Pistols at Dawn (25 page)

"I should say the good you have wrought far outweighs the ill. The circumstances have brought out the best in Lucien..."

And they have brought out the best in you
, she couldn't help thinking to herself.

"Your sister's kindness and compassion have been powerful reasons for that as well," added Marcus in a thoughtful voice. "I wonder..."

Eliza finally ventured a glance at his face and saw he was watching the couple ahead of them pick their way down the steep path.

"I wonder if the sham announcement we circulated might come to have any truth to it?"

"I think it possible," replied Eliza. "I believe the two of them have come to have a genuine regard for each other."

He turned his head and finally their eyes met. "And is that unwelcome to you?"

"No, not at all," said Eliza softly. "I have learned a number of invaluable lessons over these last few weeks, foremost among them the perils of rushing to judgment."

The earl took a moment to guide their steps around a rough patch of rocks before answering, "I, too, have learned some invaluable lessons."

She found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to go on.

His mouth gave a wry twitch. "I can now add and subtract columns of numbers correctly, and know the going market price for mangel wurtzels and alfalfa. Among other useful skills."

Useful.
The air leaked out of her lungs in a soundless sigh. What had she expected? A more intimate admission, just because he had once bestowed a casual kiss?

"You are an excellent teacher," added Marcus after a hint of hesitation.

"Well, it is heartening to know that I can, on occasion, be useful." She tried to match his tone, but her voice came out a little sharper than she intended.

His brows rose slightly, but Eliza hardly noticed. Fatigue seemed to have overpowered her senses, for all of a sudden she was too tired to think, too tired to speak, too tired to feel anything but a dull ache in her chest.

He seemed to feel the change come over her, for he drew her closer, his hold tightening. "We're almost there," he murmured. "Can you hold up for just a short while longer?"

"But of course," replied Eliza, keeping her eyes on the dust swirling around her skirts. "One of the lessons I learned long before I intruded upon your life was never to count on having a shoulder to lean on. So no need to worry about me—I'll survive."

Chapter 16

"Well, it seems the troubles are finally over," said Meredith as she set a hand on Lucien's arm to steady his steps down the terrace stairs and onto the graveled walkway.

Whitney had joined them in the breakfast room that morning, and over bountiful meal of shirred eggs and gammon, he had made a full report on the aftermath of the cliffside confrontation.

"Yes, we need not fear that Hastings will ever hurt anyone again," replied Lucien. "The magistrate has him safely locked up until the next assizes, and what with the evidence of his heinous crimes, it seems likely he will be sent to the gallows." He set his jaw. "I am not a blood-thirsty person, but I shall be sorely tempted to dance a jig on his grave."

"The monstrous acts he did were purely for greed and self-interest, so it is difficult to feel any compassion," she answered. "But everyone, even a man with such a twisted soul, deserves a bit of pity."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "You are far too kind. As I well know."

"Good heavens, it is
you
who have displayed a kindness of heart, not to speak of extraordinary courage," responded Meredith, noting that her praise brought a tinge of color to his face. "Why, you risked your life for Eliza, even though you had a right to blame her for your own travails."

"Your sister was only trying to protect her loved ones," he said. "And yet, even when she thought me a vile monster, both she and you did not hesitate to help me when no one else would."

"Perhaps," she murmured, "at heart, we both sensed that you were not evil."

"The devilish thing was, I wasn't even sure myself," he said haltingly.

"Mr. Harkness—"

"Lucien," he corrected. "I—I would hope that by now, we are good enough friends to dispense with formalities."

"I..." Meredith felt herself color under his gaze. "I have long thought of you as a friend, L-Lucien."

"I am very glad to hear it." He paused as they started through the archway leading into the rose gardens and leaned back against the stones. The shadows dipped and darted over his face, obscuring all but the faint gleam of light in his eyes. "Actually, I hope we are more than friends, Meredith." He cleared his throat. "Though I hardly dare to think it might be possible."

"That is because you are far too modest." A smile tremored on her lips. "I think you are quite the most wonderful man I have ever met."

He blinked, hope and joy shining through his lashes. "Y-you do?"

Meredith touched a hand to his cheek. "I do."

"By Jove," he said faintly. "That gives me courage to ask the next question. Would you—could you—ever consider... making our sham betrothal, um, more than a sham?"

Though his stuttering was rather sweet, she decided to help put an end to his verbal struggling. "Are you, perchance, asking me to marry you, Lucien?"

A boyish grin slowly blossomed on his face. "Well, yes, that's exactly what I'm doing, but I'm making a mull of it." He edged forward a step, just enough to lean around and pluck a red rose from one of the nearby bushes.

"Here, let me start over, and do it properly." He dropped down to one knee. "I love you, Meredith, more than words can express. Will you be my wife?"

She knelt down beside him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Yes. But only if you will rise before you reinjure your ribs and bring on another attack of fever."

"I would expire a deliriously happy man," Lucien murmured. He leaned in and ever so gently pressed his lips to hers for a long, lingering moment. "But yes, perhaps it's better to stand. I would rather survive to enjoy years and years of wedded bliss."

Together they rose.

