All for You (31 page)

“Don’t they?” he asked seriously.

“I think it takes about a week, actually.”

He looked at her for a moment, then realized just what she was getting at. He blinked. “A week?”

She nodded. “About a week.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that particular week?”

She smiled faintly. “Fishing, my lord Haulton?”

“Absolutely.”

She sighed and tension seemed to go out of her. “You were our rock,” she said. “
My
rock, actually, when Pippa left. You made me laugh, brought me tea, made me hike over those bloody dunes of yours to the beach and walk for hours. Of course, I didn’t want to like you—or anything more, for that matter—because I knew nothing could come of it.” She met his eyes. “You being who you are, after all.”

“Rubbish—”

“It isn’t,” she insisted, “and that you take it seriously is part of your charm, actually.” She shrugged lightly. “There you were, the handsome lord from the fairy-tale castle who got on his white horse to rescue me from the grief of losing a sister. Pretty potent stuff.” She looked at him again. “I will say that you were a pretty quiet rescuer, though.”

“That’s because you left me breathless,” he said honestly. “And I was afraid of making an arse of myself—which I did. I’ve been trying ever since to figure out how to get back into your good graces.”

She looked at him seriously. “Stephen, this can’t—” Her
phone rang from across the room. She looked at it, then at him. “That’s probably Tess. She’s the only one who calls this late.”

“By all means, answer it.” He looked at her seriously. “I’ll be here.”

Actually, he thought he would be better off sitting whilst he had the chance, so he retreated to the sofa. He sat with a sigh, leaned back against the couch, and contented himself with watching her. He had told her that it was stories of her that had first left him half in love with her, but that was simply a part of it. He had looked at her as she stood in the middle of Sedgwick’s great hall and felt something in his soul shift, then settle. It had nothing to do with her beauty, or figure, or the way she had of putting her shoulders back and marching off into the fray. He had watched her smile and just known she was the one for him.

“It’s David,” she said.

Stephen found himself brought back to the present without mercy. He waved her on without comment because he could do nothing else. She frowned at him, then answered her phone. Stephen tried not to listen, but unfortunately his house was very quiet and he had very good hearing. The only thing that eased him any was that she didn’t sound too terribly thrilled by her conversation.

“Tomorrow night?” Peaches said slowly. “Well, I’m not sure where Chattam Hall is— Oh, London. I see.”

Stephen dragged his hand through his hair. Damn it. Chattam Hall belonged to his maternal grandmother who held court there each Saturday. He’d completely forgotten the upcoming weekend spectacle of supper and entertainment, though in his defense, he had been slightly preoccupied during the past few days. In the past, those Saturday parties had included his hobnobbing with politicians and his grandmother’s steely eye looking over the women he danced with. At least he didn’t have to worry about Victoria vying for his attentions at present. Unfortunately even with her out of the picture, it wasn’t exactly the ideal situation in which to introduce Peaches to his grandmother.

But it was for damned sure he wasn’t going to let her go with David Preston if he could prevent it.

He looked at Peaches and shook his head firmly.

She shot him a look he couldn’t quite interpret. “Lord Haulton’s grandmother? No, I didn’t understand the connection. I have no idea if he’ll be there or not.”

Stephen pointed at her, then at himself, then he nodded pointedly.

Peaches ignored him. “I’m not sure what my plans are for the weekend. Let me call you back, all right?”

Stephen held up his hands as she rang off. “Honestly, it had completely slipped my mind. It isn’t exactly anything I look forward to.”

“Standing dates with the Terrible Trio?” she asked lightly.

He took a deep breath. “I have no idea, but it wouldn’t surprise me. My grandmother’s guest list is always extensive, so I’m sure they’ll be there. Well, perhaps not Victoria, who has never, ever spent the night at my house. If you were curious.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

She sighed as she walked across the room and collapsed onto the couch next to him. “Then I probably shouldn’t go.”

“Of course you should,” he said. “With me.”

“Stephen,” she said seriously, “I can’t date you.”

