Читать книгу Convenient Proposal To The Lady - Julia Justiss - Страница 11
ОглавлениеFor a long time after Mr Tawny rode out of sight, Alyssa stared off in his direction, her mind turning over his almost unbelievable story—and marvelling at his potent masculine appeal. The whole episode still seemed incredible, but the evidence he presented was so convincing, she was almost forced to believe him, even if it was dismaying to admit she’d been made the means to exact an unprincipled revenge.
Unless she were to awake and find all of this had been only an incredible dream, there seemed no other explanation but that Mr Tawny was exactly who he said he was and what he’d told her was true. If so, by coming to warn her, he’d committed a selfless act.
Too bad he wasn’t one of the ‘beguiling suitors’. Since she didn’t intend to marry anyway, it might be worth being ‘ruined’ to be seduced by him.
Desire stirred within her at the thought. She hadn’t been so attracted by a man in a very long time. Though she was still a maid, her experience of passion limited, she had no difficulty identifying—and appreciating—the reason for the heat that had flamed through her body when she’d first looked into his eyes.
A reaction that distracted her from observing him with her normal artist’s dispassion while he stood looming over her, his countenance so arresting she couldn’t make herself look away.
She recalled the startled moment when she’d first seen him, his broad shoulders blocking the ray of sunshine piercing the forest canopy, haloing his tall, well-muscled form and gilding the edges of his dark brown hair. Handsome, with a look of command about it, his lean face had a sharp nose, prominent cheekbones and the faint trace of a scar running from the left temple down almost to his jaw. Keen eyes the colour of an emerald illumined by sunlight held her gaze captive; his firm mouth looked made for kissing, that impression reinforced by a voice that was deeply pitched, almost—bedchamber intimate. When he’d held her gaze without flinching—his unexpected appearance and powerful attraction making her forget to drop her eyes modestly, as Mama kept instructing her—she’d felt so strongly drawn to him, she’d almost gone into his arms.
With his handsome face, virile body and shiver-inducing voice, she had no difficulty at all believing he was ‘a man of great address with the ladies’.
Though his sudden appearance had certainly startled her, she’d not felt threatened. Which was a curious response, given the venal character and violent tendencies of the men of her family. She should have felt an immediate wariness; instead, there’d been something about him that drew her. Continued to draw her, even after the shock of her first, intensely physical response faded.
Her usual reaction to the arrival of a visitor was to escape before Mama could call for her, or, if caught, get away as quickly as possible. Ben Tawny had evoked the opposite response; she’d wanted him to linger.
As they talked, that strong initial attraction still humming between them, his appeal expanded to include admiration for a man who would take so much trouble to safeguard a woman he didn’t even know. A man of intelligence and strong principles, who exuded a sense of purpose and a quiet competence.
A self-confidence, too, as if he felt easy in his own skin. He possessed the same sort of calm self-assurance that Will had, she realised, that conclusion followed with the inevitable pang of grief.
No wonder she’d felt so drawn to him.
It occurred to her that, not only had he learned about her, he knew her maid’s name, the fact that Molly didn’t like to accompany her on sketching excursions and why. What a clever intelligence-gatherer he was, indeed!
He ought to appear competent. Only look what he’d discovered about her and the other members of the house party, and in such an unusual manner! She couldn’t think of anyone else who could have managed such a chameleon-like performance.
She could easily believe he’d been an intelligence-gatherer for the army. She knew for certain he’d been to Oxford, joined a group of like-minded reformers who aspired to Parliament and achieved that ambition. What had he done, since joining the Commons? Her family having little interest in politics, she didn’t know much about what went on in government, though even she had heard vague rumblings about a new Reform Act. Were he and his group moving that forward?
Was the man who’d accosted her, in fact, Benedict Tawny? With no acquaintance present to introduce them, she had only his word for it. Though she couldn’t think of a good reason why someone else would pose as the man and come to warn her of a pernicious plot.
Was there any way she could make sure he was who he said he was? Asking Mama if she knew anything about a Mr Benedict Tawny would only result in a grilling about why she’d suddenly developed a most unusual interest in a gentleman to whom she’d never been presented. Besides, Mama knew few politicians, and by his own admission, Mr Tawny didn’t appear at society functions, which would be the only place her mama would encounter him.
Perhaps she could talk to Lord Fulton. Though he was not, to her knowledge, involved in politics, he’d certainly know more about Parliament and the Reform movement than any of the females present.
At the prospect, she felt a rise of eagerness and anticipation.
