A Heart for the Taking (25 page)

A
t Jonathan’s words, Chance stiffened and his eyes narrowed as his gaze traveled slowly from Jonathan’s smug face to Fancy’s dismayed features. Ellen simply stared up at Jonathan, as if she could not believe what he had said. Hugh’s breath sucked in audibly, while a startled exclamation came from Letty and a vexed gasp from Constance. Only Chance, beyond that narrowing of his eyes, apparently remained unmoved in the face of Jonathan’s explosive statement, yet there was something ominous, something almost dangerous, about his very stillness.

But Fancy had no time to think of him or what Jonathan’s news might mean to her own future. Faced with a direct assault, she could do nothing to protect her sister. She met Ellen’s despairing glance before looking at Jonathan and saying quietly, “Yes, that’s true.”

Chance’s features revealed none of the numbing shock he felt at Fancy’s confirmation, but his eyes traveled even more intently across the faces of those gathered in the solarium. No one appeared particularly thrilled with Jonathan’s announcement—except, perhaps, Jonathan. Which meant the bastard was up to something. “Let me see if I understand this situation correctly,” Chance began levelly. “Despite
your actions to the contrary—and you must admit that you’ve paid a damn lot of attention to Fancy—there was never any idea of an engagement between you and Fancy? Ellen was your choice of a bride right from the beginning?”

Jonathan’s eyes glittered. “Why, yes, of course,” he drawled insolently. “Though what business any of my actions are of yours, I fail to see. I have always been very fond of Fancy, and I have always looked forward to the day she would be my dearest sister-in-law.” Sneering, he added, “If you, and other gossipy fools, tended to misinterpret my affection for her, well, that is your misfortune. I am just relieved that it was Fancy who caught your, er, fancy, and not my own sweet Ellen.” He smiled, a bare showing of teeth.

“If it had been Ellen you had trifled with, I might have been forced to kill you.”

“You might have
tried
to kill me,” Chance corrected him grimly, still reeling from what had been revealed. “And refer to me again as a ‘gossipy fool’ and I am afraid I might have to rip out your tongue.”

“Oh, stop it, you two, right this instant,” Fancy said sharply. “This is not the time for your silly masculine posturings.”

Ignoring the tense exchanges, Letty suddenly posed the question uppermost in everyone’s mind. In obvious bewilderment she asked, “Do you mean that it is
Ellen
whom you intended to marry?” At Jonathan’s nod, she said in astonishment, “Why, we all thought— Even your mother . . . But Jonathan, you acted as if—” She stopped, plainly at sea.

Jonathan laughed easily, relishing the reaction his words had caused. Claiming Ellen as his bride was an added complication to his ultimate plans for Fancy, but one that didn’t worry him at the moment. It was worth all the additional schemes he would have to devise to reach his goal just to see the dawning awareness in Chance’s eyes. It was also rather amusing to be able to put an end to the silly calf love that seemed to have sprung up between Hugh and Ellen.

Hugh seemed to shake himself as if coming out of a bad dream. His gaze, hard and angry, was fixed on Ellen’s
averted features. “Doesn’t Ellen have anything to say?” he demanded harshly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Ellen risked a glance in Hugh’s direction, and at the sight of his accusing, contemptuous expression, her spirit quaked. Oh, dear. What was she to do? She did not want to marry Jonathan. But she was not quite bold enough to refute his words, either, or face the certain censure that would come at being labeled a jilt. Besides, she was still furious at Hugh. Who did he think he was, grabbing her and kissing her that way, after coolly ignoring all her shockingly forward ploys to catch his attention this past fortnight? What right did he have to condemn her? There was nothing between them;
he
had seen to that. Her chin lifted. How dare he look at her with that bitterly censorious expression!

Clasping Jonathan’s arm even more tightly, Ellen muttered, “Of course I have something to say.” She flashed Hugh a dark look, and then, hiding her fears and dismay, she smiled blindingly up at Jonathan. “I would be honored to become your wife. ’Tis what I have always wanted.” There! See what Mr. Hugh Walker thought of that.

Hugh’s mouth thinned, and brushing past Ellen and Jonathan, he snapped, “My congratulations. And now if you will excuse me, I will leave you all to your happy plans for the future. There is nothing here to interest me any longer.”

With that he stormed from the solarium, leaving behind a small silence. Before it became too awkward, Letty blinked and said brightly, “Well. This has certainly been a momentous day.” She beamed at Chance and Fancy. “Your marriage and now”—her warm gaze went to Jonathan and Ellen—“Jonathan’s engagement to Ellen. How very thrilling. Don’t you think so, Constance?”

