Edith Layton (26 page)

And stopped. And sniffed.

“Gilly?” he asked tentatively after a second’s pause. Then chuckled. “Oh, I see. No, I’d only a few glasses of cognac. Not foxed, my dear, you know I can hold more than that.”

“No,” she said bemusedly, her nose wrinkling, “you’re not.”

“Then what is it? Don’t care for my scent, my dear?”

“No, not that. It’s fine, woodsy, like crushed ferns, isn’t it?” she murmured absently. “Very nice.” It was. But it wasn’t right. It was very wrong, somehow. His fragrance surrounded her and stung her nose. Apart from odors she couldn’t ignore, she’d never reacted so strongly to a man’s scent before. But then, she seldom got so close. Not until Damon, and that was very different. His scent was subtle, clean, delicious, the essence of the man, and she delighted in breathing it in. This was sharp and clean, too, but alien to her, almost unpleasantly so.

She disregarded it. She opened her eyes. His mouth was very near. Such a good mouth, long, mobile, with narrow lips, very masculine. Nothing like the sublime perfection of Damon’s beautifully shaped mouth, but nice. And coming closer now. He brushed her lips with his, tentatively, a question and a promise, a prelude to more, she knew. So too had Damon kissed her sometimes, a fleeting tingling touch that would soon linger and grow and kindle to fire. But it didn’t. She considered the feelings Drum was evoking in her, concentrating hard. C
ool
, she thought,
and firm, but somehow wrong, embarrassing even, but not—not…

And then she knew.

She drew back, amazed.

He frowned. “What is it, Gilly? Am I going too fast for you?”

“No. But Drum, this isn’t right. It can’t be. I love you.”

His head snapped back. His nostrils flared. “Now I think you’re the one who’s overindulged.”

“No,” she said, caught between astonishment and glee, “I mean it. I see. Oh, my dear Drum, but I do. Don’t you? I love you and always have done. Since we met. But I don’t love you
like that
!” She shook her head, because it seemed the world had tilted and was just falling back into place and she had to keep her balance. But he looked confounded. Well, why not? So was she. She tried to explain to both of them.

“I love you so much, I always wanted to be like you—That’s it!” She smiled in her excitement. “See, when we met I wasn’t much of a girl and didn’t want to be a woman. I wanted to be a man—just like you. Yes, true. You fascinated me. I wanted to wear my cravat like you, to walk like you, to be sardonic and clever and knowing like you. But since you wanted it, I tried to be a lady for you, too, because I loved you. But now I think on it, Drum, I never actually dreamed of loving you
—like that
. Well, but I never dreamed of loving anyone like that then, did I?” she murmured to herself.

“You were too elegant and distant for me to think of you as a brother,” she said as she thought it. “Ewen was that. Too aloof and superior to be like a father. The old earl was that. You were too worldly-wise to be a friend—at least then. Rafe was that for me. So I simply worshipped you. I honestly adored you. It was all I could do. I was happy to. I’ve worshipped and desired—no,
longed
for you all these years. I dreamed of being your wife. It was my favorite dream, did you know? Of course not. I’d rather die than tell you. But in that dream I served you tea. We sat in the evenings discussing our day together. We played with our baby.
But, you know? I only just realized that I never once pictured us doing
that
.”

“One wonders how we produced that baby then,” he said coolly. But then his expression cleared. It gentled. “Oh, Gilly,” he said sadly, “is it because of what happened to you—before we met? Believe me, that can be overcome with time and patience, with talking and living together. I do believe we can deal with it, if you trust me, and love me as you say you do.”

“No. I know I can feel that for a man,” she said honestly. “But not you, Drum. It felt wrong kissing you like that. I didn’t feel anything but…self-conscious. And you know, Drum? I don’t think you really love me like that either. You were just trying to make the best of a bad situation for me.”

“No,” he said. “But I’ll let it go, for now. It may be all too new for you.”

