The Magic of You (32 page)

She didn’t look at Warren again. She simply walked away as quietly as she’d appeared. But the exasperation she’d left behind was palpable, at least for two occupants of the room.

“Bloody hell,” James snarled.

“Well, that lets you off the hook, Yank.” This from Anthony with a full dose of disgust. “But it also means you’ll stay the hell away from her, or I’ll wipe the floor with you myself.”

Warren wasn’t at all worried about that threat, since he had no intention of ever going near Amy again. But he wasn’t sure if it was relief he was now feeling, and if not, what the hell was it that was wrenching at his gut and making him want to run after her? Not that he was going to give in to this nameless emotion.

To put the question from his mind, he turned to James and asked, “How did you get here so quickly, anyway?”

“On your ship.”

Ordinarily, Warren would have exploded upon hearing something like that, but as it happened, he was delighted to have his ship at his disposal just now. He’d move to her quarters immediately.

“You will excuse me, then, gentlemen. Make yourselves welcome in my home. I’m going to the
Nereus
to see what’s left of her.”

It was a dig that went straight to the heart of James’s seamanship. James retaliated by saying, “Not much.”

Warren didn’t take the bait. “You’ll understand, under the circumstances, why I’m not going to offer you transport back to England.”

“As if we’d put you and Amy on another ship together,” Anthony grumbled.

Warren didn’t take that bait either. “Then perhaps we won’t see each other again.”

They could all hope.

Chapter 40

Warren’s brothers had left earlier in the week to return to England with the new manager. If he sailed immediately, there was a chance he could rendezvous with them at sea and thereby avoid returning to England himself to explain.

He didn’t sail immediately. He found out for himself which other ships would be departing for that part of the world. One was scheduled to leave in three days. He expected Amy to be on it. And as long as she and her uncles were leaving that soon, there was really no point in his returning to London at all. They could take care of the explanations to his brothers. The new manager would be installed in the Skylark
office. There was nothing else for him to do in London—except to be too close to Amy again for his peace of mind.

The last persuaded him to avoid England entirely for a few years, especially since he was already having a hard time staying away from his house while Amy was still in it. He kept having this nagging feeling that he shouldn’t have let it end the way it had, that he should have taken the time to explain to her, privately, why he still wouldn’t marry her; that it wasn’t her, but marriage itself, that he objected to. Of course, she probably knew that, since she knew so much about his background, including his history with Marianne, but it wouldn’t have hurt to reiterate why he wouldn’t ask her to be his wife.

And he couldn’t get the last sight of her out of his mind, with that mixture of hurt, defeat, and obstinacy that changed her appearance, made her look older than her eighteen years, made him want to comfort her. She’d come to his rescue, refused to have him except on her terms. For that he was grateful—or he should be. But the plain fact was, she’d refused to have him.

Christ, he wasn’t going to let that bother him, too, was he?

Warren threw himself into work and socializing with old friends. On the day Amy sailed, he got roaring drunk and spent the next day in bed wishing he hadn’t; then he got on with
his life. He moved back into his house, but not into his bedroom, whose last potent memories were too strong to bear. He scheduled a run to the West Indies that would take several months, purchased the cargo, and spent his last evening in town with Mac, who wisely refrained from mentioning any Malorys.

On the morning of his departure, he walked to the docks to enjoy the late-summer weather, but in his present mood he found nothing pleasing about it. Five days had passed since Amy had left town, and it was getting easier not to think of her—That wasn’t the truth. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. But it
would
get easier. It had to, because the memories were actually becoming painful.

As it happened, that walk through town wasn’t uneventful. Turning a corner leading to the docks. Warren saw Marianne, and all the old bitterness welled up to nearly choke him. Dressed in sunny yellow right up to her parasol, she looked every inch a rich man’s wife, yet he’d heard of her divorce. He wasn’t sure what he thought about it, if anything, because he hadn’t spared the time to give it any thought at all.

