To Seduce a Bride (15 page)

Still shivering, Lily wrapped her arms around herself as the awful memory swept over her. Doubtless that was why she had reacted so fiercely this time—because she'd dealt with similar physical violence before.

When she remained silent, Claybourne spoke again. “I take it that was O'Rourke, here to collect the gaming debt owed him.”

She emitted a short, humorless laugh. “I believe so. I didn't take the time to ask. When I found him threatening Fleur, all I could think about was stopping him.”

Claybourne searched her face as his jaw hardened. “I will be more than happy to deal with O'Rourke for you.”

It touched her that he was so ready to step in to protect her, Lily thought as his perceptive eyes regarded her intently. There was concern there in the hazel depths, along with anger. Anger she knew was on her behalf.

Her own anger had mostly dissipated by now, but a darker emotion compressed her chest, welling up inside her with suffocating force. She couldn't ward off the grim memories of that summer day when she was sixteen, when she'd intervened in her parents' worst battle.

For most of her childhood, Lily had taken refuge in the stables whenever they fought, but that particular day she had returned to the house unexpectedly. Upon hearing screams, she rushed into the drawing room, only to find her father striking her mother in a violent rage, pummelling her body…her breasts, her ribs, her stomach.

For one horrified moment Lily stood frozen with heart-pounding fear, unable to breathe. Then hearing another helpless cry from her mother, she stumbled blindly forward and reached for the only weapon at hand—a knife used to pare quill pens. Her stomach roiling, she raised the blade high, brandishing it at her father threateningly, swearing to stab him with it if he didn't leave Mama alone.

Thank God he had heeded her.

Despite his shock and fury, Sir Charles appeared to believe her warning. He spun on his heel and stalked from the room, leaving Lily to console her bitterly sobbing mother.

To her knowledge, her father had never again raised a hand to her mother, but Lily had vowed then and there never to let any man hurt her like that.

Shutting her eyes, she shuddered at the raw remembrance that still burned deep inside her. She still recalled the horror she'd felt. The gut-wrenching helplessness. The revulsion. The fear. She had hated her father in those few moments. And she had never forgiven him for his brutality.

Lily could feel Claybourne's penetrating gaze on her now, even before he spoke again in a quiet voice. “What is it, sweetheart? Something has upset you, and I don't believe it was only that you had to chase a bully from the house.”

Perhaps she should explain…. But no. She had no desire to share her most intimate fears with the marquess. She already felt too vulnerable to him.

Why, she had never even told her sisters about the dreadful incident when she'd threatened to kill her own father; her mother hadn't wanted them to know. Basil was the only one who had learned the ugly truth, and that was because he'd happened upon Lily shortly afterward, when she was still too upset to stop herself from spilling the sordid details.

Indeed, she had tried to block them from her memory for years. But a woman's natural fear of physical violence from a bigger, stronger male had always stayed with her.

Which was why, when Claybourne raised a hand to touch her cheek, Lily flinched and drew back sharply.

At her instinctively fearful response, he stilled and lowered his hand. “You should allow me to help,” he said quietly.

His gentleness made her feel even worse, since she knew she had greatly overreacted.

Biting her lip, Lily dragged in a deep breath. “Thank you, but I think we can deal with O'Rourke ourselves.”

“At the very least I can make certain he won't call here again.”

Perhaps so,
Lily thought,
but I don't wish to be so deeply obligated to you.
“I think it might be better if Fanny deals with O'Rourke. They once were lovers, so she is most likely to persuade him to give us more time. I suspect he won't look kindly on your interference, especially after you witnessed what I just did to him.”

Claybourne hesitated. “Even so, he needs to know that your friends have a protector.”

Lily's mouth curled. “I'm afraid that won't help much. They still owe O'Rourke an enormous sum.”

“Ah, yes, the thirty thousand pounds.”

His pause was longer this time, and when it ended, his tone was thoughtful. “I have a proposition for you. I will pay off their debt if you will agree to marry me.”

