by Lucy Adams
Dinah jerked her hand back, a fire burning in her chest. “I do not want to become acquainted with anyone,” she hissed, wishing that her cousin would leave her alone. “Please, you must stop this.”
“Stop?” Lord Whitehaven repeated, still looking at her lazily. “What is it that you wish me to stop doing, Miss Shepherd? Stop trying to encourage you towards a gentleman or two? Trying to force this little bird to fly from her nest?”
Dinah went cold all over, looking up into Lord Whitehaven’s face and seeing his arrogant smile. He did not care for her. He wanted her gone from the house, from his estate, and from his life. The only thing he cared about was himself. If he wanted a quiet life without cousin nor sisters to care for, then the only way he could achieve that would be to encourage his cousin to marry. A cold hand grasped her heart. Mayhap he already had potential gentlemen in his mind, gentlemen who would be supposedly suitable for her. Was he about to introduce her to them?
“You say nothing, little bird,” Lord Whitehaven murmured, looking at her with a small, roguish grin on his face. “You did not think me interested in your Season, I think.” Leaning forward, he tipped her chin with one finger, making Dinah step back. “Oh, but I am very interested, Miss Shepherd. Once you are wed, you are no longer my concern. Can you not see how that thought encourages me?”
Dinah shook her head, going white hot with anger but forcing herself to keep her mouth closed so that she would not say anything at all. She had been brought up to act with decorum, to speak carefully and in accordance with how God wanted her to behave. Keep a watch over my lips, she prayed silently, aware of just how much she despised her cousin. Let me remain silent rather than speak with anger.
“Ah,” Lord Whitehaven said knowingly, shaking his head at her in mock dismay. “I see that you are doing your utmost to keep your temper in check, dear cousin. How very admirable.” He gave her a mock bow, still grinning at her as he lifted his head. “Most likely, I suspect, you look down upon me and think me both a fool and a disgrace. Is that not so?”
Dinah lifted her chin, looking up at her cousin with a firm gaze. “I know your character, Lord Whitehaven,” she reminded him. “You do nothing but mock me, tease me, and treat me as an unwelcome guest rather than accepting me into your family’s embrace, as your mother and sisters have done. I do not know why you have done such a thing nor why you appear to dislike me so, but in behaving in such a way, Lord Whitehaven, you have ensured that my opinion of you is, in fact, very low indeed.”
“Hmm.” Lord Whitehaven rubbed his chin, his eyes now appearing somewhat thoughtful. Dinah held her breath, not knowing what it was he intended to say next and silently pleading for him to leave her side so that she would not have to endure his company any longer.
“I think then, Miss Shepherd, that you will think all the worse of me when you hear that I have come to London to not only secure your future, but to also ensure that I have a most enjoyable few months,” he continued, making her frown as he spoke with an almost airy confidence. “You will think that my enjoyment of gambling is quite improper; you will look down on me for my drunkenness and idleness. Of course…” He took a step closer to her, his grin becoming something of a leer. “Of course, should I frequent a bawdy house, then you shall pray for my damnation, shall you not?”
Repulsed, Dinah moved back, turning her face away and beginning to slowly sidle away from her cousin. Lord Whitehaven had become a good deal more repugnant than before, making her wonder if whether or not seeking out a husband would be more tolerable than living under his house any longer.
“If it were not for mother’s insistence that your father and mother would wish you to marry well, I would send you off to marry some old parson,” Lord Whitehaven hissed, his brows lowering now and his mouth dropping into a sneer. “Apparently you have some fortune or other that shall soon be yours, and therefore Lady Whitehaven is quite determined that you shall marry a titled fellow.” He snorted. “Not that your father held any such title.”
“My father was an admiral and a respectable gentleman.” Dinah wheeled around, her hand raised and one finger shaking in front of his face. “He had a good deal more respectability and firmness of character than you have ever displayed, Whitehaven. Do not think that you can ever come close to being the sort of man my father was. He loved me and gave me more consideration and compassion than you have ever shown.” Her voice was low but her words forcible, making Lord Whitehaven’s eyes round just a little, evidently surprised by her ferocity. “You are not worthy to speak his name, as far as I am concerned. He was a greater man than you shall ever be.”
