The Beloved Scoundrel (14 page)

The air was suddenly heavy and hard to breathe. “I’m not interested in your mistresses or this—”

“Good, for I refuse to discuss them further with you.” He leaned against the rim of the fountain. “It’s indelicate for a young virgin to—”

“Will you stop calling me that!”

“I have to keep reminding myself. Gregor will tell you that I have a poor memory when it suits my convenience.” He looked down at the water. “Actually, it does little good in this case. I don’t care a whit whether you’re a virgin or not. In fact, it makes the prospect of teaching you pleasure all the more appealing.”

Heat flooded her face. “Mrs. Jenson said you wished to bid me good-bye. Good-bye, Your Grace.”

“I had a few other things to discuss.” He lifted his gaze from the water. “I want you.”

Shock tore through her. She had not expected that
stark, raw sentence. “You want only a woman to sate your lust. Go back to Mrs. Carruthers.”

“I assure you I shall, and many other women besides. I have no desire to have this passion for a stubborn chit who may someday prove to be my enemy. I have the greatest hopes this may be a temporary madness.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m trying to be honest with you in this so you will trust what I say now.” He paused. “I also … like … and admire you. I believe, in time, it’s possible we may be friends.”

She stared at him in astonishment.

“For God’s sake, why do you think you weren’t in my bed on the
Seastorm
?” he burst out. “You bound me, and you did the same in the tower.”

“I did nothing to you.”

“You bound me,” he repeated through his teeth. “And I have no liking for it.” He drew a deep breath, and then his expression changed and became mocking. “But I’ve accepted it and now must try to wrest something from the situation.”

“What?”

“We will become friends.”

She shook her head doubtfully.

“I repeat, we will become friends.”

His tone was so grim, she found herself smiling. “Or you’ll cut off my head?”

“That’s not the alternative I had in mind.” He turned and strode back toward the phaeton. “That’s all I had to say. I thought you should have time to become used to the idea before I return from London.”

She trailed behind him, staring in bemusement at the straight line of his back. “When will that be?”

“Within two weeks.”

She said with irony, “How kind of you to give me such a long time. Your patience is truly astonishing.”

“I never claimed to be patient. I prefer things done yesterday.” He stepped into the phaeton and took up the reins. “I’m sure you have enough to keep you occupied while I’m gone, and I’m leaving Gregor here to amuse you.”

She was careful not to reveal her relief. “Amuse me or guard me?”

“I’m not worried about you running away. You have too much to lose at present. You have no money, and you wouldn’t cast Alex back into the same situation you faced in Montavia. I assure you, England can be just as cruel to the poor.”

He was echoing every fear she had held since she had decided to come to this country. “I will stay here only as long as I wish.”

“Then we must make sure you wish to stay here until both our purposes are accomplished.”

The Jedalar.

He met her gaze and nodded. “You could agree to give it to me,” he said softly. “We could work together. It would be a good deal easier for you.”

“No, it wouldn’t. That would be true only if our goals were the same.” She started up the steps. “Good journey.”

“Your chaperon will arrive this afternoon,” he called after her.

She turned to look at him. “Chaperon?”

“Gregor suggested we hire a maid to act as your abigail, but I decided we need a more intimidating barrier between us.” He grimaced. “As I find no one
more intimidating than Cousin Dorothy, I sent for her.”

“I will not have a chaperon. Merciful heavens, aren’t there enough people at Cambaron?”

“You will think there are when Cousin Dorothy arrives.” He snapped the reins, and the horses sprang forward. “Good luck.”

“Cousin Dorothy?” Gregor was coming down the steps toward her. “What is this about Cousin Dorothy?”

She watched Jordan drive through the gates. “She is coming here to be my chaperon. He sent for her. Who is Cousin Dorothy?”

“Lady Dorothy Kinmar of Dorchester. Jordan’s second cousin.” A sudden smile lit his face. “This is good. Jordan has always found her a very difficult woman.”

