Newport Summer (5 page)

Gannon shrugged. One had, but he knew only a name,
and it was a useless fantasy to think anything could come
of his afternoon on the beach. He could treat it as no
more than an isolated moment in time, destined to be
nothing other than a sweet, fleeting memory.

“They take some getting used to, as you said,” he
said noncommittally. In the past two days since his arrival, Stella and Lionel had filled his social calendar
with no less than one yachting luncheon, a private picnic at the Elms, a visit to their second-row cabana at
Bailey’s Beach, a formal, twenty-course dinner at the
Oelriches’, and tennis at the Casino court.

He could not remember a time when the London
Season had felt so demanding. But perhaps if he’d been
looking for a wife on the Marriage Mart, he might have felt differently about the pace. The activities had been
designed for him to meet as many girls as possible. Indeed, they’d succeeded to the extent that Gannon was
laboring under the impression there were few men in
Newport at all.

Lionel had laughed, assuring him that more men came
down during the weekend and returned to New York for
business during the week.

“Who’s the richest girl in the room tonight?” Gannon asked.

Stella sighed and patted her friend’s arm with her
long, gloved fingers. “Oh, Gannon, don’t let it come to
that. I am sure there’s someone who’s rich and likeable.”

“Until then, I’ll stick with the richest. It’s what I
came for,” Gannon said stoically, although the words
stuck in his throat. He’d danced a few times already and
couldn’t imagine spending his life with any of his partners, no matter what size their fathers’ bank accounts
might be.

“Well, if you must know, the richest girl is the St. Clair
chit,” Stella said, glancing around. “I know she’s here,
but I haven’t seen her yet. She’s beautiful. Her mother’s
a social giant, bosom beaus with Caroline Astor. Her father is a modern Midas. Everything he touches turns to
gold. His choice of investments influences everything on
Wall Street. I’ll make sure you meet her.”

Stella paused for a moment. “I’m surprised you
haven’t met her yet. She was at the Casino picnic.

“Ah, there they are” Stella waved to an attractive middle-aged couple and approached. The woman held
herself stiffly in the best of postures with an air of coolness about her that suggested she was no one’s equal.
The man appeared more affable.

“Violet, it’s good to see you. We didn’t have a chance
to talk at the picnic. I want to introduce our houseguest
to you. This is Gannon Maddox, the Earl of Camberly,”
Stella said.

All stiffness vanished from the woman. “Enchante,
my lord” She focused all her attention on Gannon. He
felt uncomfortable at the intensity of her perusal. Any
minute now, she was going to ask him to open his mouth
so she could check his teeth.

“I wish my daughter was here, my lord. You must
meet her,” Violet St. Clair said, apparently deciding he’d
passed muster. “She’s dancing right now, but perhaps
you’d like to come into supper with us? We’d love to
hear about England. Oh, here she is.” The woman gestured to someone behind him. “My lord, may I present
my daughter, Audrey St. Clair? Audrey, this is the Earl of
Camberly”

Gannon turned and found himself momentarily
stymied, struggling to reconcile the young woman who
stood before him. The perfectly coiffed vision in butter
and blue was none other than the blunt-spoken girl
from the beach. His barefoot Audrey was the richest
girl in the room?

It would seem to be a dream come true except for the
look of rage on her face. She stared at him through angry eyes, and Gannon knew what she must be thinking-that
he’d misled her that afternoon, that he’d deliberately obscured his identity, and she wouldn’t be far from wrong.
He’d had a chance to divulge his purpose in Newport,
and he hadn’t. He’d had a chance to give her more than a
first name, and he hadn’t. But neither had she. She had
never once mentioned a last name he could have given to
Stella for vetting. Still, he was willing to overlook such
omissions. Apparently, she was not. While he was pleasantly surprised by the turn of events, she was outright
horrified.

“So, it’s you, is it?” she said coldly. Then she hastily
added, to cover the implication of having met him before, “You’re the one everyone’s been talking about”

Unbelievable! It was worse than her conjectures.
Gannon Maddox wasn’t just associated with the earl,
he was the earl. Audrey silently scolded herself while
her mother made gushing small talk with the handsome
earl to cover her daughter’s cold response to the evening’s premier guest.

She should have known better. How was it that she’d
overlooked the obvious that day on the beach? His answers had been as vague as he’d been well dressed. She
should have seen immediately that he’d deliberately
been obfuscating the truth. Englishmen with indeterminate goals simply did not vacation in Newport, and this
one had been invited. No one got into Newport without
an entree.

Even if he hadn’t let fall his invitation, it should have been enough to note the excellent cut of his clothes and
his clipped accent, reminiscent of the upper-class aristos
who’d so recently become interested in wealthy American brides.

The clues had all been there regardless of his attempts to downplay them. Audrey had simply chosen
to ignore them. It was rather surprising, and none too
pleasing, to discover how easy it had been to trade in
her common sense over a handsome face. But seeing
him tonight, dressed exquisitely in evening clothes that
defined his physique to perfection, the lapse was entirely understandable.

He was by far the handsomest man in the room. His
attractiveness came from more than his good looks.
The raven-dark hair, the smoothness of his chiseled jaw
and straight nose, the piercing green eyes the color of
moss were all features she’d noted before.

She had not noted the regal tenor of his bearing, the
breadth of his shoulders, the narrow waist, and the strong
legs. People, both men and women, wanted to look at
him, wanted to be in his circle. He was charismatic in the
extreme. Everywhere he went, his mere bearing commanded attention. It was positively riveting to watch him
converse with her mother, who was enrapt beyond all
else over his description of his stables.

Apparently, it was too riveting. An embarrassed silence fell on their little group, and Audrey realized she’d
been caught in the act of staring.