“Actually, you can do quite a bit more than that with me, but I am willing to concede that there needs to be some carefully premeditated maneuvering with my grandmother if we’re to keep her from thinking too long on the fact that she hasn’t had a hand in our relationship.” That was perhaps understating the potential for his grandmother’s ire, but there was no point in worrying over it beforehand. As he had told Peaches before, he was capable of choosing his own path. Whether others would agree with that path or not was something he couldn’t control. He sighed. “I suppose you could allow Kenneworth to take you there if you think you can stomach him. I’ll see that John and Tess are invited so they can take you home.” He shot her a look. “First and last time, though, Peaches.”

She considered, then picked up her phone and texted her change of mind. Then she set her phone down and looked at him seriously.

“Even if this were possible,” she said slowly, “I’m not sure how this would work.”

“One step at a time,” he said easily.

She took a deep breath. “What’s the first step?”

“We get through the evening tomorrow after you’ve spent the day in London being pampered.”

“More things to work off,” she said with a sigh.

“More herding,” he corrected, then he paused. “Peaches, if I’m pushing you too fast, or pushing you in a direction you’re not interested in …”

“What?” she asked politely. “You’ll stop?”

He was tempted to match her tone, but he couldn’t. “I might,” he said simply.

She studied him in silence for a moment or two. “Would you?”

“I would change tactics,” he amended, “but unless you gave me a very serious shove … well, no.”

“This is insane.” She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “You can’t marry a Yank.”

“It worked for my brother.”

“He’s not the heir.”

He looked at her seriously. “We’ll see if my father has any objections, which he won’t. Then, if you’re still unsure, we’ll use that bloody gate near my father’s hall, march up to either Rhys or Robin de Piaget, and get their blessing. Then will you be satisfied?”

She shrugged. “I’m only thinking of you.”

“Stop being so bloody altruistic.”

She smiled. “You shouldn’t swear so much.”

He rolled his eyes, but he also happily took advantage of the fact that she was willing to come a bit closer and allow him to do something more constructive than swear.

At least it would leave him with a few happy memories to think on whilst he was watching David Preston clumsily attempt to pursue her in a place where he couldn’t simply take the man out in the back and shoot him.

P
eaches
yawned as she waited for David to get in his side of the car and drive her to Chattam Hall, which apparently housed the most illustrious hostess in London who just happened to be Stephen’s grandmother.

Louise Heydon-Brooke was, Peaches had learned, Stephen’s maternal grandmother, which meant her connection to Artane was simply through her daughter’s marriage. She was a baroness in her own right, which Peaches realized meant that Stephen would eventually have yet another title to add to his collection.

David got into the car with a whiff of cologne and arrogance, sighed gustily, and fired up his rather gaudy and ostentatious red Ferrari. He made revving noises and grinned at her.

She was not impressed.

She was thrilled when his phone rang and he could make all kinds of important conversation on speaker whilst he drove through nightmarish London traffic. It gave her ample opportunity to think about happier things, most notably that her day thus far hadn’t included him.

She’d taken the train into London early and embarked on a
list of things to do that Stephen had insisted he pay for. She had ignored him, of course. She supposed that was stupid in a long-term sort of way, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to let him pay for more than he had already. She’d simply handed off her credit card for a facial and manicure, then taken a cab to go pick up her gown.

She had to admit that at that point, she had given up and given in. That might have had something to do with the note the salesgirl had handed her as she’d walked in a shop that only had a handful of things on display. Alarms had gone off in her head—the fewer items out, the more expensive they were—but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and run away. So she’d taken the note, opened it, then smiled in spite of herself.

Peaches had stood calmly through the fitting of a gorgeous pale-blue gown, then found herself escorted out to the curb only to find Humphreys waiting there with a black Rolls-Royce. She had managed to keep herself from gaping long enough to allow him to open her door for her. She had stopped, however, just before she’d gotten in.

“Where now, or do I dare ask?”

“The Ritz, I believe, miss.”

“He’s not good at moderation, is he?”

Humphreys had only smiled and shut her into the back of luxury.

She had indeed been expected at the Ritz, or so it seemed. She had been escorted upstairs by a very solicitous hotel employee, then opened the door to her room to find none other than Edwina there, marshaling her forces.

