He touched a bemused finger to his cheek. She was
more like her aunt than he had realized....
* * * *
Reginald Davenport prowled the ballroom rest
lessly. He had forgotten the tedium of Polite Society:
He usually socialized with hard-drinking sportsmen
like himself. There was a certain amusement in watch
ing horrified mamas shield their lambs from him; if he
had a daughter, he wouldn’t let her near a man like
himself. Who would know better than he how dangerous a rake could be?
What revolted him were the rapacious women
thrusting themselves or their bashful daughters in his direction. It was well known that he was about to in
herit a title and a large, albeit encumbered estate. Their
aggressiveness gave him an inkling why Radford was
so devilish toplofty—it was a defense against the toadeaters.
It wasn’t the sort of party where serious drinking
was possible. Bored, he decided to indulge his catlike
curiosity in a little exploration. He wandered out a
door in the corner of the room and found himself in a quiet passage with stairs rising in front of him. Since the corridor held few attractions, he started to climb.
* * * *
Richard was standing at the edge of the crowd, his
eyes searching for Caroline, when he found his host at
his side. Radford had a mysterious gleam in his eyes as
he said, “My former fiancée would like to speak with
you.”
“Former . . . ?” Richard spoke cautiously but his
heart was beginning to beat faster. “Has she spoken to
you?”
“She has told me in the nicest possible way that I have no place in her future. For some unaccountable reason, she prefers you.” The words were wry but the tone amused.
Richard drew in a quick breath before he asked,
“Are you going to take a horsewhip to me?”
“That would be too fatiguing. Besides, while I am
naturally devastated, I believe I shall survive the
blow.” Jason’s eyes went to the dance floor, where Jes
sica was whirling with an older gentleman. His gaze
was possessive as it rested on her laughing face and splendid red hair.
Richard smiled. “I think I understand. Have we
been enacting a comedy of errors?”
“So it would seem,” Jason laughed. He put his hand
on Richard’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“I wish you both very happy.”
“Thank you. May I say that if Jessica Sterling will ac
cept you, you are the second-luckiest man in En
gland?”
“I would dispute the ‘second.’” He looked at her again
and said softly, “I met and lost her when I was twenty-one, and I never thought I would be this happy again.”
He turned back to his guest and said, “Go out the
door in the corner and up the stairs to the left. She is
waiting for you. Jess and I will give you ten or fifteen
minutes to”—he paused delicately—”discuss your
plans.”
Richard smiled, then made his way expertly
through the crowd. Jason stared after him, again feel
ing that nagging sense of familiarity. It did not occur to
him to mention Caroline’s injured face.
When the dance ended, he once more snatched Jes
sica from under the nose of the smitten naval officer;
that young man considered challenging his host to a
duel but was unable to decide if it would be correct be
havior before the pair had moved away. He shrugged
philosophically; when one spends most of one’s time
at sea, all love affairs are apt to be unrequited.
Beyond saying her assistance was needed, Jason did
not speak to Jessica until they had left the ballroom
and were climbing the stairs to the armor room. When
they reached the landing, she planted herself firmly
and said, “What am I needed for?”
A step below her, Jason found her lips were irre
sistibly at the same level as his own. Rather than an
swer, he leaned forward, cupping her face in his
hands, and proceeded to kiss her with great thoroughness.
Laughing and irritated at the same time, Jessica
broke away when he came up for air. “Have you run
mad? What if someone should find us here? And”—
here her breath wavered as his arms slipped around
her and he drew her against him,—”this is too cruel a
thing to do. Please, every time you touch me it gets
harder to let you go.”
“That is exactly my intention,” he murmured, his
lips moving down her neck and heading in the direc
tion of her splendid décolletage.
“Jason, stop this minute! What about Caroline?”
He transferred his attention to her ear, then said between light nibbling kisses, “This is all a direct result of Caroline. Your adorable niece has decided that we
should not suit and requested an end to our engage
ment.”
“What!” She jerked away from him. “Jason, has she
found out about us and determined to play the mar
tyr?”
Since her hand was the most convenient part of her,
he lifted it and ran his tongue from her palm down her
wrist. She shivered and tried to pull away, but his grip
was secure. “Jason! She loves you ...”
He grinned at her, his mind temporarily off lechery.
“On the contrary. She informed me that her heart be
longs to another.”
“Who?”
“Your friend Captain Dalton.”
“She’s in love with Richard?”
“Yes, and singularly good judgment she is showing.
Don’t you approve of him?”
“Of course I do! He is a wonderful man, kind and
amusing and as musical as she is. And very handsome
as well.” Jessica was pleased to see her last remark
drew a slight scowl from her beloved. “He is perfect
for her.”
“If he is so perfect, why did you not see it earlier, my
darling pea goose? The romance must have developed
under your very nose.”
She looked at him blankly. “It never occurred to me that
a woman could fall in love with someone else while
you were about.”
He gave a great shout of laughter and wrapped her in a bear hug, rocking her from side to side.
