How to Beguile a Beauty (7 page)

He wasn't hers, he couldn't be hers. He was as unattainable as Fitz, and her memories of that good man which seemed to soften and fade with each passing day. How she hated that. How she'd hate seeing Tanner fade that same way.

They strolled slowly, her arm still in his.

“He was uncomfortable, wasn't he?” she asked at last, feeling the need to fill the silence. Dear Lord, was she becoming Jasmine?

“Justin? Yes, he was. His welcome back to Society wasn't all he'd perhaps imagined it might be, considering that many of the supposed gentlemen here tonight didn't cavil at being friendly with him during the years
he was in exile. I think it came as a shock to him. No one was more popular than Justin our first Seasons in town, more sought after.”

“And now he is a pariah. Two of my dance partners warned me away from him. The third felt the need to go into rather descriptive detail on the matter of the baron's crime. And all three of them told me that you should be ashamed for having foisted such an unwelcome creature on the
ton
in general and on two innocent young women in particular. Actually, I think that's why they danced with me, so that I could deliver their messages to you.”

“Bloody cowards.” Tanner led her to a wrought-iron bench at the side of the path and they sat down, facing each other in the moonlight. “I'm sorry, Lydia.”

She smiled slightly, and forced some gaiety into her voice. “Oh, no, don't be. At first I thought this sudden popularity among the gentlemen might be traced to the gown, or to the fact that Nicole isn't here. I was rather relieved to learn that neither of those things was true. So you think I'm right, that our dance partners were using Jasmine and me to convey a message to you, and through you, to the baron?”

“Probably, yes. Give me their names. Was one of them Lord Molton?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn't be so foolhardy as to tell you any of their names. Nicole would have left each one of them standing alone on the dance floor, not caring a whit that she was causing quite the scene. But I'm not that courageous, I'm afraid. I merely informed
them all in turn that I was not your guardian. I thought it a rather clever riposte at the time, but perhaps not.”

Tanner took her hands in his. “I shouldn't have involved you, which I did by not warning Justin away from you and my cousin both.”

She did her best to ignore the tingle of awareness that had run through her at his touch. “It's all right. This evening was quite the education. Nicole spent years anticipating her first Season, and then found it petty and insipid, so that she almost immediately sought adventure and excitement elsewhere. I, in my turn, dreaded the day we'd come to London, yet I find myself enjoying the experience for the most part. The museums, the Tower, the theaters, the book repositories, the sheer masses of people and bustle. It's silly of me, but I didn't see the meanness anywhere, until tonight.”

“Justin has decided to leave London for a space, probably until next year's Season. That will give Society time to become resigned to the idea that he's back. But now I wonder if that's wise. He might only be prolonging what is bound to end with some sort of confrontation with somebody. Still, he knows I'll stand by him.”

Lydia wondered if she should withdraw her hands, but it was as if Tanner didn't even realize he was still holding on to them. “I'm sure he does. That might be one reason he's leaving London. To protect you.”

Tanner's fingers tightened on hers briefly. “My God, I never thought of that. I'll be seeing him tomorrow morning, and will quickly disabuse him of any idea of sacrificing himself to protect me.”

“As he would disabuse you of any idea of sacrificing yourself to protect him, I would imagine. Do you know something, Tanner? I think men might really be rather silly, at the heart of things.”

That brought a smile to his face, and another quick flush to her cheeks. “Spoken like a highly intelligent woman. Yes, men are idiots. Idiocy is beaten into us from the nursery cot on. And the more civilized we become, the more rules we make, the more we toss around words like honor and law, the more savage we really are. We merely dress up our baser selves in fine linen. And I'm as guilty of that as any of us.”

It wasn't the most romantic of conversations. It certainly wasn't a usual conversation between a man and woman. But what it was, Lydia realized, was a conversation between equals, between friends. With no artifice, no polite skirting of unpleasant subjects, no thought to impressing each other.