Constance forced a smile. “Yes, of course it is.” She glanced pettishly at her son. “I just wish that you had waited, Jonathan dear, before bursting out with this news,” she muttered, her tight features revealing her displeasure. “You know that I like to discuss all your decisions with you before you make them public. And really, dear, it is too bad of you
not to have let me plan a special ball where you could have made your announcement.”

“Well, I see nothing wrong with keeping the news amongst ourselves for the time being . . . and I doubt Hugh will say anything about it. I am certain that if I have a word with him and explain that our betrothal is meant to be kept, er, secret, for just a little while longer, he will keep his mouth closed,” Jonathan said smoothly. He glanced at Fancy and Chance and smiled wolfishly. “I think everyone who needed to know my choice of a bride knows it now. You may still plan your ball and invite your guests. The news that Ellen and I are to be married should definitely have its own festive occasion. Believe me,” he went on nastily, “I want no hasty hole-in-the-corner affair such as we have seen today when
I
marry.”

“Jonathan,” Letty exclaimed disapprovingly. “How rude of you. Chance’s marriage to Fancy may have been hasty, but it has certainly
not
been a ‘hole-in-the-corner’ affair. I think you owe all of us an apology.”

Jonathan’s eyes flashed angrily at Letty’s rebuke, but he bowed low in her direction and said glibly, “As you say, my esteemed sister-in-law, it was rude of me. Forgive me.”

Chance noted derisively that Jonathan had apologized only to Letty, and he said smoothly, “It was rude of you, indeed, and I am sure that my wife is waiting to hear your sincere regrets for having implied that there was something improper about her wedding.”

Jonathan threw him a lethal glance, but Chance only smiled, albeit without amusement, his hard blue eyes cold and commanding. Under the interested gazes of the ladies, Jonathan had no choice. Swallowing the rage that clogged his throat, he bowed in Fancy’s direction and said thickly, “I deeply regret any distress my comment may have caused you.”

“Very prettily said,” murmured Fancy, wishing this uncomfortable scene would end. Ellen looked as if she were going to burst into tears at any moment, and the distinct possibility of Chance and Jonathan erupting into violence could
not be ignored. Casting Letty an apologetic look, Fancy said hastily, “After all this excitement, I think it would be best if we postponed the tour of your solarium, don’t you?”

Letty beamed at her. Patting her hand fondly, she said, “Of course, my dear. I understand.” Plainly oblivious of the dark undercurrents, she turned back to Constance and said, “Come along, Constance, dear. I am sure that the young people have things they want to talk about.”

Dismay filled Fancy, and she barely controlled the impulse to grab Letty’s arm and plead with her to stay. Being left alone with Chance and the newly engaged couple was
not
what she’d had in mind. Somewhat desperately, she said, “Oh, you need not leave us. We will come with you, won’t we, Chance?”

“In a moment,” Chance said perversely. “There are some things I would like to discuss privately with my bride, and the solarium seems like a perfect place to do it.” He glanced pointedly at Jonathan. “I am sure that you and Ellen can explore here some other time, but Fancy and I will be leaving in a few days for Devil’s Own, so I know you will not mind leaving us in sole occupancy.”

Even less did Fancy want to be alone with Chance. Uneasily she said, “Oh, there is no need for that—there will be plenty of time for us to have private discussions later. I do not think we should desert our guests.”

“Do not worry about the guests,” Letty said with a twinkle in her eyes. “They are all too busy eating and drinking and enjoying themselves to be concerned with your absence. And no one will be surprised if the newlyweds choose to absent themselves from the festivities this late in the afternoon. I shall make your excuses for you.” Before Fancy could utter further protest, Letty, with Constance following reluctantly behind her, disappeared through the doorway of the solarium.

“Well, my love,” Jonathan said with false heartiness to Ellen, “it appears that you and I have been given our marching orders. The newlyweds wish to be alone.” He smiled
tightly. “And of course, for today, at least, their wish is our command.”

With Ellen clinging numbly to his arm, Jonathan moved forward a few steps to stop in front of Fancy. Sending Chance a mocking look, he reached for her hand and lifted it gallantly to his lips. Brushing a polite kiss on the back of it, he murmured, “Congratulations on your marriage, my dear. I always knew that you were too young and too beautiful to remain a widow forever.”

