Читать книгу How to Beguile a Beauty - Кейси Майклс, Kasey Michaels - Страница 12

JASMINE HARBURTON WAS fanning herself so violently that the crimped ruffling around Lydia’s neckline was actually moving in the resultant breeze.

“We have become part and parcel to a scandal, Lady Lydia,” the girl said, her eyes wide with what could be horror, or delight. It was difficult to know with Jasmine. “I understand Tanner’s feelings of obligation—Lord knows nobody should know that more than I—but how outrageous of him to foist the baron on us both, causing the pair of us to become the center of so much attention.”

Then she turned to Lydia and smiled, and it became clear that delight had won out over horror. “Not only is my dance card full, but I’ve had to turn away two applicants. One of them a viscount, the other an earl. I’d say that Papa will be furious when I tell him, but then he may just as easily decide that there is nothing more apt to bring a man up to snuff than to believe he may be replaced. Oh, dear, I’m prattling again. I do that whenever I’m nervous. Oh, I already told you that, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. It takes just the thought of marrying Tanner to set my tongue on wheels.”

The subject of Tanner, and this assumed betrothal, had been touched on earlier, before the baron’s arrival, before both Lydia and Jasmine had taken to the dance floor with him, before they both had seemed to become objects of considerable attention.

Lydia hadn’t wished to appear eager to enter into any such conversation then, and she was even more loath to do so now.

She was, however, curious. Much more curious than she ought to be, she was certain. So where else to begin, but with the obvious?

“Tanner’s father has been dead these two years and more, I think. Is that correct?”

Jasmine nodded furiously. “And Tanner has been back from the war for one of them, yes. Well, he was back for a minute, but then someone let Boney off his leash, as Papa says it, and he was gone again. In any event, his mourning period is most decidedly over. Papa said that’s why he didn’t ask for my hand that first year, which is understandable, what with his father only barely tucked into the mausoleum. And then Bonaparte did his flit and had to be dealt with—oh, I keep saying that, don’t I! I’m so sorry,” she said, snapping her fan shut and putting her hand on Lydia’s arm. “Tanner told me about your fiancé perishing at Quatre Bras. A Captain Swain Fitzgerald, I believe he said. Such a lovely Irish name. How terrible it all must have been for you.”

Lydia didn’t bother correcting the young woman. After all, in her mind, the captain had been her betrothed. “Thank you.”

“Oh, Lady Lydia, you’re so gracious. And I’m such a muddlehead.”

“Lydia, please, Jasmine. We needn’t be quite so formal.”

Jasmine clapped her hands to her bosom. “We’re crying friends? Oh, how wonderful. I have so few friends here in town that I must declare I’ve been woefully lonely. Thank you, thank you.”

Really, the girl was sweet, and faintly silly, and perhaps even tiring. But Lydia believed her heart was pure. Besides, she had to admit to herself at least, the subject of Tanner and his dragging feet when it came to the matter of a proposal to his third cousin interested her. Quite a bit.

“You’re welcome. And, now that we’re getting to know each other better, perhaps you’ll explain why you’ve taken your cousin in such dislike.”

“Dislike? Oh, no, no. Tanner is the best of good fellows, really he is. I should be very honored, flattered—all of that—if he was to ask for my hand, make me his duchess.”

“Oh,” Lydia said softly.

“If I wanted to be his duchess, that is. But I don’t.” Jasmine looked out over the ballroom and then leaned close to whisper in Lydia’s ear. “My heart lies elsewhere.”

Lydia’s own heart performed another of those disconcerting small flips in her chest. “It does?”

Jasmine nodded furiously, her dark curls bouncing. “Papa doesn’t know, and he’d be furious if he did. And Tanner is so honorable, and, Papa says, duty bound to honor his father’s last wish.”

“Yes,” Lydia said, sighing. “Duty bound. Tanner takes such promises quite seriously.”

“But that’s just it, Lady—I mean, Lydia. Tanner promised his father nothing. It was Papa who promised to tell Tanner of the promise. Oh, it’s all too complicated. All I know is that sooner or later Tanner will bow to the inevitable, as will I. He fights it, I fight it, but we are doomed to marriage. I’m already wearing his emeralds, which, Papa says, is as good as a declaration.”

