Beastly Beautiful (17 page)

He said now, “You can’t expect the whole party to be put on hold just because you weren’t of a mind to show yourself on time, boy.” Despite his rough words, the lightness of his tone suggested this was their customary banter. Teagan had the immediate sense nothing Sir did could displease his grandfather for long.

Already the old man was shifting his attention from Sir to her. “But forgive me. I’m being remiss in my duties as host.” He rose from the table and following a discreet nudge from Sir, Teagan offered him her hand, which he took in both of his. They were surprisingly strong hands, large and long-fingered, reminding Teagan all too familiarly of those of his grandson.

She sensed he assessed her as carefully as she did him. “So you’re the amazing young woman who has managed to steal the heart of my roguish grandson, are you?” he asked dryly. Again, there was a directness to his words that would have suited Sir well.

For a half second, Teagan fumbled for an appropriate response. “I—wouldn’t use the word amazing, sir,” she offered, with only a hint of hesitation.

“Ah, but you see, he does. I can’t count the occasions I’ve listened to him gush like some lovesick puppy over your attributes.”

Teagan imagined that as a slight exaggeration. She couldn’t imagine Sir gushing over anything, and a lovesick puppy was the last description she should ever have applied to him. But aloud she only said, “I’m sure your grandson has overestimated my worth.”

“I doubt that. Whatever his faults, Javen hasn’t the sin of flattery in him. No, I suspect you’ve been described very aptly, Teagan.”

Teagan? She blinked and asked, she hoped pleasantly, “You know my name?” She tried to smooth the accusation from the words with a polite smile.

Mr. Rotham, the elder, laughed. “Just because I’m old, my dear, doesn’t mean I’m deaf. A man would have to be, not to have caught your name after hearing Javen babble on about you over these past weeks.”

“Weeks?” She had been under the impression Sir had only just recently made these plans for deceiving his grandfather. How could he have been laying the groundwork for it for weeks?

At this point, Sir interrupted, looking slightly annoyed. “That’s enough, Grandfather. You give me away. A man’s compliments to his love are always most effective when offered from his own lips.” He gently took her hand from his grandfather’s and pressed it into his own.

His simple touch unexpectedly set Teagan’s blood racing, even though she understood it was merely another part of his charade. She couldn’t explain what caused her sudden awareness of him, she only hoped he didn’t feel the sweatiness of her palm or the faint trembling of her hand.

Unaware of her silent emotions, Sir’s grandfather chuckled. “Giving too much away, am I? Well, she’ll forgive me, I’m sure. Nobody expects tact from a feebleminded old man.” Teagan thought the speculative look he cast her, however, was anything but feebleminded, as he continued, “Come, come sit down, both of you. Javen, let us introduce Teagan to our dinner companions.” Javen began to pull out a seat for her nearby, but his grandfather shook his head. “Nothing doing, boy. You’ve had her to yourself long enough already, and I suspect you will keep her still longer tonight. But for now, it’s my turn to get to know this creature of perfection.”

Teagan detected the mockery in his voice every time he referred to her by some lavish description. She hadn’t caught it in their first exchange, but it was growing clearer to her the longer she was around him. Her first thought was panic. He knows, she thought. Or, he was suspicious at least. That concern was strengthened by Sir’s faintly reluctant expression, as he pulled out the chair beside his grandfather and ushered her into it before taking the only other empty seat two chairs down. Clearly, he would rather have been near enough to moderate any conversation exchanged between the two, but was helpless to do so without making a scene.

As the elder Rotham turned speculative, gleaming eyes on her, she tried not to squirm in her seat.

Chapter 24

“Now,” Sir’s grandfather said, “let’s meet your fellow guests. Mr. Miles, that’s this pompous looking fellow in the cheap suit…” He indicated a short, fair-haired man of middle years, who indeed suited his description. Mr. Miles laughed off the insults and offered her a warm greeting. “Edward and Jane Donally,” Mr. Rotham continued. These were a nice looking couple around their sixties, who were both attired in matching shades of black and white.

