Three Proposals And A Scandal Part 3

Her eyes sparkled with mockery-and a trace of excitement. "I might enjoy that."

"Then I definitely won't spank you," he said, tucking the idea away for revisiting later. She retained the power to surprise him, his gorgeous wife. His headstrong, self-willed, meddling wife. His voice firmed, partly to remind himself that he hadn't come in here to flirt. "You're out to scupper my plans for a deal with Baildon."

This time she didn't bother pretending innocence. "I'm out to achieve a friend's happiness. That's much more important than a few pennies in the family coffers."

Despite his vexation, he couldn't contain a grunt of laughter. "A few pennies? Those fields in Hampstead promise to make me thousands. Do you want our children to starve, madam?"

It was Sidonie's turn to look unimpressed. "Doing it too brown, my love. If you never lifted another finger, our children could eat truffled pheasant off gold dishes until they're ninety." She paused. "Child, that is. Unless you know something I don't."

He'd dearly love to add another occupant to the nursery where his daughter Consuela slept in luxury. His wife distracted him from his point. Deliberately, he knew. "You've put Elias Thorne up in Barstowe Hall."

Barstowe was the Merrick family seat, a rambling Jacobean manor of no particular distinction adjoining Ferney. Jonas had devoted most of his life to getting his hands on this tangible symbol of his inheritance. Once he did, after his marriage, the house had been too full of bitter memories. He and his bride had soon settled into Ferney, the elaborate palace he'd built to undermine his vile cousin's pretensions to the Hillbrook t.i.tle. Jonas was currently renovating the ramshackle old place with a view to leasing it.

"How did you know?" Sidonie asked without a trace of apology.

"My love, Barstowe is next door. How did you expect me not to know?" He drew a long-suffering breath. "Mrs. Bevan saw lights last night so I went over after breakfast to check. Imagine my surprise to find Cam's brother-in-law camping in the south wing."

"I would have told you," she said uncomfortably. "But I thought you wouldn't like it."

"d.a.m.n it, Sidonie, I don't," he said with an edge and turned to face out the window. "It was underhanded."

"I know," she said quietly from behind him. "And you're right to be angry."

"This infernal house party is meant to get Baildon and Desborough on board. Thanks to last year's antics from Cam and Harry, I've had difficulty gaining a hearing."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. I'll ask Elias to leave today."

He hated that subdued note. "You can't help matchmaking. In this case, you're misguided. I have it on good authority that Marianne intends to accept Desborough."

"Her father's?" Sidonie's skepticism was audible.

"Well, yes. They're suitably matched and she'll make the perfect political hostess."

His wife sighed behind him. "Poor Marianne, consigned to marriage with a man almost twice her age, and fated to politeness for the rest of her days."

Jonas hardened his heart against the regret in his wife's voice. "She's been bred for it."

"She's not a prize ewe, Jonas."

"No, but she's also none of our business."

"She's a friend. That makes her our concern. I want her to have a loving marriage. A meeting of minds and hearts." Her voice lowered. "A marriage like ours."

"Oh, h.e.l.l, Sidonie, what am I expected to say to that?" He turned at last to find her watching him with a pleading light in her eyes.

She looked so disarmingly earnest. "You could say you'll help me to throw Marianne and Elias together."

He took her hand. How could he cling to his displeasure? "My darling, Elias needs to marry an heiress-and quickly. He must view Marianne as an easy solution to his monetary woes. She'll be better off with Desborough whose regard is at least sincere."

"I don't believe that about Elias," Sidonie said stubbornly.

"You know Peter left the Thorne finances in complete disarray."

"Yes, but I also saw the way Elias and Marianne looked at one another last Christmas."

"That was months ago."

"And how they looked at one another at the Chetwell ball last week."

"You're a romantic."

"You made me one."

Impatience firmed his lips. "If I get involved in this mess-and I'm not saying I will-I'll lose any chance of convincing Baildon or Desborough to work with me. They're men of influence."

"If they keep alienating people like Cam and you, I suspect their influence isn't going to last."

"Perhaps. But I have plans for that Hampstead land."