“My darling, darling
girl. You are going to marry me this time, you know. You can’t complain I haven’t said I love you, and if you
suffer an attack of nobility on someone else’s behalf, I
shall tie you to a horse and carry you off to Scotland! I’m told there are men there who will perform a wed
ding even if the bride is bound and gagged. Which I
shall do if necessary.”
“Really?” she said with interest. “What if it is the
bridegroom who is bound and gagged?”
He silenced her with another kiss. After some moments had passed, he said, “Shall we get married on
Wednesday? That will give me time to procure a spe
cial license and to bring Linda here. I assume you wish
her to be present.”
The brilliant look she gave him confirmed the fact.
“I’m glad you realize you are marrying a package—
the two of us come together.”
A purr and a pressure on his leg made him look
down. Infallible feline instinct had brought Wellesley
to the scene to leave orange hairs on Jason’s immaculate black pantaloons. “Actually, I was under the impression the package included three of you.”
Jessica followed his eyes and laughed. While she
bent to scratch the cat’s head, he asked, “Will Linda
approve of me?”
She straightened with a chuckle. “I should think
so—she has been after me to remarry for the last year.
Her only requirement is that the man be able to buy
her a pony.”
“I think that can be arranged.” He was putting his
arms around her again when a scream sounded from
the armor room above them. Jason turned his head
sharply, his ear now catching the metallic sounds he
had overlooked while concentrating on Jessica.
He
stiffened and said tersely, “Swords.” He raced up the
remaining stairs, Jessica a bare step behind him.
* * * *
The armor room had several lamps lit when Caro
line reached it, but most of its great length was illumi
nated by the full moon. Suits of armor gleamed like silvery ghosts and the weapons mounted on the walls and cases shone from the shadows more like fairy or
naments than instruments of death.
As she waited for Richard, she dreamily danced to
the sounds of overheard music, her arms held out and
her dress swirling softly round her ankles. Her only
contribution to the ball arrangements had been ensur
ing a good orchestra. Though her feet moved to the
waltz from below, her mind was weaving a new piece of music, a paean of joy tentatively titled “Wedding
March.”
A sound from the door caused her to run across the room, almost colliding with the unpleasant man from
Wargrave Park. She gasped while he reached out a
hand to steady her. He looked down in appreciation and said, “What a warm welcome, sweeting! Dare I
hope it was for me?”
“No! I was expecting someone else.” She moved away from him but he followed, staying uncomfortably close.
She backed up nervously until a
glass case displaying daggers blocked her retreat. He
was so close she couldn’t move away. There was an
unpleasant smell of alcohol on his breath as he lifted his hand, lightly touching her injured cheek.
“You seem to be having an exciting night, sweeting. Is this from your so-respectable fiancé, or do you have another lover?”
She shrank back against the case, trying to decide
what to do. Reggie was as tall as Jason, with a raffish
vitality that seemed infinitely more threatening.
The
shadow-filled room was suddenly too isolated. She abruptly appreciated why young girls were hedged
about with chaperons. It was to protect them from men
like this.
She steadied her voice and said, “I am waiting for my
fiancé.”
Reggie raked his eyes over her insolently. She was
really a taking little thing. Her sweet young breasts
were half-uncovered by the dress, with a hint of other
curves under the shimmering silk. She had been un
consciously sensuous when he watched her dancing
and he was sure the look of angelic innocence hid a
passionate nature.
And she belonged to Radford...
Reggie’s own life had been lived at the edge of soci
ety, with no solid position or fortune of his own. He
had always resented Jason—his arrogance, his wealth,
his calm sense of superiority. How delightful to taste
something of the insufferable Radford’s.
Besides, he thought the chit had probably been spreading her fa
vors around or she wouldn’t look so much as if she’d
just got out of bed. Perhaps she had.
Bending over, he claimed her mouth. She was a de
lightful little armful. As she struggled against him, he moved forward, pinning her against the cabinet with the weight of his powerful body.
Her struggles were
arousing and he moved one hand down to grasp her
soft breast while he parted her lips with his tongue. He
was enjoying himself so much that he didn’t notice
company had arrived until he was ripped from behind and torn away from Caroline.
Reggie’s frustrated lust turned to a rage that redoubled when he saw his assailant was not Radford but Dalton, the placid nonentity who had been underfoot at Wargrave.
What right had this peasant to interfere
with him? He was the Earl of Wargrave! As he collided
with the wall, the hand he threw out for balance
touched the hilt of a mounted sword.
After thousands
of hours of practice and several duels, it came as natu
rally to his hand as the hammer to the carpenter. With a roar of fury. Reggie pulled the sword from its mount and
lunged at his attacker.
Dodging a thrust aimed at his heart, Richard came
down on his damaged right leg at a twisting angle that
made it give way under him. He fell to the floor as
Caroline screamed his name and the relentless blade
followed him. Cat-quick, he turned the fall into a tumbling roll that carried him to temporary safety.
Amazingly, by the time he regained his feet he had
peeled off his coat and located the nearest sword.
Hurling the coat away as he wrenched the weapon
from the wall, he was barely able to put up a guard be
fore his cousin was on him again.
“Caro, get back!” he called out. She withdrew
slowly, gripped by an irrational fear that if she turned
away, Richard would be killed.