A Fool Again (4 page)

Tobias didn't waste any breath with arguing. He could tell, within five minutes of making a public appearance the night before, that London matrons were exquisitely happy with the arrival of a single gentleman of excellent fortune. He didn't anticipate being turned down at any event.

“The next night?” he asked.

“I am engaged,” she said airily, climbing into his carriage.

“The next?” he growled.

“Engaged!”

“Genevieve, I shall keep asking you from now until next week. When I was in India, I simply got used to taking what I wanted.” The warning in his voice was crystal clear, as was the look in his eyes.

“Well, you will have to learn differently!” Genevieve snapped at him. “I certainly won't be going anywhere in the evening with you again, not after you took the opportunity to drive me to your house in this harum-scarum fashion! I may be a widow, but I still could be ruined by being seen unchaperoned in such a location. You're just as much of a blackguard as you ever were, Tobias Darby! I shall
never
allow you to escort me in the evening.”

Tobias hadn't gotten to be a nabob by ignoring possibilities. “An afternoon, then,” he said. “Are you engaged tomorrow afternoon, Genevieve?”

“Certainly!” she said.

“And one week from today?”

“I don't wish to be seen with you,” she pointed out. “No, I don't wish to
be
with you, Mr. Darby. Spending time in your company will simply encourage you in the mistaken belief that marrying me will compensate for your base behavior of seven years ago.”

“Are you so
very
sure of Felton, then?” he asked shrewdly.

She blinked. “Of course I am, although I might point out that your question is characteristically impolite.”

“Felton did kiss you in front of the
ton,
” Tobias said, nodding.

“Exactly!”

He loathed the way her face lit up when she remembered that lukewarm kiss from her lukewarm suitor. “But then he blithely sent you off with me,” Tobias noted.

“Felton has every confidence in me,” she said loftily. “And I do believe he didn't understand the depths of perfidity to which you might sink.”

“Perhaps he has taken you a bit for granted,” Tobias said. “Perhaps it wouldn't be entirely amiss to give Mr. Felton a bit of competition.”

“Actually,” Genevieve said with a little smirk, “you may not believe this, but I seem to be quite fashionable amongst the London gentlemen. I have no difficulty finding competition for Felton.”

“Ah, but I am far greater competition than they are,” he said softly. “They are just town bucks, after all, whereas I represent your past. If you wish to encourage Felton into a proposal, Genevieve, you would do well to encourage me at the same time.”

“And why would you wish to help me?” she said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him.

He tried to school his expression into one of innocence, but she suddenly said, “Oh, I understand! If I am married to such a worthy man as Felton, and you helped in the process, it would assuage your conscience.” There was just the smallest note of disappointment in her voice, which Tobias thought very encouraging.

“It is true that I would like to see you happily married,” he said. “After all, I feel indirectly responsible for your marriage to Lord Mulcaster.”

Genevieve took a deep breath. “Erasmus wasn't so terrible.”

“I've heard he was a miser and an extremely ugly man to deal with on the business front,” Tobias said, watching her steadily.

“Those things are both true,” she admitted.

He touched her face. “I'm sorry, Genevieve. I'm so sorry.”

“There's no need to be,” she said cheerily, the faint hint of sadness falling from her face. “If I hadn't married Erasmus, I might never have met Felton!” She looked dismayed at the very thought.

Tobias was surprised by the surge of rage that choked him for a moment.

“Yet perhaps you are right,” she said a second later. “Felton may well be aware that he has no significant rivals.” She blushed a little, and Tobias wondered just what had happened between herself and that elegant lounger. “I shall grant you an afternoon,” she said.

He nodded.

“What shall we do?” she asked, looking adorably interested. “Shall we drive in Hyde Park?”

Tobias was sure of one thing. “Absolutely not,” he said brusquely. “I took my sister-in-law around the promenade this afternoon”—they'd been looking for Genevieve, although there was no need to mention that—“and a more tedious encounter I have never experienced. Nothing but limp hand wavings at the pace of a snail. I thought the horses might die of boredom before we made the whole circuit.”

