A Perfect Gentleman (40 page)

Ten other fellows were ahead of him, with posies and bonbons and bad poetry. None had brought their account books, though. Ellianne dismissed them with a wave and a smile, telling Timms that she was no longer receiving guests. The old butler thanked her and the good Lord, sat down, and removed his shoes. Ellianne led Stony to her book room.

Just looking at him in his dark blue jacket and doeskin breeches and high-topped boots made her forget all those other men. They left her yawning; he almost took her breath away. She knew what she wanted to say but, suddenly shy, waited for him to speak. She knew what she wanted to hear.

She did not want to hear a financial report. She frowned.

She did not want to hear a summary of investments. She scowled.

Most of all, she did not want to hear a bloodcurdling screech from her aunt in the front parlor. She jumped to her feet and raced past Stony and his foolish lists. He dropped the ledger and followed her.

Aunt Lally was screaming, and barefoot Timms was on his knees, praying. No, he was shaking the dog, who, on his side, was gasping for air.

“I gave him a piece of a turnip!” Aunt Lally wailed. “It was cooked soft enough, I swear. But he started choking and gagging and wheezing; then he fell over, just like my husband did when he swallowed that cherry pit. By Saint Jerome's jewels, I have killed someone else!”

The dog was barely breathing. “Do something!” Ellianne cried.

“You want me to save the miserable creature's life? Why?” But Stony was already on the floor, with his hands—reluctantly—prying open the dog's mouth and putting one hand—regrettably ungloved—down Atlas's throat. He could not feel anything but a few teeth in the back of the jaw. He looked over at Aunt Lally and the knitting she'd dropped, and thought of sticking one of the long needles down his throat. Or hers, if she did not stop caterwauling enough for him to think. That would be a last resort.

Ellianne was looking at him beseechingly. Damn. He had not yet proposed, and he was already failing her.

Stony hauled the dog off the floor and dangled him upside down, shaking him hard enough to rattle those last few teeth. Nothing happened. Then he bounced him against the padded armrest of the sofa. Again nothing happened. Recalling the bout with Blanchard, Stony punched the dog in what he took to be the animal's midsection. Ellianne gasped; Aunt Lally cursed; Timms prayed, but the same thing happened as occurred with Blanchard. Whatever air remained in the dog was expelled in one whoosh, along with the turnip. Stony laid the beast down, then bent to put his ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat. He'd heard of the kiss of life, of breathing air into the mouth of a drowning victim. Good grief, Ellianne did not expect that of him, did she?

Yes, it seemed, from her pleading look. He would have to rethink this proposal business later. A woman who asked a man to move mountains was one thing, but this…“Yes! He is breathing! Yes! No, damn you, do not lick my face!”

Then Aunt Lally threw herself into Stony's arms, almost bowling him over. “You saved my niece, now the dog! And here I thought you had no bottom! By all the saints, Wellstone, you've got stones!” She kissed him on both cheeks, which was almost worse than the dog's show of gratitude.

Timms was weeping tears of joy, not out of any fondness for the dog. Stony knew, but because his prayers had been answered: He didn't have to kiss the cur. Stony shoved Ellianne's aunt in the butler's direction. Let them comfort and congratulate each other. He had waited long enough.

He held his empty arms open. Ellianne walked into them.

Before he could speak, she stopped him with a kiss, then said, “No, I have waited too long to say this, and I might not find the courage again. But you truly are my hero, Stony, the finest man I know. I do not care if you don't love me. I want to be yours anyway. If you do not wish to be married, I can try to accept that too, for however long I can share your life, your bed, your thoughts. I do not think I could bear it if you wed someone else, but until then we can have whatever kind of life you wish. You can be the richest consort in the kingdom, for I would give every shilling I own to be in your arms like this forever, or you can be the poorest, living on love alone, for I would give the money to charity if you wanted.”

Stony kissed her eyelids, both of them. “Whoa, sweetings. Who said I did not love you?”

