Fascination -and- Charmed (79 page)

“Potter says he can arrange three services for the purpose of calling the banns. We’ve already got the license.”

“What is the purpose of this haste?”

The duke, resplendent in a kerseymere coat of a deep plum shade, spread wide a hand, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Yes?” the dowager prompted.

“The purpose is the accomplishment of what pleases me,” he blustered, his handsome but too-florid face growing even redder. “I’m a busy man. A man of weighty affairs, Grandmama. I cannot spend more time on the matter of this marriage. I want it discharged promptly.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He nodded fiercely. “And so it shall be.”

“And what of you, gel?” Pippa became the subject of close inspection. “Is this hasty wedding your wish also?”

“Well—”

“I say,” the duke interrupted. “I hardly think it appropriate to ask her opinion.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m asking it anyway. What have you to say for yourself, Lady Philipa?”

“I had hoped my father would be at my wedding,” Pippa replied, her throat aching.

“I’m not marryin’ her father,” the duke retorted.

No, he wasn’t marrying her father, he was marrying her father’s land.

“Grandmama, I truly think this is the best course.” The duke’s smile transformed him into a boyishly charming creature. “Come along, dear thing. You’ve long complained that I am wild.
Have
been wild. It’s my wish to change my ways. I want to be married. I want to have children.”

The old lady pursed her lips and shifted her frail shoulders beneath their burden of rich silk. “Hmm. It’s time for heirs. I won’t argue that.”

Pippa felt light-headed. Why had Justine insisted she come here? Had she thought Pippa might somehow be able to plead with the dowager and the duke to await her pleasure in this marriage?

“You see,” Franchot said, dipping a knee engagingly to his grandmother, “I am not the scapegrace you once knew. I am changed, I assure you. I shall do nothing but bring our fortunes into even more favorable condition.”

“The autumn was to have been the date. Everyone expects this wedding to be the affair of the year—very possibly of the decade.”

“But why wait?” Franchot asked. Flipping out his coat tails, he sat beside his grandmother on her chaise. “The sooner there are little Franchots in our nurseries, the better.”

“Hmm.” The dowager resettled her bones once more. “There may be some truth to what you say. But I would like to hear more from Lady Philipa.”

“I—”

A rap at the door brought Pippa a blessed reprieve in which to consider how to answer.

The dowager motioned to the maid, who stood silently by. The woman went to open the door.

With the entrance of Calum Innes, Pippa’s concentration shattered. She felt her mouth open but was helpless to close it again.

“Good afternoon, Duchess,” he said, walking confidently toward the woman. “We meet again, Franchot. I didn’t want to waste any time in coming to thank you for inviting us to join you in Cornwall.”

“Innes,” Franchot said, making no attempt to rise, “glad you could come. Understand you’ve been here some days.”

“Yes.” Calum told the tale he and Struan had presented about prior business easily concluded.

“Ah,” Franchot said. “My sister and my fiancée been looking after you, have they?”

“Viscount Hunsingore and I are very much enjoying our stay,” Calum said, catching Pippa’s eye.

She noted the hard set of her fiancé’s features and pressed a hand into her middle. He did not wish Calum well, and if there had not been the issue of endangered honor, Calum would not be standing in this room.

A rustle caught Pippa’s attention and that of the men. The dowager duchess got to her feet and stood with both hands atop her cane.

Franchot scrambled up and tried to hold his grandmother’s arm. She promptly batted him away as if he were an annoying insect.

“I find I am tired,” she said. “I shall retire.”

Pippa couldn’t fail to notice how the old lady stared at Calum, to whom she had said not a word.

“Of course,” Franchot said. “We’ll proceed with things as I’ve planned them, then.”

Pippa’s eyelids drooped. She felt faint and sick. They were going to marry her off to Franchot without even hearing what she really wanted.

“I understand Lady Philipa is tutoring Viscount Hunsingore’s children.”

At the dowager’s abrupt statement, Pippa rallied. She crossed her arms tightly and willed herself to be strong.