He’d have to pass her to reach the docks. The devil he would. He turned to cross the street, but she’d seen him. He stiffened when she called his name, but he didn’t take another step. He waited for her to approach him, making her come to him. Once he would have
done her slightest bidding. Now he could barely tolerate the sight of her, though with her blond hair and light blue eyes, she was still just as beautiful as she’d always been.

“How are you, Warren?”

“In no mood for idle conversation,” he replied curtly. “So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Still bitter? I’d hoped not.”

“Why?” he sneered. “Thinking of taking up where you left off?”

“No. I got what I wanted, independence from any man. I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

“Then why are we talking?”

She gave him a smile he remembered as indicating patience. He’d forgotten that about her, her boundless patience, how nothing could ruffle her feathers. Now that he thought about it, it was more a lack of emotion on her part, so different from Amy’s patience, or rather tolerance, because Amy was anything but patient.

“I almost came to your house, you know,” she told him, “when I heard you were back. But I didn’t quite have the nerve. So I’m glad I’ve run into you, because I want to tell you I’m sorry for my part in Steven’s scheme. I couldn’t tell you that before, but now that I’m divorced, I can.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“It’s all right if you don’t I just need to clear my conscience. Not that I would have
done anything differently, but I never felt good about doing it.”

“Doing what, Marianne? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Steven set the whole thing up—you, me. It was all a well-thought-out plan that was conceived by him before you and I even met. And you fell for it. You were young and gullible, and it was a simple plan. Get you to fall in love with me, then jilt you for your worst rival. But the baby was part of the deal. So was the divorce, for that matter. As I said, he planned everything beforehand. All he needed was a woman to pull it off, and he found her in me, because what he offered in return was too good for me to turn down. To be rich and independent, without having to answer to any man. That was the lure. That’s why I did it.”

Warren was too incredulous at the moment to get angry. “The baby was part of it?”

“Yes. What Steven was going to say if you tried to claim the child, it was mostly true. I was sleeping with him. He insisted upon it, not because he liked me or anything like that, but to make sure a child would result. You see, he didn’t care who fathered the child, as long as you thought you did.”

“Whose child was it?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I honestly don’t know. I wasn’t going to get to keep him—that was also part of the deal—so I tried not to get too attached to him.”

“Did Steven kill him?”

Warren had surprised her. “Is that what you thought? No. That’s the funny part. He actually loved that boy. He was real torn up about it when the accident happened.”

“I’ll bet.”

She frowned. “You’ve let him win, haven’t you? You’ve let it all work out just as he planned it.”

“I don’t see as I had much choice, gullible fool that I was.”

“I meant now. You think I can’t see how bitter you still are? Why didn’t you just put it behind you and forget about it? Don’t you know that the only reason we stayed married as long as we did was because he thought you still loved me? The deal was that I’d have the divorce after just a few years, but he wouldn’t give it to me as long as he thought our marriage was wringing a few more drops of blood from you. The only reason I finally got it was because you haven’t been around often enough for him to gloat over.”

“So you got stuck with him longer than you figured. You think I give a damn?”

“You might like to know that I never cared for him, and he felt the same toward me all these years.”

“So there’s justice after all?”

“You might also like to know that he got bored with the last scheme, that he’s been looking for a new one.”

“You actually think I’d make the same mistake twice?”

“No, I just thought you should know it’s not over as far as he’s concerned. He really hates you, you see. I used to wonder if he was quite right in the head when he would go into these rages over childhood slights and black eyes, minor things that shouldn’t mean anything. But he’d rage about how those childhood incidents had shamed him before his father, and how his father would ridicule and humiliate him for losing those battles with you. He hated his father, too, but he never admitted that—got it mixed up with you, I think. You were easier to hate. He didn’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“Steven can go to hell for all I care, but you—you should have told me you were available for money, Marianne. I could have matched his price.”