Mr Tawny was not only the most attractive gentleman she’d met in a very long time, he was the only one who’d aroused her interest and excited her curiosity. Although she was unlikely to ever see him again after tomorrow, she was suddenly very glad she’d agreed to meet him.
In the interim, she’d attempt a little intelligence-gathering of her own.
Anger stirred out of the ashes of humiliation. While she plumbed Lord Fulton about Mr Tawny, she’d also encourage the attentions of Rossiter and Quinlen and try to work out the dimensions of their plot.
Those dissipated, idle men might think to make her the target of their ploy, but she no intention of playing into their hands. In fact, she thought, their intended manipulation calling up her ever-simmering fury and resentment at her father’s strong-armed control over her life, perhaps she could try to turn their stratagems against them. If they counted on her being naïve, persuadable and desperate to capture their interest, she could count on them to be arrogant, sure of their superior cleverness and too unobservant to see anything but what they expected to see.
Despite their ill intentions, she wouldn’t attempt to ruin their lives, even if she could. But she’d have no regrets about exploiting their scheme so they, rather than she, ended up surprised and embarrassed.
The steady burn of anger reinforcing that intent, she gathered up her art supplies and headed back to Dornton.
* * *
Alyssa had hoped to return to the manor and change into more presentable clothing while her mother was at breakfast. Unluckily, as she tiptoed back into their bedchamber, she found Lady Aldermont still at her dressing table.
‘Sorry I slept so late, darling,’ her mother said—before catching a glimpse of her in the dressing table’s mirror. ‘Merciful Heavens, child!’ she said with a gasp. ‘Wherever have you been, wearing that hideous old gown?’
‘Just sketching, Mama. It was still very wet after yesterday’s rain and I didn’t wish to soil any of the lovely dresses you brought for me. None of the guests were up, so I got out and back without being seen.’
‘Sketching, always sketching,’ Lady Aldermont said fretfully. ‘If only you’d paid a fraction as much attention to the things that really matter during your London Seasons, we wouldn’t be reduced to attending this dreary series of house parties in dismally remote locations!’
‘I know you hate being out of London,’ Alyssa said, suppressing a guilty pang at the knowledge that it was the chance to sketch in different areas of England that prompted her to press for attending the ‘dreary series of house parties’.
‘At least in town, there’s visiting and shopping and a variety of company. Here, we are condemned to see the same faces day after day.’
Putting down her supplies, Alyssa walked over to pat her mother’s hand. ‘Has Lady Sutherland been plaguing you?’
‘Insufferable woman!’ Lady Aldermont cried. ‘If she’s not crowing about the brilliant marriage her eldest made, snagging the Duke of Wessex, she’s waxing eloquent about the beauty and accomplishments of Lady Alice. All this said with pitying glances at me.’
Alyssa sighed. ‘I know what a disappointment I’ve been to you, Mama.’
Though that was patently true, her mother seized her hands. ‘Of course you haven’t, my darling! Well, I do wish some gentleman—some eligible gentleman—had caught your eye after your come-out. I still think it most unwise that your Papa refuses you another Season, for I know he wishes you to wed and the selection at these smaller parties is so limited! It just grates on me when I see those empty-headed chits celebrated, when you, who are far more accomplished, are overlooked!’
Little brown wrens are always overlooked when there are beauteous swans about, she thought. Her mama had been one of them, the most beautiful, sought-after and well-dowered maiden of her debut Season, thirty years ago. Alas, though she’d inherited her mama’s short stature, she’d not received the golden hair, the arresting face or the summer-sky-blue eyes that had inspired suitors to write verses in her honour and propose in droves.
‘There’s no accounting for the taste of gentlemen,’ she said, giving her mama a kiss. ‘Why don’t you pick out your favourite of my new gowns for me to wear?’
Mentioning fashion was guaranteed to redirect her mama’s thinking into more cheerful channels. Brightening, Lady Aldermont said, ‘Yes, I will! Several of the gentlemen have been paying you a flattering amount of attention; we must inspire them to continue!’
And it certainly hasn’t been because of my charms, Alyssa thought, frowning as she remembered Tawny’s warning.
‘Surely, my dear, out of all the single men about, you might find one to your liking. Is it so wrong of me to want to see you wed and settled, with a house of your own and children?’
Alyssa noted her mother wasn’t hypocritical enough to add ‘happy’ to that description—her mama’s own marriage having given her little reason to expect wedded bliss for her daughter. ‘You never give up hope, do you, Mama?’
