A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) (17 page)

Sir Gordon, not to be dissuaded from his purpose, then demanded an immediate audience. "Can't put this off any longer. Allie's reputation has been soiled enough, I should think."

The butler entered the room at that moment and whispered to his master, who nodded in assent, eyeing the irate features of his guest with some alarm. Having delivered his message, the servant bowed his way out of the room. Griffin, waiting in the hall, was ushered into the study.

Learning that Rothburn had returned from his ride and was closeted with Sir Gordon, Griffin had taken it upon himself to join them, instead of waiting to be summoned. The young scholar looked askance at Sir Gordon and prudently went to stand near his cousin by the windows, the further away from his possible enemy, the better.

There was no comfort to be had from his cousin, however, as the older man scowled at him with much the same ferocious regard as the other. Griffin moved to a lone position by the hearth.

A small silence ensued, during which the three men looked at one another, each face reflecting varying degrees of emotion. Sir Gordon angry, Rothburn dismayed and Griffin quite distressed, even a bit alarmed.

Deciding that it would be wise to relieve the growing tension in the room, Rothburn moved to the drinks tray and poured three fresh tumblers of brandy, handing them around without a word.

Sir Gordon, compelled to speak, was less strident than one would expect, his anger dissipating somewhat as he noted the fear in Griffin's eyes. "If you will come sit here, young man, we can have our discussion."

He indicated the chair across from him with a nod and Griffin moved with some reluctance to seat himself.

 "I have some questions to put to you and I expect honest answers." Leaning forward, the knight placed his hands around his glass and with elbows on knees, looked into the flames of the fireplace before him. "Can you give me your word that you will be prepared to act in an honorable manner toward my sister?"

 "Sir, I have never acted in any other way. Allie—Miss Pendleton—is dear to me and I have done nothing that would dishonor her, nor should I ever do so." Griffin, whose cravat had seemed to tighten upon his throat, reached for the linen and loosened it absently.

Perspiration had begun to drip from his hair into his collar. The well being he had experienced from this morning's ministrations rapidly disappeared under the stress of the moment and his foray into the brandy the previous night took its toll.

 "Then why, pray tell me, did you leave so abruptly and give my sister a broken heart?" Sir Gordon glanced at his quarry, and waited with a show of interest for Griffin's response.

 "I—I thought to spare her, Sir. You see, I had just realized that I could not offer her anything. I am a younger son, as you know, and I have several years yet to set myself up in this world—" 

Griffin's speech trailed away, a lump of distress throttling his voice.

"I
do
know, and I'm not unsympathetic to your circumstances Griffin." Sir Gordon looked hard at the young man, remembering the gossip that was going about due to the indiscreet behavior of the fellow toward an innocent. "However, you should have thought of that before you escorted my sister into the bushes—"

Griffin visibly winced but bravely entered the fray. "Sir! I resent your implications. Miss Pendleton would never go into the bushes—that is I would never
take
her there—we only walked in the garden." He mumbled as he finished, "Everyone walks in the garden."

 In his role of arbitrator, Rothburn felt compelled to admonish his friend, who was getting out of hand with his accusations. "Gordon, attend me, if you will. Keep to the point. No one has ever accused these youngsters of cavorting in the bushes. You exaggerate, Sir."

Taking a deep breath and visibly controlling his ire, Sir Gordon then asked the question that Griffin had most dreaded. "What are your intentions, then, toward my young and innocent sister?"

"Intentions?" Griffin nigh on squeaked the question as his voice box had been squeezed near closed by the panic that enveloped him. Still, he tried to carry on, "I have no intentions, sir." He finished lamely, sweat now pouring rapidly down his face. "That is, I had not thought—"

"Exactly!" Roared the older man. "You had not thought! And because you had not thought, my sweet innocent sister has become a laughing stock. She will not leave her rooms and has refused food for weeks."

Sir Gordon, warming to his subject, overstated the situation once more, causing Rothburn to interrupt him.

"She went to Beasely's card party last night, but I'll admit it was the first outing she has agreed to since you left, Griffin. And," he held up a staying hand as his friend was wont to interrupt before he had completed his thought, "She has, in truth, been pining most mercilessly since you went away. Even I have noticed a weight loss, for Gordon does not exaggerate her loss of appetite."

He then retired to his position leaning against the mantle and left it to the pair to continue.

"Yes, Beasely's card party!" Sir Gordon, a thought blossoming in his head, decided to test Griffin. "She was accosted by that little worm, Beasley, to the further detriment of her reputation. She had to toss the fellow over the balcony to keep him from attacking her."