So saying she pulled the dance card from her wrist, her face hot with both anger and upset. Ripping it into two pieces, she threw it at Lord Whitehaven, turned around, and stalked away. He had gone too far, speaking about her father in such a way. Lord Whitehaven might mock her, and she would allow him to do so for as long or for as much as he wanted, but one thing she would not tolerate would be his mockery of her father. She would not dance with him, she would not go near him, and she would not even converse with him. Lord Whitehaven was one of the most disgraceful gentlemen she had ever met, and regardless of the fact that he was her cousin, she would not tolerate his company any longer. Their relationship, as little and as broken as it was, was now entirely at an end. Dinah could only hope that Lady Whitehaven would understand.
Chapter Two
Grayson gritted his teeth as Dinah walked away from him. The two ripped pieces of her dance card were at his feet. He had said too much, pushed her too hard, and now she was gone from him.
He hated himself.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall of the ballroom and tried to take in a few steadying breaths so that he could easily push down the feelings of guilt and shame that were biting at him. Unfortunately, he knew only too well why he was treating Dinah so, but he did not want to admit it even to himself. She had spent the last few years in his manor house, in his estate, and his emotions had become slowly more and more tangled.
It was utterly ridiculous. Dinah was everything he was not. He was loud and outspoken, whereas she was quiet and thoughtful. He was brash; she was calm. He spoke without thinking, cruel and almost intolerable, whereas she was always measured, always kind, and practically invisible at times. It made no sense that he wanted to pull her out of her quietness, wanted to know what she hid underneath her piety.
And yet, all he found himself doing was being cruel and unkind. It was as if, in doing so, he could convince himself that he felt nothing for her and that in pushing her as far from him as possible, his own feelings would fade. He had meant every word when he had told her that he wanted to find her a husband. If he managed to do so, then that would be a huge relief, for it would mean that he could continue on with his life without any fear that he might allow his heart to draw out to her, or that he might end up blurting out his confusing feelings of affection for her when she felt nothing but anger towards him.
Of course, he mused, opening his eyes, Dinah had much too lovely a character to be wed to someone such as he. The last few years, he had been forced to accept his new role in life as the new Lord Whitehaven, whilst dealing with the sorrow that came with the loss of his father, and such a thing had been much more difficult than he had anticipated. On top of which, he had discovered he had a good deal more wealth than he had ever had to deal with before – and with that knowledge had come the eagerness to enjoy himself a little more. His mother and sisters knew nothing of his frequent trips to Bath whilst they had been in London seeking out husbands and the like, and he fully intended to keep such information to himself—for it was both his shame and his great pleasure at the same time. Gambling was one of his greatest passions, even though he frequently lost more than he ought, and yet he had managed to keep his obsession entirely to himself. Now, finally, he had come to London during the Season to both ensure that Dinah found a husband and so that he might find one of the many “gambling hells” th
at he knew were a good deal better than those in Bath.
He had teased Dinah that she would consider him even worse than before—now that she knew he gambled and the like. Most likely, she would not say anything to Lady Whitehaven for fear that she would upset her, which meant that his secret was quite safe. Besides which, trying to find his determination once again, he was the Marquess of Whitehaven, was he not? He could do as he pleased, no matter what his mother or his cousin thought of him!
“It should not matter what she thinks,” Grayson said aloud, moving forward so that he might begin to thread his way through the other guests. “It does not matter.” This was said so emphatically that one or two young ladies turned towards him, perhaps thinking that he was attempting to garner their attention, but Grayson merely smiled briefly and continued on his way. He knew what would happen. Their eyes would catch the way he limped, would drop to the floor at his feet and the usual shame and embarrassment would capture him. He did not want to be made a spectacle. Of course, he had never intended to dance with Dinah, for he never danced, given his limp, and even though he had put his name down on two spaces, he had known that she would either refuse him or be entirely absent when the music began. This ball no longer held any interest for him. He would find his mother and take his leave. He would do as he had intended and seek out a gambling house and enjoy himself in the only way he wished. Perhaps then, he might be able to remove all thought of Miss Dinah Shepherd from his mind.
