“The two of us?” he said, his mind going immediately to Guinevere’s perfect, plump, treacherous lips. What the devil did this woman know of what had happened in the library last night after she had apparently fled it?
Lady Constantine nodded. “Yes. Were you meeting secretly?”
“Nay,” he said, glad it was true.
“Oh.” Lady Constantine looked and sounded slightly confused and definitely disappointed. “Then why are you here if not to beg for my discretion?”
“Are we still speaking bluntly?”
“Did I indicate otherwise?” she asked, the cheeky chit. He did like her, indeed—as one would a newfound friend.
“I’m here to propose a marriage of convenience between the two of us.”
“Thank God you did not do so in front of my mother!” she said.
“Shall I consider that a nay.”
“You absolutely should! I could never wed you.”
“Is there someone else?” He was once again thinking of Guinevere and now Kilgore, damn the man.
“I daresay there is for both of us.” She gave him a knowing look he didn’t care for. “I cannot fathom why you are here offering a marriage of convenience to me when I saw what I did last night.”
He frowned. “What did ye see? And where exactly were ye?”
The lady cleared her throat, her cheeks pinkening, and then said, “Hiding. I confess I became worried for Lady Guinevere when you passed me and she remained in the library with Lord Charolton. And I saw your face when you were protecting Lady Guinevere.”
He clenched his teeth. “I feel nothing for Lady Guinevere, I assure ye.”
“My lord, you lie to yourself.”
Well there was lust. And old anger, but that was not her concern. “Let’s focus on ye, shall we?” he asked, not liking the direction of the conversation.
“If we must,” she said with a sigh. “But we should do so quickly. I imagine my mother will return soon.”
“What of this man ye say is for ye? Will he wed ye?”
“It is my fondest hope,” she said, looking suddenly sad. “He’s rather a fool, though.”
“Most of us men are,” he agreed, thinking on how foolish he’d been over Guinevere.
“He did very recently give me a bit of hope,” she offered.
That wasn’t good for Asher’s cause. Unless…
“Has he done so before? Might this be a pattern that leads nowhere?”
She shrugged as if she didn’t particularly care. He needed to try another tactic. “If he never offers for ye, what shall ye do?”
“I shall become a spinster.” The steely determination in her voice made him grind his teeth. He was beginning to think his father had set him up to purposely fail. Damn the man.
“Are ye not compelled by circumstances to wed?”
She shook her head. “No. I have a fortune left to me by my mother’s sister, and I have no sister whose future hangs on mine, so I am perfectly able to make the selfish choice not to wed. I’d rather be alone than with someone I do not love. I hope you understand.”
His life would be far simpler if Lady Constantine would agree to wed him, but every avenue of persuasion appeared lost to him. “Are ye certain ye have thought this through?” he tried.
“I have spent the last few years thinking of nothing but this, Your Grace. I’m certain. I have been in love with the same man for quite some time. He is rotten. He has broken my heart, and I fear he will break it again and again, but I love him desperately. Since I do not have to wed, I will not wed unless he asks me.”
“Have ye told yer mother this?” If so, why did the woman admit him today in the first place?
Lady Constantine sighed. “Not the particulars. I could never. I have tried to explain in other ways, but she turns a deaf ear.”
What the hell was he going to do now? His father had named only three ladies who would meet the requirements for Asher’s inheritance. One lady was wed, one lady had just unequivocally refused him, and the third and final lady was Guinevere, who seemed to still be pining after Kilgore and whom he distrusted despite his lust for her.
“May I ask an extremely personal question, Your Grace?”
“Ye may, though I cannot promise I’ll answer it.” He shoved his hand through his hair in frustration.
“I assume a pressing need drove you here to offer a marriage of convenience?”
It seemed useless to deny the obvious. “Aye.”
“Why offer it to me, though?”
“Ye mean because we don’t know each other?” he asked with a low laugh.
“Well, yes and no. Of course, in our set, marriages between virtual strangers are quite common when it benefits both parties.”
