An Improper Suitor (9 page)

Then the door handle began to move. Slowly.

She whirled around to find a place to hide. Her gaze fell on the curtains and she darted behind them. If they moved, of course, he would find her. But the library was poorly lit, and perhaps he had not actually seen her come in. If he was just searching for her without being certain, he might see an empty room and leave.

Someone grabbed the curtains and pulled them away violently.

She clutched them close, struggling to maintain her grip.

He tried to pull the curtains again; she continued to grip them. He let go, giving up on wrestling them from her.

Instead, his hands began to wander over her body, touching her through the curtains. She squirmed, trying to dodge those probing hands.

It took her some time to realize that his hands were not violent.

The person in front of the curtains was
tickling
her.

It could not be Neave unless he was using some strange method she did not know to subdue her.

She threw the curtains back, bracing herself.

And came face to face with a grinning Thorwynn. 

She stared at him in shock. This day was quickly becoming a
succession
of nightmares.

‘You?’
she said.

His mouth fell open.
‘You?’
He made no move to approach her. In fact he took a giant step backwards.

‘Yes, it’s me. Who did you think I was?’ she said.

He opened his mouth to reply then shut it again. ‘Never mind.’

Relief flooded into her. He was not Neave, and he did not mean to attack her. She headed for the closest settee and collapsed on to it. The seat was harder than she expected, and it jarred her back.

She sat up straight, waiting for the pain to subside.

Thorwynn took a seat opposite her, regarding her soberly. ‘Perhaps you’d care to tell me what this is all about?’ he said.

‘Why do you think there’s something to tell?’ she asked. She could not endure the humiliation of telling him, on top of everything else.

‘Do you usually hide behind curtains in the library when there is a ball in progress?’

‘Ah. Yes. The curtains.’ She struggled to find some explanation. ‘I lost a pin. I was searching for it.’

‘Really?’ he said.

‘Really,’ she replied, injecting her voice with conviction.

‘You lost your pin behind the curtains,’ he said, perfectly blandly.

He stared at her. His unmoving gaze made it impossible for her to remain still. She brought a fingernail to her mouth to bite it,
remembered
she was wearing gloves, and dropped her hand. It flopped into
her lap. In an effort to look unperturbed, she perched her hand on the arm of the sofa. The curved wood dug into her and she shifted again.

Still he watched.

‘Well?’ he asked.

She could not possibly tell him what had happened. Especially when he had warned her about Neave’s nature. Especially
because
he had warned her. And she had rejected his advice so rudely. He would sneer at her and enjoy every moment of her discomfort. He would tell his friend Lord Benedict about it. They would gloat together, and her loss of face would be complete.

Then she remembered Neave and his companions. She heard the ice-eyed man’s voice floating to her in the darkness. She shuddered.

Thorwynn’s bland gaze changed to concern.

‘Are you cold? Perhaps you are on the verge of falling sick. Would you like me to give you my coat?’

She was shivering, but not from cold. He took her silence as an answer and moved next to her on the settee, stripping down to his waistcoat and wrapping her in his coat. It still held the warmth of his body. It encircled her and gave her some comfort.

‘Would you like me to send for your carriage?’

She thought of the townhouse, plunged into darkness, with just a few candles. The servants would be asleep. And she would be alone.

‘No,’ she said. ‘No. I need to stay here.’

‘But if you have a fever—’

‘I do not have a fever,’ she said, clenching her teeth.

‘That’s more like it,’ he said, grinning.

He had a pleasant grin. She had never thought of grins as kind, but this one radiated reassurance. She felt her body relax, and the
shivering
subside.

She decided abruptly that, even if he mocked her, she would tell him.

The mahogany clock boomed, indicating midnight. The night was just beginning.

She took a steadying breath, and braced herself. Her ribs pressed inwards, blocking her breath. She lacked the courage to speak.

But she owed it to him, after the way she had treated him. After she had refused to listen.

She could not look at him while she spoke. So she centred her gaze on her hands, examining the lines that crisscrossed her palms. She did not want to see his face when he found out.

‘You were right about Neave.’

‘Ah,’ he said.