And so they went around the table until Teagan had made the acquaintance of every stranger present. She had no hope of remembering their names, but felt fairly confident she had at least got past the introductions without making any glaring mistakes. Sound cultured, Sir had instructed her, and she was doing her best. From down the table, it was hard to read whether he was satisfied with her efforts or not.

But if she had thought her awkward moment in the spotlight was over once the other diners had returned to their plates and their conversations, she was mistaken.

“Well, now that’s over with,” Mr. Rotham said lowly, “you and I have the opportunity for a little discussion.”

Teagan swallowed. A discussion with this discerning man was the last thing she wanted. He was as bad as Sir.

Flushing, she cleared her throat. “That would be lovely,” she said, her voice coming out a little higher in pitch than she had intended. She tried for a more casual note. “Sir has told me so much about you. I was beginning to wonder whether we would ever meet.”

“Sir?” he questioned, raising his silver brows.

Teagan stumbled. “It’s, uh—”

“A pet name,” Sir’s voice put in from farther down the table. Evidently, he was managing to keep an ear on the conversation from his distant seat.

“A pet name. How touching,” his grandfather said, not even glancing his way. Clearly, he had picked out the weakest link in the pair and meant to focus all his energies there. “And what all has my grandson shared with you about this wicked old man? Did he tell you how hard-hearted I was when he didn’t keep at his studies in school?”

“I think he did mention it,” Teagan said vaguely, feeling relief that he seemed to be answering his own question. She continued, “He also mentioned that you founded NationBank and that it was you who inspire him today to build the business to its full potential.”

Sir hadn’t said exactly that, but the information seemed to please the old man at least. “Did he indeed?” he questioned with a faint smile. “I had no idea I’d been such an encouragement.” His expression turned shrewd again. “You have me at a disadvantage, you know. For while you know something of my past and of my family, I know very little of you, save of your charming traits of personality. My grandson has been most free with those, but has been a little remiss, I think, in speaking of other aspects of your life. Tell me, what sort of career are you in?”

Teagan hesitated. “Oh—office titles aren’t important. In reality, I’m little more than a personal assistant,” she said, thinking her odd favors for Sir were really the only kind of work she could lay claim to.

“Assistant?” The elder Mr. Rotham looked surprised. “My grandson had indicated you were in some sort of successful vocation.” It wasn’t quite a question but obviously he hoped she would explain more.

Luckily, at that very moment the band at the center of the room started up a new tune. Teagan couldn’t say where her boldness came from, except that it was born of a sudden desperation to escape this questioning. She shoved back from the table so hastily she nearly tipped over the champagne glass at her elbow and leapt to her feet.

Old Mr. Rotham looked startled as she stuck her hand out. “Mr. Rotham, do you dance?”

The man’s silver eyebrows climbed back down in his forehead and a wolfish gleam entered his eyes. “Not recently, but when such a charming woman requests it, how can I refuse?”

He took her proffered hand firmly as he rose from his seat, his eyes mocking the unspoken suggestion that he was so feeble he needed her aid. Teagan could have winced, both at her impulsive invitation and at her thoughtless implication. The man was seventy-something—not a hundred.

Her thoughts were racing as they joined the stream of couples filtering their way onto the dance floor. Luckily, she had little time to consider the fact she had always been clumsy on her feet. The elder Mr. Rotham didn’t give her nerves the opportunity to get the better of her.

“I’m glad we’ve managed to escape the others for a few moments,” he said as they stepped onto the floor.

If Teagan started a little at his arm reaching out to encircle her waist, he pretended not to notice. As he took her hand, she observed again, that his weren’t the vein-lined, age-spotted hands she would expect on a man of his years. Somehow she wished they were just a little more feeble and grandfatherly; a tremor here and there would have gone a long way toward easing her discomfort.

“Why are you glad to be away?” she responded to his earlier comment. “You don’t enjoy the company of the others?”

He gave a slight shrug. “It’s nothing personal. I don’t enjoy anyone’s intrusion when there’s an attractive young woman around to be monopolized.”

Teagan decided to be direct. “Mr. Rotham, are you flirting with me?”