Peaches had showered, relaxed, and sipped green drink as her hair and makeup had been attended to. She had then been dressed, shod, and bedecked with things she couldn’t believe hadn’t come from some safe-deposit box somewhere. After she’d been examined for flaws and pronounced fairly lovely—it
had been Edwina doing the pronouncing, after all—she had been wrapped up and sent off when called for.

All of which led to where she was at present, sitting in a very low-slung sports car that was far too flashy for her taste, and listening to a man she couldn’t stand carry on a conversation she couldn’t have cared less about. The only thing being in close quarters with him allowed her was the opportunity to think about a few things that had begun to nag at the edges of her thoughts.

It was odd, wasn’t it, how vocal David always was about his dislike of Stephen. Actually, it was less dislike than it was a sort of a conceited disdain, as if he could mock Stephen de Piaget as often and as loudly as he liked yet suffer no repercussions for it. She wondered if that was part of the reason she’d been invited to Kenneworth House for the ball. Perhaps David had thought Stephen was fond of her and inviting her where he could so visibly pursue her had seemed yet another opportunity to provoke his nemesis.

She was rather sorry she had had any part in that, even unwittingly.

Chattam Hall, she noted as they pulled to a stop in the short circular driveway, was not Kensington Palace, but certainly bigger than she had expected. It was no wonder Stephen’s grandmother watched him like a hawk. She probably loved the place dearly and just wanted to make sure it was taken care of after her death by Stephen’s wife.

That didn’t bode well for her, actually, but then again even thinking about being anything to Stephen de Piaget besides someone he would eventually come to his senses about and forget was fairly ridiculous—

“Off we go,” David said, interrupting her thoughts by leaning over toward her with his lips puckered.

She almost knocked herself out reeling back to stay out of his way. He recovered admirably by pretending to check his hair in the mirror. She was thrilled to have her door opened for her and a gloved hand extended to help her out of the car. She smiled when she realized it was Humphreys.

“You’re everywhere today,” she whispered.

“Guarding the precious jewels, miss,” he said solemnly, “and those wouldn’t be the ones you’re wearing.”

Peaches blushed in spite of herself. “Thank you, Humphreys. You’re very kind.”

“It is an honor, Miss Alexander, to keep watch over you.”

Peaches found herself unfortunately soon handed over to David, who entered loudly and drew so much attention to himself that it was all she could do not to look for a bathroom she could duck into. Then again, that hadn’t worked out so well for her the last time she’d been in his company, so she pressed on as best she could.

Or so she thought until she saw Stephen standing next to a woman she could only assume was his grandmother, Lady Chattam. He was watching her with that grave smile he often wore.

Perhaps doubting her doubts might be a good strategy.

She looked at Stephen’s grandmother and wasn’t at all surprised by what she saw: a white-haired matriarch dressed in silks and dripping with jewels. She was also sharp as a tack, something Peaches discovered as she was presented to her.

“Ah, Miss Peaches Alexander,” Lady Chattam said, looking Peaches over from head to toe in a brutally quick assessment. “You are, I believe, the Countess of Sedgwick’s sister, are you not?”

“Yes, my lady,” Peaches said, suppressing the urge to drop a curtsey.

“I believe you have met my grandson,” Lady Chattam said, gesturing elegantly to Stephen. “The Viscount Haulton.”

“We’ve been introduced,” Peaches conceded. She didn’t dare look Stephen in the eye, but she couldn’t help noticing his hand reaching out for hers.

“Yes, well, that’s all to the good,” Lady Chattam said, stepping between them smoothly. “Kenneworth is, as usual, the last to arrive. We’ll all go in to dinner now. Stephen, your arm.”

Peaches took a deep breath and smiled politely. She hadn’t expected a particularly warm welcome, standing there as she was without a title or buckets of money to keep her warm, and she hadn’t been disappointed. She found herself stuck going down the hallway with David Preston, who deserted her after a few feet to apparently duck into the library for a little something before dinner. Peaches stood, abandoned in the middle of a crowd, until she felt a touch on her elbow. She turned and found John and Tess de Piaget standing there. She had never been more grateful for the sight of any two people before in her life.