Authors: Johanna Lindsey
Tags: #Historical, #Romance, #Fiction, #Erotica
“But he may not even return to London. He’s got no reason to.”
“He’ll come,” was all Amy said.
“How can you be so sure? Never mind, I know.” Georgina shook her head. “Your instincts.”
Georgina returned home in a dismal mood, sure now that Amy was heading for some major disappointment. If she knew her brother, and she did, he’d stay as far away from the girl as possible now, which meant somewhere on the
other side of the world. So she was more than a bit surprised to recognize the raised voice coming from James’s study as Warren’s, and to have it confirmed when she opened the door.
“So why don’t you do something?” Warren was demanding. “She’s making a blasted fool of herself.”
“’Pears to me she’s come to her senses,” James replied offhandedly. “
You
were the one she was making a fool of herself over.”
“Do you even know who this man is? He married a woman, forced her to have a child, just to have revenge on me. He’s probably after Amy for the same reason, because he thinks it will hurt me if he wins her.”
“Will it?”
“That’s none of your damn business, Malory,” Warren snapped, then thrust his hands through his hair in frustration before adding, “Look, if I confront Addington, I’m afraid I’ll kill him. He’s interfered in my life too drastically to overlook it.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Yank. It’s already been established that Amy won’t listen to well-meaning advice where her heart is concerned.”
“Then warn the man off. As Amy’s uncle, you should have done so already. Why haven’t you?”
James merely crooked a brow at this attack. “I wasn’t aware that the chap was a personal enemy of yours. And if I had known, I hardly
see that it matters. His behavior on the voyage here was above reproach.”
“I’ve just told you what he’s capable of.”
“In your opinion, but what proof have you?”
“His ex-wife confessed the whole thing to me before I left Bridgeport, how he paid her to pursue me until I proposed, then jilt me. How having a baby and letting me think it was mine was part of the deal, as well as marrying him with the promise of a divorce in the end.”
James snorted. “And you expect me to take your word for it, or, for that matter, the word of a divorced woman who quite possibly harbors a grudge against the man great enough to slander him?”
“To hell with you, then!” Warren said as he stormed out of the room, merely adding a curt “Georgie” when he noticed his sister by the door.
She walked over to her husband’s desk now to demand, “What the devil’s wrong with you, James? You would have gone after Addington in a flash if anyone else had told you what Warren just did. You didn’t believe him?”
“On the contrary, m’dear. I’ve no doubt Addington is as blackhearted as your brother painted him.”
“Then why aren’t you swearing you’re going to kill the son of a bitch?”
“And deny your brother that pleasure? Wouldn’t think of it, when that temper of his is so bloody entertaining.”
It was a garden party of the tedious sort, a hundred or so guests trying to amuse themselves with lawn games and charades, the hostess praying it wouldn’t rain. James wouldn’t have attended, even though Georgina planned to, if he hadn’t heard that Amy was going to be there, as well as Steven Addington. Not that he expected things to get interesting—unless Warren showed up. But James had a feeling he might.
It was a feeling he was giving up on as the hour wore down to early evening and tables were set up on the lawn to feed the horde. Dinner was a boring affair with the latest
on-dits
making the rounds as the guests moved from
table to table, nothing that hadn’t already been discussed at James’s club. He was just about to drag his wife home when Warren walked out of the house onto the terrace.
James immediately looked for Amy. Sure enough, the little minx was sitting at a table with Addington. She didn’t appear to be enjoying herself, was merely listening to the American expound on whatever he was expounding on. James turned again to see how long it would take for Warren to spot them. Not long a’tall.
“Hotheaded ass,” James mumbled. “Doesn’t he know this sort of thing should be done in private?”
Georgina leaned toward him to ask softly, “What are you grumbling about now?”
“Your brother.”
“Which one?”
“The one who’s about to entertain us.”
Georgina swung around and caught sight of Warren stalking across the lawn, heading straight for Amy’s table. She started to get up. James pulled her back down.
“Just where d’you think you’re going?” he asked his impetuous wife.