“You do?”

“No, he does not!” came a commanding voice from the hallway. A scarlet-uniformed officer had come to call but, finding no one at the door, he had limped toward the voices. Now he stood leaning on his cane, but evidently ready to use it on Stony's head. “Unhand my fiancée, you cad!”

Stony looked at him. “Brisbane?”

Ellianne looked at him. “Fiancée?”

He looked at Ellianne. “Isabelle?”

Chapter Thirty

Stony's
friend Daniel, Captain Brisbane, had met Isabelle on her way to Town, it seemed, months ago.

He had been returning to London after accompanying the dowager countess Hargeave to her daughter's lying-in. Stony recalled the trip, for he had made the arrangements himself. Lady Hargeave did not like traveling without a male escort, even if she had to pay for it, since innkeepers gave better service, rooms, horses, and meals to a female under a gentleman's protection. And she liked to flirt.

Brisbane rode beside the carriage for the most part, offending the lady, but seeing her handed safely into the care of her son-in-law, who rewarded him generously, since the man was elated at the birth of his first son.

With coins in his pocket, the captain was in no hurry to return to London. He stopped off at a pleasant inn, but a commotion disturbed his rest. A carriage had arrived, a private hired coach, but the groom, the lady's maid, and an older chaperon were ill, and the driver not much better. At first the innkeeper tried to turn them away for fear of contagion, until a beautiful
young lady swore they had eaten bad fish the previous night, of which she had not partaken. Being a gentleman, of course, Brisbane came to the young woman's assistance. He made sure she had rooms, and her servants were cared for. He rode for the apothecary himself, since the village had neither surgeon nor physician.

“She never told me any of this, merely that the journey was delayed.” Ellianne was dismayed. She had sent her sister off with ample protection against everything except bad fish…and handsome, injured young officers. “What else did you do for my sister, sir?” she demanded.

Stony said, “Hush, my dear. There is more to the story.”

Brisbane nodded. “The apothecary said the patients needed five days' rest, at the least. The inn was not the finest, catering more to the local drovers than the carriage trade. I could not leave a young miss there on her own, could I?”

“Of course not,” Stony agreed, when Ellianne would have suggested any number of alternatives.

Sensing her disapproval, Brisbane turned to her. “I swear I did not know she was an heiress, ma'am. She was dressed simply, like a sweet country lass, not in the height of fashion. She said she was coming to London because her old auntie wanted her to contract a decent marriage. I thought that meant into a bit of money, never thinking her aunt was related to a marquess, or that Lady Augusta intended her to wed a title. Miss Isabelle said she did not care about making an advantageous match; she just wanted to see the sights.”

“I told her there was no hurry in picking a husband, simply to enjoy herself.”

Brisbane nodded. “I told her where to go first, which buildings and exhibits and views she should not miss. She took notes and made lists.”

Stony glanced at Ellianne. “A family trait?”

“We are all organized, efficient people. I cannot believe Isabelle did not hire another coach, after making provision for the servants at the inn, of course. It would have been far less dangerous for her to complete the journey on her own than stay at a second rate inn with no chaperon whatsoever.”

Brisbane colored. Miss Kane was correct, of course. He could have begged the vicar's wife or the innkeeper's daughter to accompany Miss Isabelle while he rode alongside the coach himself. But he had not wanted her to go, and she was reluctant to leave. So they talked and they walked, as best he could with his limp, and shared meals in the private parlor. Otherwise, he claimed, she would have to eat in her small bedroom, or alone.

“Heaven forfend,” Ellianne muttered, knowing what was coming.

“She was so sweet and kind, never once belittling my awkward gait, as many of the flighty London girls do, thinking that a lame man is beneath their notice. Miss Isabelle thought I was a hero, injured in my country's defense. She did not believe my life was ended with my army career, but was just beginning. I could be anything I wanted, she said.”

“And you wanted to be…?”