“Yes, I suppose they might be considered as such,” Lydia said, looking at the beautiful, glittering stones that so flattered Jasmine’s green eyes. “But if your heart is not engaged…”

“Then you understand. Oh,” Jasmine sighed almost theatrically. “It is so good to finally be able to speak freely to someone. I could never say such things to Papa, or Tanner, or to any man. Only another woman would understand that love is so much more important than honor.”

“And you truly feel you cannot broach the subject with your father?”

Jasmine shook her head furiously. “Papa has most clearly and emphatically explained my duty to me, and I certainly can’t refuse Tanner’s suit once he screws himself up to the sticking point, as Papa calls it. It’s the land, you know. It hadn’t been part of the entail, which is how Papa’s ancestors ended up with it, and the late duke and his father, even his father’s father, had wanted it back for ever so long. Pride, you understand. And some lovely waterways that seem to mean so much to everyone. In truth, the land isn’t much at all. Most of it is very soggy, in fact. It’s the water. There was once an argument, many decades ago, and my ancestor cut off the water flowing from a spring on our property, which dried up a stream that ran through the pastures on Tanner’s ancestor’s property and—well, the history hasn’t always been pretty, I suppose you’d say.”

“Couldn’t Tanner simply purchase the land from your father?” Did that sound selfish on Lydia’s part? And did it matter? Was the girl even listening to her?

“And wouldn’t that be so simple? But, just between the two of us, I will tell you that Papa’s soggy estate is massively encumbered. My marriage to Tanner is Papa’s sure and only way out from beneath a crushing mound of debt, not that Tanner can ever, ever know about that until the marriage is a fact, oh no, definitely. Even then, how would he trust Papa to continue as his estate manager once he knew about the gambling? Without the marriage, without a lovely pension for Papa once Tanner turns him off, it would be the ruination of everything, and Papa has assured me I would not enjoy sleeping beneath a hedgerow, and the man I love is…well, he cannot marry at the moment, although he has vowed to find a way. But I don’t think he will find that way in time to save me.”

Curiosity turned to concern. “This man, Jasmine. Are you trying to tell me he’s already married?”

The girl sighed again, this time definitely theatrically. “No. He is just poor, at least for now, although he has promised me this will soon change. But will his circumstances change in time? I think Papa is right, that I would not enjoy sleeping beneath a hedgerow, not even for love. So unless something wonderful happens, it must be marriage between Tanner and myself, before Papa’s gambling ways have been discovered and he is turned off without a recommendation. You see? No marriage means no employment, no fine pension, and a really rather worthless estate gone for debt. So you must understand my dilemma. No matter my feelings, I cannot disappoint Papa.”

Lydia knew she should be warning this sweet but silly girl that she should not be saying such things to what was, at heart, a brand new acquaintance. But it was all so interesting, if terribly convoluted. Certainly there must exist another way to work things out without sacrificing two people to a marriage neither of them seemed in any rush to make a fact.

Except that Tanner was an honorable man. How Jasmine’s father must be counting on that fact.

Jasmine’s words were tolling a death knell to any of Lydia’s barely admitted dreams of a time when she and Tanner might put the past behind them and look toward a future as more than good friends.

Indeed, even Baron Justin Wilde had spent the entirety of his second dance with her extolling Tanner’s virtues, telling her how humbled and honored he was to have such a friend in his time of need. She had agreed with him without offering further explanation.

Ever since that dance, while she was being partnered by a seemingly endless succession of gentlemen who had seemed able to have managed to avoid noticing her during previous social events and balls, Lydia had been convincing herself that Sarah and Maisie had been wrong, that she herself had been wrong, wishing for something that wasn’t there.

Tanner was a good friend, and nothing more; he had other obligations. Honorable, loyal. Rather like a good hunting hound, Nicole would probably have said in some disgust.

But she, Lydia, had been seeing more. Not at first, no, but ever since her return to London she had been looking at the Duke of Malvern in a new light. One in which he was not obscured by the ghost of Captain Swain Fitzgerald standing between them.

And she’d begun weaving fanciful dreams. She’d deliberately refused to think about Jasmine Harburton, especially when Nicole had pointed out that a man about to be betrothed did not spend so much time squiring another young woman about London, poking into museums, dancing with her at balls.

Now she understood Tanner’s dilemma. His reluctant feet were being slowly bound up by his damnable sense of honor. It was a marvel the man could even take two steps without falling down.