Genevieve giggled. She was aware, deep down in her soul, that she too had been rather disappointed by the ritual-istic drive in Hyde Park. It wasn't nearly as interesting as it appeared in the gossip pages. “What shall we do, then?” she inquired.

“Wait and see,” he said.

“W
ell, I think it's
so
romantic!” Lady Carola Perwinkle cried.

Genevieve's friend was an enchanting little madam, with her cap of fairy curls and just the smallest evidence of an interesting condition. Genevieve couldn't help smiling at her. “It's not romantic, you silly thing,” she said. “What's romantic about Tobias wishing to make amends? His behavior toward me in the past was utterly unscrupulous.”

Carola was shaking her head. “You can't mean to say that you don't find it utterly quixotic that Tobias Darby came all the way back from India, just to ask you to marry him! He's waited for you all these years, and now finally you're free,” she sighed. “My husband would have just found a trout stream and drowned his sorrows.”

“Tobias may have returned to England, but it was only to find that I've fallen in love with someone else,” Genevieve pointed out. “Truly, Carola, you make everything sound like a novel.”

“I love novels! If this were a novel, Felton and Darby would duel to the death.”

But the very thought made Genevieve feel slightly ill. “Luckily, Felton at least is a gentleman and quite restrained in his behavior.”

“Well, Tobias Darby doesn't look restrained,” Carola argued. “I think he's precisely the kind of man who would be a hero in one of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels.”

“Tobias as hero? Never! He's nothing more than the wild boy he always was. He merely hopes to clear his conscience by marrying me.”

“A boy? Are you
blind?
” Carola asked, incredulous. “My friend Neville has been desperately in love with you for weeks, even though you likely didn't notice. He almost wept last night when Darby strode into your box. We all saw the way he looked at you. The net result was that Neville tore up the dreadful poem he was composing for you.”

“I didn't know that you and Mr. Charlton were friends,” Genevieve said. “How long have you been friends and what does your husband think—”

“Don't try to distract me!” Carola scolded. “Which one are you going to take, Genevieve? Felton or Darby? I know who I would marry!”

“Who?”

“Darby, no question about it. Felton is all very well. He has a sinister kind of attractiveness and of course he's quite handsome. But the way Tobias Darby looked at you last night...a woman would be a fool to give that up.”

“Felton looks at me with a great deal of appreciation,” Genevieve said, nettled. “And he did kiss me in front of the entire
ton.
I suppose you saw that as well?”

“Yes, but was that kiss due to your attractiveness or his jealousy?” Carola asked.

Genevieve had considered that very question half the night. “Jealousy simply indicates the depth of Felton's feelings for me, don't you see?”

“No,” Carola said. “I don't. I think the look on Darby's face indicated the depth of his feelings for you.”

“I can tell you precisely who I would choose to marry,” Genevieve announced. “Felton asked me to marry him this very morning.” A tinge of triumph turned her cheeks pink.

“Did you say yes?” Carola asked, with an irritating lack of excitement in her voice.

“Of course I did!”

“Oh, well, in that case, congratulations, darling,” she said, hopping up and giving Genevieve a kiss. “Felton's town house is only two streets from mine. So we can ride in the park together every morning!”

But Genevieve heard the tinge of doubt in her voice as clearly as if she'd spoken it out loud. “How did your husband propose to you?” she asked.

“Tuppy?” Carola rolled her eyes. “He stammered. We barely knew each other, and I was truly
horrified
by the whole circumstance. Of course, he had spoken with my father beforehand, and my father had instructed me to accept, so there wasn't much I could do.”

“You were horrified? Why? The two of you seem so happy together,” Genevieve said, thinking of Carola's tall, rather bashful husband, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw his delicious little wife.

“Well, we are,
now,
” Carola said with a giggle. “But it took quite a few years. At any rate, how did Felton ask you? Did he go on his knees?”

“Of course not,” Genevieve said. “Felton would never do anything so ungentlemanly. He merely commented that given his kiss of the previous evening, he rather thought that our intention to marry had been made clear to the
ton,
and that therefore he would send a message to the
Times
directly.”