"You'll find somewhere else."

"Your confidence is rea.s.suring."

"I can't see a clever man like Elias being poor forever."

"I admit I was struck with his ac.u.men when he worked with Cam on that ca.n.a.l scheme. And he's quick to find possibilities in new ideas. I hear he's involved in using steam to power transport."

Sidonie's smile was wry. "Be careful. You'll talk yourself into agreeing with me."

A short laugh escaped him. "The Thornes are reckless by nature. Elias's dabbling in science could merely be another symptom of inherited rashness, like Peter's gambling."

She sighed and dropped in a discouraged slump onto the window seat. "I like Elias. I like Marianne. She needs a chance to discover who she really is. Her father's brought her up to be the feminine ideal. Quiet. Calm. Biddable."

A smile tugged at Jonas's lips. "You make her sound a complete bore."

Sidonie didn't smile back. "I fear if she marries Desborough, boredom is all her future holds. You have to admit she was amazingly brave when Cam married Pen."

"Cam and Pen are meant for one another. They always were. Even a thickheaded fellow like me can see that."

"But in finding one another, they hurt Marianne."

He s.h.i.+fted to sit beside her. "You want everyone to have a happy ending."

This time she did smile and when he took her hand, she leaned her ruffled dark head on his shoulder. Her sweet scent filled his senses and he kissed her crown.

"Of course I do." She paused. "Do you really want me to ask Elias to leave?"

"You could." It was his turn to pause as he stared into the pretty room, his mind working through strategies and consequences. "Now you've set up your pieces, my love, let's leave the game's outcome to fate."

"Thank you," Sidonie whispered, placing her hand on his heart, the heart that was eternally hers. "I wonder what on earth Marianne will think when she sees Elias."

Marianne thought that a malicious fate was set on tormenting her into screaming insanity.

What in the name of heaven was Elias Thorne doing in Wilts.h.i.+re? Astonished, she glared at him. She'd hoped that awkward, humiliating encounter in London meant an end to this torture. Seeing him was so unfair when she'd finally put aside all her forbidden hopes, when she'd steeled herself to reject his proposal, when she'd struggled so hard to reconcile herself to becoming Lady Desborough.

"Lord Wilmott," she said, her voice chillier than the air in this isolated copse. Inside, she wasn't cold at all, but furious. How dare he pursue her to the country when he must know he was the last man she wanted to meet?

A break in the weather had allowed her to escape the house. She'd been frantic for some privacy, particularly from her father. He hadn't taken today's news of her delay accepting Desborough well. He'd hectored her and played upon her affection until her head ached and she was tempted to give in purely for the sake of peace.

She'd wandered disconsolately through Ferney's woods before curiosity had drawn her onto the grounds of Barstowe Hall. Now she wished she'd stayed home with her embroidery, despite the prospect of another parental lecture.

Here her other bugbear leaned against a beech tree, wearing an elegant blue coat and looking as smug as a well-fed cat. Temper had her brandis.h.i.+ng her closed umbrella before him like a weapon. She was so heartily sick of the male of the species that she didn't care if she looked unhinged. Even males whose sheer beauty set her wayward heart somersaulting.

Why must this scheming rogue possess that flas.h.i.+ng masculine appeal that turned women silly? She strove to recall that this morning she'd thought Lord Desborough an attractive man. Unfortunately, his distinguished air couldn't compete with Elias's dark fascination.

"That's a poor greeting for an old friend," Elias said without s.h.i.+fting from the lichen-covered trunk. He was the most remarkably malleable man she'd ever known, fitting himself with feline grace against anything upright and solid. She bit back a waspish demand for him to stand up straight like a Christian.

"An old friend would know when he's not welcome," she snapped, breathing slowly in a futile attempt to calm her heart's mad gallop.

A smile played with his mouth. "Old friends are always welcome."

Her stare was sour. "Then clearly we're not friends."

With a theatrical gesture, he clapped one long-fingered hand to his chest. "You wound me."

Reluctantly she lowered her umbrella. Paragons of behavior did not batter annoying gentlemen, no matter how much they might like to. "What do you want?"