“No,” she said over a rising lump in her throat, “not new. Just not what I wanted.”

He looked at her more closely. “Wanted? You’re talking about desire, are you? Oh, damnation! Is it Ryder? Don’t tell me you let him go because of me? And now you’ve got rid of him, you changed your mind again?”

She didn’t answer and looked away, her golden eyes filling with tears.

“Gilly,” he said gently, “it’s altogether possible you’re not ready for any man just yet. And that’s why you’ve done this.”

Her eyes opened as she looked inward. Then they flew to his. “You’re right. I wasn’t ready,” she said slowly. “I couldn’t be, I don’t think, no matter how
many years passed, not with you there in my heart, overshadowing everything. And maybe, yes, maybe the reality I found before you came home was too powerful. The sensations, the loss of myself…maybe I preferred the dream because it was safer. Wycoff said love isn’t safe. He was so right, and so are you. I’m the only one that’s wrong. How wrong, you’ll never know.”

Drum smiled, though it was difficult. “You’re young, you’re entitled to be wrong. But it may also be that you don’t really know what’s right. Give it time. Give it, and me, and
you
time. And Ryder, too. If it’s true, he’ll forgive you. He’s an easygoing lad. And if not, then you can use the time to grow up some more.”

But now she straightened her shoulders. She took in a breath. “Well, at least you’re human, that’s good to see. Because you’re wrong, Drum. He’s so much more than ‘an easygoing lad.’ And why should he forgive me? He offered me everything he had and I let him know it wasn’t enough. That doesn’t seem very forgivable to me. And I am grown up. If you think on, you’ll realize I have been, in some ways, most of my life. But I’ve only been a woman since I met him.”

She shook her head. Her face was ashen, her lips white. “Let’s go home now, I’ve made enough of a fool of myself tonight.”

“Agreed,” he said, and was instantly sorry for it. It seemed he didn’t know how to deal with rejection. He was astonished by that.

“I can send you home,” he said to change the subject, “but I have to wait here for Rafe and Ryder. Rafe took one end of this street, and I the other. Ryder went directly to find the captains of the ships waiting to
weight anchor here. We went to Wycoff’s house, you see, and shook the news out of his valet. All we knew is that he was going to an inn near these docks and then to a ship leaving on a midnight tide. There are a few scheduled. Rafe will eventually get here and has worked long enough with me to look for a message everywhere he goes. But Ryder won’t know. When he doesn’t find you, he’ll keep looking. He’ll be searching all night if we both leave.”

She nodded and swallowed hard, suddenly uneasy. But not for the reasons he imagined. “I’ll wait with you,” she said stoically. “No—don’t argue with me. I’m brave, but I’ve limits. Can you imagine me facing his family alone! After all this? No thank you. We can send the maid home to tell them all’s well. But let’s wait for him in the common room. I won’t go home without him.”

“Agreed,” Drum said. “It’s good to know there are limits to your valor, too.” Though privately he thought it boded well for him that she feared facing her exfiancé’s family more than seeing Damon Ryder himself.

They left the cramped private parlor, and Drum told Gilly to wait while he called for a hackney for the maidservant. But she was at his side as he told the girl to tell everyone all was well, and they’d be home soon, too. Then he led Gilly into the common room. He instantly regretted it. This was the kind of place the young bucks looking for a thrill in the slums, like the ones he’d seen at the Bent Bough, would have given a year’s allowance to visit, had they dared.

The ceiling was low, and smoke from pipes and
tallow candles turned the air as blue as the various conversations did. The wooden floor tilted from age and his boots stuck to it as he led Gilly to a stained and scarred table. The patrons were sailors and merchants on their way in or out of London, and the rough scruff of the land who made their livings from them.

That was why they all stopped talking to gape at Gilly. She was a treat to see in most places in London. Here, her fair, fresh beauty was no less than miraculous.

But she watched nothing but the door.