“Of course,” he agreed.
“And yet—” she paused, studying him “—unless you were somehow limited in whom you could offer for, I cannot see why you would not offer for Lady Guinevere.”
He ground his teeth. “I told ye—”
“Yes, yes.” She waved a dismissive hand. “There is nothing between you and Lady Guinevere. But I believe I also told you that your face last night revealed the truth.”
Good God, what had his face shown? Lust?
“Are you in a position that you could offer for the lady?” Lady Constantine asked.
“Aye and nay.”
The half smirk she gave him told him she’d heard whispers of his past with Guinevere. She cocked her head. “My mother would say you are being purposely contrary.”
“Yer mother would be incorrect. I am being truthful.” He couldn’t say why he was having such a blunt conversation with this woman, except that he felt certain she would keep his confidence given her own secrets were revealed. But he was at a loss as to what to do now.
“So Lady Guinevere is an acceptable candidate?”
“To the person who has laid the rules before me,” he relented.
“Ah, I see. Why not to you? Given what I saw, I would think—”
“Ye misinterpreted what ye think ye saw, Lady Constantine. Lady Guinevere is, it would seem, in much the same situation as ye.” She had said she was Guin to Kilgore, after all.
“Oh?” She arched her eyebrows. “I think not. You are aware of how gossip works in the ton, are you not?”
“I’m aware,” he replied. He knew it had been whispered that he threw her over for Elizabeth, but he also knew the truth. She had not wanted him in the first place.
“And you still say she is in the same situation as I am?”
“She is,” he assured the woman. “Her affections are reserved for another.”
“Hmm… I think you are incorrect, but—”
“My ears and eyes do not lie,” he ground out, his patience expired.
“Sometimes,” she rejoined slowly, “what you think you hear is not what someone is saying.”
“Well this someone told me bluntly that another called her by a very intimate pet name.”
“Then I would say this someone is attempting to lead you to jealousy.”
Asher paused. Could it be? He shook his head. No, it could not. The past was proof enough. Wasn’t it? “Ye are incorrect. I also saw that this someone did indeed have affections engaged elsewhere.” Just as before.
Lady Constantine grinned at him. “Sometimes what you think you see is also not what it seems.”
“Exactly,” he said, looking meaningfully at her. “You look rather frail and meek, and I suspect that is purposeful.”
“True,” she replied with a smile. “You know, if it were possible, I should very much like to be your friend. I don’t have many. I don’t rub along well with women usually, and it’s not acceptable for men and women to be friends when the woman is unwed. Oh! Could we be secret friends?”
That sounded like trouble, but he’d known what it was like in his life to have no one to talk to, so he nodded.
“Excellent!” She clapped her hands together. “As friends, I shall be very honest with you a
nd give you some advice.”
“Do I need it?” he said on a chuckle.
She nodded. “You have a passion for Lady Guinevere, and she has one for you.” She held up a staying hand. “Please do not continue to be tedious and deny it. You may not like it, but it is so. It was on your faces and fairly crackled in the air. Now—” she took a deep breath “—even if the lady’s affections are engaged elsewhere, she is not, as you said, like me. I know this to be true. Servants talk a great deal, you know.”
“I can imagine,” he said, thinking of his conversation with Cushman. “How is the lady unlike ye, then?” he inquired, deciding to go along with her fantasy for the moment.
“Well, she has sisters who must wed, and they cannot do so until she weds, so she surely feels the need to wed very urgently now. She also has no fortune of her own, so that is an additional consideration. You say her affections belong to another, but I cannot agree given what I saw. Still, to go along with you, for I know you shall argue if I don’t, this unknown fool of a man must not know her worth if he has not declared himself yet.”
“One could say yer situation sounds very much the same.”
She scowled. “One could, but I have the luxury of being resolute in my decision, right or wrong, and I have never had a passion for any other man than the one who has my heart. I propose you test my theory and see if she harbors the flame I know I saw.”
