Read Strictly Forbidden Online
Authors: Shayla Black
“Are you ready to depart?” he asked.
“Already?” She smiled at her companion, but flashed Darehurst with a lingering glance
over her shoulder again.
He smiled. “You and I have a great deal to discuss, I think.”
The sparkle left her eyes. “You are right. Excuse me, Mr. Stephenson.”
She removed her hand from his arm. The young engineer kissed her gloved hand with
flourish. “Until we meet again.”
“Yes, until then.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she shot Darehurst an angry glower, then turned her
back to him.
With a shrug
,
Gavin tucked Cordelia’s hand on his elbow and walked away from the station. The music
faded away as they climbed in his town coach, watching as, nearby, Aunt Caroline and
James made their way to their own vehicle.
His aunt waved. As he had since Kira’s departure, James refused to acknowledge Gavin’s
presence.
“Pray tell, why is Mr. Howland out of sorts? Still pining for his former fiancée?”
“No.” He took a deep breath and started the vehicle down the dusty street. Now was
as good a time as any to tell her the truth. “I am.”
Cordelia stared at him, taken aback. Stunned was not too strong a word. “I—I… You
are pining for Miss Melbourne? I suspected that she had set her cap at you but…”
“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat, grateful the traffic forced his eyes forward.
“I feel I should relate a set of circumstances so that you might better consider your
future.”
“What are you saying? That—that you do not wish to marry—
”
“I merely want you to listen.”
She nodded slowly, still wearing a puzzled frown.
“Miss Melbourne and I were much thrown together over the past few weeks. I have come
to regard her highly and care for her a great deal.”
“I see.” She swallowed. “Do you love her?”
That word again. Everyone understood the concept better than he. Gavin sighed, but
answered honestly as he drove toward Cordelia’s town house.
“I do not know. I only know I feel an… attachment for her that I have never experienced.
And I believe it would be unfair of me to marry you without making that perfectly
clear.”
He did not, in fact, want to marry Cordelia at all. But he had offered—sort of—and
she had accepted. He must honor that, unless she indicated otherwise.
Cordelia sat back in her seat, stunned. She blinked several times rapidly, as if trying
to decipher the information he’d given her.
“Has she gone from your house?”
“Yes.” The town house would never be the same without her.
“And that fact makes you most unhappy, I see.” Cordelia stared at him in puzzlement.
“I think perhaps you
do
love her.”
Gavin shrugged. Perhaps he did. Never having been in love, he could not say. But the
idea was beginning to feel oddly, wonderfully possible.
“I did not think you capable of loving anyone. Do you seek to marry her? Is that why
you’ve come to me?”
He exhaled, not certain what to say. “I do not think that is likely.”
Cordelia frowned, puzzled. “Because of the scandal?”
“Now that Lord Vance has been proven a villain, do you think it possible the gossip
about Kira could eventually die?”
She paused in thought. “After hearing the terrible tales of Lord Vance’s victims,
I believe she may find sympathy in a number of quarters.”
Her reply sounded promising. Gavin nodded slowly. “Given that, I might consider outwaiting
the wagging tongues, if that were the only impediment.”
“Do you resist marriage because she is Persian?”
“Half
Persian,” he corrected.
“Yes, but still Persian to some degree. Is that why you have not considered marriage?”
That question was harder to answer, yet he opposed the idea that prejudice alone would
prevent him from following his heart, if in fact he loved her. “When I am with her,
I forget her background. She is simply Kira to me.”
Cordelia raised a golden brow. “The
ton
would find a Persian duchess odd.”
“Perhaps, but I wonder, if they came to know her as well, would they ever simply judge
her on her qualities as a woman? If she proved herself of good heart, why should her
heritage matter? I do not know. I’m not altogether sure it matters to me anymore.”
Cordelia hesitated. “If all that is true, then why don’t you simply marry her? Does
your family disapprove?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Gavin’s mouth. “I can safely say they very much wish
I would marry Kira.”
His fiancée hesitated. “I can think of only one reason they would insist you marry
her…”
Gavin kept his gaze directed at the traffic ahead, but felt embarrassment flame his
face.
“Oh. Well…”
And when Gavin risked a peek at Cordelia, it was clear that she did indeed understand.
Comprehension sharpened her blue eyes.
“Please say nothing. The fault is entirely mine. She was innocent in every sense of
the word.”