Carola blinked. “That was
it?
He didn't say he loved you, or even ask you if you wished to marry him?”

Genevieve felt herself turning a little pink. “No—that is—I rather think he considered that I had asked
him.
Because I told him to kiss me last night.”

“You asked him?” Carola said, stunned.

“Not to marry me,” Genevieve said hastily. “Just to kiss me. Last night. And before he did so, he pointed out that such a kiss would indicate our intention to marry.”

“So this morning he didn't say that he loved you
at all?
” Carola asked.

Unfortunately, she was echoing just the uneasy question that Genevieve had asked herself repeatedly during the previous night. “He's not the sort of man who expresses himself in hyperboles,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but, while asking a woman to marry him—”

“Felton considers propriety very important,” Genevieve said firmly, “and I must say that I agree with him. It was due to Tobias's utter lack of civilized behavior that I found myself married to Erasmus Mulcaster for six years, and that wasn't a happy marriage, Carola.”

“I know, darling,” Carola said. “But are you certain that turning to a man who is quite so rigidly proper as Felton is the answer? After all, Tobias may well have changed in the interim.”

“No, he's just the same,” Genevieve said dampeningly. “I could tell the moment I saw him last night. Just as wild as he ever was.”

“The only man who's ever looked at me the way Tobias Darby looks at you is my husband. And my Tuppy could
never
be considered wild, Genevieve. I would suggest that you may be misinterpreting personal interest for a character trait.” She giggled—and there was no lady in London with as wicked a giggle as Lady Carola Perwinkle. “You must keep in mind that one doesn't wish a man to behave in a civilized fashion
at all times,
Genevieve!”

Genevieve colored again. She knew exactly what Carola meant, but she refused to comment on it. “Lucius Felton will always behave in a genteel fashion,” she said coolly. “And that is just as I would wish it.”

“If you say so,” Carola said. The doubt rang clear in her voice. Then she reached over to the table next to her and picked up a small garment. “Look at this, Genevieve. Do you think that I disfigured the sleeve with too many rosebuds?”

Lucius Felton was involved in some suspect dealings, all right. But he was walking just on the right side of the law, although it appeared that Genevieve's dead husband had had no such scruples. From what Tobias could ascertain, Felton was worth a tremendous amount of money, far more, Tobias suspected, than the
ton
imagined. Within five hours of beginning his inquiries, Tobias had gained respect for the man. Felton may be a shade disreputable, but some of his disreputable dealings were clearly brilliant.

One thing Tobias had discovered immediately was that Felton's appearance in Genevieve's life was no accident. He must have seen her somewhere and decided to have her, because Felton had suddenly presented himself to Lord Mul-caster as a partner six months before Mulcaster died, accepting a piddling percentage.

Obviously, Felton was out for bigger prey than Mulcaster's money. He wanted Mulcaster's wife, and money was no object.

Still, Tobias thought he saw one weakness: Felton's stables. Felton was a fanatic with horseflesh, a man who would move mountains to buy a colt he wanted for his stable. It took Tobias four days to buy all five horses in England considered likely to win considerable fame in the next few years.

So Tobias strolled into a dinner party being given by Lady Perwinkle with a sense of well-being, although it quickly dissipated. The first thing he saw after greeting his cheerful little hostess was Felton bending over Genevieve's hand in a display of outrageous gallantry. All that golden-brown hair of hers was precariously tied up with a few flowers; yet somehow a haphazard arrangement that would make any other woman look disheveled made her look more alive. And Lucius Felton saw it. There was a deep, acquisitive sense of possession in Felton's eyes that made To-bias think seriously of murder for the first time in his life.

He walked further into the drawing room and greeted the quite exquisite Miss Priscilla Blythe. Genevieve was playing the piano, and Felton was watching with a sleepy look in his eyes that made Tobias stiffen like a jackal. But he was playing a long game, and so he held his cards, chattering with Priscilla until he was ready to expire from tedium. She seemed to have only one subject of conversation: her small dog, Lance.