“It is not good. I don’t need a chaperon. Why won’t anyone listen to me? All I want to do is work.”

“No one needs a chaperon as much as you, and Cousin Dorothy will do splendidly.” He patted her shoulder. “Do not worry. I think you will like her. She has a tongue like an asp but a kind heart. She also has great learning for a woman. They call her a …” He frowned, searching for the word. “Bluestocking.”

“I don’t care what they call her. When she gets here, send her home.”

He shook his head. “If you want it done, do it yourself.” He grinned. “But be sure I’m here to see it. It should be very interesting.”

C
HAPTER
6

W
here is she?” The words, boomed out by a voice that was a feminine counterpart of Gregor’s, bounced off the arched ceiling of the hall. “I want to take a look at her.”

“Cousin Dorothy,” Gregor murmured. He gestured for Marianna to precede him out of the study. “Let us hasten and send her on her way.”

The strapping woman standing in the hall must be near her thirtieth year, towered over six feet and exuded a tremendously forceful air. She was dressed in a fashionable purple silk gown that flattered her pale complexion and rich brown-red hair. A small hat decorated with purple flowers perched over her broad forehead and accented rather than concealed the mass of hair caught back in a sleek bun. She was not a comely woman, but her brown eyes sparkled with vitality, and her spine was rod straight, her carriage magnificent. She wheeled to face Gregor and Marianna as they came into the hall. “Good day, Gregor.” Her gaze shifted to Marianna. “This is the girl?”

“I am Marianna Sanders, my lady.”

“Gadzooks, no wonder Jordan risked sending for me.” Her glance ran over Marianna from head to toe. “Exquisite. How old is she?”

“Sixteen,” Gregor said.

“And how long has she been under his roof?”

“A week at Cambaron.”

“And before that?”

“We brought her from Montavia.”

Dorothy Kinmar groaned. “And he expects me to set this aright? There is bound to be gossip.”

“He has supreme confidence in you.”

Marianna was tired of them talking over her head. “I do not need a chaperon. It is kind of you to come, but I think you must go back to—”

“Be quiet, girl.” Dorothy nibbled at her lower lip. “It is possible, but it will take all my considerable intellect.”

“I will not be quiet,” Marianna said. She had enough of this. She drew up herself to her full height, but she was still pitifully little in comparison with this giantess. “And I think you rude to suggest it. I do not need you, I will not have you, and there’s the end of it.” She turned on her heel and quickly climbed the staircase. She heard Gregor’s chuckle and was aware of the woman’s startled gaze on the middle of her back until she passed from view.

A few moments later she slammed the door of the tower room and hurried over to the table. A feeling of peace immediately surged through her, quieting the anger. This was her world. She was safe here, and she would not let them take her away from it. First, Gregor with his dratted lessons, and now this female dragon who looked at her as if she was a clump of dirt left by the chimney sweep.

“You do need me, you know.”

She stiffened, her gaze flying to the doorway. Dorothy Kinmar came into the room and closed the door. She glanced around the barren tower. “This is quite nice.”

Marianna stared at her in disbelief.

“Well, don’t you think it is?”

“Yes,” she said. “But everyone else thinks it’s a desolate place.”

“You do not wish comfort when you’re bidding the muse to come to you. I have a room that is similar to this in my house in Dorchester where I do my writing.” She smiled. “Though I confess I do pamper myself with a fire.”

Her smile was surprisingly sweet, illuminating her bold features with warmth. Marianna’s lips reluctantly curved in response. “I do dress warmly. You write?”

“I’ve written several books dealing with the shameful lack of freedom given women in our society.” She added proudly, “And Mary Wollstonecraft herself did me the honor of writing me a letter of praise on one of my earlier volumes.”

She was obviously supposed to know the identity of this Mary Wollstonecraft. “How pleasant.”

She looked around the workroom. “You’ve not done much since you’ve been here.”

“I’ve had interruptions. Which I’m now trying to avoid.”