There was a touch of triumph in his voice. But she ploughed on. ‘I was lucky enough to overhear a conversation he had with some companions of his,’ she said. ‘Apparently he has an agreement with his friends, a wager.’ She paused, not sure how to express it. Heat rushed up through her face to the very roots of her hair, and her cheeks
positively
glowed. ‘He was to’ – she tripped over the words, even now – ‘seduce me by next Thursday, in return for a certain sum of money.’ The words sounded flat, stripped of meaning. Said that way, they did not convey anything of what this meant to her.

The molten iron ball inside her had gone cold, leaving a heavy lump in her stomach. The leaden taste of betrayal.

Her companion said nothing.

She sent him a glance, questioning, wanting to know his reaction.

He moved nearer, took her hands in his, and brought his face level to hers so she could not look away.

‘I’m sorry. I wish I could have spared you this. But this is nothing compared to what you would have suffered if you had not heard his plans. You had a very fortunate escape.’

Of course. Through her gloves the touch of his fingers sent
soothing
ripples of calm through her. He was right. Nothing had happened. She had been in danger, but she had found out in time, and she would be spared.

‘You’ll recover,’ he said. ‘It always seems like you never will, when you are in love, but believe me, you will. I’ve seen it happen countless times.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Even experienced it a time or two myself.’

She pulled her hands away sharply.

‘Is that what you think?’ she said, angrily. ‘That I love him?’

He seemed genuinely puzzled. Her anger died down. Despite his kindness, he still managed to anger her. She needed to curb that temper of hers. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing like that. I didn’t love him. I didn’t have the chance. Perhaps if I had spent more time with him…. I simply enjoyed his company – fool that I was.’

The creases in his face smoothed out, and the strain disappeared. He leaned back in the chair, threw out an arm to rest on the back of the sofa, and extended his legs.

‘Good heavens!’ he said. ‘To judge by your determination to seek his company, one would have thought you must have been madly in love with him.’  

‘You were so nettled that I did not jump at your command that you conjured up the wildest explanations for my defiance,’ she replied, her temper rising in spite of her resolve.  

‘Hah!’ he said. ‘I did not conjure up anything. Half the
ton
is aware of the
tendre
you have conceived for him.’  

The blood drained from her face. ‘Is there—?’ she asked, struggling to speak. Matters went from bad to worse. ‘Has there been a great deal of gossip?’  

He shrugged. ‘Hardly as bad as that. But there was an entry at White’s concerning upcoming nuptials between you.’  

Nuptials were never part of it. She did not regret that. She had not had a chance yet to dream of a future with him. But it was still a sour pill to swallow. It stuck in her throat.  

‘Cheer up,’ said Thorwynn. He appeared considerably cheered himself. ‘You’re only suffering the pangs of wounded pride. There’s no real damage done.’  

She nodded. ‘Yes. When I think of what might have happened—’ A shiver passed through her very bones. The dread that had overcome her before Thorwynn’s arrival returned. ‘But he might still make another attempt. The wager is not yet over.’  

He jerked into alertness. ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘he won’t give up so easily. And he doesn’t know that you’re aware of his scheme. He’ll persist.’

‘Perhaps I should confront him,’ she said.  

‘No. That will only drive him to more desperate measures,’ he said. ‘Better to keep him off guard, thinking you are unaware of his scheme. It depends how much he needs to win. I had thought that he was coming into an inheritance, but his affairs must be worse than we thought.’  

She shrugged. ‘I know nothing of his finances.’ She knew nothing, nothing at all about him.

She turned to her companion. ‘Clearly you know more about him than I.’

Thorwynn’s face shuttered. He leaned away from her again, sprawling in the seat. But his body was taut, a clockwork figure wound all the way up, ready to spring.

‘I know more about him that I could ever care to.’

She waited. She did not press him to speak. But she could sense his turmoil.

He closed his eyes. ‘It’s a long story, and I can only give you the briefest details. I knew Neave at Eton, but our paths did not cross much. His pursuits and mine were a little different. I was a year older than him, in any case.’ He pursed his lips. ‘After one too many offences, this time involving the daughter of one of the school tutors, no less, he was sent down permanently. His father decided that forcing him to fight on the Continent might tame the wildness in him.’

‘I don’t how he fared in his army career. His uncle the Duke of Lattimore’s influence bought him a very good rank, far higher than mine. I finished my degree in Oxford and joined the army, eager to fight Napoleon. When they assigned me my regimentals I found I was to serve under his command.’

