With This Ring (9 page)

“You say that a lot.
Brothers ain’t exactly an act of God, like a hurricane or an earthquake.”

“You haven’t met my brothers.”

“No, and I don’t intend to, me.
One was enough, thank ye.”

She turned to him fully then, folding her arms across the front of her ludicrous weskit.
Aaron just knew that for the rest of his life he was going to have fancies about girls in weskits.
Damn it.

“About that…” She regarded him carefully.
“You and I both know that nothing happened last night.”

“Hmm.”
Aaron stood, though he pretended to be gathering up an armful of the bedding … for some inexplicable reason.
“I suppose other than a bit o’ crime, nothing did happen.”

“Exactly.”
She nodded vigorously.
“But some people will misunderstand.”

“You mean a magistrate?
I think the magistrate’ll understand crime just fine, he will.”

“No, I mean my bothers.
And my father, although he would likely just Shakespeare you unto death.”
She shrugged uncomfortably.
“My brothers on the other hand … well, how fast can you run?”

Aaron blinked.
“If’n I leave now, I can be in Scotland by afternoon.”

She didn’t smile.
“Excellent.
Then we’re agreed?”

Aaron normally wouldn’t agree to anything that wasn’t in writing, for he’d been the recipient of one too many “understandings,” thank you very much.

However, he found himself nodding mindlessly while thinking that her hair was less golden than it was the color of evening sunlight on snow …

“Wait.
What did ye say?”

“I said that we were going to agree to put all this”—she waved a hand to the nest of mildewed velvet—“behind us.
There is no profit for either of us in ever mentioning it again.”

Aaron couldn’t believe his good luck.
His silly Hastings ruse had worked again.
He was free!
Free to get away from this mad girl and this ruin, this brutal reminder of what happened to an estate when there were not the funds to care for it properly.

“Indeed.
We are agreed!”

He stuck out his hand.
In an instant, he realized that he had let his façade slip, so he drew his hand back and spit on it.
“Well?
It’s a deal, ain’t it?”

She rolled her eyes.
“Boys.”
Then, astonishingly, she thrust her own hand into his and shook it firmly.
“Deal.”

She might be criminally insane, but she wasn’t a snob; he had to give her that.
He couldn’t recall ever meeting a lady who would shake on a deal sealed in spit—or kidnap a man, or kiss a stranger—

No. Don’t think about that. You just got your lap back.

*   *   *

It was nearly three miles back to the Green Donkey.
They set out across what had once been a vast front lawn but was now a vast, brushy meadow.
Still, it was a grand day, fresh-washed and shining, and they both had very important matters to attend to.
With committing this error with Lord Aaron Arbogast’s lackey, Elektra had decided to cross his lordship off The List.
Mr.
Hastings was a loyal servant to his lordship.
Over time, he might somehow let slip what had happened.
His lordship would not respond well to knowing that his wife had slept entwined with his manservant … after kissing him a little.

A lot.

Men were odd about that sort of thing.

Therefore, Elektra wanted to get back to London as soon as possible.
The Season was carrying on without her.
New matches were being made every day.
If she didn’t hurry, all the best bachelors would be taken!

Then Mr.
Hastings halted suddenly.
Lifting one hand, he stopped her in the middle of the meadow.
He lifted his head and turned his handsome face into the sun.
“Someone’s a-comin’.”

Rendered rather grumpy by her inability to ignore his good looks, Elektra glanced askance at Mr.
Hastings.
Then she also caught the faint rattle of wheels and jingle of harness from far down the lane.
Together they walked around the corner of the ruin to where there had once been a gracious circle of white graveled drive.
Someone was indeed coming.
A pretty lily-white pony clopped down the lane, head high as it pranced along, pulling a quaint little pony cart picked out in enameled maroon and gleaming brass.

It was a fine lady’s vehicle and indeed there was a fine lady driving it with her own gloved hands.
Elektra’s astonishment grew, for who in the world would come to the deserted ruin of a long-abandoned manor—
today?

Elektra and her former prisoner watched as the tidy little pony cart drew up in the long circular drive.
There wasn’t much to see of the driver but a gown of smartly striped blue-and-white muslin and a dainty confection of a pin-straw bonnet that made fashion-conscious Elektra grit her teeth in envy.

