Two Beaux and a Promise Collection (14 page)

“Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself?”

“Quite sure. I landed on top of him.”

He grinned. “Deliberately, I suspect. Miss Knol—  What is your name anyway?”

“Edith.”

“Good. If we are to work together, I prefer less formality. You can call me Charles.”  When she nodded, he led her toward the house. “As for diverting Miss Russell’s attention, I heard a rumor that Jessup lost at cards last week. Perhaps you should mention it – or even exaggerate it. She must know that gamesters make bad husbands.”

The blood drained from Edith’s face as his words revived old horrors. Before she could slam the door against them, memories engulfed her, encasing her in fog. She barely felt Charles pull her into the walled garden beyond curious eyes.

“Forgive me,” he begged. “That was an abominable suggestion. I’d forgotten—”

“—that Papa killed himself after losing everything at cards?”

“That you found his body. I should not have reminded you.” 

She turned away to hide the face she could no longer control.

He pulled her back. “Since I’ve already walked into this bumble broth, why don’t you tell me about that day?  I suspect you’ve never discussed it.”

“I c-can’t,” she admitted, fighting tremors, though his touch soothed some of the horror.

“Talk to me, Edith. If you hoard the images, they will never fade.”

“You sound as if you know.”

“I do know. I was first on the scene of a rather bloody horror myself. I was ten.”

“So young.”  She sighed. And maybe he was right. She hoped so, for she couldn’t refuse him. Besides, nothing she said would lower his opinion of her…  “Finding Papa was only the first shock. We’d had no idea that he was a gamester – he’d apparently flirted with ruination before. And the timing hurt as badly as the loss itself. I was supposed to come out in London only a week later.”

He murmured something soothing, though she couldn’t make out the words. His hands warmed her back.

“When I entered the library that m-morning—”  She gritted her teeth until they no longer chattered, then shook her head, hoping to dislodge the images. When that didn’t work, she forced her tongue into motion. “There was so much blood. And then his note…  He’d lost everything. We had two days to vacate the house. Mama collapsed. Jaimie was nearly as upset. My brother,” she added, shaking her head. “In the end, I had to take charge. I’d salvaged my pearls, but even frugality couldn’t make them support four of us for long. Jaimie tried to help, but he was barely sixteen, and without patronage he had no hope of obtaining any sort of post. He finally accepted the king’s shilling, hoping to make a name for himself in the army. He died in Spain.”

“I understand you’ve been supporting your mother and sister ever since.”

“Who else will do it?” she demanded. “Mama tries, but her clients use her mostly from charity, for she never was much good with a needle. Nor is my sister. She is a dreamer every bit as bad as Papa and still thinks wishing will somehow restore our former life.”  Her control snapped. Before she could stop herself, she was weeping on his shoulder.

His arms pulled her close. She should have protested, should have backed away, but she couldn’t. For once in her life, she let down her guard long enough to accept the comfort he offered. That it was Charles himself who held her…

The tears flowed faster.

* * * *

Charles let her cry even as he cursed Sir Richard for leaving her with so many responsibilities at so tender an age. If only the fool were alive so Charles could call him out.

He eased her closer, stroking his hand down her back. She fit perfectly against him, triggering a ripple of desire, though he felt no need to act on it. Most unusual.

Her sobs finally slowed.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she murmured, trying to push free.

“Charles.”  He let her pull back just far enough that he could see her eyes – silver disks now rimmed with red. “We agreed you would call me Charles.”

“Charles.”  She sighed. “My apologies for subjecting you to that.”

“I expect you needed it. Have you ever let yourself grieve?”

She shook her head. “There was never time, but that’s no excuse for discommoding you.”

“You haven’t.” 

He cradled her head between his palms, his thumbs wiping the last tears from her cheeks. Then he dropped a comforting kiss on her mouth. Sparks kindled, burning clear to his toes. Her eyes widened in more than shock…

His own closed as he kissed her again, dragging her close enough to plunder, to savor, to revel in discovery.

Not dragged,
insisted the corner of his mind that still functioned.
She isn’t fighting
.

It was true. Her arms closed around his waist. Her mouth opened to his darting tongue. Heat burned him to a crisp, igniting the familiar lust. But unfamiliar sensations also raged. Trying to identify them awakened him to reality.