He was not dissatisfied with the result of his speech as Griffin sat straight up in his chair, eyes blazing, his scholarly bearing lost in a most formidable display of primitive ire, evidenced by his snarl of rage.

"What? I will kill the wretch!" He paused with an incredulous look mixed with anger; a comical expression. "She threw him off the balcony?"

 He then looked a bit sheepish and slumped once more in his seat as both men burst into uncontrolled laughter at his expense.

"
Pushed
more likely. He fell with a potted gooseberry bush and landed in a heap at my feet." Sir Gordon, who had inexplicably relaxed his posture, retold the incident, eyes brimming with laughter.

He looked earnestly at the young man before him. "So you see, Allie is incredibly innocent and does not know how to go on in society very well. Your attentions have brought her a modicum of pain and coupled with this latest anecdote, her reputation may be in shreds by day's end."

"What can I do, Sir?" Griffin asked. "I have no prospects, as I have said. And, truth be told, I am not ready, that is, I am too young—"

Sir Gordon spoke up when Griffin's voice trailed away. "You could start by seeing my sister and explaining this to her. It is her right to be appraised of your reasons for such a sudden departure. I would be satisfied with that, for a start."

Sir Gordon, busy calculating ways to bring this likeable young man into his own more rapidly, that he should be suitable as a bridegroom for Allie, finished with, "Should you ease her mind and give her some peace, I would be gratified."

Rothburn entered the conversation. "We are none of us ever ready, Griffin, when the ladies begin their matrimonial plotting, but we must be resigned. My own grandfather wed at seventeen.

"If you have feelings for Allie that you can honestly say would carry you through the years, then you must stand prepared to follow through with your suit, regardless of your tender age. Honor demands it."

"But how can I? I am still at university. I have no funds with which to support a wife. And I had hoped to travel."  Flushing at the selfishness implied in the last words, Griffin ducked his head, gaze on his boots.

"I am sure," Sir Gordon said, "Rothburn and I can arrange a suitable allowance that would enable you to complete your studies, support a family and travel, if that is your wish."

As the hour progressed it was decided that Griffin would do the pretty and call upon Allie that very evening, Sir Gordon having invited him for dinner. It was further understood if she declined his suit, Griffin would be free—with no hostilities between himself and the Pendleton family.

Griffin, of lighter spirit with the decision made, was jovial and near over the bout of drinking he had done the night before.

With a gladdened heart, Sir Gordon quit Rothburn's townhouse, hoping to bring Lady Eleanor around to a reconciliation.

Rothburn, greatly in need of sleep, was reluctant to approach Lady Alana until he had rested sufficiently to deal with that sharp-witted paragon. He took himself off for a well deserved rest.

"You may avail yourself of my study, Griffin, as long as you keep your consumption of my best brandy to a minimum." Grinning to take the sting out of his words, he nodded at the vast array of books lining the shelves at the far end of the room. "You might find a book to amuse you until I am sufficiently restored. I will join you before the dinner hour."

 Griffin, much relieved at being alone to think things through, saw his cousin depart with some eagerness. Instead of the bookshelves drawing his interest, the scholarly young man went to sit in Rothburn's favorite fireside chair. He was soon dozing comfortably, his ruminations having eased him into a nap.

Chapter Fourteen

~~

 "Sir Gordon Pendleton to see you, Milord." The very correct butler bowed the knight-of-the-realm into the immense receiving hall of Messinger House, The Earl of Avonleigh's town home.

Sir Gordon looked with amazement at the vast array of statuettes on exhibit in the cavernous room. There was a gargantuan centerpiece in the form of an Italian marble fountain. A cupid with bow and arrow perched upon its rim, naked save for a loin cloth and grinning foolishly.

Such opulence was not to his taste and Sir Gordon sincerely hoped that Lady Eleanor would not want to redecorate his own homes with such tasteless pieces. He was met halfway across the room by the jovial and rotund visage of the earl himself, hand outstretched in welcome.

"See you are admiring my wife's handiwork." Lord Avonleigh, instead of shaking Sir Gordon's hand, took it in both of his and squeezed in a most affectionate manner that made the knight feel infinitely at home.

"I would toss the lot into the nearest dust bin were it possible. Afraid she'd have a swoon, though. Wouldn't do at all." He grinned at his guest, rightly guessing Sir Gordon's opinion of the décor and concurring heartily.

"My Lord, I do so appreciate you receiving me on such short notice. I'm afraid I'm in a quandary with Lady Eleanor. I sent 'round a note asking for a few moments of her time, and she has refused. We did have a slight quarrel, but I had thought she would be, well, over it by now."