“Oh, look, the musicians have returned,” Jasmine said, pointing toward the small stage with her fan. “I am promised to a Mister Rupert Carstairs for this next set, whoever he is. I think he’s fairly ugly, but I was so amazed to have so many asking to partner me that I could hardly refuse him, could I? Who has written on your card?”

Lydia snapped herself back to attention and opened her dance card. Wildest. “The Baron. Oh, dear, and I think it’s going to be a Scottish reel. I loathe the Scottish reel, but only because I seem to constantly forget the steps.”

Jasmine looked out over the floor as couples began assembling for the dance. “I don’t see the baron, do you? Oh, here comes Mr. Carstairs. Such a pity he has no chin, don’t you think? Shame on me. Nobody dances with me save Tanner, since everyone seems to think I’m out of the marriage mart. Without a title or a huge dowry, I’m good only for filling one of these chairs. And there’s Tanner. But the baron isn’t with him.”

Lydia looked up and saw the duke at once. He was alone, and looking quite serious. And, ah, so very handsome. She’d have to stop thinking of him as handsome.

“Ladies,” he said, bowing to them both, his gaze seeming to linger on Jasmine in a…well, in an appraising sort of way. “Lady Lydia, I’m here to tender the baron’s deepest apologies, as he’s found it necessary to leave without honoring your dance, and to offer myself in his place. Jasmine, where’s Mrs. Shandy? We can’t leave you here alone.”

“Oh,” Jasmine said, looking to her left as if only now noticing that her chaperone had gone missing. “She said something about seeing if there were any Gunther Ices still in the supper room downstairs. But no matter, Tanner. My partner is standing just behind you.” She leaned to her right and waggled her fingers at the tall, rather thin and, yes, chinless gentleman. “Hullo again, Mr. Carstairs.”

“She’s such a child,” Tanner said as he held out his hand to Lydia, drawing her to her feet. “How are you two getting along? She hasn’t yet talked off your ear?”

“She’s delightful company, Tanner. I don’t think I’ve had time to miss Nicole at all tonight, although I would give much to hear my sister’s opinion of your cousin. And we’ve both danced every dance.”

“Would you then care to take the air on the balcony, rather than face the floor again? As I recall, you don’t much favor the Scottish reel.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yet I don’t recall ever mentioning that I don’t care for the Scottish reel.”

“You never have,” he told her as he steered them along the edge of the dance floor. She already believed she could feel a pleasant drop in the temperature as they neared the opened French doors.

“But you noticed.” Lydia realized that, only a few hours ago, she might have attempted to see more in his notice than was actually there. “Did the baron take ill?”

Tanner stepped over the low threshold that led onto the balcony, and then assisted her so that she wouldn’t stumble. “In some ways, yes, I suppose he did. An unexpected bout of conscience I believe. The evening hasn’t been what he expected, although I can’t say I know what he did expect.”

“He has very sad eyes,” Lydia said as they turned to walk down the length of the balcony. It was a beautiful night, filled with stars. There were so few nights like this in London. Having Tanner beside her made this one even more special.

“I should tell him you said so. They’d go well with his funereal black clothes and planned scowl.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Tanner said, stopping as they neared a shallow set of stone steps leading down into the darkened gardens. “Shall we?”

There were other couples strolling the balcony, and a few had ventured down into the gardens. But as Tanner turned them to the right, along a side path lined with high hedges, they could have suddenly been alone in the center of the huge metropolis.

It was, she realized, the first time they’d ever been alone. Really alone.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she willed it to slow its furious beat.

He wasn’t hers, he couldn’t be hers. He was as unattainable as Fitz, and her memories of that good man which seemed to soften and fade with each passing day. How she hated that. How she’d hate seeing Tanner fade that same way.

They strolled slowly, her arm still in his.

“He was uncomfortable, wasn’t he?” she asked at last, feeling the need to fill the silence. Dear Lord, was she becoming Jasmine?

“Justin? Yes, he was. His welcome back to Society wasn’t all he’d perhaps imagined it might be, considering that many of the supposed gentlemen here tonight didn’t cavil at being friendly with him during the years he was in exile. I think it came as a shock to him. No one was more popular than Justin our first Seasons in town, more sought after.”

“And now he is a pariah. Two of my dance partners warned me away from him. The third felt the need to go into rather descriptive detail on the matter of the baron’s crime. And all three of them told me that you should be ashamed for having foisted such an unwelcome creature on the ton in general and on two innocent young women in particular. Actually, I think that’s why they danced with me, so that I could deliver their messages to you.”