A moment of surprise flitted across Cordelia’s face, then… nothing. As always, she
was cool and reserved. Gavin could not tell if she was angry or merely curious.
“You must marry her,” Cordelia said.
“I… believe she would refuse me.”
Again.
“After your compromised her? On what grounds? Your position is in every way superior.
You are a young man of wealth and good breeding. You are in no way displeasing to
the eye and you do not have the temperament of an ogre.”
Gavin took his eyes from the traffic for a moment to regard her. “Those are the reasons
you agreed to marry me?”
“Indeed. That and our friendship.”
“Would you not like more out of marriage, if you could find it?”
“You mean love?” She shrugged. “I found nothing of the sort with Lord Litchfield.
He was five years my father’s senior and much preferred the company of his smelly
hunting dogs. But we were comfortable, and how many brides ask for more? Do not take
this as an insult, but I considered marriage with you would be somewhat similar, minus
the dogs, of course.”
“You do not love me?” He held his breath.
She bit her lip. Never had he seen Cordelia look uncertain for a moment. Then again,
never had they spoken so candidly.
“You are a dear, dear friend, but… No.”
Gavin smiled for the first time in days. “You wanted to be a duchess.”
She had the good grace to look contrite. “The concept was appealing.”
“Was?”
“You and I do not suit, Gavin. That awful kiss after our interview the other day proved
that, don’t you think?”
“I was that bad?”
“How should I know? You did not participate. It was like kissing a wall.”
He smiled and rubbed his chin. Yes, he probably had been like kissing a wall, all
because he thought only of Kira. Maybe he was in love…
Gavin steered the vehicle to a stop before her town house. The coachman hurried to
help her down.
But before she alighted, she turned to him with a smile. “Perhaps you can persuade
Miss Melbourne that you love her.”
Yes, but should he try? Gavin shrugged.
“It is your choice, of course, but I will not hold you at my side when you could find
joy rather than contentment.”
With that, Cordelia turned to exit the vehicle.
“Wait!”
She peered back over her shoulder, and Gavin took her silk-clad hand and dropped a
kiss on it. “I appreciate your friendship.”
“You will always have it,” she vowed, then left.
Chapter Twenty
Kira spent the next four dreary days inside her father’s town house. She hated London,
but the bad weather prevented comfortable travel. Each time she asked to leave, Darius
pointed out that, after so much rain, the roads would be a muddy mess.
Besides, where would she go? Everyone in Suffolk thought her a whore. If she returned
unwed, they would only taunt her more. And she was tired of the insults.
Blast it all! What should she do now? In falling for Gavin, she had lost her heart
to the wrong man. But she did not regret giving up James. They would not have been
happy. She did, however, regret that her wayward heart had crushed her hopes for the
one thing she’d most wanted since girlhood—a place to belong, a setting where people
forgot she was different and simply accepted her. Now she had nowhere to go.
Sighing, Kira stood at the window, watching the splatter of fat raindrops fall to
the thirsty garden below the drawing room window. Would she ever be happy? Ever find
love with a man who could love her in return. Ever find somewhere she could be herself
and be accepted, Persian mother and all? Even if she did, Kira doubted she would ever
again give her heart to anyone the way she had given it to Gavin. She also feared
there was nowhere in England she could travel without her reputation
preceding
her.
Splendid, she was destined to be a broken-hearted spinster, reviled as both light
skirt and infidel, for the rest of her days. Why couldn’t people see beyond Lord Vance’s
lies and a circumstance of her birth that she could not change? Why could they not
simply come to know the real her? She was not all that different.
She shook her head to rid herself of such impotent frustration.
Yesterday, she and Darius had received word that their erstwhile father would be home
soon. Kira wondered what he would say if Darius told him of her illicit amor with
Gavin. He would be disappointed, certainly.
But that was nothing compared to the pain of her broken heart and shattered future.
The arrival of her monthly flow this morning should have put her at ease. It had…somewhat.
But it also represented the death of her last possible tie to Gavin.
Their liaison, however brief, was over. Yet she knew it would mark her forever.
Moments later, Darius entered, carrying a stack of cards and mail. He took one look
at her face, set them on the library table by the door, and rushed to her side.
“Kira, do not be sad. You cannot continue with this gloom. I know he hurt you—
”
She didn’t have to ask who
he
was. “I was naïve. I let him.”
Her brother frowned, clearly not comprehending.