“To stop him, of course.”
“Bite your tongue, George. This is what I came here to see, though I thought he’d only be issuing the challenge. But I should have known your brother wouldn’t do this in the civilized fashion.”
Georgina took offense in Warren’s stead. “He hasn’t done
anything
yet—and devil take it, how did you know he would come here?”
“Perhaps because he received an anonymous note telling him that Amy and her beau would be.”
“You didn’t!”
He crooked a brow, not the least impressed with her display of chagrin, and not bothering to admit that he’d already accepted the fact, deplorable as it was, that Warren had to marry Amy after so thoroughly compromising her. And since the only stumbling block appeared to be Warren’s tardiness in “asking,” James had decided to have some fun in pushing him in that direction—in his own way.
But all he said to his wife was, “Whyever not?”
“James Malory!”
“Hush now, m’dear,” he admonished. “He’s reached his objective.”
He had indeed. And Warren didn’t bother with “hellos,” “how d’you dos,” or even “step outsides.” Too many years of festering hate got him right down to business. He picked Amy up out of her chair merely to set her out of the way, then knocked Steven out of his. Steven immediately jumped to his feet and came back swinging.
Shrieks followed from surprised ladies in the immediate vicinity, while their gentlemen quickly came forward to watch and place
wagers. James moved to the sidelines himself, stopping next to Amy. He was prepared to prevent her from interfering if she thought to, but she didn’t.
“How does it feel to have men fighting over you, dear girl?” he asked curiously when Steven was knocked on his arse for the second time.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “But I’ll let you know when I see who wins.”
“That’s rather obvious, wouldn’t you say?”
Amy didn’t answer, but James detected the secret grin about her lips. He sighed to himself, having it confirmed that the little minx was too bloody loyal and too deeply attached to ever give up on the bounder. Why the deuce couldn’t she have been fickle, like most females, and lost interest in Warren before the irreparable damage was done?
The fight was knocking down tables and putting the hostess into a dither, but it was also winding down. Warren gave Steven two quick jabs in the style that Anthony had taught him, but it had been apparent from the start that he didn’t need any fancy moves to defeat Steven. The man was out of shape, soon out of breath, and finally out cold.
Warren wasn’t finished with him, however. He picked up a glass from one of the still standing tables and tossed its contents, whatever they were, in Steven’s face.
The man coughed and sputtered for a moment before he opened his eyes, only to find himself lifted by the front of his shirt, and told in a deadly calm voice, “You’re going to stay away from her, Addington, if you know what’s good for you. You’re also going to catch the next departing ship out of town. And I’m only going to give this advice once. Interfere in my life again, and you’ll wish you were dead.”
Warren emphasized that warning by knocking Steven out again. He hadn’t taken a single punch himself. But he didn’t stick around to celebrate his victory. Without a single word to Amy or anyone else, he stalked back across the lawn and left.
“Figured out how you feel yet, puss?” James asked as Amy stared bemusedly after Warren’s departing figure.
She sighed. “You have to hand it to the man. He gives new meaning to the word ‘stubborn.’”
James chuckled. “Doesn’t he, though.”
Amy stewed about it all night. Things had worked out just as she’d hoped they might with Addington—up to a point. Warren wasn’t supposed to walk away in the end. He was supposed to get down on his knees and beg her to marry him—well, maybe not that dramatically, but he was at least supposed to declare himself. But no, he hadn’t even told her hello.
No matter how she thought it over, she knew
she’d played her last card. She was flat out of ideas, and very nearly out of hope. Instincts be damned, hers had obviously gone haywire somewhere along the way.
The worst part was, she doubted she’d ever see him again. He’d sail away, back to America, without even coming ’round to say good-bye to her. And she was going to let him this time. She wasn’t going to try to stop him, or seek him out. And never again those unwanted seductions, no matter how nicely they’d worked out toward the end.
She had to face it, she couldn’t keep carrying on this courtship by herself. And Warren had made himself perfectly clear, so just how many rejections was she supposed to take before she smartened up?
But it hurt to be smart, it really did.