His amus.e.m.e.nt receded, leaving in its place a disturbing intensity that set her belly clenching in dread. "You know what I want."

"My inheritance," she retorted, refusing to betray that he made her nervous. He wouldn't hurt her, but if he touched her, she didn't trust herself to resist. And they were a long way from Ferney. "You're not getting it so you may as well go back to where you came from."

"Barstowe Hall?"

Horror flooded her. When she'd first seen Elias, she'd a.s.sumed he'd ridden from London. She'd been too fl.u.s.tered to realize that if he had, he'd traveled all night through driving rain, yet somehow emerged perfectly dry. "Did you break in?"

His laugh held an edge. "No, my lovely goose. Sidonie invited me."

She bristled, wis.h.i.+ng he wouldn't address her as if he was genuinely fond of her when they both knew he wasn't. "Why in the world would she do that?"

"I'd hazard a guess that she thinks you and I belong together and she's willing to take measures to achieve that end."

Marianne was famous for her unshakable poise. Now she was angry, angry enough to growl and start pacing, digging the point of her umbrella deep into the mud with every stride.

"What unforgivable interference." She raised her head and scowled at Elias. "I don't know what you've told her-"

As her agitation grew, Elias only became calmer. Beneath her rage lurked panic. Icy, clawing panic that she could relent, that despite Elias pursuing her for her fortune alone, she might yet take him. Pride alone held her firm. She refused to spend her life eating her heart out over a man who didn't want her. That way lay toxic bitterness.

But it was so much easier to remember that she couldn't marry Elias when he was several counties away than when he stood before her in all his louche elegance.

"Actually I've told her nothing." He went on even as Marianne sucked in a relieved breath. "She's a perceptive woman. She's seen that I can't keep away from you."

"I'd think my father's response to your proposal would do the trick. Don't imagine he was bluffing about cutting me off without a farthing if I marry you. He's a stubborn man."

"He loves you, that's clear."

"Yes, he does, but he loves having his way more." She stopped, appalled at what she'd said, however true. "Blast you, Elias. You lure me into indiscretion."

This time he smiled properly and her poor heart lurched into a drunken canter. She could spend the rest of her life basking in that smile. If only he wasn't a fortune hunter.

"I'd certainly like to." He regarded her thoughtfully. "And at last you've called me Elias."

She plastered on what she hoped was an indomitable expression. "That's another indiscretion. We're not intimates."

"Yes, we are." He raised a hand to cut off the argument even she admitted that she made for propriety's sake. "Don't try to say anything else."

She stared at him in helpless despair. "Stop this."

"I've known you're the woman for me since we met. Last Christmas, I hoped...I believed you felt the same." He looked more serious than she'd ever seen him. The determination in his features was more frightening than his barely leashed pa.s.sion in London. She regarded his hard jaw and steady eyes and questioned her ability to withstand him.

"Don't." She faltered back. Her hand clenched on the ivory umbrella handle to the point of pain. If he told her again that he loved her, she'd strike him.

He ran his hand through his hair. "Do you remember that afternoon we spent walking through the snow? I felt like I'd met the other half of my soul. Tell me you didn't feel like that, too."

How this hurt. How she cursed Sidonie for bringing Elias here to persecute her. "I might have been carried away for a few hours in the pleasure of finding a kindred spirit."

His mouth flattened with impatience. "More than that, surely."

"Less than that if you intend to badger me."

To her surprise, he didn't react with rage. Instead, compa.s.sion softened his black Thorne eyes and he stepped toward her. "Oh, h.e.l.l, I should have realized."

She regarded him warily and backed off to maintain her distance. "Realized what exactly?"

"How much Cam hurt you, devil take him."

She frowned at Elias and raised the umbrella like a lance. "Of course I loathed all the gossip."

"I thought that was all it was."

"All?" she asked on a rising note.

"I know your pride revolted at what happened. Now I see you fancied yourself in love with him."

Shock held her silent for a beat. "Are you mad?"

He knocked aside the umbrella's frail protection and took her arm. "I'm so sorry. No wonder you find it hard to trust me."