“Bloody cowards.” Tanner led her to a wrought-iron bench at the side of the path and they sat down, facing each other in the moonlight. “I’m sorry, Lydia.”

She smiled slightly, and forced some gaiety into her voice. “Oh, no, don’t be. At first I thought this sudden popularity among the gentlemen might be traced to the gown, or to the fact that Nicole isn’t here. I was rather relieved to learn that neither of those things was true. So you think I’m right, that our dance partners were using Jasmine and me to convey a message to you, and through you, to the baron?”

“Probably, yes. Give me their names. Was one of them Lord Molton?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so foolhardy as to tell you any of their names. Nicole would have left each one of them standing alone on the dance floor, not caring a whit that she was causing quite the scene. But I’m not that courageous, I’m afraid. I merely informed them all in turn that I was not your guardian. I thought it a rather clever riposte at the time, but perhaps not.”

Tanner took her hands in his. “I shouldn’t have involved you, which I did by not warning Justin away from you and my cousin both.”

She did her best to ignore the tingle of awareness that had run through her at his touch. “It’s all right. This evening was quite the education. Nicole spent years anticipating her first Season, and then found it petty and insipid, so that she almost immediately sought adventure and excitement elsewhere. I, in my turn, dreaded the day we’d come to London, yet I find myself enjoying the experience for the most part. The museums, the Tower, the theaters, the book repositories, the sheer masses of people and bustle. It’s silly of me, but I didn’t see the meanness anywhere, until tonight.”

“Justin has decided to leave London for a space, probably until next year’s Season. That will give Society time to become resigned to the idea that he’s back. But now I wonder if that’s wise. He might only be prolonging what is bound to end with some sort of confrontation with somebody. Still, he knows I’ll stand by him.”

Lydia wondered if she should withdraw her hands, but it was as if Tanner didn’t even realize he was still holding on to them. “I’m sure he does. That might be one reason he’s leaving London. To protect you.”

Tanner’s fingers tightened on hers briefly. “My God, I never thought of that. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow morning, and will quickly disabuse him of any idea of sacrificing himself to protect me.”

“As he would disabuse you of any idea of sacrificing yourself to protect him, I would imagine. Do you know something, Tanner? I think men might really be rather silly, at the heart of things.”

That brought a smile to his face, and another quick flush to her cheeks. “Spoken like a highly intelligent woman. Yes, men are idiots. Idiocy is beaten into us from the nursery cot on. And the more civilized we become, the more rules we make, the more we toss around words like honor and law, the more savage we really are. We merely dress up our baser selves in fine linen. And I’m as guilty of that as any of us.”

It wasn’t the most romantic of conversations. It certainly wasn’t a usual conversation between a man and woman. But what it was, Lydia realized, was a conversation between equals, between friends. With no artifice, no polite skirting of unpleasant subjects, no thought to impressing each other.

“I disagree. If anything, Tanner, I believe you may be too good. Too honorable.”

The moment she’d said the words, Lydia was appalled at her forthrightness. She withdrew her hands, faced forward on the bench, and folded those hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She felt his hand at the small of her back, and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing, which had seemingly decided to stop occurring on its own and needed her full concentration.

“We’re not speaking of men as a whole or my involvement with Justin now, are we? It’s Fitz, back again, front and center.”

“No, I…yes, I suppose so. You’ve more than satisfied any favor he asked from you where I am concerned.”

“Are you telling me to go away, Lydia? Take myself off?”

She turned to him in surprise. “No! I…I don’t wish to be an obligation, Tanner. That’s all.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, pulling back only slightly as he said, “You’ve never been an obligation to me, Lydia. Never.”

She wanted to avoid his eyes, his closeness, but it was no good. She couldn’t look away. He’d kissed her! Had it been a brotherly sort of kiss? The kiss one might deliver to a friend? What if she had known he was going to do what he did? Would she have turned her head so that he could kiss her on the mouth? What would he have done then? What was she thinking!

But she only said, “I was horrible to you that day, and for a long time after that. I did my best to avoid you.”

“Really?” He smiled. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh.” She twisted her hands in her lap, a part of her longing only to raise her hand, touch her fingers to his cheek. “Everyone else did.”

