Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (46 page)

Elyse felt her anger bubbling up inside. She had one hand resting on the table and it clenched tightly into a fist as she drew in a breath to retort, but Aunt Matthews covered her fingers with her own and squeezed them warningly as she repeated quietly, ‘We will be ready, sir.'

* * *

‘What an insufferable man!'

Elyse had struggled to contain herself until Mr Bastion had been shown out and the door had barely closed behind him before her exclamation was uttered, resonant with suppressed violence.

‘Hush my dear, he may still hear you.'

‘I am sure I do not care. I declare I quite abhor him.'

‘Why should you do that, my love, when he is doing his best to carry out your father's wishes?'

‘But in such a high-handed manner.'

Aunt Matthews chuckled.

‘He does appear to be in a hurry to get you to the viscount, does he not? But there, your father's plans were never straightforward, so doubtless there is a good reason for it,' she added shrewdly.

Elyse tossed her head. ‘He is the most arrogant, overbearing man I have ever met.'

‘Is he? I think it more likely that he is the first man you have met who has not succumbed to your charms.'

Elyse flushed, not at all pleased at her aunt displaying such unwonted perspicacity. She said no more on the subject and presently took herself off to bed, where her rest was disturbed by dreams of an autocratic gentleman with searching blue eyes.

* * *

Despite a long journey and the bracing sea air, it was a long time before Drew slept. He had very reluctantly agreed to become guardian to Harry's daughter and now he realised that his qualms had been justified. Harry had described his daughter as intelligent, spirited and beautiful, but he had not told Drew just
how
spirited she was. Nor had Drew believed she would be so beautiful. A veritable diamond. Oh, Harry had described her as such but Drew had dismissed that as a father's natural partiality. And after all, Harry had not seen his daughter for three years, he could not have known with any certainty that the pretty seventeen-year-old would become a nonpareil.

As soon as Drew had arrived in Scarborough he had heard bucks in the taproom toasting the incomparable Miss Salforde and the way they had been clustering around her in her own drawing room convinced him that all the menfolk of the town were in thrall to her. It was not difficult to understand why. She was witty and beautiful and she had a smile that could light up a room. And those large pansy-brown eyes—he had no doubt that her local swains had written odes to them. He had seen for himself how they could be velvet soft or sparkling with anger. He imagined they would be heart-stoppingly glorious when they were shining with happiness. Or love.

The thought had him turning restlessly in his bed. He might not have his old friend's weakness for a pretty face, but he could not deny the attraction he felt towards Elyse Salforde. What was it that Harry had said?

‘Who better than a rake to look after a beautiful woman? Poacher turned gamekeeper, my friend.'

Well, perhaps there is still a little too much of the poacher about me,
thought Drew.

There was no doubt that he found Elyse Salforde too damned tempting for comfort. It wasn't just her beauty, but something within her, some force of nature that shone out. When their eyes met it seemed to call to him, like a kindred spirit.

By God he was turning into an old fool. He pushed himself up and thumped his pillow before settling down again and pulling the blankets more securely around him. He was honour-bound to carry out Harry's dying wishes and he would do so. He would deliver Harry's daughter safe and sound to her bridegroom if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter Two

T
he next morning dawned bright and clear and Drew lost no time in making his arrangements. These went well and with the late-summer sun beating down upon him he began to think the task ahead was not quite so onerous. A few days on the road and once they reached London he could hand Miss Elyse Salforde over to Lord Whittlewood. Mrs Matthews had sent him a polite note, inviting him to join them for dinner and he had grinned as he read it. He doubted her niece was in favour of the idea. She had spent most of the previous evening glaring at him, and in truth he knew he had deserved it. He had ridden her hard and given no sign that he found her attractive. She had more than enough admirers and he was not going to add to their number.

Amongst the fashionable beauties of London she might not stand out quite so much, but in a provincial spa town like Scarborough she was undoubtedly a diamond, and far too conscious of her own worth. It would do Miss Salforde no harm at all to be brought down to earth a little and if she tried her tricks upon him then he would do it.

Having finished his business he made his way to the beach to watch the horse racing. He spent a pleasant couple of hours discussing horseflesh with other observers, placing wagers, losing a little money, winning even more before quitting the sands. It was still early and there was time to spare before he needed to change for his dinner engagement, so he decided to stroll through the town. The streets were busy and it was not long before a familiar figure caught his eye.

Miss Salforde was coming towards him in the company of an elderly lady and gentleman. She wore a dark grey cloak over her black gown and it looked out of place against the more colourful attire of her companions. As they approached he recognised the couple as Mr and Mrs Oliver, guests at Mrs Matthews's party last night. He was relieved to see that Elyse was not escorted by any of her young swains. It seemed the chit had some proper feeling, after all.

It soon became apparent that the Olivers had recognised him. When they came up they stopped to acknowledge his bow and exchange courtesies. Only Elyse looked less than pleased to see him, standing back from her friends and looking beyond him with every appearance of haughty indifference.

