Scandalized by a Scoundrel (3 page)

Well, there was no getting out of it now. “Duly noted.” Turing to Miss Watson, Gabriel offered his elbow. “Shall we?”

***

Amelia pressed her lips together as they walked, trying to hold her curiosity at bay. She didn’t wish to seem too eager or gauche. He’d probably think she had some sort of
tendre
for him. He was definitely cocky enough to come to that conclusion.

After they had walked a few minutes in silence, she finally sighed and picked up the thread of their conversation. “Now that we’ve left the happy couple behind, I can stand the suspense no longer. Where, exactly, are you from, my lord?”

She glanced up at him just in time to catch him grimace. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it a sore subject?”

“No, not at all. I’m still acclimating to the title and its address. As for your question,” he said, looking out over the late-summer garden to the lake beyond, “that depends on whether we are speaking of the law or the heart. By law, I am my father’s son, born not forty miles from here in Kettering.”

He said Kettering the way one might a curse word. Shaking his head, he glanced down at her, meeting her gaze. “But in my heart, I am the American my mother raised me to be.”

There was defiance in his eyes, as though daring her to say something derogatory about his origins. Honestly, though, she had no idea what he meant. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “How exactly does one raise a person to be American?”

“By moving one to America, of course. My father died when I was only eight, and with no other ties or family in England—at least none that mattered—my mother went home.” He shrugged, as though moving halfway across the world wasn’t at all unusual.

“But I thought you and Mr. Norton were soldiers together. Did you return to serve in His Majesty’s army?”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “Something like that. Now I find that I am curious, Miss Watson. How is it you came to be so handy with a pistol?”

It was a blatant change of subject, but if he wished not to talk of his past, then she, of all people, wouldn’t press. “A girl living on a country estate with just her father and servants ought to be able to look after herself. It is simply the weapon at which I most excel.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as he relaxed again. “Oh, so there were more weapons tried, then? The image of you with a pistol is hard enough to reconcile; I can’t imagine what other deadly instruments I might have been confronted with.”

“Daggers, swords, an ill-fated attempt at a sharpened hatpin. In the end, I found the pistol required the least amount of strength and agility.”

As they walked, her fingers rested lightly on the creased fabric at the crook of his elbow. Every now and then his arm would move beneath her hand, and she could feel the bulge of his bicep against her the top of her thumb.

“Fascinating,” he said, real interest infusing the word. “I never did have the patience for pistols. So much hassle in loading it, cleaning it, and keeping it handy. I prefer hand-to-hand combat.”

“Well, of course
you
would.” His size alone was probably enough to scare off most anyone.

He stopped, drawing back in surprise. “What is that supposed to mean?”

There was that defensiveness again. Smiling up at him, she said, “It means that you have brute strength on your side.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to take them back. For heaven’s sake, she didn’t want to sound like she was admiring his physique.

Which is clearly the impression he got. A wide, self-satisfied smile curled the corner of his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why, Miss Watson. If you are attempting to charm me, you are certainly succeeding.” If he were a peacock, his whole plumage would be on display.

She rolled her eyes with great exaggeration, wanting to be absolutely certain he understood that she was in no way trying to charm him. “Merely stating the obvious. It certainly wasn’t intended as a compliment.”

His smile didn’t dim in the least. “And yet, that’s exactly what it was. So, thank you. You flatter me.” He winked and held out his elbow again.

Shaking her head, she took his arm, and they resumed the walk. The pebbles crunched beneath their feet, punctuating their companionable silence. It was odd, that it should be so easy to be with him. She hardly knew him, and yet they had the sort of teasing banter one might expect to have with a longtime friend. It was very unlike her.

And very nice.

After a few moments, he said, “Fighting isn’t all about brute strength, you know. A smaller person can easily fell a larger opponent if he has an understanding of leverage. Or better yet, the element of surprise.”

Her look was meant to convey just how plausible she found such an idea. “Right. The surprise I can believe, but I imagine the leverage only works to a certain point.”

“You’re wrong. Granted, a child probably couldn’t defeat a full-grown man, but someone your size could certainly bring down a man of my size.”

She snorted. “I’ll stick with my pistols, thank you very much.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not particularly.”

His free hand went to his heart. “You wound me, Miss Watson. Very well, you leave me no choice.”

Knowing full well she was playing into his trap, she took the bait. “But to…?”

He smiled wolfishly. “Prove it.”

She drew in a sharp breath, startled by the flutter of awareness that raced through her belly. No one talked to her like that. Ever since the tragedy of her mother’s death, she’d been treated with kid gloves by anyone in the village, and Lord knew her father would never allow her to travel to Bath or London or anywhere else she might meet someone new. She swallowed, trying to gather her suddenly scattered wits.

His teasing, or flirting, or whatever they were doing wasn’t going to lead to anything good. Amelia was painfully aware of the fact that she couldn’t go acting as though she was interested in anyone, least of all a handsome, titled man with a devilish grin.

As casually as she could manage, she widened the distance between them. “On second thought, I suppose I should take your word for it. You are a former soldier, after all, so I’m certain you would know.”

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.” The hint of cajoling in his voice only served to strengthen her resolve.

“Quite,” she snapped, then immediately offered a smile to soften the word. She didn’t want to come off as a shrew, but she needed some space. “I think perhaps we should head back to join the others.”

His smile slipped and he slowed to a stop. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I was merely speaking in jest.”

