Tender Rebel (17 page)

Anthony had taken her glass, refilled it, and handed it back while she laid into him with these facts. She didn’t even seem to notice.

“Very well, now I know why you think you must marry quickly. So tell me, what’s made it immediate?
What brought you to risk your reputation by coming here tonight?”

She flinched at the unnecessary reminder of
that
danger, which had seemed the lesser evil at the time. “Geordie’s found me. Last night he managed to have me drugged and taken right out of Frances’ house.”

“The hell you say!”

She went on as if she hadn’t heard his outburst. “I woke up today locked in a strange room down by the waterfront, just waiting for the deceitful parson Geordie had found to arrive. If I hadn’t jumped out the window—”

“Good God, woman, you can’t be serious!”

She stopped her pacing for a moment to fix him with a look that was frankly contemptuous. “I’ve no doubt still got some straw in my hair from the hay wagon I landed in. It took me so long to find my way home that there was no time to brush it all out. I would show you, but Nettie’s not here to redo my hair if I take it down, and I doubt your Dobson could manage it. And I will
not
leave your house looking as if—as if—”

Anthony threw back his head in laughter when she failed to complete the provocative thought. Roslynn gave him her back and headed straight for the door. He got there at the same moment, his hand sliding past her shoulder to press firmly against the only exit.

“Was it something I said?” he asked in all innocence next to her ear.

Roslynn didn’t hesitate to give him the full impact of her elbow, which landed unerringly at such close range. Satisfied with his grunt of discomfort, she slipped around him, putting a more breathable distance between them.

“I believe you’ve had enough amusement at my expense, Sir Anthony. I only intended to be here a few minutes, and I’ve wasted all this time on unnecessary explanations. I have a driver waiting and a long trip ahead of me. You said you were in a hurry as well. The name, if you please.”

He leaned back against the door, that “long trip” sending off tremors of panic through his body. “You’re not leaving London?”

“Of course I am. You don’t think I can stay here now that Geordie’s found me, do you?”

“Then how do you intend to entice one of your admirers into a marriage proposal if you’re not here to help the courtship along?”

“Hell’s teeth! As if I have time for a courtship now,” she said, exasperated by his never-ending questions. “I’ll be doing my own proposing, if you’ll—just—give—me—a—name!”

Her furious emphasis on each word warned him to change tactics, and yet he was at a momentary loss. He wouldn’t give her a name even if he had one to recommend, but if he told her that, she’d be out of the room in a flash and gone who-knew-where. He wondered if he dared ask her destination. No, she was fed up with his deliberate evasions.

He walked toward her, indicating the thick lounge chair in front of the fireplace. “Sit down, Roslynn.”

“Anthony…” she began warningly.

“It’s not that simple.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’ve had ample time to sift fact from rumor, as you promised to do.”

“I asked for a week, if you’ll recall.”

Her eyes flared in alarm. “Then you haven’t—”

“On the contrary,” he cut in quickly. “But you’re not going to like what I’ve found out.”

She groaned, ignoring the offered chair, and began pacing again. “Tell me.”

Anthony’s mind raced ahead, scavenging frantically for possible dirt he could pile on her contenders. He began with the only piece that was actually true, hoping inspiration would follow for the rest.

“That duel I told you David Fleming refused to participate in. It not only branded the poor fellow a coward but also—well, actually—”

“Out with it! I suppose it involved some woman? That’s hardly surprising.”

“The argument wasn’t over a woman, my dear, but another man, only it was still a lover’s quarrel.” He took advantage of her moment of shock to refill her brandy glass once more.

“You mean—”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But he seemed so—so, och, never mind.
He
certainly won’t do.”

“You’ll have to scratch Dunstanton too,” Anthony said. Since she was leaving London, she couldn’t confirm his next words: “He’s just announced his betrothal.”

“I don’t believe it!” she gasped. “Why, just last weekend he asked me to the theater. Of course, he canceled but…oh, very well. I wanted the list narrowed down, and so it is. What about Savage?”

Anthony was inspired by the name. “He won’t do at all, my dear. Somewhere along his misspent youth he must have taken his name to heart. The man’s a sadist.”

