Potent Charms (33 page)

Other than an occasional chair set about the long rectangular hall, the gallery contained little furniture. Paintings
dotted the walls and statues occupied spaces on the floor.
Although the subject matter varied greatly from that in
Lord Wyman's private study, the room reminded her of her
first encounter with Stephen. After today's events,
Wyman's paintings held new meaning. Disgusted by her
preoccupation with Stephen, she crossed to the table
Hildegard had described but found nothing. Knowing
Hildegard, she'd spitefully sent Phoebe on a fool's errand
just so she could lecture Charity.

A light breeze drifted across her shoulders. She whirled about to find Sir Lemmer leaning insolently against the
now-open door to the terrace.

"You look displeased, my darling dearest. Were you
expecting someone else? Lord Badrick perhaps? 'Tis a pity
he's engrossed in a card game at the moment."

Phoebe noticed the disapproval in Lemmer's voice and
knew he'd clearly chosen words to incite fear. A flicker of
apprehension skittered down her spine. She squared her
shoulders and leveled at him a look of disdain. "Excuse
me. I was just leaving."

Strutting forward like a barnyard rooster, he stepped
directly in her path. Cedar, the scent she recognized as his,
assaulted her nose. His hand shot out to snare her wrist.
"Do you know what happens when a young lady is discovered alone with a bachelor in a, shall we say, compromising situation?"

She felt trapped, very much like the afternoon in Hyde
Park. His eyes blazed with unleashed passion. She certainly didn't expect Stephen to come to her rescue this
evening. Her wits would be her only protection. "It matters
not to me. I certainly have no intention of compromising
myself in your company and I doubt anyone will rush in
here anytime soon to discover us."

"Society is extremely fickle. Ruination requires little.
Even the young toads interested in your title or your funds
will be hard-pressed to ignore propriety. 'Tis a sacrifice,
but alas, in the grandest of gestures I shall wait and kindly
relieve your aunt of her responsibilities to you."

"Precisely, sir. You shall wait. Forever, if that is your
objective. Now get out of my way." She tried to wrench
herself free from his powerful grip. When she failed to
loosen his hold, she lifted her knee toward his groin,
almost losing her balance in the process. She cursed the
confining fabric of her dress.

He grabbed her about the waist, yanking her hard against him. "You have such fire, Phoebe. I have not forgotten that incident in the park, and I assure you at another
time, another place, I will remind you of it in great detail.
As to our being interrupted, your dear aunt and I have a
bargain. In the company of a lord or two, she shall seek her
errant niece and her missing fan only to discover us."

No wonder Hildegard had looked as though she'd won a
chess match. Phoebe had known her aunt disliked her, but
had never anticipated such a vile act of betrayal. Unfortunately, there was little she could do about her aunt right
now. Lemmer required her full attention. "Personally, I
don't give a damn if the entire party enters. No one will
believe I willingly came here with you."

"Shall we see?" He crushed his lips to hers. Her stomach
roiled. No matter how hard she fought the embrace, the
scoundrel's arms held her captive. As she struggled in
earnest, Lemmer chuckled into her mouth, seemingly
enjoying her efforts. When his hand grabbed her breast,
she bit his lower lip; to her satisfaction, she tasted blood.

Lemmer lifted his head and clutched her chin in his
hand. Like a snake poised to strike, he hissed. "That was
very foolish."

Her jaw throbbed from the pressure of his hold. Before
his lips descended again, she was free, tumbling backwards into a marble statue. She barely recognized Stephen.
His face was contorted with rage, his eyes clouded with
fury.

Air whooshed from Lemmer's mouth as Stephen
slammed a fist into Lemmer's stomach. He continued to
hold Lemmer by his no-longer-perfect cravat and pound
the man's body. Mercy, if she didn't do something, surely
Stephen would kill the man, not that she cared. But
Stephen's reputation was an altogether different matter.
Society needed no additional tinder to fuel their tales and
rumors. She grabbed his arm before it connected again. "Stephen, you've done enough. We need to leave before
Hildegard arrives."

His iron gaze bored into Lemmer, who remained standing only because Stephen gripped his shirt. "I care not
whether your aunt comes or not. This scoundrel dared
touch you!"

"Look at me. I'm fine. Come."

Stephen hurled Lemmer against the nearby wall, where
the man crumpled like a sack of grain. Stephen turned
toward Phoebe. Accusation blazed in his stony glare. Good
heavens, not only was he furious with Lemmer, he was
furious with her as well.

Pressing himself to a sitting position, Lemmer swiped
his hand across his bloodied lip. "You bastard. Must you
ruin Phoebe as well, add another woman to the Badrick
cemetery? Was it not enough to seduce and murder my sister?"

"You sanctimonious hypocrite," Stephen spat, every bit
of wrath wrapped in those three words. "I know all about
your brotherly devotion to Emily. My God, she was your
sister! You can't forgive the fact that she chose me over living in a house in which you presided, your insidious
behavior growing bolder with every day. My actions pale
in comparison to yours."

Lemmer's face flushed red. Spittle flew from his mouth.
"That's a lie."

"Emily spared me no detail. I know all your ugly little
secrets and if you think I'd allow you near Phoebe for
one moment, think again. I'll kill you first."

Lemmer pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the
wall. "Phoebe, let me help you."

"I don't need or want your help."

A mask of anger contorted the features of Lemmer's
face. Beyond reason, his words flowed like a river of hot
lava, set to obliterate everything in its path. "Fine. Go with him, but do not forget I warned you. You will regret this. I
swear on my sister's grave." His voice shook with fury.
"You waste your time with this bastard. He's not good
enough to kiss your boots. He'll seduce you just like he did
my sister, and if he marries you, which I doubt he's man
enough to do, he'll kill you just the same."