James stopped by the mansion on Grosvenor Square on his way to his club, but his brother was attending to business elsewhere, Charlotte was out making morning calls, and Amy was indisposed to visitors.
He chuckled as he returned to his carriage. The butler’s exact words, “indisposed to visitors,” and he had no doubt she’d expressly told the man to say just that. The girl carried honesty to extremes, indeed she did.
He was just stepping into his carriage when another pulled up behind his. He wouldn’t even have noticed if Warren hadn’t jumped out immediately and started toward the house. James turned around and intercepted him.
“You’re out of luck,” James told him. “She’s not receiving today.”
“She’ll see me,” Warren replied curtly and stepped around his brother-in-law.
“Hold on, Yank. You’re not here to ask her to marry you, are you?”
“No.”
“Glad to hear it,” James couldn’t resist goading. “I was afraid you might, after proving last night that you’re in love with the girl.”
Warren stiffened. “Addington had it coming.”
“’Course he did, dear boy. And you sailed all the way back here just to see that he got it, eh?”
“Maybe you’d like some yourself?”
“Feeling lucky after your victory, are you? Well, come along, then. This is long overdue.”
They took a moment to remove their coats and square off in the center of the walkway. James, as usual, got in the first punch. Warren staggered back several feet.
“You should have been more diligent at your lessons,” James taunted.
Warren didn’t lose his temper. He said, “Actually, why don’t you try that again?”
He was ready this time, and James ended up flying over his shoulder. “You were saying?” Warren did some taunting of his own.
There was no more talk after that, and this was no easy fight like he’d had yesterday. Warren hadn’t learned nearly enough from Taishi,
and certainly nothing of offense. But he was able to defend against James and throw him off-balance more than once, getting in some solid punches before James recovered, and keeping out of the path of James’s fists when he needed recovering himself. It was still a brutal contest for all of ten long minutes. Almost at the same moment, they reached the same conclusion. There wasn’t going to be a winner.
“A bloody draw,” James said in disgust. “I don’t believe it.”
Warren picked up his coat. “I don’t know about you, Malory, but I’ll take what I can get, and a draw satisfies me for the time being.”
“For the time being,” James grunted, then gave Warren a narrow-eyed look. “Tony didn’t teach you those moves.”
“My new cabin boy did.”
“Cabin boy? Very funny, Yank.”
Warren thought so. But his humor didn’t last any longer than James’s departure, the temper that had brought him there returning with the butler’s staunch refusal to allow him entrance—at least until Warren threatened to break the door down.
Now he paced in the parlor, wondering if the man had gone to inform Amy of his presence, or gone for additional help to throw him out. His cheek throbbed, his knuckles burned, his stomach felt like he still had a sledgehammer imbedded in it. He hoped to hell James was going to enjoy his black eye and split lip as much.
Amy was breathless when she reached the parlor, having run down the stairs. She wouldn’t believe someone wasn’t playing a joke on her until she saw him with her own eyes. And there he was—good God, she could have sworn Steven hadn’t laid a hand on him yesterday.
Without a word of greeting, he came purposely toward her, causing her heart to start tripping. And having reached her, he shut the door, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the sofa. That was fine with her—until he sat down and yanked her across his lap, facedown.
“Wait!” she shrieked. “What are you doing? No, you’re supposed to give me warning—Warren!”
The first whack sounded with a resounding smack. “This is for deliberately trying to make me jealous,” he told her.
“What if it wasn’t deliberate?” she wailed.
“Then this is because it wasn’t.” Another whack. “I should have done this”—one more—“on the ship”—again—“when you tricked Taishi into letting you come to my cabin.”
That was the wrong thing to say, bringing with it a wealth of memories of that night of shared bliss. His hand didn’t fall again. He groaned instead and turned her over.
“Stop that racket,” he said gruffly. “We both know I didn’t hurt you.”
The noise Amy was making cut off abruptly. She glared at him. “You could have.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
The door burst open. They both turned to the butler and said at once, “Get out!”
“But, Lady Amy—”