“Indeed she is,” Calum said. “Most kind of her.” He smiled at her and she smiled back—she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

And she couldn’t change the fact that Franchot saw the smile. His fair brows drew down over the bridge of his haughty nose.

“Motherless, I understand,” the dowager continued. “Most unusual for a man to be travelin’ around with his motherless offspring. Better off at home with appropriate staff, I say.”

“Daresay you’re right, Your Grace,” Calum said.

What, Pippa wondered, would the dowager say if she actually saw Ella and Max? What if she
heard
them? Despite herself, she shuddered at the thought. Her pupils were intelligent and quick to learn. She was trying her best to teach them some of the things in which they were sadly lacking polish. Ella possessed great natural grace and a clear and pretty voice that already showed signs of improvement, but much more time would be needed to complete the task.

Pippa very much wanted to complete the task.

“Grandmama,” Franchot said. Veins stood out at his temples. “I’ll take my leave of you and start the necessary preparations.”

“Preparations for what?” Calum asked, his voice so innocent that Pippa turned her full, startled attention upon him.

“My weddin’,” Franchot said, his nostrils flared and white. “I’ve decided to move the event forward.”

“But I thought the happy festivities were set for autumn,” Calum said, frowning as if perplexed. “Surely that’s when Lord Chauncey expects to return for the affair?”

Franchot’s chin jutted. “And what business is that of yours?”

Calum fell back a step. “Absolutely none, Duke. I hold you in high regard, you know that. Only your best interests at heart, I assure you.”

The dowager’s lorgnette was firmly anchored against her nose. She appeared to study first Franchot, then Calum, then Franchot again.

“I’ve stated my best interests,” Franchot said, glaring now.

“No doubt,” Calum said, his eyes wide and worried. “Don’t suppose the
ton
will, er…Well, you know how that can go.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Innes.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. Presumptuous of me. Consider it unsaid. I was hoping you’d show me some of your favorite haunts around the estate—if you’ve any time, that is.”

“Mr. Innes,” the dowager duchess said, “what exactly do you think the
ton’s
reaction would be to an early marriage between my grandson and Lady Philipa?”

Calum blew up his cheeks and stuffed his hands behind him. “Shouldn’t have spoken out of turn,” he said, rolling onto the soles of his feet. “Man like the duke doesn’t have to give a pig’s— He doesn’t have to give a fig for what people think or say. Go to it, man. And I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you,” Franchot said grudgingly. “Good of you.”

“Mr. Innes is from Scotland,” the dowager said, and Pippa began to wonder if the old lady’s faculties were slipping. Her train of thought certainly was.

“I know where he’s from,” Franchot said.

“I think we should ensure that he has a very satisfying visit with us before he returns to Scotland.”

Franchot’s frown deepened even further. “I’m sure he’ll be well enough treated.”

“I know he will,” the dowager said, and repeated her scrutiny of first one and then the other man—and repeated it again. “And you can send your minister back to wherever he came from, Etienne. We’ve a perfectly good minister of our own here at Franchot.”

“But—”

“Our arrangements are already in progress. I see no point in risking any wagging tongues, hmm?”

“But—”

“Do
you,
Etienne?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Good. I knew we should agree. Entertain yourselves and stay out of my way. Remember that
my
signature is also required on the marriage documents, won’t you? September it shall be.”

The Dowager Duchess of Franchot, her cane borne before her like a baton, signaled for the door to the rest of her apartments to be opened, and swept out.

Franchot rushed in her wake and closed the door behind him.

Calum cast a glance at the maid, who had remained, and said only, “Lady Justine has extraordinarily good judgment.”

Etienne longed to hurl something through every window in the summerhouse. “If that oaf hadn’t arrived, the old bat would have agreed, I tell you. I had her in the palm of my hand, and he had to remind her of the threat to her precious family reputation.”

“The threat to our precious family reputation,” Anabel said sweetly. “If only you would listen to me, my darling. Thank goodness you didn’t manage to get your grandmother to agree. What could you have been thinking of?”

Really, this woman was becoming a strain from which he longed to be freed. “Shut up, you stupid bitch. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know that to go into a hasty marriage while Chauncey has a spy sniffing around could bring all our plans crashing around our ears,” Anabel said, turning red. “I’ll thank you to have more care how you speak to me.”