Drum watched her. He felt foolish about having agonized so long over a decision that had been rejected. He didn’t feel less of a man or a lover, though. He was very confident about possessing both those qualifications, as well as about Gilly’s eventual decision. She was young, so much younger than she appeared. Given time, they would see, he thought. But she was right about one thing. He couldn’t see how Ryder would ever forgive her. Indeed, he himself didn’t know how long it would take him to get over the vague feeling of insult because of the way she’d rejected him—and she’d tempered it by telling him she loved him even as she’d said no. He’d bet she hadn’t told Ryder that. And he knew her longer than Ryder, and much better, too.

Still, Drum decided he’d leave her for a while after this night, at least long enough for her to build up the dream again. He’d return and she’d accept him. She’d be glad to. Then he’d have his family and friends to turn up sweet about their marriage, he thought wearily. And his father. He grimaced. Just as well, he
told himself, that she needed time. So did he.

A confrontation nearby, at the foot of crooked steps near the tap, the ones that led to the upstairs rooms, made him look up. It was Rafe, with his teeth bared, facing down Wycoff, who’d obviously just come down. Wycoff carried a traveling bag and wore a bemused smile. He gestured toward Drum and Gilly. Rafe turned to see them and his face cleared. But then he looked puzzled and glanced over their heads—and stared and kept staring.

Drum turned to see what he was looking at. Gilly had risen; now she stood staring at the door. Because it had banged open and Damon Ryder stood there, silhouetted against the night. His eyes were wild, his clothing and hair in disarray. He glanced around the room frantically, until he saw Gilly. Then he froze.

Drum stood, too. He looked at Gilly and saw her face clearly. His heart sank. But his expectations did not. He thought feverishly. He couldn’t see how Ryder could easily forgive such an insult. There’d be so much to thrash out, so many excuses, questions, and hurts to heal. Somewhere in that lengthy emotional process, someone would make a misstatement, surely someone would say something rash, and he’d get his chance. He discovered how important that was to him now, and wished he’d known it a year ago, an hour past, a moment before the door to the inn had burst open.

Damon stared at Gilly, no expression on his handsome face, though he was very pale.

Gilly looked at Damon, her heart in her eyes.

But she was Gilly. And there was no predicting her.
She broke and ran to Damon, stopping in front of him, staring up at him. They stood that way, silent, striking in their tension, in their youth and beauty, in their obvious mutual distress. Damon looked deep into her eyes, and his own grave ones lit with sudden joy.

He grabbed her up into his arms as she flung her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. They kissed, frantically, then slowly, and it seemed they’d never stop, because it seemed they no longer knew where they were, or cared.

“Simple,” Lord Wycoff sighed near Drum’s ear as they watched, and the tavern’s denizens began to cheer. “So very simple when it’s right, isn’t it?”

“Y
ou can come with me, you know,” Lord Wycoff told Drum as they stood on the dock waiting for the longboat to fetch him and carry him to his ship, waiting at anchor mid-Thames. The wind was picking up, the tide was sliding in, and the midnight waters made small sucking sounds as they lapped at the pilings under the wharf again. “There’s an extra cabin, I paid for it. Ah, well, hopes springs eternal even in an old campaigner like myself. You wouldn’t be quite what I was hoping for in a traveling companion. But one makes do.”

“No, thank you,” Drum said. “As you say, hope springs eternal.”

“There is a time when it has to be redirected, though,” Wycoff commented softly. “Just look at them.”

Drum didn’t have to. He’d seen. They stood together
nearby, waiting for Wycoff’s longboat. The wind blew Gilly’s cloak out around her and ruffled Damon’s hair. He stood silently at her side, she came only to his chin, but they stood as one. They might have been holding hands, his arm might have been around her waist; it was too dark, they were too close together to see, but something in their stance suggested intimacy to Drum. Nothing else did. The rousing reception their embrace had got them in the tavern had embarrassed them, when they became aware of it. It had shocked Drum. It astonished him to see Gilly throwing herself at a man that way. It might have been reaction—it could have been emotion. He wouldn’t believe otherwise. After all, they hadn’t spoken a word since—or now he came to think of it, Drum realized—since they’d met this evening.

