The Conqueror's Dilemma (29 page)

No, if
she must marry, let it be to a man who would be at pains to shield her from the
censorious eyes of society. That he could at present think of no such man save
himself was neither here nor there. There was time enough to find one since
Ariadne had thrust the poor girl into this impossible milieu.

‘Will,
I must say I find you completely unreasonable. You were furious to think of
Tiffany being married to Chicheley—’

‘Do
you blame me?’

‘—and
now you have taken against Jeremy, who is an acceptable parti for any
debutante. I know Lady Altass has him high on her list of potential husbands
for Melinda.’

‘Melinda
is not Tiffany. There is no comparison between them.’

‘Very
true. I must say I would infinitely prefer Tiffany to Melinda for a
sister-in-law. I wonder if Hector—’

‘Now
you are being ridiculous.’ William threw up his hands. ‘I’ve had enough of
this. I’m going to change.’

Ariadne
made no move to stop him as he passed her, heading for his chamber, but the
amusement in her face was not lost on him.

It seemed
to Tiffany that she was doomed to spend the entire visit at Loscombe Manor in
company with Jeremy Brundish. He was pleasant enough, and she had no objection
to Ariadne’s plan to distract him from Melinda. But she had not bargained for
his shifting his attentions entirely in her direction. She was unable to
understand how he should prefer to fritter his time with her when he might be
fixing his interest with the daughter of the house.

It was
besides extremely difficult to be obliged to be merry and make prolonged conversation
when one’s heart was bruised beyond any possibility of recovery. Melinda had
accused her of being in love with William Westerham, but she did not know the
half of it. Melinda’s notion of love was evidently an airy sort of liking.
Otherwise, she would surely have made objection to Tiffany monopolising Jeremy
Brundish. But this was far from being the case.

‘I am
so glad you are here to keep Jeremy occupied,’ she had told Tiffany
confidingly. ‘You see, Hector is teaching me to drive, and without you, it
would have been unkind in me to neglect Jeremy.’

‘Unkind?’
Tiffany had found herself unable to refrain from protest. ‘But, Melinda, you
told me you favoured Jeremy’s suit.’

‘Yes,
I did say that,’ had agreed the other girl sunnily.

‘Then
how can you be content to leave him to the society of another female?’

Melinda
had let out her trill of girlish laughter. ‘But it’s you, Tiffany. Why in the
world should I be troubled?’

Tiffany
had become frowning and cross. ‘What if Jeremy’s affection were to animate
towards me? Wouldn’t you be distressed?’

‘Oh,
that is too silly, dearest. When I know you to be in love with Will? There is
no danger.’

‘Not
from me, no.’

‘Well,
but Jeremy won’t fall in love with you when you are attached to someone else.’

Her
simplicity almost took Tiffany’s breath away. ‘I wish I had your faith.’

But
Melinda proved not altogether as foolish as she supposed. ‘It makes no matter
if he does, in any event. I have been thinking about it, and I must say I have
begun to have doubts.’

‘About
Jeremy?’

‘No,
about me. Well, about Jeremy too, of course, for it concerns him. I’m not
certain I do love him, after all, for I am not in the least bit jealous he is
taking an interest in you. And I ought to be, ought I not?’

Tiffany
could not deny it, painful though such discussion inevitably was, after what
she had overheard the other night.

‘Yes,
if you truly loved him, I think you would be jealous.’

‘There
you are then. You may continue to amuse him for me with a quiet mind.’

Which
permission little suited Tiffany’s inclination. She was exasperated with
Melinda’s artless arrogance in supposing her own popularity to be inviolate.
And it was by no means her wish to act as caretaker to another female’s suitor.

The
danger inherent in such an undertaking reared sooner than Tiffany could have
expected. She had endured three days of being thoroughly ignored by the
Conqueror since that horrid Friday night. Her secret understanding of his
reason did nothing to prevent her increasing misery. The blessed numbness she had
almost welcomed had proved short-lived. Whenever the guests assembled, her
awareness of Will loomed large, despite her studious efforts to pay him no
attention.