“I’ll speak to you any way I damn well please, madam. You exist by my pleasure.”

She whirled about, flipping the full back of her violet velvet pelisse-robe behind her.
“Don’t
suggest that you have any power over me. One word and you are
finished.
Do you understand, Etienne? One word from me—or rather, the
failure
for me to give a certain word when it is expected—and you are a dead man.”

“You will not give me my orders, madam.”

“If my solicitors should ever fail to receive word from me on dates already appointed between us, they will instantly open letters sealed in their vaults. Do I make myself clear?”

God.
How he was oppressed by damnable females.

“Etienne,” she crooned, positioning herself between him and the nearest window. She spread her arms, bracing them against the frames. “My own dearest one. When will you learn to trust Anabel? When will you learn to stop being frightened and let me take care of everything for us?”

When
would he be free of her?

“My plan is perfect, sweetest. You need do nothing.
Nothing.
I shall ensure that Innes slips neatly into our hands.”

“This story of yours is exactly that, a story. You have no proof that the man is anything other than an opportunist looking for a patron”— he compressed his mouth and stared at the full flare of Anabel’s hips beneath the pelisse —“or a damnable seducer set on snaring himself a rich bride.”

“You need me, Etienne,” Anabel said, swaying. The motion showed how her high-collared robe opened daringly to reveal a hint of a very low-cut black gown and a great deal of the woman’s big breasts.

He narrowed his eyes, bent his head to one of those breasts and sucked in a soft, scented mouthful of white flesh.

“Ouch!” Anabel pulled him away by his hair, but she was laughing and her tongue made a slow progress around her lips. “I shall make you pay for that.”

“How?” He enjoyed her, dammit. And he’d use her until he could find a way to get his hands on her precious letters—if they existed.

“How shall I make you pay for hurting Anabel?” she mused. “First, you must promise to allow me to deal with the annoyance of your little
fiancée.
”

“You will do—”

“I will do what must be done. And we shall have her dowry. Fear not. As I have already explained, Innes will die in the act of kidnapping dear Philipa. Philipa will die at his hand and Chauncey will give the grieving groom the only suitable price for his
silence—Cloudsmoor.
Delicious.”

Etienne looked into Anabel’s blue eyes. Clever blue eyes. If her plan could work, he might be free. And he need never marry this conniving jade. This time she’d be permanently silenced by her own crime.

“You are an inventive gel,” he told her, pulling undone the satin bows that closed the front of the pelisse. “Why shouldn’t I give you a chance to see if you can accomplish this thing?” One by one, he undid the bows.

“I can accomplish it, I tell you,” she said, slipping away from him to sit on the back of a cane couch. “You have been very preoccupied of late, Etienne.”

He followed until he stood between her splayed thighs. “Can you wonder at my preoccupation? My future is at stake.”

“The viscount is leaving,” she told him. “That will make my task easier. I don’t like that man. He sees too much.”

“Do not underestimate Innes. His innocent prattle is all an act. I swear he has put himself in my way to interfere with the marriage.”

“He has,” she agreed. “I’ve told you as much. But do not worry, my pet. Entertain me instead. To inspire me.”

He fumbled inside the robe and hefted her breasts free. For a while she was content to mewl and pant and writhe whilst he suckled her distended nipples, but then she plucked at his shoulders and pushed him away and said, “Imagine how the mouse, Philipa, would please you, Etienne. Imagine how
she
would attend to your needs.”

Smiling, he took off his coat. “Regardless, I do believe I shall make sure I take that particular pallid flower before that thief, Innes, can have her.” With one hand he began loosing his trousers; with the other, he sought to tear the remaining bows away. “If you are very good, I may arrange for you to watch. Should you like that?”

“We shall see—later,” Anabel said, laughing and staying his hands. “Not so quickly, Etienne. There is something I have come by recently. I could use it selfishly, but I’d much rather share my pleasure with you. Stand quietly. Be
good.”

Already his shaft sprang free of his clothes.