‘It would be so much better, if you could find a kind man you could tolerate as a husband,’ her mother said coaxingly.
‘Better than living under Papa’s thumb,’ she admitted. In the face of her father’s stern, tyrannical rule, her mother had always been too timid to please him, she too rebellious. Or rather, she had tried to please him when she was little, before she realised earning his approval was impossible. Since the incident three years ago, they’d regarded each other with active hostility.
‘But if I married, my new husband would get control over Aunt Augusta’s money, so I still wouldn’t be able to use it for what I want.’
The ability to live independently and pursue her heart’s calling.
‘Yes, but you would have friends and society around you—rather than being alone and isolated in that cottage you talk about! And you know Papa will not let you use the funds for that. Only think of the scandal, an earl’s unmarried daughter living all on her own!’
Alyssa sighed, unable to dispute the truth of that. With her father named a trustee on the fund, unless she married, she’d need his approval to access the money. As of now, she’d not figured out a way to convince him to allow her to set up a separate household, which is why she had not, yet, approached him with her intention to do so.
‘I expect I shall devise some way to bring Papa around. In any event, with luck, he’ll predecease me.’
‘I don’t know,’ her mama said. ‘The Lambornnes are distressingly long-lived.’
Sadly, Alyssa had to admit the truth of that daunting observation. Would there still be time for her to make a life for herself and accomplish the work that drove her, if she truly couldn’t begin until after Papa died?
She must come up with a better alternative than waiting for the Earl of Aldermont to cock up his toes.
First, though, she needed to deal with this despicable wager.
Due to Mr Tawny’s unexpected appearance, she’d not finished her drawing today. Over the summer, she had completed twenty more watercolours and needed only a few more to be able to contact Mr Waterman in London about putting together that colourised book of English birds he’d expressed such enthusiasm about to Will. If she could just get her hands on her money, so she might travel to the more remote regions and finish the final sketches before the deadline he’d given...
With Will gone, she’d need to find someone else to approach the publisher on her behalf, she thought, the familiar, sharp wave of grief sweeping through her.
I will finish the sketches and get them published, as you would have wanted, she silently promised him.
Then Molly was back, fitting her into one of the explosions of lace, ribbons and ruffles her mama so adored. Since, in her opinion, the enormous sleeves and ballooning skirts made her look ridiculous—almost as wide as she was tall, she’d overhead one malicious maiden remarking—it was fortunate she had no desire to attract any of the eligible swains gathered for this party.
Tapes and pins secured, she told her mama, ‘I’m going to stop by the library. I’ll see you in the drawing room.’ Giving her mother a kiss, she hurried out before Lady Aldermont could object.
* * *
Hoping to catch her host before the party gathered in the parlour, Alyssa slipped down the stairs. As she entered the library, the latest London paper caught her eye. Which, quite fortuitously, carried a lengthy story on the progress of the Reform Bill.
Snatching it up, she scanned the article. It seemed the bill, having passed the Commons in late September, was sent on to the Lords. Contrary to the expectations of its supporters and an agitated populace, instead of winning approval in the upper house, the Lords Spiritual—upper clergy who had votes in that hereditary body—summoned enough members to defeat it. The result had been riots in many areas of the country and Lord Grey pressing the King to prorogue Parliament so a new session could be summoned in December.
Not until the very end did she find what she sought: a list of the most prominent members of the Reform committee. Which included all four of those Oxford friends she remembered her brother calling ‘Hadley’s Hellions’: Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar—and Benedict Tawny.
She’d just finished the article when her host walked in. ‘Lady Alyssa!’ he cried, halting in surprise on the threshold.
She rose and curtsied. ‘Lord Fulton, I hope you’ll forgive my invading your library.’
‘Of course, my dear. Can I assist you with something?’
‘I was just reading the latest London paper. Have you followed the debate on the Reform Bill? There’s quite a lengthy article.’
He gave her an odd look. ‘That’s not a topic generally of much interest to ladies.’
‘Truly? I found the discussion fascinating! Are you acquainted with any of the movement’s leaders?’ she asked, tapping the list in the paper. ‘I find myself wondering what manner of man would support such a...drastic initiative.’
‘I’ve not been much involved, myself,’ he admitted, gazing down at the names she indicated. ‘Hmm...all four of them outsiders from society, which might explain their radical views.’
‘Outsiders? In what way?’
