The Most to Lose (7 page)

“Perhaps we should continue on our way,” she said. “Or do you need a moment more to rest?”

“I’m fine.”

A glimpse of doubt clouded her eyes.

“Truly, I am. It’s only every once in a while that my wound refuses to be forgotten.”

“How did it happen?” she asked after he’d flicked the reins against the horses’ rumps and turned them around to continue through the park.

“Not very heroically, I’m afraid. I didn’t move fast enough when an enemy charged.”

“But you moved fast enough to put yourself between the enemy and Lady Plimpton’s nephew.”

Jonah saw the concern on her face and prayed he did an adequate job of hiding the terror that still engulfed him when he relived that event. “We were both fortunate that day.”

“Does it bother you to talk about it?”

Jonah was stunned by her question. No one asked him that. No one cared. They only wanted to hear every bloody, gruesome detail concerning the war.

The problem was, no one who had experienced war’s horrors ever wanted to relive one moment of them.

If the other men fortunate enough to return from the war were like him, they did enough remembering every night when the nightmares started; enough remembering when their screams woke them and they bolted upright in bed, soaked in perspiration; enough remembering when, even in the depths of an alcohol-induced sleep, they could hear their comrades’ screams of agony and pain. Along with their own.

For Jonah, the earth still trembled beneath him as the enemy’s mammoth horse bore down on him, its rider brandishing a once-gleaming deadly saber, now stained with the blood of an untold number of dead and dying.

Jonah closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds but could not afford to keep them closed. If he did, he’d hear the swishing sound of the saber as it sliced through the air, feel the steel as it separated his sinewy flesh, sense the lifeblood flowing from his veins as the strength drained from his body.

Jonah pressed his hand to his side as he’d done that day in a vain attempt to keep the blood from rushing out, then dropped his hand beside him on the seat.

He hoped Celie hadn’t noticed.

“The war was a lifetime ago,” he said as flippantly as he could manage. “It’s easy to forget the worst of it once you return to the peaceful surroundings in England.”

She smiled at him, but her eyes spoke volumes. “And that, my lord,” she said as she snapped her parasol open in a queenly manner and rested it against her shoulder, “is the third lie you’ve told in less than one day’s time.”

She’d tipped her chin upward and let the sun shine on her face. No wonder her face had a hint of bronze to it. She didn’t practice the same abhorrence to the effects of the sun as the rest of society.

“Perhaps my statement was a slight exaggeration. But not intended as a lie.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. It was probably only intended to be a statement to keep people from knowing how deeply you were affected by the tragedies of war. So far, all your lies have been barriers you erect to keep people from getting too close.”

For a few seconds, they drove on in silence; then, in a soft voice that held a great deal of strength, she said, “I can’t pretend to ever understand what you went through during the war, but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I would be more than willing to listen. Even Hadleigh admits I’m passable as an adequate listener.”

Jonah couldn’t believe the effect of her words. The moment she finished speaking, he felt as if an unbearable pressure had been lifted from his chest.

A gentle hand wrapped around his heart, easing the raw pain that had been his constant companion since he’d returned. So few understood what everyone who’d fought in the war had endured. Even fewer cared.

But Lady Cecelia did. She cared how he felt, both physically and emotionally.

He couldn’t explain what that meant to him.

He looked ahead as another carriage approached them. He and Celie nodded in greeting, but he didn’t pull up to talk to them.

“You should have stopped,” Celie said, glancing at him. “That was the Marchioness of Portwood and her daughter Lady Felicity. Lady Felicity is extremely eligible and quite sought after.”

Jonah looked down on her and smiled. “Why would I want to waste time talking to the marchioness and her daughter when I have the perfect companion sitting next to me?”

He couldn’t stop the laughter that wanted to erupt from him. The surprised expression on her face was priceless.

He turned his attention to the horses and gave them a gentle nudging to pick up their step. They had been traveling one of the paths frequented by the members of the
ton
who wanted to avoid being seen. Suddenly, he wanted to be where
everyone
would see him. He turned onto the main thoroughfare.

He wanted to let everyone know that Lady Cecelia Randolph had agreed to accompany him…

And that he considered himself the luckiest man in London.

Chapter 4

C
elie squeezed through the crowd milling around Lady Cushing’s music room and made her way to the empty chair Amanda had saved for her. There was still time before the musicale began, but she’d wanted to arrive early to get a seat near the front. Tonight’s entertainment promised to be superb, and everyone would want to be as close to the performer as possible.

“Have you ever heard Miss Zunderman sing?” Celie asked when she took her seat next to Amanda. She scanned the crowd and saw that almost everyone who was anyone was here.

“No. I can’t believe the famous Miss Zunderman agreed to sing for Lady Cushing in such an intimate setting. Rumor has it she only agrees to stage performances.”

“Hadleigh said Lady Cushing and Miss Zunderman were acquaintances in their youth. He said that—”

Amanda turned toward Celie and grabbed her hand. “Enough of this trivia, Celie. Tell me about your drive with Lord Haywood yesterday afternoon while we still have some privacy to talk.”

Celie took note of the empty chairs surrounding them and scanned the area to make sure they couldn’t be overheard. “It was very pleasant. I had a wonderful time.”

Amanda’s eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped a few inches. “That’s all you have to say? It was very pleasant and you had a wonderful time?”

“Well, yes. What more would you like me to say?”

“Did he ask to take you driving again? Did he say he would like to call on you? Did he say when?”

Celie tried to keep her expression emotionless as her gaze met Amanda’s. The two of them were best friends, and Amanda could read her like an open book.

Amanda’s gaze narrowed. The sky-blue gown she wore matched the color of her eyes to perfection. Combined with her creamy, smooth complexion and the perfect curves of her body, Amanda was an absolute beauty.