He was assaulting a well-born innocent without invitation. Just like Russell.

“Forgive me,” he begged, praying her eyes would not hold condemnation when they opened. “That was not well done. You should have used that knee I mentioned yesterday.”

She inhaled twice before finding her voice. “There is nothing to forgive, Charles. It’s an unusual approach to dissipating tears, but quite effective.”  She pulled against his grip, reminding him that he still held her.

He thrust his hands into his greatcoat pockets, speechless from her interpretation – and thoroughly irritated. No one ever dismissed his kisses.

Edith blew out a long breath, then turned the subject. “We were discussing Jessup’s gaming. You suggested I inform Miss Russell of it, but that is not a good idea. She would either ignore the news or assume that her devotion would cure him of the habit.”

“Is she mad?”

“She is young. And she dotes on romantic novels in which love resolves all problems, if you recall. If she thinks her dowry would remedy a financial crisis – serious losses might explain his current course – then she would expect a lifetime of gratitude in exchange.”

Charles choked. “Throwing that in his face every day would likely earn her a beating.”

“I know, but she believes herself irresistible and refuses to hear anything to the contrary.”  She headed for the house.

“Merrimont might be better off without her,” he mused, catching up so she would not appear to be fleeing him. “I wonder if they settled anything just now.”

“I will ask.”

“Do that.”  He clasped her wrist so she had to look at him. “And I’ll talk to Riley. Meet me in the library after lunch.”  Schechler was again murmuring into Lady Frobisher’s ear, so there would be no negotiations today.

Edith held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded and slipped away.

He headed for the billiard room, still shaken by that kiss. It was unlike anything he might have expected had he ever considered kissing her – and nothing like Emily’s kisses. Edith’s were far more seductive, and thus very dangerous. Her sensuality frankly astounded him. How had he missed it?  Was he too blind to see beyond the surface trimmings of a governess’s garb?  It did not say much about his wits.

She was intriguing in character as well as in looks. Quick-witted. Logical. Competent. It was something else he’d missed. She’d been in London with one charge or another for several years, yet he’d not even noticed her until the cream cake incident. Now he couldn’t get her out of his head.

— 5 —

The library was empty when Edith slipped inside. At least she needn’t fret over Diana for the moment. The girl was shepherding the ladies to tea at the vicarage. Sir Waldo had taken most of the men out shooting. Jessup remained in bed.

But Edith found it impossible to relax. Charles’s kiss had left her so shaky that she’d barely managed to speak lightly afterwards then walk away as if nothing had happened. He was amazingly skilled, raising sensations she’d not known existed.

Stupid!
she castigated herself. She should have followed her instincts and stayed far away from him. Harboring a
tendre
for a notorious rakehell was bad enough. Now that she’d discovered a host of virtues beneath his public façade, he was even more desirable. And his touch was more incendiary than she’d thought possible. If his auburn curls had burst into flames, he couldn’t have scorched her more. And the way he’d comforted…

She was more than stupid. She very much feared she’d fallen in love with him.

Nothing could be worse. She’d locked away dreams of love and marriage eleven years ago, then built a satisfactory career, first as a companion and then as a finishing governess. Pride in her accomplishments helped overcome any lingering regret for her family’s fall.

Now Charles had revived those dreams. Worse, he’d pushed them beyond girlish fantasies by evoking adult passion. How could she ever be satisfied squiring silly young girls now that she knew how much she’d really lost?  She should never have stayed with Diana this long. Christmas with her family would have kept her world intact.

As footsteps approached, she unclenched her fists.

“Did Riley know anything useful about Jessup?” she managed with credible calm when Charles appeared in the doorway.

“More than useful. Nothing of a financial nature slips past him.”  He closed the door and joined her by the fire, raising the temperature in the room. “Jessup’s recent losses landed in Russell’s pocket.”

“What?”  The information dissipated her nervousness. “Why doesn’t Merrimont know that?” 

“Keep your voice down. Even the walls have ears.”  He dropped his own to a seductive murmur. “Merrimont probably never asked. And the Foreign Office doesn’t hear about Home Office investigations. They’ve been watching Russell since autumn.”