She should never have allowed herself to be caught up in their banter. Flirting and teasing with bachelors was reserved for blushing debutants and marriage-minded misses. She was neither. Her life was mapped out, and there was no point in tasting what could never be hers. Honestly, she should never have indulged her curiosity in the first place by coming here.

Home. She needed to return home to the life she knew and understood and felt safe in. Grasping onto the idea, she took another small step away from him. “Yes, I’m sure you were, but I still think it’s best that we return.”

His brown eyes reflected momentary confusion as his hands went to his hips. “Come now, Miss Watson,” he said, his deep voice mildly reproachful. “I thought we had a truce. You of all people don’t strike me as the sort to turn tail and run.”

His teasing smile only served to make her more uncomfortable. Her stomach flipped, tempting her to give into to the easy intimacy of the moment. To forget all the reasons she needed to guard her heart every bit as vigilantly as she did her person. Purposefully, she pictured her father as he had been during his last fit. The panic in his eyes, the taut line of his shoulders and the white knuckles of his fists as he had clutched her hand.

Firming her resolve, she looked Lord Winters directly in the eye. “I don’t know how they do things in America, but when a lady asks to be returned to her friends, a gentleman does so with out question.”

***

Gabriel drew back at the look in her eyes, his good humor abruptly fleeing. What, was she suddenly offended by his company? Had his crude American manners scandalized her proper British sensibilities? God forbid he try to have a little playful conversation.

“Again, my apologies. I certainly don’t wish to subject you to my ungentlemanly American self any longer than strictly necessary.” He thrust out his elbow in order to escort her back, and she reluctantly accepted, her hand all but hovering over his sleeve.

“Thank you. I especially appreciate your being so
very
gracious about it.”

He gritted his teeth. God, he hated that particular tone of condescension. The British were absolute masters of it. Miss Watson may be half a foot shorter than him, but she was somehow succeeding in looking down her nose at him. 

“You know, it is little wonder you carry a pistol.”

“Oh? Are you referring to the need to keep ill-mannered brutes at bay?” She gave him a false smile, surely knowing full well that she had called him a brute only minutes ago.

He shrugged. “That, and to protect yourself from the long list of adversaries you have undoubtedly collected thanks to your charming disposition.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I assure you, Lord Winters. This ‘charming disposition’ is entirely unique to your presence.”

“I suppose I should feel honored. Few men are privy to a woman’s true nature.”

She gasped, pulling her hand away from his arm. “Well, unfortunately, too many women are privy to men’s true nature.” There was a hitch in her voice that gave him pause, but before he could properly consider it, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Now if you will excuse me, I will see myself home. Please convey my regrets to our hosts.”

Turning on her heel, she headed back for the house, bypassing the path to the gazebo.

“Well, the two of you looked quite cozy walking in the garden today.”

“Did we?” Gabriel hedged, offering Norton a bland smile. He wasn’t feeling particularly chatty about how things had gone during that walk. He’d simply told them that Miss Watson had remembered a forgotten appointment, and hadn’t wished to interrupt them. 

In the hours since she’d left, he’d considered her sudden change in demeanor.  One minute they were flirting, the next fighting. He had handled the whole thing rather abysmally, no matter how much she had insulted him. She was a friend of Miss Abbington’s, and he should have just kept his damn mouth shut.

“You know very well you did, you old dog.” Norton shook his head before taking a drink from his nearly full whiskey. “Why is it you have such a talent for attracting any unattached female within a five-mile radius of wherever you are? It’s a talent I might be jealous of, if not for Eleanor.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel took a long draw from his cheroot. Blowing out a long breath, he said, “She was pleasant company.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He’d enjoyed the exchange up until she’d suddenly disengaged from him.

What was it with women in this country? They either clamored after his title or turned their noses up at his upbringing. Sometimes they did both. He suspected Miss Watson fell into that last category.

God, he couldn’t wait until next spring, when he’d sail to New York to choose a wife. No one yet knew of his plans, but his father’s family would absolutely choke on it when he came back with an American bride. As far as Gabriel was concerned, they—and the rest of the title-grasping
ton
—could go to the devil. After the way they’d treated him and his mother, he’d as soon wed Napoleon himself than marry an Englishwoman.

Norton cut his eyes over to Gabriel as he idly swirled his drink. “This one’s not to be fooled with, my friend.”

Oh for God’s sake. “Please, I merely escorted her on a walk. I’m not going to go deflowering any virgins this trip.” Least of all Miss Watson. He sighed. It was a damn shame things had turned out as they had. He wouldn’t have minded having another person to talk to this week when Norton was otherwise occupied, and he’d shown promise for a while there.

“I’m just saying, she’s more delicate than most. Eleanor told me a little about her past when you were walking, and well, just be careful.”

Gabriel couldn’t imagine anyone being less delicate. Amelia wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet, especially when she had her pistol in hand. “If there was ever a female who could take care of herself, it’s her. You do recall how we met, right?” He pointed his finger in Norton’s direction, mimicking a pistol.

“Yes, well, there’s a reason for that.” He blew out a breath and set his drink down on the table beside his chair.

“Yes, I know. She’s a shrew.”

Norton’s brows lowered, his disapproval clear. So much for Gabriel’s attempt at being diplomatic. “That’s not fair. She’s a lovely women.”

“Says the man who hasn’t looked down the barrel of her gun.” He flicked the ashes from his cheroot and took another pull. “Look, I’m sure she’s a nice person, but she’s one card shy of a full deck, if you know what I mean.”