of valor.“

She glared venomously.

He stared back impassively. And won, of course.

”His governess is…“ She leaned close to Howard’s ear to whisper Charlotte’s name.

Howard glared at the space in the middle of the table where the cards would land. Lifting the deck, he shuffled, then with the overdone care of a drunk, he dealt the cards. ”So?“ he asked. But his hands were shaking.

Lady Howard smiled a brilliant, well-fanged smile, and stroked her husband’s hair with feigned sympathy. ”Don’t forget to visit the children in the morning. Their holiday is almost over, and they’re going back to school Monday.“