Christmas Belles (24 page)

Ever a sociable creature, her dog took a sudden, violent
fancy to his lordship. His tongue lolling out, Bert leaped up, trying to lick
Ravenel's chin. With a muttered oath, Ravenel tried to thrust aside the eager,
panting animal.

"Oh, no! Bad dog. Heel, Bertie!" Gwenda cried.

But Bert never heeled. He continued to leap up as though
determined to scale Ravenel, scraping his muddy paws clean upon the length of
his lordship's immaculate cream-colored breeches.

"Down!" Ravenel said sternly, collaring Bert and
forcing the animal back upon all fours. The dog whined and fidgeted while
looking adoringly up at Ravenel.

Gwenda saw in Bert's intrusion a chance for her to escape
from what promised to be a most unpleasant confrontation. She stood up,
reaching for Bert's collar and said, "I do apologize for Bertie's
behavior, sir. If you will permit me, I'll just be taking him—"

"Sit!" Ravenel. thundered.

To Gwenda's mortification, she obeyed the command with more
alacrity than the dog did. She plopped back down upon the bench. Spotted Bert
gave in reluctantly, lowering his hindquarters to sit on her feet. To her
astonishment, he remained seated even after Ravenel released his collar.

"That's absolutely amazing," Gwenda could not help
exclaiming. "Bertie never listens to anyone."

"A trait that his mistress apparently doesn't
share." With a look of disgust at his breeches, his lordship brushed at
some of the mud stains with his gloved fingers.

Gwenda blushed. "I am so dreadfully sorry, Lord
Ravenel. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but indeed I can explain why I did
so."

He folded his arms across his chest. "I am all
eagerness to hear your reason, madam."

Gwenda thought he looked far more eager to throttle her, but
she continued in a rush, "You see, I was waiting in here while my carriage
is being repaired, but the landlord forgot I had already claimed the use of the
parlor and he—"

"And I daresay you experienced a sudden loss of voice
that prevented you from speaking up."

"Everything happened so fast, and then—"

"And then you decided it would be far more interesting
to skulk behind the bench and listen."

Gwenda eyed him in frustration. "For someone who claims
to be so eager to hear what I have to say, you have an annoying habit of
interrupting me."

Ravenel silenced her with a lofty wave of his hand that Bert
took for encouragement to assault his lordship again. After subduing the dog
with another curt command, Ravenel fixed Gwenda with a stern eye. "Upon my
word, madam. You should have had the delicate sensibility to make your presence
known instead of spying upon a man like some chit of a schoolgirl."

Gwenda could have endured him railing or even swearing at
her, as her brother Jack would have done, aye, and considered she deserved it.
But when Ravenel lectured her in that stuffy manner, he reminded her of her
odious brother Thorne.

"I am rather afraid I don't have any delicate
sensibilities," she said.

"Nor scruples!"

"No, I am not overburdened with those, either,"
she agreed affably. "I do think you might have had more sense than to go
about proposing to people in a public place like an inn. But, I daresay,"
Gwenda added, trying to be charitable, "that you were too worried that
Lord Smithdon or Smardon, or whatever his name is, was going to steal a march
on you with Miss Carruthers."

Ravenel's jaw dropped open in an outraged gasp. "Why,
you impertinent little—"

"And it is only natural your lordship should be feeling
a little surly—"

"Surly!" Gwenda thought he would choke on the
word.

"Pray accept my heartiest condolences upon your recent
disappointment," she concluded.

"My recent disappointment is none of your affair."
His voice started to rise, but with obvious effort he brought it back down
again. "I do not even have the honor of your acquaintance, madam."

"Oh, so you don't. I am Miss Gwenda Mary Vickers."
She swept to her feet and made him her best curtsy, but the regal effect was
somewhat spoiled when she accidentally trod upon Bert's tail and he let out a
reproachful yelp. As she bent down to soothe the dog, she realized Ravenel was
regarding her with a mighty frown.

"Vickers? You are not by any chance one of the
Bedfordshire Vickers?"

"Yes. Of Vickers Hall, just outside the village of
Sawtree." She straightened, offering him her hand.

He didn't take it. A visible shudder coursed through him as
he muttered, "Good Lord. One of the Sawtree Vickers. That explains
everything."