In a
tossed and sleepless night, while she thought over all he had said, she had
suddenly recalled the text of the Shakespeare poem she had chosen to recite.
Let
me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment
. Now she knew what
was in his mind, she could not be surprised at his walking out of the place.
Why had she to hit upon the subject of marriage?
Love is not love…
The
worst cut of all. Could he suppose she had chosen it on purpose to taunt him?

 The
remembrance of their encounter at Vauxhall came back to haunt her, together
with his initial reaction to her presence at Loscombe Manor. The hope that had
revived when he had helped her over dinner had been well and truly quashed
later on. When the intensity of disappointment had sunk a little, she could not
but wonder if Will’s declarations to Hector were not fuelled by those ambitions
it was beyond her power to fulfil.

All
very well to guard against those deeper feelings she had no right to expect
from him. Would his determination hold were she possessed of the means to
support his social obligations? Her yearnings warred with the cynicism she had
learned from Uncle Matt. And Tiffany found she could neither forget nor forgive
the dismissal Will had made of her in his allegiance to the Queen of Society.

Lady
Yelverton had also done an excellent job of ignoring Tiffany since that night.
But any unacknowledged wish to put the blame for Will’s aloofness upon his
erstwhile mistress foundered when Tiffany had spoken of it to Ariadne only last
night.

‘Don’t
talk of Will to me! I am out of all patience with him.’

Tiffany
felt an instant urge to jump to his defence, but she quelled it. ‘Why, what has
he done?’

‘You
would not believe the idiotic conversation I had with him today, if I were able
to tell it to you. Unfortunately I can’t. Suffice to say he has taken a fit of
the sulks. Even Juliana is avoiding him, and that is saying something.’

A
thumping started up in Tiffany’s chest. ‘I don’t understand. What is he sulking
about?’

‘I’m
sure you’ll find out, dear Tiffany, but I’m not going to tell you. Take heed, and
look beyond the obvious is my advice.’

With
which cryptic utterance, she had gone off to her bed, leaving Tiffany in
profound agitation and a good deal of mystery. This morning she was distracted
enough that Mr Brundish was moved to protest.

‘Tiffany,
are you listening?’

They
were perambulating the grounds, Tiffany having taken the precaution of putting
on her blue spencer over the seersucker and lawn gown against the persistent
April chill. She allowed Brundish to lead her where he chose, heedless either
of the meaningless buzz issuing from his mouth or where her feet were treading.
But this caused her to start and look round at him.

‘I beg
your pardon?’

Jeremy
looked hurt. ‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.’

Tiffany
drew a shuddering breath. ‘No, I haven’t. I’m sorry.’

‘I
thank you. I must take from that how little you think of me.’

She
put out a hand to touch his arm briefly. ‘I like you very well, Jeremy, but my
mind is sorely occupied today.’

He
eyed her frowningly. ‘Not just today. I don’t believe you’ve noticed me at all.
I don’t suppose you’ve begun to realise how I feel about you.’

This
penetrated, and Tiffany gazed at him in sudden shock. ‘What? Oh, you can’t
mean—’

‘What
can’t I mean? That I’m beginning to like you too much for my own comfort? That
there’s an air about you I should think any man must find uncomfortably
alluring?’

He
shifted a step closer, and Tiffany felt the first stirrings of alarm. The
situation was unprecedented and she had no notion how to deal with it. She
sought to deflect him.

‘Mr
Brundish, you are forgetting Melinda.’

‘To
the devil with Melinda! I don’t care a rush for Melinda. And don’t call me Mr
Brundish. I have been Jeremy to you these three days. Tiffany, I thought you
liked me.’

She
backed from the vehemence in his voice, throwing up hands to ward him off as he
closed a little more.

‘So I do, Jeremy. But not—not—’

‘Not
as a lover? Is that what you would say?’ His face was suffused with colour, and
he looked distinctly angry. ‘You led me to think otherwise.’

Tiffany
was stung. ‘That is untrue. Whatever you thought, it has been your own
invention. I have never thought of you in that way.’

Without
warning, Jeremy seized her arms. ‘Think of it now then. Let us discover if you
can like me that way.’

He
ducked his head towards hers as if he would kiss her. Tiffany instinctively
threw herself to one side so his attempt went past her. But the movement
unbalanced her, and she staggered.