“I wanted so badly to believe in his goodness and his caring. I cast caution aside.
Truly, I have no one to blame but myself.”
“No!” Darius took her by the shoulders. “You have Cropthorne to blame! He was not
an innocent and should have known that dallying with you would mean involving your
heart.”
Kira did not tell her brother that Gavin had set out to seduce her, not caring whether
he involved her heart—or trampled it. The knowledge would only incite her brother’s
anger again.
When she did not reply, his voice rose. “Damnation, Kira! I know you care for the
lecher, but do not excuse him from—
”
She held up her hands to stay the rest of his tirade. “No more. I know what Gavin
and I are each guilty of and I shall have to live with my part.”
And his betrayal.
Darius cursed in short, ugly words. “Please let me challenge him. Pistols at dawn
will cure his corrupt morals.”
“It will likely kill him,” she argued.
“Why should that be a problem?”
“Or kill you.” Kira shook her head. “Let the matter be.”
“But—
”
“Please…”
Reluctantly, he sighed. “I don’t know that I can. Lawrey said the cad came to see
you again today while I was out. What did he want?”
Kira shrugged. She was weary. Lord, she did not remember a time exhaustion had weighed
so heavily upon her. And sadness, and pain and regret… And still, she loved Gavin.
She rubbed her aching eyes.
“I’ve no notion what he wanted. As you refused him yesterday, I refused him today.”
“Did you tell him not to return?”
“Darius, please. He will soon grow weary of rejection and stop coming. After all,
it’s not as if he loves me.”
Kira steeled herself—her heart—against that truth.
Her brother frowned and put his arms about her, bringing her close. Darius was so
familiar, of such comfort, that Kira melted against him and fought a fresh wave of
tears.
“Besides being a libertine, he’s an idiot.”
Kira chuckled through her sadness. “What do you know of affairs of the heart? You
have never had one.”
“Pray to God I never do.”
She kissed his cheek. “You will. Someday, a very sweet girl will snatch you up and
take you away from me.”
“Sweet?” he grimaced. “We’re speaking of a woman, not a pastry.”
Kira could not restrain her laugh.
“There’s a smile,” Darius observed as he released her to retrieve the mail from the
library table. “Have you looked at these since we arrived?”
She shot him a wry glance. “I had not imagined I would have any pressing invitations.”
“Then why are there so many?” He flipped through a stack of envelopes. As he stopped
at one in particular, he frowned. “Do you know the Duke and Duchess of Ludlow?”
“No. Do you?”
“Never met them,” he murmured as he opened the envelope and read.
“What does it say?”
Disbelief transformed her brother’s face when he looked up at her. “We are invited
to their annual ball.”
How odd. “That invitation is most coveted. Are you certain there’s not some mistake?”
He studied the envelope again. “Indeed. In fact,” he said
,
glancing through more in the stack, “they all look to be invitations of some sort
or another.” Suddenly he paused. “Ah, here is something from our uncle.”
With mixed feelings, Kira watched Darius open the missive and read. She wasn’t sure
what to expect, but anything other than the string of expletives he let loose.
“What is it?” She rushed to his side and glanced over his shoulder at the letter.
“Is it dreadful?”
Darius refolded the missive and sighed. When he adopted a grimace and rubbed the back
of his neck, Kira recognized that her brother was not furious, but ill at ease.
“Our uncle thinks I’m a bloody hero and wants to throw a damned party in my honor.”
Despite Darius’s annoyance, Kira smiled. He had done something so brave and selfless
for her. It pleased her to see other people appreciating him as well. “How wonderful!”
His withering glare told her he disagreed. “I pursued Lord Vance to prove you innocent,
not to be a hero.”
“That is heroic in itself. Why not let the
ton
laud you for it?”
Darius frowned, and his expression told her how truly heinous he found the idea. “Why
listen to them preen and mouth platitudes?” He shook his head. “We are not going.”
“I think we must. If the party is in your honor, how can you refuse?”
Darius’s answer was more of a grunt than anything. And Kira knew that while he did
not like the idea, he would attend. To avoid answering, he began sorting through the
mail again.
He extracted a thick, well-worn letter from the stack. He scanned the front, drew
in a deep breath, then lifted a somber gaze to her.
“It’s from Persia, for you.” He handed it to her.
Her heart skipped a beat. “From Mama?”
