Touch of Passion (30 page)

“Beg pardon, miss. His Lordship has a visitor and asks you to come to the blue parlor to meet him as quick as it's convenient, please.”

Loris smiled. Since she'd come to live with him her grandfather had busily been introducing her to all of his friends and acquaintances. It seemed that he wanted the whole world to know that he had found his granddaughter at last, and Loris was more than happy to do his bidding. And she had enjoyed meeting all his friends, especially those whom he'd known for so long that they were able to tell Loris about her mother.

“Please have Fuller inform the earl that I'll come at once. Oh, Elen, wait a moment and you may take this for me as well.” Loris folded the missive and sealed it with a bit of wax, then rose and went to the door. “Give this to Fuller and ask him to post it for me, please.”

Elen looked at the letter, then cast a smile at her mistress. “Another letter to the master, miss?” she said. “That's the fourth this week.”

“Yes, it is,” Loris said, “and I shall probably write another tomorrow, though I'm sure that's not any concern of yours. It's a good thing you've decided not to stay in Town, for I doubt any of the households here would put up with your cheek.”

“That's because they're all English, miss,” said Elen. “They don't have a sense of humor like we Welsh do.” Then she curtsied and departed, leaving Loris to wonder at how and why the maid's mood had so greatly improved. Had it been only weeks past that Elen had been complaining about how dull life in Tylluan was?

Five minutes later Loris was descending the grand staircase that led toward the floor where not only the library and
her grandfather's study were, but also three parlors, each identified by a different color. There was the blue parlor, which her grandfather preferred for greeting mixed company, the rose parlor, where Loris was expected to entertain ladies—though the only one she'd yet entertained there was Julia—and the green parlor, which was kept for the private use of the family. It was in this parlor that Loris and her grandfather sometimes sat in the evenings before the fire, enjoying each other's company and playing chess. Loris was learning the game and hadn't yet mastered the moves, but Lord Perham was patient and kind and was glad that she showed an interest. Chess was one of his passions.

Fuller opened the parlor door for her, announcing her arrival as she walked into the room. It seemed foolish to Loris that a servant should be required to do such a thing when she could very well open her own doors and announce her own arrival, but her grandfather insisted that a lady of birth and wealth shouldn't be made to do anything for herself. Loris even had a maid to brush her hair out at night. Kian would laugh himself sick when she at last returned to Tylluan and told him of it.

Lord Perham and his guest were sitting in high-back chairs near the fire, one of the earl's several chess tables set between them. Loris could see at once from the position of the pieces that her grandfather had found a far more challenging partner to play with.

The men left off scowling at the board and rose to their feet. Her grandfather stepped toward her, a hand outstretched and a smile on his face.

“Here you are, my dear.”

Loris reached up to kiss his cheek. “I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Grandfather. I came as quickly as I could. I see you were well occupied.”

“Yes indeed,” he said, patting her hand. “You'll remember the particular friend I've told you of, my dear, who spent this past Christmas with me at Perham Hall, and who meets me at the chess club each Thursday when we're both in
Town, and who I've been particularly anxious for you to meet.”

“Of course, sir,” Loris said. Her grandfather had spoken of the fellow often and always in the most glowing terms. She had the distinct feeling that Lord Perham had hopes that Viscount Brecmont would develop a romantic interest in her.

The earl had become alarmed by the foolish rumors being whispered about Town, saying that Loris already had a secret understanding with one of the Seymour men. She had assured her grandfather that it wasn't so, but though he believed there wasn't any interest on Malachi's behalf, he found the amount of time she spent with and her affection for Dyfed to be rather worrisome. The earl hadn't understood when Loris had tried to explain that Dyfed was like a brother to her, for apparently brothers and sisters among the
ton
weren't given to such frequent or open expressions of affection and rarely spent so much time together day after day and evening after evening.

Added to this was the foolish battle that had arisen between her grandfather and Lord Graymar over who would make important decisions regarding Loris's life.