But now Drum narrowed his eyes. Something fundamental
had
changed. It was like an aura around them. He saw it and denied it. “Indeed,” he asked acidly, “and what makes you so sure, so wise, so knowing?”

“Because I’ve spent the better part of my life watching, waiting, looking for signs of opportunity, for a wedge to slip myself into places where there is the smallest gap between a man and a woman,” Wycoff said calmly. “There’s none there. I know. I was very good at it. That’s why I’m leaving now. I’m off to look for happiness now. Which is quite another thing entirely.”

“I wish you luck then. I’ve just returned from abroad,” Drum said. “I found no such thing there.”

“You weren’t looking. I will be. Ah, they come, and I
must go,” Wycoff said, hearing the splash of oars. He lifted his traveling bag. “Do you know? With all I’ve done, I haven’t felt such a rising excitement about anything in a long while as I do about this.”

“I do wish you luck, in fact,” Drum said. “You were a friend to her. I don’t know why, but you played your part well. I thank you for it.”

“You’re welcome. She is extraordinary, isn’t she? Too bad she isn’t twins, or triplets. What a daunting thought!” Wycoff laughed. “Time for farewells, I think.”

He shook hands with all the men, and then took Gilly’s hand at the last, just before he stepped down into the waiting boat. She started to speak, coughed, and dabbed at her eyes. He smiled. “Tears for me? And not because of me. Thank you. You surprise me again, and I’m grateful for it. I come to see this is a good ending to our association now, better than any I’ve known for a long while, at any rate. You needn’t say a thing. I know. Fare-thee-well, Gilly Giles. You’ve changed my life in ways I never anticipated. I’ll not forget you. Remember, if you ever need me, I’ll come right away, though I be a continent or a world away. Take care of her, gentlemen,” he told the others abruptly. “Or you shall answer to me for it. Adieu.”

It was silent on the dock as the longboat carrying Lord Wycoff slipped into the darkness, heading for the ship that would take him further.

“Well then,” Drum said, “shall we return to Sinclair’s house? Or adjourn to rehearse what we’re going to say before we do?”

“I want to go home,” Gilly said quietly. “I’ll tell the truth. He sent for me to say good-bye, I came to bid
him farewell. I won’t apologize for it. I’m sorry I didn’t execute it better, but not because of anything else. Well, I’m sorry I worried you, too. But I will tell the truth because there’s nothing wrong in it.”

“I suppose there won’t be if we all agree there won’t be,” Drum said. “So. We’ve a carriage waiting.” He gestured to the street.

Gilly didn’t move. “I’d like to talk with Damon,” she said. “Can we go separately, please?”

“Of course,” Drum said, with a flourishing bow. But he was frowning as Gilly and Damon drove off together.

“It’s needful,” Rafe said, watching them go.

“I know,” Drum said softly, “but I wish I knew exactly why.”

Gilly spoke the moment the carriage door closed. She’d been thinking long and hard about it. She’d tell him about Wycoff’s summons, and his offer. She’d even tell him about Drum’s kiss and his offer. She had to tell him everything. She said she’d tell the truth, and so she would. It all came out at once. “I know you said you wouldn’t ask for me again, but the thing is I’m asking
you
now, because I finally know what I…”

She couldn’t go on.

Not when his lips were on hers, his tongue speaking for hers in silent communion, letting her answer only in ways that made any other kind of conversation impossible. And unnecessary.

He was warm and strong,
his
mouth,
his
skin,
his
breath, this was
her
Damon, she thought in exultation. Her friend, her lover. She ran her hands over his shoulders, inhaling the scent of him, so essential, so exactly
right. She clung, burrowing into him until, with a laugh and a groan, he pulled back. An inch. But his arms remained around her.