"You disgusting leech," Stephen warned. "You're lucky
I don't call you out at dawn. Unfortunately, Phoebe's reputation is at stake." He thrust his hand through his hair.
"Emily's dead. Nothing you or I do will ever bring her
back. Let it end. Here. Tonight."

Stephen barely spared Lemmer another passing glance. He
collected Phoebe and tromped from the room, weaving his
way throughout the house. Silence reigned between them,
the air too charged for speech. She knew she should return
to the ballroom and appear as though nothing had happened, but she couldn't leave Stephen in his current frame
of mind. He'd likely go back and beat Lemmer another
time or two.

Stephen stopped outside a door she didn't recognize and
thrust her inside. The room was dimly lit, but she recognized the objects of war. Swords and shields of every shape
and size adorned the walls. A wooden case housed daggers
big and small, each sharpened to deadly points. When
Stephen slammed the door behind him, she realized his
anger had not yet cooled. She was about to become the
recipient of a blistering lecture. She positioned herself
beside a full suit of armor on the far side of the room, hop ing the stuffed mannequin might somehow offer support.
She feared she would need it.

"Are you so desperate for a husband you now lure your
prey into dark corners? To test my patience? To allow other
men to touch you then make comparisons?"

"Allow me to explain."

"I have warned you repeatedly about that man."

"My aunt is responsible. She was supposed to enter, discover Lemmer and I together and somehow or another
make me appear the wanton, forcing Lemmer and I to
marry."

"Any number of men could have followed you after you
paraded yourself before them all night long. Your behavior
was irresponsible. This would not have happened in the
first place if you had bothered to think."

He circled the room, pacing, very much like he had earlier at Chanctonbury Ring. His voice was brittle. He dared
to accuse her? After he had ignored her all evening? After
her uninhibited response to his touch just this afternoon?
Her temper, fueled by his unwillingness to listen and
heightened by Lemmer's attack, exploded. "Don't you
dare lay this at my feet, you arrogant, egotistical prig.
You're blinded by jealousy and have already set your mind
to my fault and refuse to see my side."

"Hah. No man will sit back and deny himself when
something is flaunted so openly. I think we proved that
most effectively earlier today." Stopping beside a round
oak table, he planted his hands on either side of an ornate
helmet with a ghastly spike on the top. "If he does, he is a
fool."

"And you are anything but a fool?"

"Exactly."

She marched across the room, no longer content to stand
idly by and defend herself. She had a point to make as well. "Yet you deny me because you fear a woman you
never met, a ridiculous curse." She tossed her head toward
the ceiling and snorted. "And you dare call me foolish! You
act the injured party simply because I choose to grasp my
fate with both hands."

He leaned forward. "You grasp a cold piece of earth and
stone. You've chosen wealth rather than the pleasure I
know you find with me. You cling to dreams of love like a
naive child. I hate to remind you, but love is an illusion
glorified by idealistic poets and grasping, melancholy
mothers. Love does not conquer all. Love does not guarantee happiness."

She mirrored his position and boldly met his gaze, her
nose mere inches from his. "I'd rather believe in something
good and pure than cling to my cynicism and fear like a
coward. Marsden Manor is more than a place to live. If I
can't have my freedom, then allow me to choose a life I
can tolerate." She stared at him with fire in her eyes. "Yes,
I dream and wish and pray for love, for a husband who
greets me with affection and respect. He will listen to me,
talk with me, and grow old with me. And what of children?
Little ones to tuck into bed at night, to carry on the legacy
I leave them. If I become your mistress, I lose all hope for
all those things. You would win the battle, but in the end,
we both would lose the war."

Dear God, how her words burned deep within his heart.
He wanted all those things. With her. Only he was terrified.
If he married her, he sentenced her to death. Even if the
curse were an illusion, a reflection of his own actions, how
could he take the risk? He already cared more than he
dared.

"Fine. Hold fast to your childish dreams, the illusion,
and dare to find the man to give them to you. I cannot
marry you. I will not marry you. Take your remaining days. Try to make yourself a match. I shall be waiting." He
whirled on his heels and fled the room.

A solitary tear rolled down Phoebe's cheek. Her heart felt
tattered, ripped in two. The fool man. He cared. She knew
he did. He fled his own demons, and she could not overcome them. Phoebe felt her mood tip precariously toward
despair.

In the looming silence, metal clanged against metal like
a parish bell. She froze as her mind wildly considered the
unfortunate possibility that someone else occupied the
room and had witnessed her scene with Stephen. She
almost laughed. With her luck, the Prince Regent, his
entourage and forty or so other people hid in a corner. How
dare someone eavesdrop? She fisted her hands on her hips
and reeled about, her stance one of belligerence. Her gaze
searched the room. "Who's there?" She waited, tapping
her toe in agitation as she often did. Finally a shadow
parted from the wall near the far corner of the room. As the
apparition moved closer, Phoebe recognized his bold features. She groaned. "Lord Tewksbury."

He bowed slightly. "Good evening."

The time for pretenses had come and gone. "Well, kick a
rock. It seems my life is to be invaded by men whether I
like it or not. How long were you present, sir?"

Avoiding her probing stare, he absently studied a pair of
crossed swords above the doorway and cleared his throat
several times. At least he had the good grace to be embarrassed. He'd apparently heard every miserable word she
and Stephen had shared. "Never mind," she muttered. "My
luck continues to go from bad to worse. Why were you
hiding?"

"I came here to ease the pain in my head. You and Lord
Badrick entered on my heels. I never truly saw an oppor tune time to make my presence known. If I may say, Lord
Badrick is making a mistake."

"On that we agree."

"What shall you do?"