Loris had never realized just how competitive a man the Earl of Graymar could be, but he was seriously displeased to find Lord Perham attempting to take charge of her Season. Lord Graymar made his will known at every turn, especially at balls and parties, where he and Niclas and Dyfed made a purposeful display of controlling who she danced or conversed with.

There was little that her grandfather could do to counter their behavior in such public places, save to find champions of his own. Viscount Brecmont, Loris believed, was to be the first of these. He was an ideal candidate from what Loris had heard of him, being both young and unmarried and, best of all, an excellent chess player. He was also, her grandfather had said, coming to London with the express purpose of finding a wife this Season. Lord Perham had even been hinting
that he wouldn't at all mind having the viscount for a grandson-in-law.

Loris had wondered, amused, whether her grandfather wasn't more interested in bringing a permanent chess partner into the family rather than finding a suitable husband for his granddaughter. But either way, it would be quite a coup to push Loris into an engagement with a man of his own choosing, rather than Lord Graymar's. She understood very well that the earl didn't want her returning to Tylluan or to the bosom of the Seymours.

Viscount Brecmont, Loris discovered as she turned to smile at him in welcome, was an astonishingly handsome young gentleman, just as her grandfather had promised. He wouldn't be looking for a bride long once all the eligible come-outs and their mamas got a good look at him. And he was rich, as well, or so Loris had inferred from her grandfather's description. The viscount was very tall and muscular, with hair as black as a raven's wing and lovely green eyes. His smile, which he gifted her with in return, would slay the hearts of every female in a crowded ballroom within but moments.

“Lord Brecmont has come to London at last,” the earl said, “and, more importantly, has arrived to take up the little battle we've been carrying on for the past several years.” He smiled at his guest. “We have been tied in matches at the end of each of those seasons, excepting when he was absent from Town two years past, but I have a feeling that this Season I'll come out the winner. Now that my granddaughter has been found, I can fix my mind solely on beating you, Brecmont.”

“I will be glad to be beaten if finding Miss McClendon is the cause,” Viscount Brecmont countered nobly.

The inflection of his voice caught Loris's attention, and her gaze sharpened. He was Welsh. Though he spoke with the refined accent of the nobility, she had caught the unmistakable musical quality underlying his tone.

“Loris,” Lord Perham said, and she had seldom heard such anticipation in his tone, “I make known to you my dear friend Tauron Cadmaran, Viscount Brecmont. Brecmont, this is my granddaughter, Miss McClendon.”

Loris had been in the midst of making a proper curtsy, but at the sound of Lord Brecmont's full name her head snapped up and she straightened full-height.

“
Cadmaran?
” she repeated.

She stared at him wide-eyed. Loris had never met a Cadmaran before, but one of the first things that Ffinian had taught her, which had been drummed into her heart and mind and soul by everyone at Tylluan and all the Seymours, was that Cadmarans were evil. And dangerous. And very powerful. At all costs they were not to be trifled with or ever trusted. And they certainly weren't to be allowed into the homes of good and decent people like her grandfather!

She took a stumbling step backward, almost as if she expected the viscount to suddenly strike her, and the earl grasped her arm, his thick eyebrows snapping together with concern.

“Loris? Are you all right?”

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled, striving to collect herself. How foolish! Of course Lord Brecmont wasn't going to attack her in her grandfather's home. Cadmarans were devious, not stupid. The man played chess with her grandfather, for pity's sake. “Forgive me, my lord,” she said. “My feet didn't wish to obey me. Lord Brecmont.” She made another curtsy—successfully, this time—and rose to find him making her another elegant bow.

When he straightened he smiled again, looking perfectly angelic, though she could see from the slightly amused expression in his gaze that he understood what her thoughts toward him were.

“Miss McClendon,” he murmured, “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to make your acquaintance. I had heard rumors of your beauty, and my dear friend Lord Perham assured me they were true when we met at the chess club, but I could scarce believe such a woman exists. I see now that she does.”