Belatedly, Mr.
Hastings stepped forward to hand the young lady down.
As the figure turned fully toward them, Elektra saw a pair of wide eyes tinted the exact guileless blue of summer sky and a truly impressive bosom artfully packaged in the very latest, very finest style of the great Lementeur.

“Hello, cousin.”
The achingly stylish stranger greeted Elektra calmly, seeming entirely unsurprised to find her muddy and wrinkled, dressed like a boy, standing before a ruin with a strange man.

Elektra’s day soured further, though she’d thought it impossible.

It seemed that the Just Wonderful Miss Bliss Worthington had arrived at last.

Chapter Seven

Miss Bliss Worthington picked her way daintily along the drive until she stood before Elektra.

“I had hoped you would be waiting for me when I arrived at the Green Donkey,” Bliss stated calmly.
“I was so looking forward to a bit of breakfast.”

Elektra, whose belly suddenly began clamoring, stared at her alleged cousin.
“Where have you been?”
And, in the privacy of her own mind,
If you’d arrived on time I never would have gotten myself into this pickle!

Bliss’s serene expression did not alter.
“I didn’t leave my home in Little Downbrook until this morning, actually.”

“This morning?”
Elektra stared at Bliss.
“But we’ve been waiting for you at that inn for days!”

“Well, I could hardly drive in the rain, so I stayed home, warm and dry.
Dreadful weather yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Warm and dry.
Elektra could still feel her feet squishing in her clammy boots.
“Couldn’t you have sent a message or something?”

Bliss blinked slowly, her placid gaze unchanged.
“I thought it obvious enough.
Why send anyone else out in the rain if I wasn’t willing to go?”

She folded her gloved hands before her.
Elektra couldn’t take her eyes from those perfect white lambskin gloves.
Not a smudge!

I am filthy and dank and dressed like Zander. I just failed this particular femininity bout.

One point for Bliss.

“At any rate, no one was there to meet me.
I asked for you and Lysander at the inn and they told me that you both left suddenly on one horse but that your things were still in your rooms.
One of the grooms mentioned that he thought he saw Lysander race past alone late last evening.”

“Oh, God.”
Elektra covered her face with her hands.
“Lysander, you idiot.”

“Why?”
Mr.
Hastings asked.
“What’s he done?”

Elektra felt a bit faint.
“Why, he’s gone back to London for reinforcements, of course.”
Hopefully, he’d been delayed by the same bad weather.

Bliss went on.
“I considered the matter and recalled that Worthington Manor was close by.
It seemed possible that you and Zander were making a pilgrimage to our old home.”

Elektra dropped her hands to blink at Bliss.
“‘Our old home’?”

Bliss tilted her head.
Elektra despaired at the perfectly cunning way in which that drool-inducing bonnet accented the mannerism, making it utterly adorable.

“Oh, yes.
I lived here, with you and your family, until the fire.
You and I were the very best of chums.
Everyone called us ‘the other twins.’
I’m surprised you don’t recall.”

Two fair-haired little girls, running through the sunlit rooms.

Elektra had remembered the other child as her sister, Calliope.
But Callie was years older than Elektra.
She wouldn’t have played like a small child.
And Attie was born just after the flames devoured the house.
Elektra remembered her mother standing just over there on the drive, gravid and pale, leaning upon her husband’s arm with her features lighted by the burning manor.

So the little girl who had run with her through the gracious house, hiding from Lysander, laughing and shrieking and living the perfect childhood along with Elektra …

Had been Bliss.

“Oh, hell.”

“Oh, my.”
Bliss shook her head.
“Language, cousin.”
She gave Elektra a righteous tsk-tsk.

Two points for Bliss.

Childhood chum or no, Elektra thought she could very easily do some unladylike violence to the Just Wonderful Miss Bliss Worthington.

But her cousin must realize that Elektra’s situation, rising from a ruin after spending the night with Mr.
Hastings, knowing that Lysander was long gone, was a bit on the untoward side!
“Bliss, are you not going to ask why I am out here at Worthington Manor alone?”

“You are not alone.
Mr.
Hastings is with you.
As am I.”