“Her husband. Belle is perfect, beautiful yet modest, intelligent but not opinionated. How could I not adore her, not want to care for her the rest of my days, have her beside me, bear my children?”

Stony took Ellianne's hand. “How indeed?”

“And she returned my regard, to my delight. I never believed in love at first sight, but I do now.”

Ellianne did not want to discuss falling into love. “What happened then?”

Then the servants recovered, and they all left for London. Brisbane skipped over the intervening days, the rest of the journey, the nights at various inns or whether he rode alongside the carriage or within. He thought it sufficient to say they arrived safely in London, more in love, and determined to wed.

Then he discovered her connections and her consequences. Worse, Lady Augusta discovered his lack of both. She forbade him the house. Isabelle told him not to worry, that her sister was different, and her sister was the only one whose approval mattered, to Belle or to the courts.

“She said you always judged a man on his own merits, not his title or his purse,” Captain Brisbane told Ellianne. “She said you would give us your blessings, because you only wanted her happiness, and she could be happy only with me.”

Stony handed Ellianne his handkerchief, but not the one with which he had wiped his face following the dog's resurrection.

But the young couple could not wait for Isabelle to return to Fairview. They met, in secret, in the back garden or at the various museums, galleries, and cathedrals on Isabelle's list. As Lady Augusta's health deteriorated, so did their hopes of Isabelle's early departure from London. They tried again to convince the old woman that true love mattered more than social position, that Isabelle's portion was so large she could marry a beggar if she wanted, much less a half-pay officer. Lady Augusta was more and more adamant. Belle and Brisbane were more and more desperate. They were in love and impatient. They did not want to wait.

Lady Augusta stopped going out. Isabelle did not. With so few servants in the old miser's house, and those busy caring for their mistress, or incapacitated, like Timms, it was easy for them to meet. Other times they visited in the parlor. Atlas was their only chaperon, often. Too often, to Ellianne's way of thinking.

Then Captain Brisbane urged his darling to confront her aunt. He wanted an official betrothal, not a shameful, hole-in-corner affair. It was bad enough that he was wooing an heiress; he did not want her reputation destroyed, too. He was not ashamed of Isabelle or his love for her, and wanted the entire world to know of it, of the miracle that she loved him in return. Besides, he was tired of having to spend time with other young ladies, escorting spoiled misses to tedious events when he wished only to sit next to Belle at a fireside.

Isabelle was going to speak to her aunt the night of the Pattendale debacle. She was gone in the morning when he came to Sloane Street. The house was in an uproar, Lady Augusta was dead, and no one knew where Isabelle had gone.

“Didn't you try to find her?” Ellianne demanded.

“Of course I did. I checked inns, posting houses, and hotels. No one had seen her. She had no friends that I knew of, so all I could do was return to my lodgings to wait. She never came. At last I decided that they must have argued about the betrothal, and that the harridan threw her out. When Lady Augusta died, Isabelle must have been afraid, so she went home, to you, Miss Kane, who could fix anything, she said. So I followed.”

“I never saw you at Fairview,” Ellianne said with suspicion.

“No, I did not make good time,” Brisbane answered with chagrin. First his horse came up lame right out of London and he had to walk to the closest inn, aggravating his wounded leg. He did not have the blunt to hire a carriage, so had to take the brute the sullen hostler offered. The man-hater tossed the captain as soon as they left the livery, and nearly broke his good leg, so he could not ride for two days. Then the horse tried scraping the determined rider off under a low-lying tree limb. The officer was concussed and lay on the cold, damp ground overnight, until a flock of sheep almost trampled him in the morning. The shepherd dragged him off the roadway, but had no horse or wagon to take him farther. Finally a farmer came by with his load of cabbages. By that time Brisbane had contracted an inflammation of the lungs. Two more weeks passed before he could resume the journey, begging rides in donkey carts and peddlers' wagons, because his purse had gone missing while he was ill.