“I disagree. If anything, Tanner, I believe you may be
too
good. Too honorable.”

The moment she'd said the words, Lydia was appalled at her forthrightness. She withdrew her hands, faced forward on the bench, and folded those hands in her lap. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

She felt his hand at the small of her back, and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing, which had seemingly decided to stop occurring on its own and needed her full concentration.

“We're not speaking of men as a whole or my in
volvement with Justin now, are we? It's Fitz, back again, front and center.”

“No, I…yes, I suppose so. You've more than satisfied any favor he asked from you where I am concerned.”

“Are you telling me to go away, Lydia? Take myself off?”

She turned to him in surprise. “No! I…I don't wish to be an obligation, Tanner. That's all.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, pulling back only slightly as he said, “You've never been an obligation to me, Lydia. Never.”

She wanted to avoid his eyes, his closeness, but it was no good. She couldn't look away. He'd kissed her! Had it been a brotherly sort of kiss? The kiss one might deliver to a friend? What if she had known he was going to do what he did? Would she have turned her head so that he could kiss her on the mouth? What would he have done then? What was she
thinking!

But she only said, “I was horrible to you that day, and for a long time after that. I did my best to avoid you.”

“Really?” He smiled. “I didn't notice.”

“Oh.” She twisted her hands in her lap, a part of her longing only to raise her hand, touch her fingers to his cheek. “Everyone else did.”

“Everyone else should mind their own business,” Tanner said softly, moving closer to her, his mouth suddenly the center of her attention. His full, smiling mouth…

“Malvern! Ran you to ground at last!”

Lydia nearly jumped at the sudden shout, and instantly Tanner was gone, standing beside the bench, his body placed protectively in front of hers.

“Molton,” he said dully. “Brittingham—Feather-stone. I wasn't aware either of you were out of short pants eight years ago, let alone a friend of Farber's. And you're drunk, all of you.”

“So?” the man named Molton answered. “Where's Wilde? Someone told me he'd seen him slinking away like the coward he is. Or is that him now, hiding behind you? Bring him out, Malvern. I've got something for him.”

With that, Lydia heard the sharp snap of braided leather against the brick path. She knew the sound. A horse whip, probably procured from one of the coaches.

“Oh, for the love of heaven. You ass, put that away.”

“Why? It's what he deserves. Wouldn't touch him, wouldn't dirty my hands on him. Wouldn't challenge him to a duel, either, wouldn't be that stupid, when the man has no honor, fires early.”

“Molton, we've had this discussion. While I admire your friendship with Robbie Farber, sentiment doesn't alter facts. He turned early, and fired.”

“Who cares a damn? Are we going to talk, or have us some fun?” one of the others said, slurring his words badly. “You promised Oliver and me some fun.”

Lydia sat quietly, not daring to move, knowing she was hidden in both the shadows and by Tanner's body. Fear froze her body, even as her mind raced to unlovely conclusions. There were three of them, and only Tanner to face them. They were drunk, and clearly eager for
an unfair fight. Did the target matter all that much, or would any target do? Had it yet occurred to Tanner that being in the right did not necessarily lend him any sort of protection?

Clearly not.

“Is that true, Molton? You talked these two young fools into stretching Justin's arms around a tree out here, while you whip him raw? Yes, that sounds like a notion that would appeal to you. I can see why you and Farber were bosom chums. Your shared sense of honor is evident. Well, so sorry to disappoint you all, but Wilde is gone, he isn't here. Which, whether you choose to believe it or not, is damn lucky for the three of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a lady present, not that any of you noticed. I wish to escort her back to the ballroom. Let us pass, and if you wish it, I'll be more than happy to stand in for my good friend and then return to speak with you and your false courage some more.”

He turned his back on the three men, extending his hand to her. “My apologies, Lydia. You should not have had to endure any of this. Let me take you back inside.”

She heard the slither of the whip as its length was uncoiled onto the ground. “Tanner!” she called out in warning, leaping to her feet just to have him rather roughly push her toward the far side of the path, out of danger.