Lord Avonleigh, still grinning, did not speak, but letting go Sir Gordon's hand, he led his guest along the room until they had paced nearly forty feet and were standing at windows facing the garden.

 "No need to tell me your troubles, young man. I should think you'd spare your breath for arguing with her. She's out there." Lord Avonleigh pointed to the maze comprising the entire south side of the garden space and cleared his throat, "Can't say much for getting 'round the girl. Like her mother in some ways, very stubborn—but a sweet child for all that."

"You don't seem surprised by my visit, My Lord. May I inquire as to the source of your knowledge?" Sir Gordon, though relieved to be received so readily by the father of the woman he intended to wed, was more than just curious about the man's seemingly casual acceptance of his presence.

"Lady Janice had Lady Susan to luncheon today quite early, as a matter of fact. The late Rothburn was a school chum of mine. Janice 'en my wife are rather good friends, don'tcha know? Lady Susan says you're a capital fellow and I should give your suit every consideration."

He peered at Sir Gordon with squinting eyes, his head tipped to the side as though he were trying to decide something. "Ain't you and Rothburn great friends?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are indeed quite close—almost as brothers, I would venture to say. Why do you ask?" Sir Gordon, knowing full well why the earl was asking, could not resist hearing it for himself.

"Well, was just wondering..." Avonleigh cleared his throat noisily, then began again, coloring up at what he considered to be an audacious question, "Wondered why've the two of ya gone after the same girl? Been agreed forever she'd wed the earl, now here you come."

"My Lord, I can assure you that Rothburn and I are in accord on this matter. It has come to pass that my aunt, Lady Alana Fisk, has drawn Rothburn's affection and I must confess that I have long held your daughter in great regard. So, you see, we have just, well, I guess you can say we have changed alliances."

"So long as I don't have to look forward to two glaring love-struck swains messing up my foyer with bloody fisticuffs, I'm quite willing to allow you to pursue Eleanor. She's quite a handful, I'll have to tell ya. Seems meek and mild, but she's got quite a temper if she's riled—but I guess you've discovered that yourself, eh?"

Chuckling and shaking his head, the older man opened the French doors and waved Sir Gordon through. "Best of luck, old fellow."

The Earl of Avonleigh started to walk away then turned back to Sir Gordon. "By the by, happens Lady Susan is keen on seeing you get a peerage, but don't be concerned if it don't happen. Won't matter to me one whit. You seem a nice enough sort and with all your blunt, my wife will be happy to give her consent, to be sure."

There was definitely something homey about the earl, Sir Gordon decided. He stepped into the maze, went right and became promptly lost. Turning in circles several times, he finally found his way to an opening and realized he was back where he'd started.

He began again, going this time to the left. After charging around in the greenery, he had become totally disoriented and also quite irritated.
If I find the damnable woman,
 he decided after turning the same corner for the third time,
I'll be to overcome by the heat to press my case
.

Lady Eleanor, who'd been aware of his tramping around for some time, took pity on her determined swain. "Sir Gordon, over here. Turn left, now right, keep coming along—" 

Sir Gordon turned the last corner to find her seated in a very pleasant room, whose walls were neatly trimmed hedges. She smiled her gracious smile and motioned him forward to where she sat upon a marble bench, her sewing in her lap.

"Seems you know this blasted maze very well to have directed me from your seat, with only the sound of my feet tramping 'round to plot my course by. Have you known long that I was here?"

"Oh, perhaps since you left the house, but then again, it might have been later when you tripped over the fountain in maze room fourteen and started to curse." She looked down at her sewing as she spoke, unwilling to meet his gaze. Her mischief making imp had fled, and she was suddenly shy again—in fact more so than ever before—they were so alone here.

"Ah, then you allowed me to stumble around in this damnable place for near three quarters of an hour. How could you?" Sir Gordon, relieved to sit down—and more relieved to be in her company at last—was just a bit miffed at her game playing. "Suppose you think it's funny."

A small gurgle of laughter escaped her, and then another. "Actually, I had planned to let you run the gamut another time but you were breathing in such a manner that I became alarmed that you might faint and I'd have to get the gardener to bring you 'round."

She then lifted her head and gave him such a dazzling smile that he was captivated and his anger fled before her beauty. "'Twas your breathing that I listened for to plot your course. You sounded quite like my father when he has taken the stairs too quickly."

"Never say so," he responded peevishly. "I am but seven years your elder, and in quite good condition, I must say. I came to discuss our disagreement. Get things cleared up," he began. He added in a hopeful voice when she did not speak, "Your father seems to like me quite well."

"Yes, father likes most men of great wealth." Realizing what she'd said, her hand flew to her mouth, horrified with embarrassment.

