Trials of Artemis (7 page)

"See?"
he whispered to her. "Your body welcomes my attentions. I imagine that
with very little effort I could have you out of that dress and begging me for
more. Why should I trust a woman who can be seduced by a man she doesn't even
like?''

With
that he pulled away from her and strode back towards the party.

Jack
could feel her heart beat with the thunder of a galloping horse, her skin hot
from a combination of embarrassment and rage. How dare he? How
dare
he? The man was worse than the
devil. She wouldn’t marry him if he served himself up on a silver platter.
Regardless of how her body betrayed her when he was near, she couldn’t imagine
a worse man to marry. He was completely without morals or common human decency!

Then
she remembered that he had salvaged her reputation with a sham engagement
announcement in the library without hesitation. And how oddly vulnerable he had
seemed the first time they had danced. How they had stood staring at one
another after the curricle ride. She touched her swollen lips and sighed sadly.
Hopefully this would all be over soon.

Gideon
made his way to the card room, pushing dandies and nabobs out of his way. Gods,
he'd nearly ravished the girl on a public portico. He didn't know what demon had
possessed him. It was as though he had been spoiling for a fight with her just
to show her how her body would react to him. And Lord, how it reacted. It was
like touching a match to gun powder the way she came alive in his arms! No prim
bluestocking then but a goddess, all curves and heat and passion. He didn't
know why but it made him angry. Because he didn't want her? Because he couldn't
have her? Because she shouldn’t be able to create a similar reaction in
him?
There would be hell to pay if she
ever realized that she could so easily distract him, sway him, with the promise
of her attentions. Serious and uncompromising as she was, she would have him
begging to kiss her beautifully turned ankle. If she were his mistress she
could deplete his accounts in a trice. And if that wasn’t the most disturbing
thought he'd ever had he didn't know what was.

He
joined Lord Whitby as a partner in whist, proving that he was completely
distracted because the opposing team featured no other than Lady Spencer. Damn
and double damn. To hell with Parliament, he was going out to Cornwall no later
than Monday next. It was as though he couldn't turn about in London without
stumbling over some aspect of this debacle of an engagement.

"Good
evening, Lord Harrington," Lady Spencer greeted with her usual dimpled
smile. "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Indeed,"
he said shortly. "My thanks for your interest."

"Plum
girl," said Lord Hartly, Lady Spencer's partner. "Good blood, that
Walters. Too bad they didn't marry back into nobility until now."

"Yes,"
Gideon said drily. "Tragic."

"Oh,
don't be such a stuffed shirt, Lord Harrington," Lady Spencer chided.
"Certainly just the thought of marriage hasn't dulled your sense of
fun."

"Of
course not," he said warily, trying not to send any signals that he was
inviting the widow to plan a tryst with him again. The last thing he needed was
to offend the Walters before he had a chance to make that escape to Cornwall.
Much to his chagrin Hartly and Whitby chose that moment to retrieve refreshments,
leaving him alone with the beautiful widow.

"Have
you set a date?" Lady Spencer inquired.

"Not
as of yet."

“Will
it be this Season?”

"We
feel no reason to rush."

"Nonsense,
I have heard all about town that your whirlwind romance is the stuff of Spring
fairy tales. Certainly something like that can't be delayed for another
year."

Gideon
eyed Lady Spencer, wondering how many games she had afoot other than whist
tonight. Finally he said, "It will be as my practical, sensible fiancée
wishes it. She has not expressed an interest in marrying this season."

"You'd
best be careful, Lord Harrington. I've heard it said that she ran off all her
other suitors. If you leave her to her own devices you may lose your beloved
fiancée."

"And
what would I lose her to, exactly?"

"Fate."

"If
she doesn't want to marry that wouldn't be my fault."

Lady
Spencer looked at him a bit sadly. "Wouldn't it, though?"

Jack
danced almost every dance that night. She danced until her feet hurt and then
she danced until she couldn't feel them at all anymore. She suffered all the
banal chitchat, the hollow compliments, and the senseless gossip that came with
dancing in the
bon mot.
There was
only one conversation she would remember from the evening other than the one
she had with Harrington and that was from her second waltz, her dance with the
duke.

The
Duke of Beloin had bowed low to her and taken her hand to sweep her elegantly
out onto the dance floor.
 
Once he
had secured their spot in the twirling dancers he had smiled at her and asked,
"Are you enjoying yourself?"

They
were of a height, he only an inch or two taller, and Jack looked almost
directly into his eyes if she didn't lower her gaze to his cravat or shoulder.
"Of course, your grace."

"You
lie abysmally, Miss Walters. As the wife of a politician you will want to work
on that."

Jack
smiled ruefully and bit her bottom lip.

"As
a start," he continued, "you must be enthused about all social
occasions. You must love people, even people that you find annoying. And you
must never, ever let anyone see how you and Giddy argue."

Jack
tried to pull back but she discovered that although of a similar height and
build the duke was by far superior in strength. "No," he said.
"You won't be stopping this waltz. Unlike Giddy I'm not so easily
distracted by you."

"Distracted?"

"Yes,
most definitely. Had I known of your powers I would have thrown you in his path
four years ago rather than have him focused on Parliament."

"Four
years ago I was only fourteen."

His
gaze swept over her. "I doubt it would have mattered. Unrequited love
could have proven even more distracting."

She
distanced herself as much as she was able from him. "I thought you were
Harrington's friend."

"I
am
Harrington's friend. Friendship
and politics are two different beasts. If that weren't true, Giddy and I would
have had it out over pistols one morning long ago."