But his need to protect her had cost him valuable moments.

By the time he could turn, Molton had raised his hand, the whip already snaking out, meant to strike him
across the back, its tip instead snapping against his cheek.

Molton's companions cheered at the quick eruption of blood, further emboldening him, so that he laughed and drew back the whip once more.

But this time it was Tanner who moved first, as if he'd never even been touched. His left arm shot out so that the whip wound harmlessly around his covered forearm and he could grab the fat braiding. A quick pull on the whip threw Molton off-balance, for the fool's wits were dulled with drink, and he hadn't let go of the handle.

With her hands pressed to her mouth so that she wouldn't scream and distract him, Lydia watched as Tanner then made short work of the man, who now lay moaning rather piteously on the brick path thanks to several short, hard punches from Tanner's right fist.

He then picked up the whip and flourished it, its length snapping in the air like a thunderbolt, proclaiming his expertise with the thing.

When he spoke, his voice was low, calm, cold as ice. “Anyone else? Come, come, gentlemen. You were looking for a good time. Don't let me disappoint you.”

The younger men, big and brawny, and perhaps brighter than their first acquaintance might have led anyone to believe, turned and ran back up the path, deserting Molton, who was now sitting up with both hands raised to his face. “M'nose…you bloody broke m'nose…”

“And you deserved that, you cowardly beast,” Lydia
said with feeling, and then quickly bit her bottom lip, horror-struck at her outburst.

“Nasty fall you just took, Molton,” Tanner said, leaning down and lifting the man's head by the simple expedient of grabbing at his lordship's full head of hair. “Do you understand me? You came out into the gardens for a bit of fresh air, and you fell in the dark. That, or name your seconds. It's your choice. Who knows, Robbie might be lonely in the graveyard, and crave your company. God knows nobody else does.”

“Let go of me!” Molton exclaimed, wiping at his streaming nose with his neck cloth. “I know what to say.”

“Then it would be the first time,” Tanner bit out, giving the man's head a sharp shake before pushing him back onto the ground.

He turned to Lydia. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” She searched in her small reticule for her handkerchief and handed it to Tanner. “You're bleeding. Does it hurt?”

He waved off the small affectation of thin, lace-edged muslin in favor of a large square of white linen he extracted from his own waistcoat pocket. He then pressed it against the slice on his cheek. “It's only a scratch, Lydia. I'm only sorry you had to witness anything so…”

“Something so very much not of your making? Please, Tanner, don't be stupid.”

He took her hand and led her back up the path, the square of linen held to his cheek. When he removed the
handkerchief to turn it over, she could see that the gash was nearly three inches long, curving around his cheekbone, only nearly missing his left eye. But he was right, the wound appeared to be fairly superficial. Well, she didn't see bone, at any rate, and that had to be considered fortunate.

“I don't think I was going to say I was
stupid
. Although you're correct. I shouldn't have turned my back on the man. That was arrogance, plain and simple. I probably deserved this little scratch.”

“Don't talk, you'll only make it bleed more.” She shouldn't have said he was stupid, of course. She was upset, and the word had somehow simply slipped out. But, truly, men were such…idiots. Women didn't come to blows; women settled their differences without resorting to physical violence. Why, she would never even think to raise her hand to another human being.

They reached the bottom of the steps and she took hold of his forearm. “I'll go round up Jasmine and Mrs. Shandy, shall I? It would perhaps be best if you were to meet us outside with the coach. There's more than enough talk in the ballroom as it is, without anyone seeing you.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right. And I'll find a servant somewhere who can go scoop up old Molton out there. Lydia?”

She was already halfway up the stairs, holding her gown up slightly so that she wouldn't trip. She half-turned on the stairs to look back at him. “Hmm?” she said, her mind filled with things that had to be done,
things that could not be said, the moment when she'd be alone so that she could sit herself down and have a good, cleansing cry.