‘We are making our daily visit to the spa,' offered the old gentleman, the improbably brown hair of his bagwig making a stark contrast to the white whiskers and eyebrows that adorned his aged face. ‘But first we are escorting Miss Salforde to the circulating library and home again.'

Elyse looked a little self-conscious when she realised she was the centre of attention, lifting her hands to show him the books she was carrying.

‘I must needs return them before I leave town.'

‘We called upon Mrs Matthews to thank her for her hospitality last evening and she told us the exciting news,' explained Mrs Oliver. ‘You are all off to London! I am sure the ladies must be very pleased they have you to escort them, Mr Bastion. One can hire a courier, I know, but there is nothing so comforting as having a gentleman in attendance.'

Drew bowed.

‘Indeed, ma'am. But—is the library not out of your way?'

‘Oh, nothing to speak of,' replied Mr Oliver gallantly. ‘We will make a little detour, of course, but we are happy to do so, since Mrs Matthews would have had to send her maid, and she has told us how much there is do if everything is to be packed up in time. We do not begrudge a little extra walking, do we my dear?'

His wife concurred readily, but Drew's eyes dwelled thoughtfully upon the way the old gentleman leaned upon his stick.

‘If you wish I would happily accompany Miss Salforde to the library, and save you the extra journey.' He saw Elyse's start of surprise, her look of alarm.

‘Oh, but I could not possibly impose upon you,' she began, flustered.

He gave a wide smile that encompassed all three of them, saying easily, ‘It is no imposition. I have nothing to do until dinnertime and would enjoy the diversion.'

‘Well, that is exceeding kind of you, my boy,' declared Mr Oliver, beaming. ‘And nothing could be better, Miss Salforde, for there can be no harm in leaving you in the company of your guardian, what?' He gave a wheezy chuckle. ‘And I've no doubt you will much prefer to be accompanied by this handsome young fellow, eh?'

‘No, indeed, Mr Oliver, I am more than happy to remain with you and Mrs Oliver.'

Elyse's response was heartfelt, Drew was sure, but her elderly friends thought she was merely sparing their feelings. They laughed aside her protests and said goodbye, strolling away and leaving Elyse standing beside Drew. She was regarding him solemnly, a discontented frown marring her perfect features. His lips twitched.

‘I have no doubt they are very kind,' he said smiling, ‘But to escort you to the circulating library and back again would have added a good mile or so to their perambulations.' He held out his arm. ‘Shall we walk on?'

Elyse knew she had no choice. The streets were busy and to refuse his escort and walk unaccompanied through the town where she was so well known would expose her to censure, and there was even the risk of being accosted. Also, she thought indignantly, she doubted he would let her walk away from him. How she wished now that she had declined Mr and Mrs Oliver's kindly offer and waited for Hoyle to come with her—or she could even have sent a footman on the errand.

Curbing such futile regrets she assumed her chilliest demeanour and placed the very tips of her fingers on his sleeve as they set off through the busy streets. She was aware of the attention they were attracting. She acknowledged politely the sly smiles and nods of her many acquaintances but ignored their knowing looks. She noted too the admiring glances that were cast at her escort. His height immediately drew the eye, and there was no denying that his figure was good. It showed to advantage in his russet coat of superfine wool with its silver-gilt buttons. There was no creasing or straining of the material across his broad shoulders or where it tapered gently to his waist before flaring out, and even then a vent in the heavy folds allowed his sword to pass through without marring the elegant lines. In normal circumstances she would have been very pleased to be seen on the arm of such a handsome gentleman, but the circumstances were far from normal and she could not forget his odious behaviour towards her the previous evening. He interrupted her reverie by remarking with a laugh in his voice,

‘It behoves us to have some conversation, Miss Salforde.'

‘I did not realise I was obliged to entertain you.'

‘To escort such a beautiful lady is entertainment enough.'

She could not resist a glance at him as she said drily, ‘Trying to turn me up sweet, Mr Bastion?'

‘Could I do so?'

The glint in his eyes challenged her and she fought down the impulse to smile back at him. Instead she looked away and said in an indifferent tone, ‘You have certainly charmed my aunt.'

‘I have no doubt she is relieved to have someone share the responsibility for your guardianship. You must be a sad trial to her.'

‘That is not it at all,' she retorted, nettled. ‘I am not the least trouble, I assure you. In fact I am of great use to her.'

‘Oh?'

‘I practically run the household.'

‘You rule the roost.'

‘No, not at all, I—' She bit her lip. ‘You are making a May-game of me, sir.'

He merely laughed at that, and as they had arrived at the circulating library she said no more.

Mr Frear, the library's elderly owner was behind the counter and immediately came forward, his friendly greeting balm to Elyse's wounded pride. She handed back her books and explained that she would not be requiring more.

‘Ah yes, I have heard that you are leaving us,' he declared. ‘Your going will be a sad loss to the town, Miss Salforde.'

‘By heaven, word travels quickly.'