Still holding Fancy’s hand, Jonathan met Chance’s eyes. “You are a fortunate man, and you should guard her well. Wives, as you know, can be such fickle creatures.”

His gaze never wavering, Chance coolly removed Fancy’s hand from Jonathan’s clasp and kept it firmly imprisoned in his own. “Perhaps some wives,” he said silkily, “but not
this
wife.”

Jonathan merely smiled. “Only time will tell, won’t it?”

Looking down at Ellen, Jonathan caressed her small hand where it lay on his arm. “And now, my sweet, I think we shall see if my mother has managed to keep our exciting news to herself.” Supremely confident, he strolled out of the solarium; Ellen sent one last despairing look in Fancy’s direction before she was swept along with him.

It was very quiet in the solarium after they had departed. Fancy glared up into Chance’s dark face and wiggled her hand in his grip. “You may release me now. There is no longer any need to impress anyone with your possessiveness,” she said tartly.

A faint smile quirked at the corners of his lips. “Is that what I was doing?” he asked sweetly. “I thought I was merely holding my wife’s hand.”

“Do not take me for a fool” Fancy said grimly. “There is something very ugly going on between you and Jonathan. In each other’s presence you are seldom more than one word away from daggers’ drawing. I do not enjoy being the source of contention between you.”

Chance’s eyes rested on their hands as Fancy tried futilely
to free herself from his grip. “What do you mean by that?” he asked quietly.

Fancy made an impatient sound. “Precisely what sort of a game Jonathan was, or is, playing I have no idea. I do know, though, that his actions have led several people to the very wrong conclusion that
I
was to be his bride instead of my sister.” She took a deep breath and, unable to keep silent about her suspicions, burst out impulsively, “Are you going to deny that you thought that I was Jonathan’s choice of a bride? And that because you thought so, you went to the outrageous lengths that you have to marry me?”

Fancy’s reading of the situation was far too accurate, her words cutting far too close to the bone for Chance not to give some sign, and he winced—noticeably. Her breath caught angrily at his reaction. “My God,” she said in a fury. “It is true. I had hoped that I was wrong, that you were not that monstrous.”

Her words rankled, and Chance’s temper rose. “What about you?” he asked coolly. “There were any number of occasions in which you could have clarified the situation between you and Jonathan. You did not. You let everyone think that you were his choice . . . or are you going to pretend that you did not?”

Some of Fancy’s rage abated. She would have liked to deny the truth of Chance’s accusations, but she could not, and not for the first time, she regretted her promise to Ellen. Glancing away from him, she said uncomfortably, “No, I will not pretend that I did not prevaricate. There were reasons for my actions . . . compelling reasons.”

Chance’s lips twisted wryly. The lady, it seemed, was painfully truthful, and he would have had to be blind not to guess the reason behind her actions. “You did it for Ellen, didn’t you?” he asked softly. “Ellen did not want Hugh to know, did she?”

“She thinks she is in love with him,” Fancy answered simply, suddenly very weary. “She was afraid he would think ill of her if he knew that she was encouraging him while near-as-makes-no-never-mind engaged to Jonathan.
And Jonathan’s actions made it seem . . .” Fancy stopped, then added tiredly, “The way Jonathan acted around me led her to believe that he had lost interest in her. I am sure she meant to explain everything to Hugh, eventually.”

“Instead, Cousin Jonathan, with his usual penchant for creating discord and antipathy, gleefully trod right into the middle of the situation,” Chance said thoughtfully.

Fancy sighed, the memory of Ellen’s woeful little face and Hugh’s frozen expression flashing through her mind. “For once, I have to agree with you. Jonathan could not have timed his announcement more badly. I cannot help but think that he did it deliberately—to warn Hugh off and”—her gaze settled accusingly on him—“to let you know that you had married the wrong woman.”

Chance stared at her for a long moment, noting not for the first time today how achingly lovely she looked. The formally powdered hair and soft curls framed her delicate features, making her brows and lashes appear darker and her eyes a deeper shade of topaz. Against her pale skin her lushly curved mouth looked rosier and even more tempting to him than usual—if that were possible. For their wedding, she had chosen to wear a gown of pale amber silk over a cream-colored petticoat, heavily embroidered with gold thread. Chance’s breath had caught sharply in his chest when he had gotten his first glimpse of her as Sam had proudly led her toward him and the preacher this afternoon. Staring keenly down at her, aware of the sudden thudding of his heart, he said slowly, “But I do not think that I married the wrong woman.”