He thought immediately of the kiss and the heat that had been undeniable between them, but on that thought came the familiar terms she was on with Kilgore and her betrayal of years ago. And directly after that came thoughts of all the people who relied on him. He had to save his distilleries. The question was, exactly how far would he go to do that?
Would he pursue Guinevere, a woman who had betrayed him, and who may well still want the very man with whom she betrayed him? Or was Lady Constantine correct in that what he thought he’d seen between Guinevere and Kilgore the other night—or more correctly, what Guinevere had wanted him to see—was not the truth of the matter? Perhaps Kilgore played a game with her and she did not want Asher to know. Or perhaps she had simply been vexed with Asher. He had not handled the dance with her well, nor the encounter in the library, for that matter. He should not have let his lust for her overcome him. She had once been his Achilles’ heel, but she never would be again. He desired her, yes, but that was all. He would not be a fool for the lass a second time. If they wed, it would be a marriage of convenience. But could he pursue her, wed her, if she loved Kilgore?
He should let go of his pride completely for all those who relied upon him, but he could not do it. He could let go of a portion and pursue the perfidious enchantress he’d once disavowed to save his company, but he would not wed her if her heart truly belonged to Kilgore. He would simply have to find another way, though he had no damn notion what that would be. For years his pride had been the only thing he had when he and his mother had possessed next to nothing. His pride had given him determination and relentless drive to make their situation better, and he’d done it.
He had to discover the truth of Guinevere’s situation. The future hinged upon it.
Chapter Eight
Guinevere was handed down from the conveyance she’d ridden in with Vivian and their mother, and she had no more than reached for her skirts to shake out the wrinkles in her travel gown when the door to Farthingate Manor was opened and Lilias surged out of her country home. Her skirts were fisted in both hands and she moved at the pace of an eager, unschooled girl of seven rather than a proper lady of two and twenty.
Guinevere smiled with relief as Lilias’s mother, the Countess of Barrowe, appeared in the doorway, neatly eschewing the footman with a sunny smile, which indicated she was in a fine mood today. The smile stayed in place as she took Lilias to task for her unladylike behavior. Lilias rolled her eyes but heeded her mother’s command.
Guinevere chuckled. This was exactly what she needed to get Asher out of her thoughts—an entertaining house party with her dearest friend. She did not know what had prompted Lilias’s mother to return from Bath, but she was glad the countess had done so and had decided a house party was in order. Lilias’s mother and Mama were childhood friends themselves, so Mama should be entertained for a time and hopefully stop wailing over Guinevere dancing with Kilgore, which she had been doing since the Antwerp ball a sennight ago. If Guinevere heard one more word about Kilgore’s sooty reputation and how Mama was certain the man would never wed her, she would scream.
She knew Mama didn’t mean to but she always had a way of making Guinevere feel as if she were lacking. Couple that with Asher throwing her over for Elizabeth and the fact that Guinevere could not decide if Kilgore wanted to court her or merely seduce her—neither prospect made her heart flutter—made enduring her mother’s complaints especially tiresome.
Lilias linked one arm with Guinevere and the other with Vivian, who had just alighted the conveyance. “Mother, may we—”
“Yes,” the countess interrupted with a laugh and a shooing gesture. “Go exchange your secrets, but I’ll remind all three of you to take a nap and take a care to freshen for supper with securing a husband in mind. Especially the two of you, Guinevere and Lilias.”
“Gracious, yes!” Guinevere’s mother added, to which the mothers gave each other approving nods.
“The rest of the guests are to arrive later this afternoon in time for supper,” Lilias’s mother finished.
With their arms linked, Lilias, Guinevere, and Vivian made their way through the house, rushing as well as they could while maintaining ladylike gaits. The minute the door closed on Lilias’s bedchamber, they all burst out laughing and fell in a heap onto Lilias’s four-poster bed. Guinevere rolled to her side, while Lilias sat up between Guinevere and Vivian.