"I'm
not sure what you're trying to tell me, your grace."

Beloin
sighed. "Quince, if you please. I am trying to tell you to stop fighting
with Gideon. At least publicly. Your engagement couldn't bear much scrutiny, I
would think. And when I originally asked you to dance it was to tell you one
simple thing."

"What
is that, your grace? I mean… Quince."

The
duke gave her a remarkably boyish smile when she used his nickname. "I
think you will make Giddy a splendid wife."

"Once
I learn to lie," she said solemnly.

After
a moment of surprise the duke threw his head back in a loud guffaw. She had
never seen the debonair aristocrat do such a thing and she giggled nervously.
“Yes,” he finally agreed. “Once you learn to lie.”

When
Jack awoke early in the morning it was to a front hallway full of flowers.
Flowers thanking her for a dance, flowers with poems attached, and flowers with
notes begging for a carriage ride or trip to the theater. And then two special
arrangements. One small arrangement of Cantebury Bells from the Duke of Beloin
with the note "
Thank you for the
laughter - Q.
" And a very large arrangement of yellow roses from
Harrington. A letter was attached, which Jack took to the front window in order
to catch the early morning light for reading.

"Dear
Jacqueline, It seems that I am always doing something that requires apology and
last night was no exception - which occurred to me only after all those glasses
of wine wore off. The florist assures me that a yellow rose represents an
apology so with this bouquet I hope to apologize for every transgression thus
far and perhaps have a bit of payment towards the future.

- Gideon
."

Jack
was holding the letter to her chest and staring out the window wistfully when
she heard her mother scream in the dining room. Knowing it could be anything
from a mouse to a pirate, because her mother would have the exact same reaction
to either threat, Jack ran to the room. She found her mother sitting at the
table, newspaper clutched in hand and tears streaming down her face. Her father
was trying to pull the paper from his wife's grasp while consoling her, a bit
at sea about what was so upsetting. Seeing Jack, Mrs. Walters thrust the paper
towards her. It was open to the society pages.

Jack
turned the paper towards the light.

"It
has come to this reporter's attention that Miss W and Lord H were on the outs
last night. This can hardly be a surprise since I have it from a Very Good
Source that the 'fairy tale romance' is exactly that - a fairy tale. According
to the VGS Miss W and Lord H were found in an illicit embrace in Lord W's
library less than a fortnight ago. Miss W may be smart, but not smart enough to
remember that you should stay out of the kitchen, or rather library, if you
don't want to get burned."

Jack
threw the paper down on the table. "I'm going to kill him."

Mr.
Walters jumped up out of his chair. "Jacqueline, what is it?"

"I'm
going to kill him," she said once more before running from the room
towards the stables.

Gideon
had already started on his second cup of tea. Wine usually didn't give him this
much of a headache but then again, he usually didn't try to drink a whole vinyard’s
worth in a single night. He had risen early and had a
productive morning, however. Going through his correspondence he had a letter
from his steward at Kellington reassuring him that the rumors in Parliament
about smuggling along the shores of Kent were not on his lands. Now Dibbs was packing
for Cornwall because Gideon had decided there was no time like the present to
escape London. And three footmen had been dispatched on early morning errands,
including the delivery of flowers and a letter to Miss Walters. That had been a
difficult letter to write since he didn't like apologizing in general, but
nearly mauling an innocent, especially while in such a temper, was far beyond
the pale. Honestly he should just be glad that he wasn’t spending the morning
on the dueling fields, or already married this morning. Soon he could leave for
Cornwall to inspect his new investment and this mess would stay behind in
London. Miss Walters could do what she wanted to maintain the story of their
engagement, their Spring fairy tale as Lady Spencer had called it. Or not. He
wouldn't counter her, but he certainly wouldn't be adding to the story himself
either.

That
was when he heard the crash in the front hall.

"Tell
me where he is
now
or by God I will
tear down every brick of this house until I find him!"

Gideon
closed his eyes briefly. If this was a fairy tale then the troll had just
arrived in the guise of his very enraged fiancée. Either the wrong letter had been
delivered to her or she sincerely did
not
like yellow roses.

He
arose from the breakfast table and she was in the doorway before him. She was
breathing hard, her hair pulled from its pins in loose wisps around her face,
her dress rumpled. She looked like she had just ridden pell-mell across the
city to his door. Or, gods help him, like she had just been tumbled. Her cheeks
were flushed and those magnificent breasts strained against the fabric of her
morning dress from her gasping breaths. It wasn't just the wine after all. He desperately
wanted to press her against the wall and start back where they had left off
last night.

"You!"
she said viciously. He realized she was pointing a riding crop at him and
backed up a bit.

"Yes,
me. Can I hope you haven't abused my staff terribly?"

"How
dare you," she said, advancing on him. Retreat seemed the best option
until he knew what she was about.

"Care
about my staff? Yes, it is daring."

"Why
couldn't you just leave well enough alone? Why did you have to do this? Roses?
You sent roses as a salve? There is
nothing
that you can ever do to apologize for this!”

She
was glorious in her fury but Gideon was at a loss to understand its source. "Perhaps
you'd best tell me what it is you think I've done."

"You've
ruined me, you bastard!” With that she sprang to attack, landing one solid blow
to his shoulder before moving close enough that he could trap her wrists and
try to contain her. After a bit more struggle, wherein she managed to land some
less significant blows
,
she finally dropped the
riding crop and began to weep. Giant, heart-rending sobs that sounded like her
entire world had been destroyed.