Gwenda tipped her chin to a belligerent angle. "And
exactly what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Only that I have heard of your family
before." Ravenel gave her one of those wary looks generally reserved for
village idiots and the hopelessly insane His eyes raked over her as though
seeing her for the first time. Gwenda thought he dwelt on the curve of her
breasts a little longer than he should have. She fought down a blush. Her
Roderigo would have been far too high-minded for that.

She did not believe that his lordship was behaving with much
gallantry, but she was willing to make allowances for a man who had been so
recently crossed in love. Once more she nobly tried to apologize for her
intrusion. "Pray do not feel embarrassed over what I just witnessed, my
lord. I assure you I am the soul of discretion."

His thick eyebrows arched up in sardonic fashion. " It
is difficult not to feel embarrassed. I am not accustomed to having an audience
when I am making love to a lady."

"Making love?" Gwenda gasped. "Dear heavens!
Is that what you thought you were doing?"

His glare should have stopped her, but she could not let the
poor man continue under such a delusion. "Oh, no, my dear Lord Ravenel! I
regret to tell you, but you were doing everything absolutely all wrong."

"Indeed, Miss Vickers?" Ravenel said through
clenched teeth. "What a pity I hadn't realized you were present. I could
have consulted you first."

"You should have been telling her something far more
passionate than that you want a comfortable marriage. I'll also wager you never
looked at Miss Carruthers when you were proposing, which is a great pity. You
have a handsome pair of eyes."

"Of all the arrant nonsense—" Ravenel began,
turning an even deeper shade of red.

"There is still time for you to make amends. You could
go after Miss Carruthers even now, take her in your arms and say—"

"Miss Vickers!" he snapped.

"No, I don't think she would like it if you called her
by my name," Gwenda continued, undaunted. However, the black look Ravenel
shot her did cause her to retreat a step. She could not help admiring the way
his eyes smoldered when he was angry. Gwenda stared as if mesmerized into those
raging dark depths, wondering rather breathlessly what he would do if he lost
his temper. She had never been menaced by a man, as her hapless heroines were
by the villains in her books. Obviously she could expect no help from Bert. The
dog had rolled over onto his back and was shamelessly begging to have his
stomach scratched.

With one powerful leap of her imagination, Gwenda conjured
up images of everything from Ravenel's gloved fingers reaching for her throat
to his restraining her ruthlessly against him. She felt vaguely disappointed
when he merely drew himself up stiffly and said, "Since there is not the
least likelihood we shall ever meet again, Miss Vickers, I have no intention of
discussing my personal concerns with you any further. But, in future, let me
advise you not to listen in on private conversations. Other men might be
lacking in my considerable self-restraint."

"And let me advise you, my lord," Gwenda said,
never able to refrain from having the last word, no matter what the risks,
"that the next time you propose to a young lady, you find one that does
not make you feel quite so comfortable."

Ravenel compressed his lips as though not trusting himself
to reply. He spun on his heel and stalked over to wrench open the door. But
this time he forgot to duck as he stomped across the threshold and slammed the
top of his head against the door frame. The cracking sound was enough to make
Gwenda wince in sympathy just hearing it. He reeled back, clutching his head,
obviously seeing stars, the string of curses he wanted to utter trembling on
his lips.

"Oh, damnation. Go ahead and say it," Gwenda urged
impatiently. "I haven't any delicate sensibilities to offend,
remember?"

She heard the indrawn hiss of his breath His mouth clamped
into a stubborn white line, but his snapping dark eyes did the cursing for him.
Then he exited from the room with the most incredible forbearance Gwenda had
ever witnessed in a man that furious. He didn't even slam the door behind him.

Gwenda let out her breath. "Well, of all the toplofty
men I have ever met!" She bent down beside Bert, obliging him by
scratching him at last and rendering the dog into a state of bliss with his
eyes closed tight.

Gwenda tried to put the stuffy Lord Ravenel out of her head,
but she could not help thinking about his lordship's broad shoulders, his
raven's wing hair, and those marvelous flashing dark eyes so at odds with his
rigid manner.

" It is a great waste, Bertie," she said
mournfully, shaking her head. "A great waste."