Truth be told, Celie couldn’t figure out why Amanda didn’t have to fight off suitors, although losing her best friend to matrimony wouldn’t be easy to bear. Amanda was far prettier than half the females in society. Only the glasses she was forced to wear detracted from her otherwise perfectly delicate features.

Perhaps she wasn’t wed already because she was as expert at discouraging suitors as Celie was. More than one suitable male had asked for Amanda’s hand, but she’d always declined their offers. Fortunately, Amanda’s brother hadn’t forced her to accept anyone—yet.

Celie considered for a moment the possibility that Amanda was perhaps in love with someone already and fled that possibility in the back of her mind. That was a question she’d have to ask her friend when they were alone.

“Well?” Amanda asked again. “Did he say anything that might indicate his feelings?”

“No. He simply said…” Celie paused.

“Said what?”

Amanda leaned closer, anxious to have Celie tell her what Jonah had said.

“Well, we both know Lord Haywood only asked me to accompany him at the fashionable hour to gain introductions to society’s most eligible females.”

“No,” Amanda answered, pulling her hands away from Celie’s and dropping them into her lap with a heavy sigh. “We don’t know anything of the sort. At least,
I
don’t know anything of the sort. It’s
you
who’s come to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Because it’s true,” Celie added.

“Well, we could argue all day on that point, but right now, I’m more interested in what Lord Haywood said.”

Celie’s cheeks warmed and she found herself embarrassed to admit to her best friend what he’d said. “Nothing that held any significance. It’s simply that, when I saw Lady Portwood and Felicity drive toward us, I told him to stop so I could introduce him to Felicity. Felicity will, after all, come with a huge dowry, and that is exactly what Lord Haywood needs.”

“Did he stop?”

“No, he only greeted them with a polite nod.”

“What did he say, Celie? Hurry, tell me,” Amanda demanded with an excited giggle.

“He asked why he should waste time talking to the marchioness and her daughter when…”

“When what?”

Celie found repeating Jonah’s compliment very embarrassing.

“What? Hurry!”

“He said something about stopping would be a waste of time when he already had the perfect companion sitting next to him.”

Amanda clamped her hand over her mouth and muffled a squeal of delight. “Did he say if he would be here tonight?” Amanda scanned the room in search of him.

“No, he won’t be here. Lord Haywood is aware of Hadleigh’s love for music. Haywood knows he’s sure to be here. It was one thing for them to ignore each other’s presence at Lady Plimpton’s ball, but another altogether to have to tolerate each other in such an intimate setting.”

“Did your brother say anything after Lady Plimpton’s ball? Everyone saw you speaking to the earl on the terrace.”

Celie shook her head. “I expected him to fly into a rage, but he didn’t mention it. Not even at breakfast the next morning.”

Amanda’s eyes opened wide. “And he allowed you to accompany Haywood for a drive?”

Celie smiled, knowing she had a Cheshire cat grin on her face. “I didn’t tell him I’d accepted Haywood’s invitation, and he wasn’t home when Haywood arrived. Although I can’t believe he hasn’t heard by now.”

“Oh, Celie,” Amanda said with a giggle. “You’re amazing.”

“No, I’m just very independent. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure your independence was a match for the hatred Hadleigh harbors toward the Earl of Haywood.” She paused with a frown on her face. “Do you think he isn’t quite so bitter anymore?”

“One can only hope. Perhaps if Jonah goes slowly and doesn’t force Hadleigh to accept him immediately, he might have a chance.”

Amanda paused, then rolled her eyes heavenward. “Then I predict the earl doesn’t have a prayer of succeeding.”

Amanda’s voice had a doleful tone to it and the furrows between her eyes grew deeper as she focused her gaze on something over Celie’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Celie asked, refusing to turn around. From the worried expression on Amanda’s face, Celie was sure she already knew what she saw. The prickling of the tiny hairs on the back of her neck confirmed it. “Tell me Haywood isn’t here,” she demanded, clutching one of Amanda’s hands.

“Very well. Haywood isn’t here.”

“Now tell me you aren’t lying.”

“Very well. I’m not. But that would be a lie.”

Amanda’s eyes were like large blue orbs, and when their gazes met, Celie saw more than a hint of worry on her friend’s face.

“What are you going to do?” Amanda asked.

“Me?”

Amanda hesitated. “Oh, very well. What are
we
going to do?”

Celie breathed a sigh that lacked any semblance of surety. “I don’t know. What’s happening now?”

She couldn’t bring herself to turn around. Instead, she sat ramrod straight in her chair and waited for Amanda to warn her when disaster was about to befall them.

“Lord Haywood is talking to Viscount and Lady Remmington.”

“How does he look?”

Amanda shrugged. “Stunningly handsome. But you already know that.”

“I don’t mean how does he look,” Celie said with a hint of frustration. “I mean, how does he
look
. Does he seem nervous?”

Just then, a group of guests at the back of the room laughed. She recognized Jonah’s laughter.

“No. I wouldn’t say he’s nervous. In fact, I would say he is having a most pleasant time.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t realize Hadleigh is here.”

“Then he’d have to be blind.” Amanda gave Celie another worrisome look. “Your brother is standing not ten feet from him.”

“How does Hadleigh look?” Celie asked. “And don’t say he’s stunningly handsome. He’s my brother. I already know that he’s passable.”

“Passable?”

“Very well. Stunning. But how does he look?”

“You mean, does he look angry enough to run a sword through Lord Haywood?”

Celie swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes, but I don’t think he’ll do murder.”

“Oh, good.”

“At least, not here—not tonight. I’m sure he’ll wait until morning.”

“You mean challenge him to a duel?” Celie became more nervous by the second.