“Not that I’m complaining, mind you, to come to a house party at your home—I’m truly overjoyed,” Guinevere started, “but what prompted your mother to return from Bath? I thought she went there to take another restorative cure.”
“Yes, well, apparently Lady Portsmith arrived there and conveyed the gossip to Mother that Carrington had returned to London and properly taken up his role as duke.”
“Asher?” Guinevere accidentally let his intimate name slip while she scrambled to sit up. She nearly toppled Lilias off the bed in her haste. She grabbed her friend by the arm and helped her to right herself, while on the other side of her, Vivian also came to a sitting position. Once Lilias was steadied, Guinevere continued. “You cannot mean to say that your mother intends to try to match you to Carrington? And that she has invited him here?”
Guinevere wanted to be calm—truly, she did—but her heart galloped like a thoroughbred off the start at Ascot on opening day. She did not want to feel as if she would expire on the spot if her best friend were to end up wed to Asher, but that was absolutely how she felt. It was one thing to move on with her life despite the fact that he had broken her heart; it was quite another to be faced with the possibility that he would be her best friend’s husband. Again.
“Calm yourself,” Lilias said soothingly.
“I’m calm!” Guinevere winced at her high-pitched voice. Lilias and Vivian exchanged a rather obvious look, to which Guinevere took a deep breath. “I am calm now,” she added. Or as calm as possible, given the situation. “Did your mother invite Carrington to this house party with the intention that you catch his eye?”
Lilias nodded, and Guinevere’s heart plummeted. It was too much to endure to watch the man she had once loved fall in love with her best friend, and have the inverse be likely, as well.
“I see,” Guinevere said with a sniff.
“Guinnie.” Lilias slid her arm around Guinevere’s shoulder and hugged her. “Even if I could catch Carrington’s eye, which seems highly unlikely given the way his gaze was stuck upon you at the Antwerp ball, I would never do such a thing to you.”
“I hardly care if you wish to pursue him,” Guinevere lied, plucking at a nonexistent th
read on the lilac counterpane.
“You are a horrid liar,” Lilias scolded, to which Vivian grunted her agreement.
Incensed, Guinevere glared between the two women on either side of her. “I am an excellent liar.”
“You are quite acceptable, unless Carrington is involved,” Vivian said with a cheeky air and a wink. “Your voice gives you away. It gets all breathless.”
“I daresay her face reveals her, as well.” Lilias eyed Guinevere. “She turns pink in the cheeks and chest.”
“I do no such thing!” Guinevere protested, barely resisting the urge to fan away the heat scalding her face and chest.
“Let us test it, shall we?” Lilias challenged.
Worry shot through Guinevere. Was it true?
“I’ve a megrim,” she announced. She was overwrought at the moment, and it was all Asher’s fault. If only he had not kissed her in the library and stirred her passion. If only she had not had any passion remaining to stir. If only she had not been persuaded to ask him to kiss her. If only, if only, if only. It was horrifying the way he could induce her senses to flee her head. And he was here! Or he would be.
She started to scramble off the bed, but Lilias caught her by one wrist and Vivian secured her by the other. “No, you don’t,” Vivian chided. “You will stay here and tell us the truth.”
“What truth?” Guinevere squeaked, knowing they only could be speaking of Asher.
“You still have a tendre for the man,” Vivian said bluntly.
“I do not,” Guinevere protested. “I detest him. Honestly, I do.”
His words from the library came back to her suddenly: The kiss was a grievous mistake. And then his words from when they had danced: Elizabeth loved Shakespeare. She would not harbor a tendre for a man who had made it abundantly clear that he had not, nor ever would, return her affection. He apparently still enjoyed toying with her, for whatever roguish reason. Maybe he had wanted to see if he could still make her act the fool? In that moment, she felt as significant as a flea, and hot tears pricked her eyes.
Lady Guinevere And The Rogue With A Brogue (Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 1) Page 9