Loris tried, but failed, to keep from glaring at the man. She didn't wish to embarrass or disappoint her grandfather, but he didn't know who, or rather what, his good friend truly was.

“Thank you, sir,” she said icily.

“Loris,” her grandfather murmured with a touch of distress, clearly surprised by her manner.

“Please don't be angry by your granddaughter's reaction to being introduced to me, my lord,” the viscount said. “I should have warned you beforehand that she has good cause to be distressed by the acquaintance.”

Lord Perham looked at him. “How so?”

“Miss McClendon is already very familiar with my cousin the Earl of Llew. His estate lies not far from Tylluan, and he and Lord Tylluan are not, unfortunately, the friendliest of neighbors. I believe you are acquainted with Lord Llew also, are you not, sir?”

“Of course,” Lord Perham stated, shocking Loris even further. She gaped at her grandfather, who gave her a rather stern look. “I've known the Earl of Llew for years,” he told her. “The Cadmarans are one of the oldest and most respected families in England. Morcar Cadmaran is not only my peer but also a notable gentleman in every regard. As is Viscount Brecmont.”

“You are kind, my lord,” Viscount Brecmont said, “but, you see, there has not been much love between the Cadmaran and Seymour families for many years. Hundreds of years, in fact. It is an ancient feud between two ancient Welsh clans.” He gave a shake of his handsome head. “It would take far too long to explain the whole of it, I fear, but please believe me when I say that your granddaughter, having lived with the Seymours for so many years, has good cause to take every Cadmaran she meets in dislike. I apologize for not having warned you of what her reaction must be.”

“Why, that's ridiculous,” Lord Perham stated. “Loris wouldn't be so foolish as to treat anyone badly because of some old misunderstanding. And,” he added, looking directly
at her, “she is neither a Seymour nor living beneath the hands of Seymours any longer. She has no fight with any man, certainly not one who is a particular friend of mine.”

“But, Grandfather,” she whispered, drawing nearer, “you don't understand. If I could but explain—”

“That's enough, young lady,” he said angrily, clearly hurt by what he perceived as her loyalty to the Seymours and by her admittedly uncivil behavior to his guest. “We'll speak of it no more. Beg Lord Brecmont's pardon and then be so good as to ring for tea.”

“No apology is necessary, my lord,” the viscount said quickly.

Loris knew that her grandfather would insist. If she'd learned anything about Lord Perham in the past few weeks, it was that he was a stickler for the proprieties. But he surprised her by saying, “Very well, Brecmont. If you're quite sure.”

“I am,” Lord Brecmont said.

Loris looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. Cadmarans were almost all greater wizards, which meant that Viscount Brecmont must possess a good deal of magic. She suspected that he'd just used a measure of it on her grandfather. The thought gave her pause. She was a mere mortal and wouldn't be immune to the viscount's powers, either.

“However,” Lord Brecmont went on, his tone light and charming, as was the smile he gave them both, “I would like the opportunity to prove to Miss McClendon that we need not be enemies, regardless of the misunderstandings that have taken place between our families—pardon—between my family and her friends. Would you grant me the honor of taking your granddaughter driving this afternoon, my lord? I should be most grateful.”

“A splendid idea,” Lord Perham said just as Loris replied, firmly, “
No
.”

Her grandfather gave her a thunderous look. “My granddaughter will be
pleased
, Brecmont.”

Loris shook her head. “Sir, I cannot—”

He ignored her. “She'll be ready at five, sir,” he told his guest. “You may come for her then.”

And so it was, three hours later, that Loris found herself sitting beside Tauron Cadmaran in an elegant curricle, driving through Hyde Park at the height of the fashionable hour, being stared at by all those who saw them.

She had argued with her grandfather to no avail. He'd countered all her explanations as to why she shouldn't befriend a Cadmaran—any Cadmaran—by saying that they were quite foolish. But that was understandable, Loris was forced to admit. Without being able to tell Lord Perham about the magical powers that both the Seymours and Cadmarans possessed, the lengthy enmity between the two families did seem silly.