There was one interesting moment over port. Lord Perwinkle was chatting with two gentlemen about trout fishing, of which Tobias knew nothing. Lucius Felton was standing by the fireplace, so Tobias strolled over to greet him. He didn't bother with pleasantries: From what he'd discovered in the last few days, Felton's urbane courtesies were all on the surface. “I believe you have something that I want,” he remarked. His tone was courteous enough.

Felton raised his head and looked at him. Tobias had seen adders in Indian marketplaces with kinder eyes. “I never give up my possessions,” he said.

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “Under no circumstances?”

“Never. I would recommend that you abandon your efforts, Mr. Darby. The lady in question has no wish to jump ship, you see.” He smiled with all the delicate courtesy of a cat playing with a mouse.

But Tobias was no mouse. He smiled as well, and it was a smile honed in the back alleys of Bombay and the marble palaces of Indian rajas. “Shall we leave the lady out of this?” he said softly.

Felton's eyes dropped demurely, and he examined his fingernails. “I simply wished to spare you some trouble,” he said. “She is quite, quite attached to me.”

“I bought a filly today,” Tobias said, watching him. “Prudence, by way of Prunella and Waxy.”

Felton looked up again, and there was a good deal more interest in his eyes. “Good choice,” he said. “I was looking at that filly myself: hadn't quite made up my mind.”

Tobias felt a pulse of rage that the man showed a spark of interest only when it came to horseflesh, not Genevieve, but he quelled the thought. “I have had an interesting few days on that front. I also acquired a beautiful little Hungarian filly, Nyar, by way of Dr. Syntax and Csillog.”

“Nyar has some English blood in her,” Felton said with commendable indifference, to Tobias's mind. Given that the man was beginning to see the light.

“Minuet as well,” Tobias said softly.

“The Euston Stud would never sell Minuet!” Lucius snapped. “She won the Oak Stakes last year.”

“Yes, I do believe that Grafton would rather have kept Minuet. But every man has a price, you know.” The statement hung in the air. “One further purchase,” Tobias said after a moment. “Smolensko.”

“Ah. Congratulations are truly in order, Mr. Darby.”

Tobias had him now; there was a spark of pure, cold rage at the bottom of those civilized eyes.

“No, no,” Tobias said modestly. “I do wonder how the horses will do on the long voyage to India, though. Some horses don't take to being in the hold of a ship for weeks.”

“You cannot take those horses to India,” Felton stated. “It would be a massacre.”

“Of course I can. And I'm negotiating for Whisker as well. You must know of him; I believe he beat both your horses at Epsom Downs last year. Ah, Lord Perwinkle,” To-bias said, turning to his host. “I've just been telling Felton that I'm planning to set up stables in India. I've bought a number of horses.”

“Good, good,” Lord Perwinkle said, smiling his rather charming, absentminded smile. “Shall we join the ladies?”

When they walked into the drawing room, Genevieve was seated at the piano again. Tobias walked directly over to her. Felton was not a man to trail behind a rival; a moment later he was sitting on the couch next to their hostess, looking for all the world as if he had no interest in the corner of the room that held the piano.

Genevieve was examining some sheet music. “I am looking forward to tomorrow afternoon,” he said to her.

“I believe it might rain,” she noted. “In that event, I shall surely wish to remain in my house.”

“I would be enchanted,” he said, giving her a wicked grin.

She flushed slightly. “That was
not
an invitation to join me, Mr. Darby!” She stood up and looked as if she might escape, so he moved slightly. To pass him, she would have to touch his shoulder. Sure enough, she stayed where she was. Her gown was all blond lace and slim ribbons, making her look as fragile and exquisite as a narcissus blossom.

“You didn't used to be so enameled,” he said. “I remember you in a grass-stained pinafore, with hair falling all over the place and great chubby cheeks.”

Genevieve narrowed her eyes. “You never showed any sign of noticing me as a child.”

“The memories are coming back to me the way bad dreams do. Could I have imagined a period when your hair had a distinctly blue tinge?”

“Definitely a nightmare,” Genevieve said coolly, brushing past his shoulder.

A hand shot out and caught her arm. “You don't remember?” His voice fairly purred with amusement. “My understanding was that you used blackberries to dye your hair.”