Brundish’s
hold did not slacken. Rather it tightened, as if he sought to steady her. But his
features showed frustration, and he glared down at her.

‘Stand
still, for I’m determined to show you there is ardour between us.’

Tiffany
stood still, but she was far from obeying this behest. She was just readying
herself to retaliate, when Jeremy’s hands were suddenly wrenched from her arms.

In a
second, she was able to see he was being pulled back by a stronger pair of
hands. Before she well knew what had happened, Brundish was sent sprawling, and
the Conqueror was standing over him, fists clenched and ready for action.

‘Get
up and apologise, you unmitigated scoundrel!’

The
heart was abruptly pounding in Tiffany’s chest. She had never heard Will speak
so roughly. He was positively growling. The memory leaped into her mind of his
talk in the shadowed driveway with Lord Kilbride. Was this jealousy?

Jeremy
was gazing up at his assailant, shock in his face. ‘Will? What in the world—?’

‘Are
you going to get up, or do I have to drag you up?’

A thrill
shot through Tiffany, in despite of all she had learned of Will’s fears. Yet
this was not the stuff of that nightmare he had described. She felt it more as
the arrival of the knight in shining armour. Never had she thought to have Will
champion her. Her pulses raced.

Brundish
picked himself up, brushing dirt and leaves off his buff breeches. He held up a
hand in a show of surrender. ‘No more, Will.’

‘Mr
Westerham to you.’

A
strained laugh came from Jeremy, but he gave a stiff little bow. ‘As you wish.’
He straightened the cuffs of his blue coat and turned to Tiffany, as she lifted
her chin. ‘My apologies, ma’am. I allowed my feelings to get the better of me.’

She
swallowed. ‘It is of no consequence.’

William
barely refrained from landing the cub another blow, although his ire was
cooling. He could not remember ever having been so furious. The boy was
hovering. William glared.

‘You
are done here, Brundish. Take yourself off.’

He
watched the fellow walk away, waiting until he was well out of hearing before
turning his attention to Tiffany.

She
was eyeing him with an unfathomable expression in the blue eyes, but he could
see the quick rise and fall at her bosom that betrayed her unease.

‘Are
you all right? He did not hurt you?’

She
shook her head. ‘No.’

William
was torn between relief and a desire to shake her unmercifully. All thought of
his father’s unnatural affliction had vanished, giving way to the
unacknowledged cause of his fury.

‘Do
you know no better than to go apart so consistently with an impressionable
young man? It was inevitable he would end by attempting to kiss you. Well for
you I was nearby.’

‘Oh,
is it well for me?’ retorted Tiffany, goaded. ‘How could you know I didn’t want
him to kiss me?’

A
burning glance raked her. ‘I should hope you’d have more taste.’

‘Indeed?
Whom should I prefer then? The Conqueror, for instance? He made no qualms about
kissing me exactly when he chose. Or had you forgotten?’

William
flung up a hand. ‘
Touché
.’

Some
of the driving fire inside him was quenched, but he continued to eye her,
conscious of a sensation of hunger within at the remembrance of that early
error on his part. Her cheeks were flying colour, and the expression in her
blue orbs was changing.

‘Did
you want Brundish to kiss you?’

The
tone was soft, but Tiffany was quick to note roughness within it. She felt
instinctively it had nothing to do with either anger or jealousy. She was
unable to offer pretence.

‘Of
course I didn’t, you must know that perfectly well.’

His
lips quirked in a gesture oddly vulnerable. ‘I’d like to think so, but I am not
uniformly arrogant, Tiffany. And in the circumstances…’

The
trailing end left Tiffany with a leaden feeling in her chest. Yes, the
circumstances of his making, and the deliberate quenching of all tender
feeling. Pride pushed her into defence.

‘I
could have handled Jeremy Brundish very well without you, Mr Westerham. My
uncle taught me a trick or two worth knowing.’

‘Such
as?’

It was
his cynical voice, and Tiffany gained confidence to slam back. ‘I do not care
to enumerate, but you may believe Mr Brundish would not have enjoyed the
experience.’

‘Then
I wonder you did not think to use something of the sort on me.’