The woman ignored the broad hint. “Are you good at this making of glass?”

“I’m very good. I shall be much better.”

This time the smile was wider, revealing large, even teeth. “At least you don’t lower your eyes and stammer modestly. A woman should be confident. If
she has something to say, she should say it. Did Gregor say your father was also a writer?”

“My father was a poet.”

“Oh, that’s right. I seldom read poetry.” She came over to the table. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“He had only one poem published five years ago. ‘Ode to an Autumn Day.’ It was lovely.”

She looked at her searchingly. “Was it truly?”

To her astonishment Marianna found herself telling the truth. “No, he wasn’t a good poet, but he was a very good man.”

“So you lied to him and praised him and made him happy.” Dorothy’s lips curled. “And put your neck beneath the chariot of the oppressor.”

“He was not in the least oppressive, and I see nothing wrong in making someone you care about happy.” She was growing weary of defending poor sweet Papa. “It’s time you left, my lady.”

“Dorothy.” She gestured impatiently. “I’ve offended you. You’ll find it’s a habit of mine. I’m not one to mince words.” She looked around the workroom. “I believe we’ll get on better than I thought. You’re no milk-and-water namby-pamby. I was afraid at the first put-down I’d have to catch you as you swooned.” She grimaced. “I have little patience for such nonsense.”

“You will not have to display patience … in Dorchester.” She paused. “I have no need of you here.”

“Gregor thinks you do, and Jordan would certainly never have invited me here, if he hadn’t had reason.” Her eyes narrowed on Marianna’s face. “Tell me, did he attempt you?”

Heat burned Marianna’s cheeks at the bluntness of the question.

“You don’t need to answer. Most unusual. Jordan has always determinedly avoided youngsters.” Dorothy smiled cynically. “What is more unusual is that he’s chosen to protect you from himself.” She walked over to the window and looked out at the hills in the distance. “I might make the
ton
accept you, but I will—”

“I don’t want anyone to accept me. I want to be left in peace.”

“And what of your brother? Children can be savages and follow their parents’ example. Do you want the village children to throw rocks and filthy words at him because his sister is a whore?”

“No!”

“Then you must not be a whore in anyone’s eyes.”

It was the argument Gregor had used, and the one she couldn’t refute. “And I suppose you can prevent this by your mere presence?”

“No, it will take a good deal more than that. Though I have a certain presence that tends to cow the easily frightened.”

And the not so easily frightened, Marianna thought.

“And, due to my father, who was a shameless gossip, I have a store of scandalous secrets on almost every family at Prinny’s court.”

“What good would that do?”

Dorothy’s brows lifted in surprise. “That’s the first hint of naïveté I’ve seen in you. One tends to forget how young you are. It is a weapon, my dear.” She drew herself up to her majestic height. “Now, we
must come to terms. I have no intention of fighting the
ton and
you. Will you give me your cooperation?”

What else could she do if she was to protect Alex? she thought resignedly. Life at Cambaron was becoming increasingly complicated. “Within reason.” She added quickly, “And as long as it doesn’t disturb my work.”

“Done. We will work around it.” She frowned. “We must have a plan.”

“You mean a lie. You sound like Gregor.”

“Actually, Gregor did quite well, but we must do better. You are fifteen, not sixteen. It’s only one year, but considering everyone knows of Jordan’s dislike of young girls, perhaps it will help a little. We will say you are a bookish young miss interested only in her lessons and her hobby.”

“Working with glass is not my hobby.”

“It is now. Craftsmen are not acceptable to the
ton.
”

“Then all the more reason why I should not try to enter their ranks.”

“Your brother,” Dorothy reminded her.

Marianna’s hand clenched on the pen. “I will not spend one more minute than necessary on this nonsense.”

“Don’t worry, I could not trust you for long periods. You would ruin everything.” She frowned. “Now, when Jordan is here, there must always be guests. On no account must you be alone with him.”