He gave a half-laugh that sounded disconcertingly like that of his grandson. “Only a little. I wouldn’t dare move in on my grandson’s territory. An old fox is too wise to battle a young wolf. There. Does that set you more at ease?”

Oddly enough, it did. Teagan found herself feeling unexpectedly drawn to this old gentleman—not in the way she was drawn to Sir of course, but there was something about him that thawed her cold fears a little. His laughing eyes and open honesty made her feel he would make a trustworthy friend—something she was sorely in need of at the moment. If only all her pent up secrets were about anyone else beside his grandson, she might have considered him as a confidant.

“I see I’ve got past your guard.”

She started because the words so closely echoed her thoughts. Around them, other couples danced on to the slow music. Teagan had to concentrate on remembering to move her feet.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She was pleased her tone came out so light.

“Oh, I think you do. I’m a great observer, you know. When anyone’s trying to keep something hidden I can always sniff it out. And right now I think I know exactly what your secret is. It’s written in your every nervous move.”

Meeting his eyes, Teagan’s heart leapt to her throat, yet she still maintained a casual tone. “Really? Do tell me about it.” As if to mock her easy words, she became aware her fingers were clenching viselike around her dance partner’s hand.

He didn’t flinch at her grip. “You’re in love with my grandson. And if I may venture a further guess, he doesn’t know about it. That would explain your anxious gestures, your clumsiness in his presence, and even your eagerness to escape the dinner table just a moment ago. You fear being found out before you’re ready to share your secret.”

Teagan’s fear lifted for an instant, relieved he hadn’t guessed at her conspiracy with Sir. Then, just as quickly, a new kind of nervousness set in. Was the old man right? Was she in love with Sir? No, of course not. It was a ridiculous suggestion. She opened her mouth to say that very thing, but was interrupted.

“You’d deny it of course if I brought it up in front of him.”

“Oh, please don’t do that, Mr. Rotham. You wouldn’t really, would you? It would be entirely—”

“Now, now,” he broke in, “Don’t get excited. I didn’t say I would. Then again I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” His pale eyes glittered.

Teagan took back every kind thought she’d had about him earlier. “You are a very devious old man,” she said stiffly. “Exactly what is it you’re trying to do? Make trouble?”

He smiled, a lazy grin reminiscent of his grandson’s. “You’re too harsh on me, Teagan. Especially considering we may be family some day.”

Teagan’s mouth dropped open at that.

He continued quickly. “But you’re right. It is a calculating world, and if we want to make our way through it we must all be a little ruthless at times. I’m glad you’re not the naïve little snit I took you for at first glance.”

Teagan struggled to get her bearings. This conversation seemed to have taken on a life of its own. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re going to relax for a few minutes and let me do the talking. I have a proposition for you—one I don’t think you could fairly find altogether unreasonable, seeing that it comes entirely from love.”

“Love?” she asked blankly. At this point she’d be surprised by nothing.

He seemingly read her mind, for he offered a quiet laugh. “No, Teagan, have no fear on that account. I’m not some silly old man about to declare his passionate love for a pretty young woman he only just met thirty minutes ago. The love I refer to is one I think we share. We do care about Javen, don’t we?”

“I suppose.” She was cautious.

“And neither of us want to see him in any sort of danger—not if it’s in our power to prevent it.”

He was making some assumptions here, but there was no way she could tell him so, not if she was to keep up this charade of being Sir’s girlfriend. She tried a different tactic.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“Then let me illuminate my concerns. Something’s wrong with Javen. Maybe you’ve noticed it too. He’s not himself of late. Over the past few months he’s been avoiding me, been avoiding his work too, which isn’t like him. He’s becoming more and more buried in himself until at last things have reached a point where he’s walling his personal life off from me for a reason.”

Teagan struggled to keep her expression blank. She was remembering the mysterious nighttime rituals, the key in the little silver box, place settings at the table, the locked door…

Mr. Rotham continued. “He’s hiding something, something very urgent. I had my hunches at first about this big secret of his. But more recently I’ve come to see it goes much deeper than I thought. This isn’t some light matter of developing feelings for some silly little twit who may or may not be suitable for him.”