Her gaze swung back to him, her eyes narrowing. “You cannot be serious.”

A hint of rueful amusement flickered in his own eyes. “Why do you always refuse to believe me, love? I know my own mind. Thirty thousand pounds for your hand in marriage. Some might think it a very fair bargain.”

Lily locked her jaw, vexed that he thought he could simply buy her for his wife. She was anxious to help her friends, yet she didn't wish to make
that
immense a sacrifice, entering into a marriage of convenience to absolve their huge debt. Yet hopefully she wouldn't have to.

“We don't require such magnanimity from you, my lord,” she eventually replied. “If we are fortunate, we will have the funds within a few weeks. You know of our plans for the soiree. Our boarders should be able to help pay off the debt to O'Rourke shortly.”

“What if he insists on being paid now?” Claybourne asked. “You don't want your friends to wind up in prison.”

Lily pressed her lips together. “I won't let that happen. Marcus settled twenty thousand pounds on me. If need be, they can have that.”

He raised an eyebrow, evidently surprised. “You would donate your entire fortune to save them?”

“It is far better than the alternative.”

“What about the other ten thousand they owe?”

“I will prevail upon Marcus or Lady Freemantle to loan me the money. They are both rich as nabobs. And Fanny has written a book that will be published next month. The publisher believes the subject—advice to young ladies who are searching for husbands—will be in great demand, and if so, the income will help her repay O'Rourke.”

“But I can fund the entire debt now.”

His persistence made Lily smile, albeit briefly. “You are exceedingly generous, my lord, but I must decline your proposition. At some point I may be desperate enough to consider it, but not just yet.”

She doubted she would ever be that desperate, she added to herself. Her fracas with O'Rourke a few moments ago had forcibly reminded her exactly why she didn't want to turn control of her fate over to a husband. She couldn't, wouldn't, trust any man enough to marry him and give him that kind of power over her.

Lord Claybourne might not be the sort who would ever strike a woman, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her just as badly if she were legally tied to him, unable to escape. If she were trapped in a union where she was considered his property to do with as he pleased, just as her mother had been her father's property.

Uncomfortable with Claybourne's searching look, Lily changed the subject. “Speaking of the soiree…have you invited some of your acquaintances as you promised?”

“I have begun issuing invitations, yes.”

“And were you able to find the sort of gentlemen I hoped for? Bachelors who are kind and gentle and who are wealthy enough to provide our boarders with good lives?”

“Your standards are not easily met, but I am making progress. I expect to bring close to a dozen suitable candidates.”

“Good.” She exhaled a sigh. Although her tremors had stopped, her chest still felt heavy, and there was still the grave issue of how to deal with O'Rourke to be determined.

“I must go,” Lily said. “I need to see how Fleur is after her ordeal, and to help Fanny decide what must be done about O'Rourke.”

She rose, but when Claybourne stood also, she hesitated. “Forgive me, I forgot. I promised you tea. You are welcome to remain if you like, or you might prefer to return tomorrow when things should be more settled.”

His smile was wry. “I'll stay now, thank you. I can't afford to turn down an invitation to be with you. I only have a fortnight to win our game, remember?”

His light tone made Lily relax a little; she felt infinitely more comfortable returning to their game than dealing with his tenderness. “I will be sure to tell Fleur and Chantel of your generous offer to pay their debt. They will likely award you another point.”

“The points don't concern me as much as knowing whether O'Rourke will be bent on retaliation. He won't thank you for showing him up, even if you were entirely in the right.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “I know. I suppose I should write him a note of apology and assure him that we plan to repay his debt…although my first inclination is probably best. We should let Fanny deal with him. She knows far better than I how to soothe a man's wounded pride.”

When she began moving down the corridor, Claybourne accompanied her. “True. But if you mean to keep attacking men who are much larger than you, you should learn how to fight.”

Her gaze arresting, she glanced up at him, wondering if he was just making idle conversation. “Are you offering to teach me fisticuffs, my lord?”