The insult struck home, bringing angry color to her cheeks. “How would you know what it’s like to be poor and have nothing? You’ve always had everything you could ask for. I didn’t like deceiving you that way. I didn’t expect you to be so nice and fun-loving—at least you used to be. But I’d made the deal. I had to stick with it.”

“Yes, for the money,” he said in disgust.

“Well, here’s something for free, Warren. That young lady you had staying at your house? It was all over town that you’d compromised her but she refused to marry you.
And Steven left town on her ship. As I said, he’d been looking for a new way to hurt you. Looks like he may think he’s found it.”

Chapter 41

Georgina didn’t wait to be announced and have Amy join her in the parlor. She marched straight upstairs to the girl’s bedroom and, as upset as she was, didn’t even knock. “Amy Malory, I cannot
believe
who I saw you with today. Do you have any idea—do you even know who—how could you possibly go out with that man?”

Amy rolled over on the bed, where she had been looking through the latest fashion plates her mother had brought home. “It’s nice to see you, too, Aunt George. And how is little Jack?”

“You can pull that evasive trick with your uncles, but don’t you try it on me, young lady.
That was Steven Addington you were with.”

“Yes, I know.”

“But don’t you know who he is?”

“’Course I do,” Amy said matter-of-factly. “You told me all about him, if you’ll recall. He’s the man who married Marianne. They’re divorced, by the way.”

Georgina’s mouth dropped open. “You knew, and
still
you’ve been letting him call on you?”

“For the time being.”

“But why?” Georgina demanded. “And don’t tell me you
like
the man.”

“He’s rather handsome, don’t you think?”

“Amy!”

“Oh, all right,” Amy grouched. “It’s quite simple, actually. Steven has been paying me attention, courting me, as it were, since we sailed from Bridgeport. I wondered about it at first, especially since he owned up to knowing about my refusal to marry Warren. How could he know that without knowing the rest?”

“He couldn’t.”

“Exactly. So why would he pay court to me when he was aware that I’d been compromised?”

“He thought you would be an easy conquest?” Georgina suggested wryly.

“I considered that, but rejected it. No, he wants to marry me.”

“What?”

Amy nodded. “Quite so.”

“He’s asked you?”

“No, but he’s hinted that he will. I think he’s waiting for Warren to arrive before he does.”

“What’s Warren got to do with it?”

“Everything. Consider what you told me about the man, how he and Warren were childhood rivals, how they wanted and fought over the same things. Warren wanted Marianne and Steven took her from him. Steven
thinks
Warren wants me, so now he wants me, too.”

“I suppose that does sound logical, doesn’t it?” Georgina allowed.

“But his little spy—”

“
What
little spy?”

“One of the housemaids in your brother’s house—I caught the girl eavesdropping twice during the few days I was in residence. But I’d say she failed to hear everything that day my uncles arrived—she caught only the worst parts. At least I’m almost positive she didn’t hear that Warren really didn’t want to marry me.”

“Why?”

“Because Steven has expressed sympathy for Warren—the bloody liar—because I didn’t find Warren to my liking. So obviously that is the conclusion he’s drawn.”

“You didn’t correct his assumption?”

“I wasn’t sure what he was up to then, so I let him think whatever suited him.”

“But why are you going along with it?”

“For Warren.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Amy grinned at Georgina’s confounded expression and explained, “My way didn’t work, Aunt George, my frankness and honesty not the least bit appreciated. So I’m going to try something as old-fashioned as simple jealousy to bring Warren around.”

“Oh, God, there won’t be anything simple about it if it involves Steven.”

“That’s the added bonus. I will be giving Warren a reason to challenge the man, so he can finally get that old bitterness out of his system.”

Georgina sighed, forced to point out the obvious. “Amy, this is assuming that Warren wants you. How can you still be hopeful of that after what happened in Bridgeport?”

“You’re absolutely right. He may not give a fig if I marry Steven. All I have to go on are my instincts.”