“We joked about how I always asked if you were sure, but now I am,” she said against his neck, catching her breath at last. “Wycoff offered what he could for me. Because he said that if I really loved, I wouldn’t have any doubts, and so it might as well be him as any other man. Of course, I refused. I wouldn’t have been running to him, only away from my problems. I don’t run away. But then there was Drum, and he offered, too. Marriage! Can you
imagine
? I couldn’t. But Wycoff was right! It came to me all of a sudden, whole and complete and so true I could weep.”

Her hand tightened on his shirt front. “Drum started to…court me. But I stopped it. No, don’t get angry, he didn’t dishonor me in any way. In fact, I hurt him. I mean, I hurt his feelings. I wouldn’t hit
him
,” she said. “Well, I suppose he’d never give me cause. He is a friend, you see. But only that. That’s what I found out! He asked what I always thought I wanted to hear, and he thought so, too. But it turned out that wasn’t what I wanted. He was shocked. Well, I couldn’t believe
my
surprise. But then I knew. I’d always loved him, you see, but as a friend. Oh, Damon, of course you saw.”

She went on, not letting him speak. “But the thing is, I loved him so much I couldn’t see it wasn’t that kind of love. T
hat
kind of love is either there or it’s not. It doesn’t make sense, but it makes all the difference in the world. Wycoff said it. But it was you who taught me that. You woke me up, and then I let you walk away, and when I opened my eyes at last you weren’t there.
N
ever
let me do that again, you hear? Never. And please, please forgive me.”

Damon cupped her face in his two hands. His own face, in the light of the carriage lamp, was serious and still. And so very handsome and perfect and dear, she thought, watching his mouth so closely, it took a moment for the meaning of his words to reach her ears when he finally did speak, his voice low and filled with emotion.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I should’ve fought for you, even if I had to fight you. That’s what I was going to do tonight. I knew it as I left my rooms. I was going to try to convince you any way I could. You and I are a pair, Gilly. It can’t have been my imagination. It’s more than convenience and expedience for you. It has to be. And it’s much more than desire and novelty for me. I want no one else. I never will. Drummond’s a good man, I can’t say a word against him. I won’t. But I was going to tell you I’d be better for you, Gilly—if only because I love you more than my pride, or myself.”

“Huh,” she said with a wavering smile, “I can do better. I love you more than anything else!”

“Ha!” he said, grinning. “I love you more than that!”

“Ho—” she began, but he made a better argument. He lowered his head and told her how much he loved her without saying a word.

“Let’s get married,” Gilly finally said, as the carriage slowed in front of the Sinclairs’ house.

“We certainly had better,” he agreed.

They danced. The company and the bridal couple danced the autumn afternoon away. The lawns in front
of the Sinclair estate were still green, though the leaves in the trees above were plum and russet and gold and came fluttering down with every mischievous breeze, like confetti falling to help liven the festivities.

When the sun spread gold across the western sky and the younger guests began to suck their thumbs or cry and the last barrels of wine were being breeched, the bridal couple looked at each other and thought about slipping away. That was impossible.

“Here it is! Isn’t it grand?” Maximilian Sinclair shouted as the flower-bedecked bridal carriage appeared in the drive. “I helped! They said daisies, but I picked meadowsweet, too, and they let me put it on. Which is good because the horses ate most of theirs, but it still looks fine, don’t it? Won’t you be proud of riding in it?”

“D
oesn’t
it,” his cousin Drummond corrected him absently, but he looked only at the happy couple.

But who didn’t? The bride wore a cream-colored gown and had camellias twined in her flaxen hair. The groom was in biscuit and brown. They were an uncommonly handsome pair. They never stopped holding hands except when they had to dance with their guests, and then their gazes never parted. It made the older guests sigh and the younger ones blush, and sometimes the other way round, but few had ever seen a happier couple. If it made some of the guests sigh with less than happiness, it was a reflection of their own lacks, and that was the way of the world, and weddings in particular.