“Oh, come now—”

“It’s true. He enjoys hurting anything weaker than he is—animals, women. His servants are terrified….”

“All right! You needn’t go into detail. That still leaves Lord Warton, whom even your niece recommended to me, and Sir Artemus.”

It was Anthony’s turn to pace, for he drew a blank where Warton was concerned. Shadwell’s love of gambling could be played up, but there was absolutely nothing to discredit Warton with. In fact, the chap would no doubt make an ideal husband for Roslynn. Fortunately for Anthony, that knowledge so annoyed him, he managed to dredge up the perfect muck to swill on the fellow.

He turned toward Roslynn, imitating a suitably reluctant look. “You might as well forget Warton too. His interest in you was only to throw his mother off the scent.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“He’s in love with his sister.”

“
What?
”

“Oh, it’s a well-enough-kept secret,” Anthony assured her. “Reggie certainly doesn’t know, for it’s not something Montieth would want to disillusion her with. After all, she’s quite friendly with all three Wartons. And he wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t mentioned to him your sudden interest in the fellow. But he came upon them in the woods once, quite an embarrassing moment, I would imagine—”

“Enough!” Roslynn finished off her third brandy and handed him the glass. “You’ve done exactly as I asked, and I thank you. Sir Artemus was the first to appear on my list, so it seems fitting that he should end up being my choice.”

“He’s destitute, my dear.”

“No problem.” She smiled. “I have enough money to plump up his purse again.”

“I don’t think you understand, Roslynn. In the last few years his gambling has become a disease. He’s gone from being one of the most wealthy men in England to having nothing. He’s had to sell off every estate he owned except the one in Kent, and that’s heavily mortgaged.”

“How can you know that?”

“My brother Edward has handled the sales.”

She was frowning, but insisted stubbornly, “It doesn’t matter. In fact, it assures me that he can’t possibly refuse the proposal I’ll put to him.”

“Oh, he’d jump on it, all right. And within a year you’d be just as destitute as he is.”

“You’re forgetting I will have control of my fortune, Anthony.”

“True, but you’re overlooking the simple fact that a man can and does gamble on credit, which is utterly impossible to monitor. And his creditors won’t hesitate to come to you as his legal wife for payment, nor even to take you to court. And the courts, my dear, will hardly favor your contract when it can be proved you married Shadwell with full knowledge of his penchant for excessive gambling. You would be forced to honor his debts whether you want to or not.”

Roslynn paled, eyes wide and incredulous. With so little knowledge of the law herself, she had no reason to doubt Anthony’s predictions. She was forced to believe him. And to think she had once assumed a down-and-out gambler would be a perfect choice for her, never dreaming he could actually be the one man to lead her into penury. She might as
well give her inheritance to Geordie as settle for a gambler.

“They were all so suitable,” she said absently, miserably, before she turned large hazel eyes on Anthony. “Do you ken you’ve left me no one?”

Her woebegone expression struck right to his heart. He was responsible, with his half-truths and fabrications. He had interfered with her life with the most selfish of motives. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to push her toward another man. He just couldn’t do that. And it wasn’t only that he wanted her himself. The thought of another man touching her had the strangest, gut-wrenching effect on him.

No, he couldn’t regret that he had left her with no one, for his relief was too great on that score. But he couldn’t bear her misery either.

In an effort to cheer her, he offered lightly, “Fleming would have you, you know, if only for appearance’ sake.” If he thought
she
would have
him
, however, he’d simply have to kill the fellow. “For your purposes, he’d be ideal, and then I could be assured of having you all to myself.”

If nothing else, he succeeded in sparking her anger again with that observation. “I’d no’ take a mon who’d be loath to touch me. If I have to marry, I’m wanting children out of it.”

“That can be arranged, my dear, most willingly on my part,” he replied softly.

But she was no longer listening to him. “I suppose I could return home and marry a crofter. What difference who I marry now? The thing is to get it done.”