“Miss St. Clair, do I have something on my face?” Gannon-no, not Gannon, the earl-inquired, one hand
searching his cheek to flick off whatever had attached
itself there.

“Ah, no, not at all. Your face is fine, quite fine,” Audrey said, flustered for a moment. Her mother gave her
a raised-eyebrow look of scolding incredulity that said
she could not believe the dearth of manners Audrey
was displaying.

The earl smiled and smoothly continued with the discussion of his prized hunter, a roan stallion by the name
of Brutus.

Fortunately, it was time to go into the supper room,
and Audrey was saved from the opportunity to commit
any more gaffes. To her mother’s everlasting delight,
the earl turned to Audrey. “Would you do me the pleasure of joining me for supper?”

It was all the invitation Violet needed. Whether the
earl intended the offer just to Audrey or if he’d expected the entire family to join them, she’d never know.
The moment the invitation was issued, Violet St. Clair
accepted with alacrity and her usual smoothness, so
that it appeared the earl had meant to ask them all.

“I’ll arrange for the table by the windows. You’ll enjoy the view,” Violet said, gracefully moving into action
to make the necessary arrangements for a table of six as
Lionel Carrington joined the group and shook hands
with Audrey’s father.

Audrey did not doubt they’d be the center of attention. Everyone would be curious to see who the earl was dining with. Gannon offered her his arm and smiled.
It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize for her
mother’s maneuverings, as subtle as they were, but she
was not at all sure he saw the need for an apology. Perhaps he expected such attentions. Perhaps he even liked
them. After all, she didn’t know that much about him.
She hadn’t even known he was an earl. And she certainly didn’t know if she could trust him. So far, she’d
been lucky. He hadn’t made any reference to a prior acquaintance. She had to speak with him to ensure that it
stayed that way.

She motioned to Gannon to let the others go ahead of
them into the supper room and indicated they should
step off to the side. Gannon acquiesced with a smile, no
doubt guessing her obvious reason for wanting a moment alone. Audrey didn’t care how obvious her intentions were. She’d never dealt well in subtleties. That
was her mother’s department.

“So we meet again, Miss Sinclair, although I’d much
rather call you Audrey as I did on the beach,” Gannon
said easily, slouching against a richly carved pillar, a
lazy grin on his face. He instantly looked more like the
man from the beach than the earl he’d been moments
ago. It was a very dangerous transformation. She didn’t
need to recall how amiable, personable, he could be.

“So we do, Gannon, or should I call you Camberly or
milord?” Audrey queried sharply, trying to take the measure of this enigmatic man.

“Gannon is what I’d prefer, with you at least,” he said, holding her eyes with an even gaze that threatened
to unnerve her. A hidden smile played at his firm mouth.
How dare he find any of this funny!

“I need to ask you for a favor.” Audrey paused here,
disliking the idea of needing a concession from a man
she knew so little about.

“Anything,” Gannon said. “Rock-skipping lessons,
perhaps?” he joked lightly.

Audrey shook her head. “What I ask for is a little
enough thing, but it is not a joking matter, at least not to
these people.” She gave a vague wave to include the
crowd going into supper.

Gannon sobered. “I am sorry. I did not mean to make
light of it. Ask me for anything.”

“I need to have your word that you will not mention
our encounter on the beach” Audrey searched his face
for signs of his comprehension, signs that suggested he
knew how important his compliance was on this matter.

“You have my word, Audrey.”

“Miss St. Clair,” she corrected sharply.

At her sharp burst of propriety, he gave his smile full
rein. “Miss St. Clair, then” He made a small nod of acquiescence. “Rest assured, I’ll say nothing on the subject”

Audrey breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thank you”
She turned to go into supper, but Gannon’s hand stayed
her, warm and strong on her arm.

“Wait, Miss Audrey St. Clair. Now you have to do
something for me”

She should have known nothing was given freely, not even one’s word. Audrey was immediately alert, conspicuously conscious of the earl. Her senses were aware
of the clean scent of sandalwood soap, the starched linen
of his evening clothes, and of much else. Beneath the finery of a gentleman, she was keenly aware of the raw, unbridled maleness of him.

She wondered what price the earl would extract for
keeping their secret. A stolen kiss, perhaps? Audrey felt
her pulse speed at the thought of the earl’s firm mouth on
hers. The image was oddly appealing, sending a warm
thrill shooting to her belly.

Gannon laughed at the look on her face, thankfully
misunderstanding the reason for it. “Don’t worry. What I
ask for is a little thing.” He borrowed her words. “I want
a waltz with you tonight.”

Most of dinner was spent on the usual questions.
Which part of England did he come from? What kind
of home did he have? And that was where the conversation stayed for a very long time. Gannon Maddox was
clearly devoted to his home and to the two younger
siblings in his care. Audrey could see that her parents
were impressed with his descriptions of his home and
countryside. Her father was intrigued with the level of
Gannon’s knowledge on farming and agricultural advancements.

But where they saw an interesting Englishman, she
saw red flags. If Gannon Maddox loved his estate so much, worried over his summer crops endlessly, and
missed his family, why was he here instead of there?

Audrey thought the answer was fairly straightforward. He was heiresshunting in spite of his lack of
mentioning it on the beach. Her original anger flared
again, and conspiracies began to form in her mind. Had
he known who she was beforehand? Had he gone down
to the beach on purpose to corner her? Had he hoped to
compromise her? Did he still mean to, regardless of the
promise he’d made her? Worse, did she mind as much
as she should?

Common sense told her she should mind very much.
Audrey knew her mother. If Gannon so much as mentioned their encounter to her parents, they’d be married
before either one of them could blink, and while that
might suit Gannon’s purposes, it did not suit hers. If he
needed a fortune, compromising her would be the shortest distance to the goal.