‘Hadley, the son of the Earl of Telbridge, was estranged from his father for years, after his father divorced his mother, but they’ve recently reconciled. David Tanner Smith...quite the scandal there! A commoner, he recently shocked society by marrying the widowed Duchess of Ashedon, though he is, it must be admitted, a good friend of her family. Lattimar...father is Lord Vraux, although it’s well known that’s not his real father. Five children and probably only the eldest was sired by the baron! Benedict Tawny...not sure I know that name.’
Before she could suppress her disappointment, he said, ‘Now wait, I do remember. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, but his father, Viscount Chilford, later took him up and sponsored him in Parliament.’
‘Does he resemble his father in appearance—is that why the Viscount decided to recognise him?’ she probed.
‘Chilford’s a member of my club. Can’t say as I’ve met the son, but I’ve heard the boy favours him. Tall, dark-haired, green eyes. Quite a magnet for the ladies. A group of rogues, all in all.’ Lord Fulton chuckled. ‘M’wife would blister my ears for repeating such scandalous gossip to an innocent like you!’
‘I’ll not mention we spoke of it!’ Alyssa promised as she tucked away the details.
Tall, dark-haired, green-eyed and a magnet for the ladies?
The description certainly fitted! Desire fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the gaze that had held her spellbound. That final bit of evidence was enough to convince her that the gentleman in the woods had in fact been Benedict Tawny.
Pleased to have elicited so much information, she said, ‘I’ve disturbed your peace long enough. Thank you, Lord Fulton!’
Bidding her host good day, Alyssa walked out to join the rest of the party.
* * *
The scrutiny of both the ladies and gentlemen who turned to inspect her as she entered immediately made her conscious of her new attire. In comparison, the style Alyssa found so unflattering on her short form only emphasised the tall, elegant figure of the waspish Lady Sunderland’s daughter, Lady Alice. With her lovely face, sky-blue eyes and golden curls set under a wide-brimmed hat, she looked like the illustration of perfect maidenly beauty from the latest lady’s fashion magazine.
Which made it all the more suspicious that, rather than lingering with the other men beside the Paragon, as soon as she entered, Quinlen and Rossiter hastened over to her.
‘Lady Alyssa, at last! The party was dreadfully dull until you appeared,’ Quinlen said.
‘And what a lovely gown! You look so...fashionable,’ Rossiter added.
Normally, Alyssa responded to compliments from a gentleman in monosyllables and evaded his company as soon as possible. This time, she fluttered her lashes at Rossiter and tried to manufacture a blush. ‘Oh, do you really think so?’
‘Absolutely! The prettiest lady here,’ Rossiter said.
Since that was patently untrue, Alyssa had to suppress a strong desire to roll her eyes. Instead, she peeped shyly up at him. ‘You are very kind, Mr Rossiter!’
‘Merely truthful, Lady Alyssa. Lady Fulton is about to begin a game of charades in the salon. Won’t you join me?’ He offered his arm.
‘She ought to accompany me,’ Quinlen said. ‘I’m a much cleverer partner.’
‘Oh, dear!’ Alyssa said, putting her hands to her cheeks in mock distress. ‘I shouldn’t wish to slight either of you!’
‘Give an arm to each, then,’ Quinlen said, offering his.
‘I’m really not very good at charades,’ she added, assuming the role of bashful wallflower they expected. ‘You gentlemen would do better partnering another lady.’
‘Nonsense, there’s no one here I would prefer to you,’ Quinlen said.
‘Quite true!’ Rossiter added.
Embarrassed in truth at all the falsehoods being exchanged, she had no trouble summoning a blush. ‘Well, if you are quite sure you want my company...’
As both gentlemen waited expectantly, Alyssa gave a hand to each and allowed them to walk her to the salon. Since they didn’t think her witty enough to add much to the conversation, she was able to get by with murmuring a few ‘yesses’ and ‘nos’ as they entertained her with London gossip.
She made a great show of refusing to participate in the charades, and when finally ‘persuaded’ to play, was so hopeless at giving or interpreting clues that her mother, speechless at the abysmal performance of her normally needle-witted daughter, pulled her aside to ask in an undertone whether she felt quite well.
‘I’m fine, Mama,’ she whispered back. ‘I didn’t wish to outdo the other participants, especially not when Mr Quinlen and Mr Rossiter are showing me such flattering attention. Haven’t you always told me gentlemen don’t truly wish for intelligence in a wife?’
‘Yes, but you’ve never before paid me any heed,’ Lady Aldermont replied.