The guests began to cheer as the carriage stopped.

“So much for privacy,” Damon grinned. He took his wife’s hand and they went over to where their family
and closest friends were waiting to say good-bye.

Gilly went up to the Earl of Kenton first, tried to speak, and had to stop. “Will I never stop bawling?” she asked, dashing away tears. “This rogue,” she prodded her new husband, “taught me to give way to my emotions and now I can’t stop blubbering!”

“You’ve got me awash, too,” the old earl said, only half joking. “Lord! Think of it! Our little Gilly a bride, and a beautiful one. I gave you away, but I still can’t believe it.”

“That she didn’t wear breeches?” Ewen joked.

“Well, it was a possibility,” Gilly said flippantly, because farewells today were a jest or else they’d be a heartbreak. “Good-bye,” she said, suddenly serious. “I know it’s only for a little while, and I know it’s only for the form of it because I’ll be close by. But I
am
leaving here a wife, and I
will
be living apart from you from now on, however close I remain. I thought of such lovely speeches. But I just want to thank you, for everything. And tell you I love you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Damon said, taking Ewen’s hand. “However fate led you to her, I’m grateful, because I couldn’t have found her without you.”

“Oh, no,” a slender young girl with long golden hair protested. She looked at the couple and beamed with happiness, as she had all day. “You’d have found her anyway. It’s clear you two are fated. And I’m so glad of it…Damon.” Betsy wiped away a happy tear, and stood on tiptoe to kiss Damon’s cheek.

“Thank you, Betsy,” Damon said. “Now make your bows, Gilly. You’ve got everyone weeping and it’s flooding the lawns. They’ll have to plant rice instead of
grass if you don’t stop. What I’m starting to wonder is if they’re tears of relief—at least on their part.”

“Wretch,” Gilly said, flashing him a grin. As Damon said good-bye to his parents, she kissed Max and Rafe and Drum, all with equal intensity. And if she gave Drum a smile of apology at the last, he was gentleman enough to return it. And man enough to turn before anyone saw what happened to his smile when she looked away again.

Because then she turned and hugged her sister, and hugged Bridget, because she knew she’d cry if she said one more word. She was weeping and laughing as she waved good-bye, rice and flowers covering the carriage like manna as it went down the drive.

“Where are they off to?” the Earl of Kenton asked his son.

“They didn’t want a fuss, or any country revels to mar their wedding night, so I can’t say. I offered them our place off the North Road, where we spent our honeymoon,” Ewen Sinclair said, giving his wife’s slim waist a secret hug, “but they refused.”

“Well, each couple has to make their own luck,” Bridget smiled, knowing the pair were going to Damon’s house, The Lindens, an hour away. “Wherever they go they’ll be happy.”

“Doubtless,” Drum said laconically.

“It’s a good time for new starts,” Rafe told the Lady Annabelle with hope in his voice.

“Indeed,” she answered dully, with none.

They watched the carriage leave. Then the guests thanked their hosts, wished them well, and made their way home or to houses of friends and neighbors.

“Time for bed, my boy,” Ewen said tenderly, watching his son bravely trying to blink himself awake. He picked him up. Then he, Bridget, and his father made their way toward the house.

“Well,” Drum said, in bored tones he had to fight to maintain, “too early for bed and too full for dinner. I’m off to the inn to raise a few pints. And you?”

“I think I’ll stay a while longer,” Rafe said, glancing over to where the Lady Annabelle was talking with her parents.

“Too soon, I’d say, for any luck in that direction,” Drum commented. “I’d say further you’d be best off coming with me now. I thinking of touring Greece. Winter’s coming.”

“Winter’s almost here,” Rafe said, “and you’re leaving for the Continent? The seas will be rough, the roads may be snowbound. Folly. You’d be best off staying here. Sticking it out. Not running off. I heard Gilly and Ryder will be visiting with your Uncle Kenton in Italy soon. Don’t want to look like you’re following, do you?”