“Why?”

“That isn’t relevant, but they know a great deal about him.”

“Such as?”

“Because Sir Waldo keeps him on a tight financial leash, Russell turned to gaming to increase his income. Stupid,” he agreed, overriding her protest. “But he’s made it work, for though he loses as often as he wins, he has never lost a large wager, whether at cards or dice.”

“That doesn’t sound honest.”

Charles smiled. “You go straight to the point. No one wins all their large wagers while losing most of their small ones. He has to be cheating.”

That smile melted her knees, so she toyed with a vase of spills to avoid meeting his eyes. “If Mr. Russell holds Jessup’s markers, it would explain why he can command him.”

“Exactly.”

When he stepped closer, she circled the terrestrial globe, placing it between them.

He leaned against the mantel. “According to Riley, Jessup lost everything he owns and more. Russell gave him until Twelfth Night to redeem his vowels. The total exactly matches Miss Russell’s dowry. Ten thousand pounds.”

Edith bit back a curse. “So that’s it. I couldn’t explain why Jessup might wish to harm Giles, but Peter resents Diana’s extravagant dowry and hates that her husband will wind up with money Peter considers his own.”

“I wish you had mentioned that earlier.”

“That argument began before Diana even met Giles, so it did not seem relevant until now. Did Peter suffer any setbacks last week?”

“Why?”

“Something must have pushed him to cheat Jessup. It’s been six months since Diana accepted Giles. Why wait until the last minute?”

“Good question.”  He frowned. “I’ll ask Riley.”

“Do that. Something prompted him to act.”

“Maybe he only recently discovered his sister’s ambivalence.”

“Maybe he’s responsible for her ambivalence. But there has to be more. If his goal was to wrest a fortune from his clutch-fisted father, he could have cheated someone months ago – an elopement before the Season would not have jeopardized the family name.”

“Sir Waldo might have canceled the dowry for an elopement. That is still true, for he has no contract with Jessup and thus no obligation to pay anything.”

Edith was surprised she hadn’t considered that possibility. Perhaps she should remind Diana that Sir Waldo could keep her dowry if she jilted Giles. Without a dowry, she would never find another suitor. Beauty might draw second looks, but there were plenty of well-endowed beauties on the Marriage Mart. “I doubt Peter would think of that. He’s rather stupid.”

“But Jessup should know.”  He frowned. “I wonder how he can assure that the dowry is paid.”

“It doesn’t matter, because we’ll stop him. The only question is how.”

“Let Sir Waldo do it. Once I tell him about the card game and the Home Office investigation, he will send Russell abroad. And he can forgive Jessup’s debts on the grounds of fraud, which will prevent Jessup from plotting further, though I doubt his friendship with Merrimont will survive.”

“And just as well. No one needs that sort of friend. In the meantime, this doesn’t address Miss Russell’s arrogance. Sir Waldo can force her to the altar, but I can’t in good conscience subject Merrimont to a life of misery. She has to grow up and start thinking of more than herself. Are you still making her an amulet?”

He nodded. “I will give it to her in the morning, then try to arrange a frank discussion with Merrimont. I’ll signal you when I succeed, so you can see that Miss Russell overhears.”

The timing couldn’t be worse, Edith admitted. Christmas festivities began tomorrow. Everyone would be caught up in decorating the manor. It could take Charles all day to corner Giles. In her present mood, Diana would not welcome Edith as a constant companion. But they could not postpone it for even a day. The wedding was too near.

Footsteps jolted her from her thoughts. She slid into the shadows lest she be discovered alone with a gentleman, but they passed the door without pausing.

Charles stared at the door, then moved to Edith’s side so they would not be overheard – or so he told himself. But the words no longer rang true. Something about her drew him, as if she could supply the answers to all of life’s riddles. Her scent enveloped him, weakening his knees. When he leaned down to whisper in her ear, she jumped. He nearly smiled.

“Use Miss Russell’s desire for truth to convince her to listen when I’m speaking to Merrimont,” he murmured, stroking her arm, his bare hand against the warmth of her bare skin. “I doubt she’ll admit she has a magic amulet, but after all her complaints, she can’t be surprised that you know what she seeks.”