His hands clenched. His face, closed to her until now, twisted in distress.

‘We were in the midst of a skirmish. The French were pressing us on three sides. The fighting was fierce, the situation rather desperate. I asked him if we should sound a retreat, before we were surrounded completely. He said no, that we were to continue. At that point we were about seventy, and we were severely outnumbered. Eventually, the French began to close in. I looked to him to sound a command, to give us orders. He was nowhere to be found. Then I located him. He was partly concealed behind a tree. He was stripping the uniform off a dead or wounded French soldier. The next thing I knew, he had undressed, and changed into the French uniform. Then a French soldier attacked me and I had to turn round. The next time I looked he had disappeared.’

He fell silent, lost in his memories.

‘Only ten of us survived the slaughter. By the time I realized that
Neave had deserted, it was too late to do anything.’

He covered his face with his hands. ‘I still dream about those men, their dead faces staring up at me. In my dreams I take command and save them.’ His voice was a hoarse whisper. ‘But then I wake up to discover that nothing has changed.’

‘Wasn’t he punished for his desertion?’

He laughed, a bitter, ugly laugh. ‘I did my best to instigate a
hearing
. But his uncle intervened, and it was blocked. I never got a chance.’

He passed his palms over his face. ‘The worst of it is that he’s still in the army, in an elite unit. They call them the Riflemen, now. But since we’re no longer at war with Napoleon, he can enjoy his
privileges
without any of the inconveniences of war. He has taken up a licentious lifestyle with a vengeance. He particularly enjoys seducing very young virgins. If you ask Lord Benedict, he will tell you of a young relative of his, barely fourteen years old. Luckily, they were able to marry her off quickly.’

She did not need to hear more. Her situation was trivial when compared to those women whose lives were ruined by Neave.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘why, if he is so short of money, he doesn’t marry into a fortune.’

‘I can’t answer that. There are rumours that his father is dying, and that he is coming into a large fortune very soon. But perhaps it is not ultimately money that drives him, but the challenge. Who knows?’

They sat together on the sofa, ruminating in silence. His grief communicated itself to her and she pondered those dead men, lying on the ground. She drew closer to him and took his hands as he had done with her. Their eyes met. The despair in his eyes changed, replaced by a flare of something else. He pulled her to him and his lips sought hers, probing at first, then persistent. The urgency in him awoke an impulse she had never known. She drew his head closer, wanting more.

The door of the library swung open.

They sprang apart. But there was no hiding his coat that had slid down to the floor. Or the shirtsleeves that no gentleman should reveal before a lady. Or the two of them sitting close on the settee, alone in the library.

The gasp from the doorway told her what she needed to know.

Two women stepped in. Lady Medlow pinned Julia with her small eyes. She did not seem to recognize her at first. Julia knew the moment she did because her expression changed. Her mouth twisted with malice, and she made a strangled sound in her throat, almost a squeal.

The other was Lady Telway. She raised her quizzing glass and
studied
the couple through it.

Neither woman said a word.

They walked out, and shut the door firmly behind them.

In a few minutes, it would be all over the ballroom.

‘I cannot tell you,’ said Thorwynn, ‘how deeply I regret what just occurred.’

Julia shrugged. One way or the other, this was going to be the night when her life would fall into tatters. She knew what had just occurred could not be forgiven in Society. As scandals went, it was not the worst that could possibly occur. But it was a scandal, nevertheless.

She comforted herself with the thought that it was better than what could have happened, with Neave.

Thorwynn struggled with his coat. It fitted too well for him to put it on without a valet. She moved to help.

‘Better not,’ he said. His voice was harsh.

‘It doesn’t matter now. Even if they see me helping you with your coat, it will not make the situation worse.’

He considered that. ‘Then I would appreciate your help. I despise this fashion which makes one dependent on one’s servants.’ With some effort, he was once again the elegant earl. Julia admired the solid width of his shoulders under the tight-fitting superfine.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

‘Ready to face the wolves?’ he said. ‘If we leave quickly enough, we can escape before the tale has circulated very far.’

She nodded. ‘I need to find my grandmother.’

‘We’ll find her together.’

He paused in the doorway. ‘Before we go, however, we should come to an agreement. I don’t trust Neave. I don’t believe he’ll give up on winning his wager. I think it would be safer if you spend the night at my mother’s house.’