“Everyone else should mind their own business,” Tanner said softly, moving closer to her, his mouth suddenly the center of her attention. His full, smiling mouth…

“Malvern! Ran you to ground at last!”

Lydia nearly jumped at the sudden shout, and instantly Tanner was gone, standing beside the bench, his body placed protectively in front of hers.

“Molton,” he said dully. “Brittingham—Featherstone. I wasn’t aware either of you were out of short pants eight years ago, let alone a friend of Farber’s. And you’re drunk, all of you.”

“So?” the man named Molton answered. “Where’s Wilde? Someone told me he’d seen him slinking away like the coward he is. Or is that him now, hiding behind you? Bring him out, Malvern. I’ve got something for him.”

With that, Lydia heard the sharp snap of braided leather against the brick path. She knew the sound. A horse whip, probably procured from one of the coaches.

“Oh, for the love of heaven. You ass, put that away.”

“Why? It’s what he deserves. Wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t dirty my hands on him. Wouldn’t challenge him to a duel, either, wouldn’t be that stupid, when the man has no honor, fires early.”

“Molton, we’ve had this discussion. While I admire your friendship with Robbie Farber, sentiment doesn’t alter facts. He turned early, and fired.”

“Who cares a damn? Are we going to talk, or have us some fun?” one of the others said, slurring his words badly. “You promised Oliver and me some fun.”

Lydia sat quietly, not daring to move, knowing she was hidden in both the shadows and by Tanner’s body. Fear froze her body, even as her mind raced to unlovely conclusions. There were three of them, and only Tanner to face them. They were drunk, and clearly eager for an unfair fight. Did the target matter all that much, or would any target do? Had it yet occurred to Tanner that being in the right did not necessarily lend him any sort of protection?

Clearly not.

“Is that true, Molton? You talked these two young fools into stretching Justin’s arms around a tree out here, while you whip him raw? Yes, that sounds like a notion that would appeal to you. I can see why you and Farber were bosom chums. Your shared sense of honor is evident. Well, so sorry to disappoint you all, but Wilde is gone, he isn’t here. Which, whether you choose to believe it or not, is damn lucky for the three of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a lady present, not that any of you noticed. I wish to escort her back to the ballroom. Let us pass, and if you wish it, I’ll be more than happy to stand in for my good friend and then return to speak with you and your false courage some more.”

He turned his back on the three men, extending his hand to her. “My apologies, Lydia. You should not have had to endure any of this. Let me take you back inside.”

She heard the slither of the whip as its length was uncoiled onto the ground. “Tanner!” she called out in warning, leaping to her feet just to have him rather roughly push her toward the far side of the path, out of danger.

But his need to protect her had cost him valuable moments.

By the time he could turn, Molton had raised his hand, the whip already snaking out, meant to strike him across the back, its tip instead snapping against his cheek.

Molton’s companions cheered at the quick eruption of blood, further emboldening him, so that he laughed and drew back the whip once more.

But this time it was Tanner who moved first, as if he’d never even been touched. His left arm shot out so that the whip wound harmlessly around his covered forearm and he could grab the fat braiding. A quick pull on the whip threw Molton off-balance, for the fool’s wits were dulled with drink, and he hadn’t let go of the handle.

With her hands pressed to her mouth so that she wouldn’t scream and distract him, Lydia watched as Tanner then made short work of the man, who now lay moaning rather piteously on the brick path thanks to several short, hard punches from Tanner’s right fist.

He then picked up the whip and flourished it, its length snapping in the air like a thunderbolt, proclaiming his expertise with the thing.

When he spoke, his voice was low, calm, cold as ice. “Anyone else? Come, come, gentlemen. You were looking for a good time. Don’t let me disappoint you.”

The younger men, big and brawny, and perhaps brighter than their first acquaintance might have led anyone to believe, turned and ran back up the path, deserting Molton, who was now sitting up with both hands raised to his face. “M’nose…you bloody broke m’nose…”

“And you deserved that, you cowardly beast,” Lydia said with feeling, and then quickly bit her bottom lip, horror-struck at her outburst.

“Nasty fall you just took, Molton,” Tanner said, leaning down and lifting the man’s head by the simple expedient of grabbing at his lordship’s full head of hair. “Do you understand me? You came out into the gardens for a bit of fresh air, and you fell in the dark. That, or name your seconds. It’s your choice. Who knows, Robbie might be lonely in the graveyard, and crave your company. God knows nobody else does.”