"Not to worry, m'dear," he soothed. "He has already said as much. Told me that a title was nothing as compared to my blunt, if you will. Of course, he said it was your
mother
who would be pleased by my wealth."

Sir Gordon, suddenly very relaxed as Lady Eleanor returned his rueful smile with one of her own, reached out and grasped her hands and lifted them to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you still very angry with me?" he asked, his voice husky and low.

"I vow, I could not stay angry with you very long, Gordon. Not with you so close to me and looking at me in just that way." Lady Eleanor lifted her eyes to his, her sweet mouth gaining his attention as she gave a pretty pout. "I should be angry, but I believe I must forgive you."

Lingering to inhale the sweet violet scent of her skin, he pressed his lips to first one pulse point then the other on her delicate wrists. Lady Eleanor trembled. Encouraged by this reaction, he tugged her closer, drawing her hands to his shoulders where they crept behind his neck.

Encircling her with powerful arms, the knight crushed her against his chest. Urged her mouth open with a flicking tongue. She opened to him eagerly and Sir Gordon ravaged her, their hot breath mingling.

A very long time later, he lifted his head, eyes burning into hers with intense passion. Her eyes heavy, lidded and glazed with passion, her lips still parted and inviting another onslaught, she looked a woman thoroughly kissed. Catching her lower lip gently between his teeth, he nipped at her, then kissed each corner of her mouth most tenderly before reluctantly putting her from him.

Lady Eleanor thought she might swoon, so heated was her blood, such throbbing did she feel through the lower regions of her body.

The couple rose, eyes locked in unspoken regard. They turned, hands linked fast as they walked quickly back through the green pathways of the maze, to find her father. It wasn't difficult, for the man was in his library.

"We do need to wait until Lady Eleanor has been given time to cry off from Rothburn." Sir Gordon sat in the library of Messinger House, a glass of Port at his elbow, staring earnestly at Lord Avonleigh.

"Has Rothburn truly agreed to this?" The older man did not look as convinced as he had earlier, having had time to think things over. "As I said, I would not have you quarreling in public over the girl. Too much scandal would put my wife in a swoon she might never recover from."

"Yes you can be sure that he has agreed. Just last evening I dined at his mother's and I can assure you that Rothburn is in complete agreement."

"Well, then, I have a plan. Of course, you must agree to it, but I thought of sending a discreet note to the Times, care of the society column, hinting a change in my daughter's marriage plans. It would be a good start and no one would be surprised when next we announce your betrothal. What think you?"

"I think, Milord, that you have a very cunning way about you and I like it well."

* * * * *

Rothburn, allowing for his night of sleeplessness and having only three hours rest, was quite refreshed when he came into the study at just after four that afternoon. He spied Griffin, mouth open and snoring lightly, sprawled in his favorite fireside chair.

"Naturally, you would take the chair I normally use," Rothburn murmured, as he nudged his cousin to wake him up. "I say, have you had plenty of rest? Enjoying my favorite chair, hmmm?"

Laughing lightly, he watched Griffin come awake with a start and flush guilty for having appropriated yet another of the earl's favorite seats.

The younger man made to rise, and was pushed back down by Rothburn, "No need to get up just yet. We're due at the Pendleton's for dinner in just under three hours. Thought we'd have a quick chat."

Rothburn went to the bell pull and ordered tea, with scones, jam and butter. "Light repast, tide us over 'til dinner. Though Pendleton tells me his cook has been ill and their food is not much to brag about these days. May need to come home and eat again."

Grinning at his little quip, the earl sat comfortably in the chair opposite—the one usually reserved for guests—and leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankle. "But we'll clear this up. No doubt of it."

Griffin asked uncertainly, "Do you think Allie will see me? I mean, she was quite angry when she ran from me that night."

Rothburn, not having heard this story before, lifted his eyebrows in encouragement. "Do go on, Griffin. Whatever was she angry about?"

 "Well, she had this damnable idea of—oh, I don't know. Perhaps I shouldn't say. It would be a breach of confidence, would it not?" Griffin wanted very much to share his story, but wanted reassurance that he did not trespass on Allie's sensibilities.

 "If the lady did not swear you to secrecy, I should think it would be permissible to tell me. I vow not a word will leave this room, for we are family are we not?" Rothburn, his curiosity peaked beyond measure and willing to be amused for awhile, encouraged Griffin shamelessly.

 "She wanted me to write a love letter—well, two actually. One to Lady Alana, signing your name—of course—and one to Lady Eleanor, signing that of her brother. Said it would help things along as the four of you didn't seem to know which way was up when it came to romance."