The game broke up, and with the day turned warm and fair, plans were being made to walk in the garden when Lady Fulton announced a newcomer was joining them. Striding into the parlour came Lord Denbry, greeting his hostess and apologising for making a tardy arrival at her party. As he bent to whisper something in her ear that made her blush, his gaze roved the room—before finding, and resting on, Alyssa.
She didn’t have to feign the heat that touched her cheeks at his blatantly appraising glance. So this was Denbry, her brother’s detested competitor for winning women, games of chance and eager acolytes. Though she’d never met him, she’d heard enough about him from her brother to have been on her guard, even without Mr Tawny’s warning.
Above medium height, dressed in the vanguard of fashion in a coat flared at the shoulder and nipped in at the waist, he looked wealthy, handsome and arrogant. She already knew that he, like her brother, used those good looks to charm hapless women out of their virtue and induce gentlemen to grant him whatever he desired.
And what he currently desired, apparently, was to see her ruined.
If Mr Tawny hadn’t been so persuasive, she’d have found it almost impossible to believe this stranger would casually plan to destroy her. If she could prove to herself that was truly his intent, it might be time he was taught a salutatory lesson.
He wasn’t the only one who could plot.
As she watched covertly, he made a circuit of the room, letting each lady bask in his charming smile and tossing greetings to the competing swains that changed their resentful looks to pleasant, if not entirely friendly, nods.
Not until he’d greeted everyone else did he approach Alyssa.
‘Quinlen, Rossiter, good to see you,’ he said, shaking both gentlemen’s hands. ‘I’ve left the best for last. Won’t one of you introduce me to this ravishing creature?’
A good ploy—if she were a woman whose interest he wanted to pique. A wallflower who’d wistfully watched his progress around the room, knowing she hadn’t the wit or beauty to catch his notice, and therefore shocked and thrilled to have attracted it. That unjustified bit of flattery seemed to reinforce that enticing her was exactly what he intended.
‘Lady Alyssa Lambornne, may I present the Earl of Denbry?’ Rossiter dutifully pronounced.
She dropped a curtsy, ready to resume playing her part. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Lord Denbry,’ she said, trying to imbue her voice with just the right tone of flustered gratification. ‘Although you are far too kind! I know I’m not...ravishing.’
She gazed up at him, aiming for the pleading expression of one who knows better, but hopes to be persuaded anyway that the gentleman finds her attractive.
‘You are to me,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her hand.
Knowing his intentions, at the press of his lips against her fingers she almost jerked away. Catching herself, she uttered instead a little ‘ooh’ of gratification.
If she hadn’t been forewarned, she might have missed the knowing smile that passed between Quinlen and Rossiter.
Were most females so self-deceiving? she wondered with disgust. Or so desperate to marry that they persuaded themselves to believe what common sense argued against?
But she shouldn’t judge her sex too harshly. She had resources to support herself, mitigating the need to wed. How desperate might she be, if the alternative to marriage were destitution, or a life as an unpaid servant, shunted from family member to family member to assist with children, the ill or the elderly?
‘The party is about to walk in the gardens. Won’t you let me escort you?’ Denbry asked, giving Quinlen and Rossiter a little wave of dismissal.
The speed with which they abandoned the field reinforced Tawny’s contention that Denbry was the ringleader of the plot. ‘Well, I don’t know. My brother has told me a lot about you,’ she said, aiming for a tone of both curiosity and reproof.
‘Probably none of it good!’ Denbry said with a groan. ‘As I’m sure you are aware, your brother and I having been friendly competitors for years, so you mustn’t believe everything he says! Please allow me to walk with you, that I might have a chance to defend myself.’
He gazed at her with such a look of warm entreaty, she could understand how females unaware of his true character might find themselves beguiled. ‘I suppose that is only fair.’
Tucking her hand under his, he walked her from the salon towards the garden. ‘Just what has your brother told you about me?’
Another good ploy, Alyssa thought. Find out what you need to explain away. ‘That you’ve often competed in races with horses or curricles and gambled with each other, sometimes for high stakes. And then, there were...’ she dropped her voice, as if embarrassed ʻ...certain, um, ladies...’
‘All true.’ He leaned closer, so that he was almost whispering. ‘Though it was very naughty of your brother to mention the ladies.’
A whiff of sin, designed to titillate, she thought. ‘It does make me wonder what you are doing at this gathering of eligible maidens.’
‘Perhaps your brother has not reached this point yet, but there comes a time when a man grows tired of pursuing idle pleasures. When he begins to long for a more...settled life and one special lady to share it.’
If it were not for the slight smirk at the end of that speech, she could almost be fooled herself by his apparent sincerity.