Shrugging, he offered the letter to her again. She took it this time with trembling
hands and opened it. Mama had not contacted them in years. Kira had assumed she and
Darius were simply no longer a part of her life. Perhaps she had been wrong. Her stomach
fluttered as her gaze touched the letter.
It was thick and meaty, over ten pages. As Kira read, her mother offered details of
her life while asking for those of her children. When she lifted her head, a tear
splattered on the white page, running the black ink.
“Who sent it? What does it say?” Darius quizzed.
“It’s from Mama. She says she misses us.” Kira sniffled, trying not to let her voice
break. But after everything with Gavin and James and Lord Vance, all the emotions
coursing through her were too much at once. She had not heard from her mother in nearly
five years, but her message now was most welcome.
Darius looked unmoved. He’d barely been seven when their father had returned them
to England from Persia. Her brother likely did not remember their mother much. Kira,
however, did.
“She says the biggest mistake of her life was to leave us.”
“Now that we’re grown and no longer need her, I’m certain that’s easy to say.”
Since there were times Kira wanted to be bitter too, she understood Darius’s frustration.
But her mother’s written words were such a balm—and so needed—today.
Kira touched her brother’s arm. “She says she wishes that she had stayed in England
and fought harder for acceptance, cared less what people thought of her. And she wishes
she could have seen us grow.”
“An old woman with regrets is nothing new.” His lip curled with contempt.
She scolded him with a glance. “A woman with regrets who can admit her error is to
be forgiven.”
Darius looked unconvinced.
“Her letter says she was tired of fighting the stain of her heritage while she lived
here. She grew weary of the whispers and the insults, the slurs on her homeland and
parents. She merely wanted to be accepted but feared she never would.” A sentiment
Kira easily identified with. “Why have you never felt that way?”
“I shall never be a proper English buck. It matters not if I am. Kira, what is wrong
with being different? Do not let anyone tell you there is. I refuse to take any insult
about being part Persian without a fight. If someone needs his face pounded, I happily
comply.”
Kira rolled her eyes. “Fighting is not always the answer.”
“What has it failed to solve so far? If you’d let me, I could cure you of that pesky
Cropthorne—
”
“Enough! I am retiring to my room for a nap. Pray the rain stops before dinner. I
am sick of it.”
He nodded, and Kira noticed that as she left the room with the letter from their mother,
he looked at it with curiosity. She would have to let him look at it later, but for
now, she wanted to read again the passage that moved her most:
I told you many years ago, my darling daughter, that mixing cultures is impossible.
Age and wisdom make me doubt my rash words. Mixing cultures can make for something
wonderful. You and Darius prove that. My only regret now is that I left England before
I understood that the key to acceptance begins within one’s self.
Kira gripped the page and scanned the passage again. What had she meant in saying
that the key to acceptance begins with one’s self? She wished with all her heart that
her mother was here so that she could ask questions. Since that was impossible, she
was left to ponder the words alone.
In her bedchamber, Kira drew the draperies against the rain and lay upon her bed,
the thick white counterpane comfortable beneath her. The smell of wet earth and damp
air seemed everywhere. She closed her eyes.
For long moments, she did nothing but listen to herself breathe. Usually this relaxed
her enough to sleep, but thoughts crowded in today.
I shall never be a proper English buck. It matters not if I am. What is wrong with
being different? Do not let anyone tell you there is.
Her brother’s words came back to her. How fortunate that his heritage did not trouble
him. In fact, people rarely disturbed him about it, though they hounded her constantly.
She frowned. Why should that be? Because he was a man?
Or because he accepted what he could not change?
The key to acceptance begins within one’s self
.
H
er mother’s words flashed through her mind again. Perhaps people did harass Darius
because of his Persian blood. But he never allowed it to trouble him. Had he already
learned the lesson it had taken their mother years to understand? The lesson that
Kira was just now grasping?
She remembered with some fondness her time in Persia. They often slept in tents, and
her mother’s rich singing voice would lull her into dreams. Each night, she and Darius
peeked outside to gaze at the wide open sky and the twinkling stars above. In the
morning, they would travel someplace new, begin life afresh, secure because she’d
had her mother’s lilting voice and music teachings as a constant. Kira knew she had
seen things and met people most ordinary Englishwomen never would. Why should she
have to be ashamed of that? Why should she feel inferior because she had grown up
understanding East and West, and embracing what was good in both? Why should anyone
think that wrong?