His chuckle was low and amused. “The thought gives me palpitations. I would far rather you cease tilting at windmills and endangering yourself so frequently…but I suppose that is too much to ask.”

“Indeed it is,” Lily said sweetly. “But I have always wanted to learn how to fence. Mama wouldn't hear of it when I was growing up. My virtually living in the stables was bad enough for her. I understand that Marcus and you and your friend Arden are expert swordsmen.”

“We do well enough,” he acknowledged. “We practice regularly…or we did before Marcus and Arden lost their hearts to your sisters.”

Lily eyed him thoughtfully. “If you were to give me fencing lessons, I could learn how to defend myself better. I know how to shoot but not how to wield a rapier.”

Claybourne laughed outright at that. “Will I earn points for instructing you?”

Her answer was slow in coming as she debated whether it was worth giving him such an easy chance to increase his score. Yet she wished she had known how to wield a sword when she was sixteen. And she very much wanted to know now how to deal with brutes like Mick O'Rourke and those bullies they'd encountered in the alley who had been beating a helpless dog. “If you insist.”

“Very well, then. We can begin tomorrow if you can make time in your busy schedule.”

“I am certain I can spare an hour around two in the afternoon, my lord.”

“Can you devote another hour? I have a salon at home designed specifically for fencing matches.”

Lily shook her head. She didn't want to be alone with Lord Claybourne for that length of time, certainly not in his domain. “Can't we hold my lesson here? The parlor we used to teach dancing should be large enough.”

He nodded. “That will serve better than my salon, I expect. It could harm your reputation to be seen at a bachelor's residence, engaged in a man's sport.”

They had reached the sitting room door by then, so Lily paused just outside. “I don't care much about my reputation, you know.”

“But I do, sweeting. I will bring my practice foils with me when I call. Only…I have one condition if I'm to teach you.”

“What condition is that?”

“That you call me by my given name instead of ‘my lord.' My name is Heath.”

Heath watched her struggle to decide if the familiarity of using first names was worth her desire to learn the art of swordsmanship.

“Very well,” she finally said. “I shall call you Heath. But your lessons had best be stellar, or you will go back to being ‘my lord.'”

He grinned as she turned to enter the sitting room, congratulating himself on winning a minor battle. Yet Lily had won one of her own by convincing him to suspend his better judgment and tutor her in fencing.

Still, he had gotten the best of the bargain. Not only would he enjoy spending time with her; it would allow him the chance to intensify his campaign to woo her. He had a much more interesting lesson in mind than teaching her the rudiments of fencing.

Shoving a hand through his hair, Heath laughed softly to himself upon realizing just how calculating and manipulative he'd become with Lily. He was no better than many of the debutantes who had relentlessly pursued him over the years.

But she had given him little choice, he thought, following her into the sitting room.

When she went directly to her friends to embrace them, however, Heath stood back to permit them some time together. Fleur seemed to be holding up well after her confrontation with O'Rourke, but Chantel was trembling and making weak, fluttering gestures with a silk fan. Fanny, on the other hand, was obviously trying hard to control her temper.

When the four women began talking at once, Heath kept his gaze fixed on Lily. She was a fascinating maze of contradictions, infuriatingly headstrong and stubborn, yet amazingly generous and compassionate and loyal. She wouldn't give an inch in their courtship game, yet she was ready to give away her fortune to her friends if they needed it.

Lily was also delightfully novel and intriguing. And courageous and tenacious to the point of being foolhardy. Heath remembered her feistiness when she'd chased O'Rourke with that bronze statue. It might have been humorous if he hadn't feared what a man like O'Rourke might do in revenge.

Even so, he couldn't fault Lily entirely for her passion in defending the weak. It was one of the things he admired most about her.

She had her own weakness, though, Heath was coming to realize. Not for the first time he'd sensed vulnerability beneath that firebrand demeanor. He'd seen the tormented look that had crossed her features once she had won her skirmish with the gamester. Something wounded had flashed behind her eyes, a haunted glimmer that had made Heath want to hold her, to comfort her.