‘And you have...reached this milestone, Lord Denbry?’
‘I believe I have.’
‘You are anticipating the next Season, then, so you may seek that...special lady.’
‘Not if I am fortunate enough to find her before then.’
‘And how will you know when you have found her?’
‘One just...knows.’ He tipped her chin up with one finger. ‘Do you not believe so, my lovely Lady Alyssa?’ he murmured, gazing into her eyes.
How much ardent entreaty he put into those words, Alyssa thought, gazing back with what she hoped looked like surprise, gratification and attraction. He really was quite good at this—the blackguard.
Giving an uncertain laugh, she looked away. ‘But you hardly know me, Lord Denbry.’
‘But I’ve heard much about you. Your loveliness. Your purity. Your tender regard for your family.’
‘I would hope all unmarried ladies possess such qualities,’ Alyssa countered. Take that, for presenting me with such a list of bland generalities.
A hint of annoyance briefly crossed his countenance. ‘Not to the extent you do, dear Lady Alyssa,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But I see you are not yet convinced of my regard—or how serious I am about turning my life in a new direction. Won’t you get to know me better before you decide?’
She gazed back up, trying for a worshipful look. ‘I should like to...get to know you better.’
He pressed another kiss upon her captive hand. Alyssa had to work hard to suppress the strong desire to knee him in the groin. Instead, after suffering him to fondle her hand for several minutes, she pulled away, as if reluctantly. ‘Oh, Lord Denbry, you mustn’t!’
‘You are right, Lady Alyssa. I must control myself—no matter how difficult you make that.’
‘We should go back to the house now,’ she announced, but with a regretful glance at his lips that said the virtuous maiden was sorely tempted to be less virtuous.
Smiling with satisfaction, he leaned down as if to steal a kiss—before straightening again. ‘You tempting creature! Yes, we must return before I forget myself and do something...scandalous. But promise you will let me escort you to dinner, and partner with me for cards afterward.’
She gazed up worshipfully. ‘If you truly wish it?’
‘With all my heart.’
Do you even have one? she wondered as she let him lead her back into the house.
* * *
She left him then, pleading the need to change for dinner. She found her mother already in their chamber, her maid helping her into her evening attire.
Once Molly had done the same for her, Lady Aldermont dismissed them both before turning to her. ‘May I have a moment, my dear?’
‘Of course. What is it, Mama?’
‘I appreciate you making an effort to be agreeable to the gentleman. But Denbry...’ Her mother’s voice trailed off. ‘I’ve...overheard some things about him from your brother and I don’t believe he’s at all the sort of suitor you wish to encourage. I was quite shocked to see him at this gathering—not that Lady Fulton invited him, for he comes from an excellent family, is quite wealthy and will inherit the marquisate one day. Shocked that, with his...proclivities, he bothered to attend.’
It wouldn’t be prudent to confide to her mama any of what Mr Tawny had revealed. A shocked and outraged Lady Aldermont would demand that their hostess be told, so she might send the offending gentlemen away before they could carry out their nefarious plan.
That would put her mama and their hostess in an awkward position—and let Denbry get away without receiving the lesson she had in mind. She was now almost as determined to deliver that as she was to foil his revenge.
‘I know Harleton doesn’t like him,’ Alyssa said.
‘I’ve heard he’s a gambler and a womaniser.’
‘So I accused him of being. He admitted to it, but said he was ready to change—for the right lady.’
Lady Aldermont shook her head. ‘Men don’t truly change, my darling. I want you to marry to improve your situation—not become mired for life in a union that would exchange the tyranny of your brother and father for a man who is no better.’
‘I have no intention of doing that, either,’ she said emphatically.
‘As long as you are on your guard against him. There’s no man more charming than a selfish rake intent on getting what he wants. I should know.’
Was that how her father had persuaded her mother into marriage? Alyssa had often wondered what had led her sweet-tempered, if shallow, mother to accept the hand of her selfish, arrogant, iron-fisted father.
Yet another reason to avoid wedlock, for how could a girl possessed of a handsome dowry trust any man not to be deceitful about his reasons for wanting to marry her?
Benedict Tawny’s face flashed into mind. Perhaps there was one man who seemed to truly care about a woman’s welfare.
‘Don’t worry, Mama. I know what sort of man Denbry is.’
‘Very well, my dear. But do be careful.’
‘Oh, I intend to be.’ Careful...and cunning. Tossing the spangled shawl around her shoulders, she followed her mother out.