"For we will be happy, my love," he whispered.

"I have no doubt of that," she answered, holding him close and tilting her mouth up for another kiss. For a time they stood entwined, the delicate floral scent accentuating the ethereal sweetness of their happiness.

They might, thought Meredith, have remained there for hours had not Lucien's hound chosen that moment to bound up and drop a stick at his master's feet with a playful bark.

"I am always happy to oblige you, Ajax." Lucien flung the stick out to the far lawns. "After all, it was you who helped bring us together."

"Clever hound," said Meredith.

"Yes, it only took me several hours and several pocketfuls of beef morsels to train him to jump up on a swirl of feminine skirts."

"Clever fellow."

"I thought so." Lucien grinned, but it quickly gave way to a cough. "Er, I guess we had better go inside and announce the news. I confess, I am a trifle nervous about your sister's reaction. If she doesn't approve—"

"If she doesn't approve, she will learn to approve," said Meredith softly but decisively.

His mouth quirked up at the corners. "You have her same steel, you just keep it better hidden."

Meredith ran a fingertip over one of the rose petals. "Eliza has always felt that she had to be tough and strong to protect Mama and me."

"I hope she will let me share in those duties now," he replied quietly. "Not that she needs any help—why, even Uncle Marcus is a trifle intimidated by her."

The comment brought a laugh to her lips. "When it comes to the ledgers and farm management, she does have a knack of taming the Black Cat's growls." She paused for a moment. "But you know, I don't think either is intimidated by each other's show of claws. In fact, I think they rather enjoy their arguments."

"The same thought had occurred to me," mused Lucien. He paused to throw the stick for Ajax again before adding, "Do you think that might be a sign of a deeper mutual attraction?"

Meredith took her time in considering the question. "Yes, I do, but I don't think either is willing to admit it—not even to themselves. Both my sister and His Lordship keep their innermost feelings well-guarded. So whether they will dare to trust their hearts to another is not something I can say for sure."

She pressed the rose to her cheek and felt the silky softness of its petals caress against her skin. "For their sakes, I hope they decide the risk is worth it."

"So do I," said Lucien. "I think they would make a perfect couple." He flashed another grin. "A lady who dares to pull a pistol on the Black Cat is just the sort of companion Uncle Marcus needs."

"I couldn't agree more," replied Meredith softly. "But they must come to that conclusion themselves."

"True." He offered his arm. "Well, let us go set an example for them. Perhaps they will take the hint."

* * *

Eliza set her candle down on the desk and opened the ledger. Supper had been a festive meal, with the happy couple toasted more than a few times with champagne brought up from the earl's cellar. She smiled, recalling the look of bliss on her sister's face. And Lucien—the way he had looked on Meredith throughout the meal boded left no doubt in her mind that the marriage was a perfect match of hearts.

Whoever would have imagined such a thing several months ago?

"Not me," Eliza murmured, as she, sharpened her quill and uncapped the inkwell.

Which only proved how unreliable her own judgment was.

The thought turned the lingering sparkle of the wine a trifle flat, but she shook off the sensation and began to study the accounts. Work was always a welcome distraction from personal feelings.

At least she could make the columns of numbers add up.

"The monthly expenses can wait until morning, Miss Kirtland."

Eliza jerked her head up in surprise at the sound of the earl's voice. She hadn't heard his steps in the corridor.

"This is supposed to be an evening of celebration."

"Meredith and Lucien are taking a starlit stroll in the gardens, so they are quite happy to celebrate on their own," she replied.

"They do seem over the moon." Rather than retreat, Marcus came into the room and took a seat in the armchair by the hearth. Steepling his fingers on his chest, he gazed at the banked coals but said nothing more.

Eliza worked on for a few moments in silence before venturing a reply. "Your toasts were most gracious, for which I am very grateful. They truly love each other, but not many aristocrats would be thrilled by the idea of their heir marrying a nobody."

"Your sister is not a nobody," he said softly. "She possesses a nobility far greater than any paper title can confer."

"As I said, my family is very fortunate that you are willing to look beyond convention." Even to her own ears, the reply sounded awfully prim, but on watching the pale flickers of light play over his profile, she found her throat was too tight to manage any other sound. Biting her lip, she looked back down at the ledger.

"You sound surprised at that," he remarked. "You still think me an arrogant, self-absorbed rascal?"

For several long moments, the only answer was the scratch of her pen.

"Miss Kirtland?" he finally prompted.

Eliza turned the page. "I didn't think that required a reply. You know very well that it has been quite a while since I thought that."

"Do I?"

The conversation was taking a decidedly uncomfortable turn. "You hired me, sir," she pointed out. "No arrogant, self-absorbed rascal would have done that."

Marcus rose and poured himself a glass of brandy. "Why is it I feel I have just been damned with faint praise."

"You hardly need praise from me," replied Eliza.

He drained his glass in one gulp and refilled. There was an overbright glitter in his eyes that made her wonder whether he was in his cups.

"Perhaps you have had enough to drink, Killingworth," she added.

"Perhaps." To Eliza's dismay, he slowly crossed the carpet and perched a hip on the corner of the desk.