He saw his every effort tumbling down the wayside. “Bloody hell! You can’t—”

She was still lost in the world of her few remaining
options. “It’s what I should’ve done from the start. At least I’ll know what I’m getting.”

He caught her shoulders, forcing her to hear him. “Confound you, woman, I’m not about to let you throw yourself away on some dirt farmer!” And before Anthony even realized what he was going to say, the words tumbled out. “You’ll marry me!”

Chapter Eighteen

W
hen Roslynn’s laugher died down to a trickle of chuckles, she realized belatedly that her amusement could be nothing short of a gross insult to Anthony. While she had been blinded by tears of humor, he had moved away from her. She located him now, sitting on the bed, casually leaning back on one elbow.

He didn’t
look
insulted. He looked rather bemused, actually. Well, at least her faux pas hadn’t aroused his anger, which she wouldn’t have blamed him for in the least. But it was so ridiculous. Marry him, indeed. London’s most notorious rake? He couldn’t possibly have meant it anyway.

But she felt better for having had a good laugh, considering what she was yet facing. With a lingering smile, she took a few steps closer to him, bending her head at an angle to try to gain his attention.

“That’s a rare talent you have, Anthony, for lifting the spirits, but then no one could ever accuse you of lacking charm. But it’s plain to see you’re out of your element when it comes to proposing marriage. I believe the words should come in the form of a request, not a demand. You really must remember that the next time your sense of humor leans toward the absurd.”

He said nothing at first, but his eyes rose to meet hers. She grew suddenly uncomfortable under his level stare.

“Quite right, my dear. I’m afraid I lost my head.
But then I rarely do things in a conventional manner.”

“Well…” She drew her ermine-trimmed pelisse closer together. It was a nervous gesture on her part. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

He sat up straight, hands pressed to knees. “You’re not leaving yet, not without giving me your answer.”

“Answer to what?”

“Will you marry me?”

Put to her conventionally, the question sounded no less absurd. “But you were joking!” she said incredulously.

“Afraid not, sweetheart. Though it’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you, I’m quite serious.”

Roslynn’s lips compressed tightly.
This
was not funny at all. “It’s out of the question. I wouldn’t marry you any more than I would Geordie.”

Her previous laughter was understandable. And her reaction to his demand that she marry him was mild compared with his own surprise. But although the words had come of their own volition, once said, Anthony realized the idea of marriage, always so appalling before, suddenly had merit.

Not that he couldn’t be talked out of it if she weren’t standing there looking so fetching. He had gone thirty-five years without needing a wife and he certainly didn’t need one now. So what the bloody hell was he doing insisting he was serious when she had given him an out by doubting him?

The trouble was, he didn’t like being backed into a corner, and her threat to marry merely anybody did just that. And he liked even less the idea of her walking out of his life, which she was also threatening to do. For that matter, her leaving this room
was the last thing he wanted. She was here. He was bloody well going to take advantage of it.

Her flat refusal to accept him, however, was the seed that tipped the scale. She
would
have him, by God, if he had to compromise her to get her agreement.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, my dear, but you haven’t another offer forthcoming, have you? And I recall your saying that it made no difference who you marry as long as you get it done.”

She frowned at him. “That’s true, but you happen to be the one exception.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say you’d make a terrible husband.”

“I always thought so,” he surprised her by agreeing. “Why else would I have avoided matrimony so long?”

“Well, then, you’ve made
my
point, haven’t you?”

He grinned now. “Just conceding the possibility, sweetheart. But let’s also look at the other side of the coin. I could as likely take to marriage right handily. Montieth did, and I’d have been the first to say he was doomed to failure.”

“
He
happens to love his wife,” she pointed out with annoying emphasis.

“Good God, you’re not waiting to hear me say I love you, are you? It’s rather soon—”

“Certainly not!” Roslynn cut in stiffly, cheeks flaming.

“But we both know I want you, don’t we? And we both know you—”

“Sir Anthony, please!” If it was possible for her face to get any hotter, it did. “There’s nothing you could say to me to make me change my mind. You just willna do for me. I swore I’d never marry myself
a rake, and you’ve admitted to me that’s what you are. And you canna change what you are, mon.”