‘It does indeed, sir, when it concerns Scarborough's brightest star,' replied Mr Frear gallantly.

Elyse glanced up at the gentleman beside her. That should show him she was held in some esteem here. And he could not accuse her of flirting with old Mr Frear.

* * *

Her errand complete and spirits raised somewhat by her reception at the circulating library, Elyse and her companion set off back towards Aunt Matthews's house in Northfield Square. Her escort behaved with such civil courtesy that she was emboldened to try once more to delay their departure.

‘Is it imperative that we quit Scarborough tomorrow, Mr Bastion? Surely an extra day would make no odds.'

‘We may need that extra day if the weather should turn. We are a long way from London, Miss Salforde. I would have thought you impatient to see Mr Reverson again.'

‘I am, of course.'

She could not avoid the heartbeat's hesitation before making her reply. Marriage to William had been her future for so long that she had come to take it for granted, but the knowledge that she would soon be making her home with William's family was a little frightening. After all, they were almost strangers, even William. She had not forgotten the pleasure of dancing with him, the elation she had felt at his shy proposal, the thrill of the chaste kisses they had exchanged in secret, but they had been together for such a short time.

William had left Scarborough soon after they had become engaged. Elyse had been heartbroken for a week, but then she had settled down to life as one of the belles of the town, happy in the knowledge that she need not join the other young ladies in their scramble to make a suitable alliance. It amused her each Season to watch them pursuing their quarry at the routs and assemblies but she envied none of them their husbands. Apart from headstrong Jenny Malden who had eloped with an actor and been disowned by her family, they had all married sensibly and although they all appeared to be happy enough, not one of them had married for love, which is what she would be doing, as well as marrying into one of the highest families in the land. How could she not be proud of her achievement?

She said, more confidently, ‘I cannot wait to be with William again. I received a letter from him only recently begging me to come with all speed.'

‘Is he a regular correspondent?'

‘He writes to me when he can. He is very busy.'

She would not tell him that it was the first letter she had received in months.

‘But you have not seen him for three years.' He paused. ‘A person can change a great deal in that time.'

‘Not William.'

‘And what of you? Are you the same young lady you were when Reverson proposed?'

‘Of course.'

He stopped and turned to face her. ‘Are you sure of that?'

Elyse frowned, angered that he should question her in this manner. Of course she had not changed. But when she looked up to tell him so the words died on her lips. He was looking down at her with a glinting smile that sent all thoughts of William out of her head. When their eyes locked she felt a tremor of something she did not understand run through her body. Heat pooled deep inside and her heart began to thud most uncomfortably in her chest. She felt suddenly breathless and wanted to look away from those disturbing blue eyes. They seemed to see into her very soul and read her most secret thoughts. Not only that, they encouraged new and uncomfortable ideas to form.

She dragged her eyes away but even then they only moved to his mouth and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. She did not doubt that he was very experienced and the thought made the heat deep in her belly curl even deeper. A little thrill of anticipation trembled through her, followed quickly by the knowledge that even thinking of such things was a betrayal of William. Heavens, how could she be so disloyal? In three years she had never before felt like this. She was shocked, and frightened.

Elyse pulled her hand from his arm and turned away, unnerved by his presence and even more so by her reaction. Northfield Square was in sight and she could see her aunt's house on the far side. She hurried towards it, not caring whether he accompanied her. In fact she would very much prefer it if he did not. She soon realised he was keeping pace with her but she refused to look at him and did not stop until she had reached the door of her aunt's house. Only then did she turn and force herself to confront him. There was no laughter in his eyes now when they regarded her, no mischievous glint, only a frowning look. She wondered if she had disappointed him and realised how much she did not want that to be the case.

‘Of—of course I have changed,' she said defiantly. ‘I am older and—and a woman. I am ready now for marriage.'

‘You are certainly that, Miss Salforde,' he retorted. ‘And I pity your husband.'

She stared at him, outraged that he should say such a thing, but without another word he swept off his hat, made her an elegant bow and strode away.

* * *

By the time Drew reached his lodgings his sudden flash of ill humour had abated. It was not the chit's fault that he found her so damned desirable. He had thought he had himself well under control. Granted he had teased her a little, just for the pleasure of it, but her forthcoming marriage to Reverson was no matter for levity. It was his responsibility as her guardian to look out for her. To warn her that people could change a great deal in three years.

He had tried to keep his tone light, but when she had fixed those huge brown eyes upon him he had felt again the stirring of desire, the urge to take her in his arms and make her forget all about William Reverson. He had tried to persuade himself that Harry's daughter was still a child but it was clear that she was not, and the more he saw of her the more his body told him she was every inch a woman, and a very desirable one. Gaining the seclusion of his room he tossed aside his hat and went over to the washstand. He poured some water into the basin and bathed his face, hoping the shock of it would restore his intellect. His anger was not aimed at Elyse, but at her ability to disconcert him and send all sensible thoughts flying from his head.