“I know.
Yes.”
Was the girl simpleminded?
“I mean to say … surely you are thinking it is an unusual situation for a young lady to be in.”

“Is it?”
Bliss looked to her left, then to her right.
It was all Elektra could do not to follow that childlike gaze.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.
I fear I do not leave Little Downbrook often,” Bliss went on.
“I certainly don’t find it odd for you to be here at the manor.
It is yours, after all.”

Elektra regarded her new/old cousin warily.
“So you won’t speak about…”

Bliss blinked her summer-sky eyes.
“Speak about what, cousin?”

Hmm.
Elektra was determined not to like Bliss.
She had no intention of forgiving the girl who was stealing her Season!
Still, Bliss was, according to all sources, indeed a Worthington.
And she did resemble Dade, a bit, especially about the nose and chin.

“That’s settled, then.”

Bliss tilted her head fetchingly.
“When was it ever not?”

“Indeed,” Elektra agreed grimly.
It would be worth putting up with Bliss if she could put this whole kidnapping and tying-up and kissing thing behind her.
She turned back to Mr.
Hastings, who had busied himself picking straw out of the pony’s perfect fetlocks.

“She’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”
He grinned at Elektra.

Although Elektra was reasonably certain that the man was referring to the pony and not Bliss, she felt a twinge of something she refused to define.
He was far too handsome, and far too raffish.
She ought to be immune to handsome, having grown up surrounded by handsome to the fifth power.
And anyway, so what if he did think Bliss was pretty?
Most men would, would they not?

“That is not in question, Mr.
Hastings.
Now that my cousin has joined our party, we are quite adequately chaperoned.
We may make our way back to the Green Donkey without fear.
Your carriage is likely awaiting you there, for the horses would well remember the nearest shelter, don’t you think?”

He looked down at the pony’s mane, fingering the strands that were, at the moment, better groomed than Elektra’s own.

“Aye, and I ought to check on ’is lordship, and all.
Tell ’im I got delayed by the weather.”

“Yes,” Elektra nodded.
“That pesky weather.
Why, your horses took off on you and I was separated from my beloved brother!
Two entirely unrelated events, one might say.
How lucky we were that Bliss found us both!
Heavens, what a wicked storm!”

His gaze met hers for a single blazing instant and she deeply regretted her light use of the word
wicked
.
Heat swirled through her belly and a bit lower as well.
She hid her disturbance with a brisk nod and turned back to Bliss.

Oh, she could tell that that kiss was going to haunt her for the rest of her days!

Which one? The first kiss or the second kiss? The one where you thought you had to, or the one where you simply
wanted
to?

*   *   *

Aaron watched Miss Elektra Worthington saunter back to her cousin as if he and she had indeed merely been discussing the weather.
Other than a slight widening of her green-blue eyes, she’d showed no sign of feeling the jolt of memory that he had felt.

Yet he knew she had.
He’d felt it resonate through her, as if they were roped together, somewhere in the vicinity of their bellies, and something had tugged hard on that rope.
He’d wanted to step closer to her, to reach out his hand to touch her, to lean close enough …

Close enough to smell jasmine.

Yes, it was a very good idea for them to part ways.
Being attracted to a selfish, social-climbing-unto-madness woman was the last thing he needed!

You did spend the night alone with her, a lady, a maiden.

True, he was bound and held at gunpoint, but should the truth ever come out, her life would be entirely ruined.
Could he truly allow her to go on without making things right?

To
be
honorable, or to
appear
honorable?

Aaron closed his eyes and let the pony ruffle his shirt with her warm breath.
Everything had been so simple yesterday.

I wish it were yesterday.

In the end, it was decided that since Elektra had no option but to head back to the inn in her boy’s attire, she should continue in that role.
With mischief glinting in her eyes, she stuffed her hair into that silly cap and clambered onto the back of the cart, looking for all the world like a boy nicking a ride.

I am forever going to be having fancies about girls in caps, aren’t I?

Oh, yes.

Aaron brushed off his third-best suit as best he could and took the reins.
Miss Bliss Worthington sat beside him, looking as fresh as spring itself in her striped gown and sporting a fetching parasol that matched her bonnet.