“Another round?”
Grayson blinked wearily, looking up at his friend, Lord Darnley, and wondering just how late in the evening it was.
“How many rounds have we played?” he asked, seeing the other gentlemen at the table begin to count their winnings.
Lord Darnley shrugged. “A few,” he commented, picking up his brandy glass and throwing the rest back. “But I’m game if you are.”
Grayson looked down at the table, seeing the small pile of coins in front of him. He had not done well. At least he was not in debt, although his winnings were very poor compared to others.
“Faro, was it?” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead and trying to remember what game they were playing. “Or was it Loo?”
“Faro,” Lord Darnley replied with a chuckle, as one or two gentlemen got up from their chairs, with one staggering away. “Although Loo might make an excellent change?”
Those gentlemen who remained seated muttered their approval, and Grayson found himself nodding, although everything in him told him that he ought to be doing precisely the opposite. It was good that he had not lost a good deal of money, but he was not at all satisfied with his winnings thus far. He wanted more. He wanted to be the victor, leaving the gambling hell with a bounce in his step and a sense of pride puffing out his chest.
And then, for some inexplicable reason, his mind returned to Dinah.
“What say we all get another drink?” Lord Darnley suggested, pushing himself up carefully and reaching for his brandy glass. “I’ll have one of the lads here to shuffle the cards in preparation. What say you, gentlemen?”
This was agreed to at once and Grayson found himself ordering a large whisky, half praying that this would be all he would need to get Dinah from his mind once and for all.
Leaning heavily on his chair, his leg a little painful as he waited for his whisky to be brought, Grayson lowered his head and let out a long, loud groan. His mind just would not let her go. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to fill his thoughts with something other than her, she remained steadfastly within. He did not want to think of her, did not want to be remembering her with every moment that passed, but yet she was there, haunting him. For years, he had battled the strange, incomprehensible feelings that lingered on in his heart, hating how they grew instead of fading. He had battled them continually, thinking he could beat his own heart into submission, but his determination had quite failed him. Trying to push her away, trying to make her think the worse of him in an attempt to break his own feelings apart was not working either. He was entirely at a loss.
Even now, he realized, running one hand through his thick, brown hair, he could remember how she had appeared when she had first set foot in the manor house. He had called her a bird, for she had held a sparrow-like appearance that had been borne from grief, pain, and weakness. At the time, he had not meant to offend her nor had he meant to discourage her or make her feel unwelcome, but his words had left his mouth before he had been able to prevent them. She was not a bird now. Instead, she was a graceful swan, dazzling and elegant in its quiet beauty. How much did she hide underneath her quietness and her piety? Was there still the pain over the loss of her parents? Was there still a sense of being displaced, of having no home of her own? Shame filled him as he recalled how he had not often made her feel welcome. In a strange way, his growing desire for her company had made him all the more cruel and unwelcoming towards her.
“You look quite broken.”
With an effort, Grayson lifted his head and waited for a moment or two until his world stopped spinning.
“Something wrong?” Lord Darnley asked, a broad smile plastered on his face whilst his eyes danced with mirth. “Or is it just that you now regret suggesting Loo and realize you should have gone home with the money you have already made?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Grayson said, as firmly as he could. “I am just weary.” He shrugged. “I only returned to London this very day, you know.”
“I am well aware of that,” Lord Darnley replied with a broad smile. “And you came straight away to find me and bring me to this gaming hell, knowing full well that neither of us ought to be gambling.” He arched one thick eyebrow but laughed resoundingly. “You especially ought not to be doing so, given that you still have creditors waiting for you in Bath.”
Grayson shuddered violently, having put all thoughts of such gentlemen out of his mind. The last time he had been in Bath – which had been during the London Season last year – he had done very badly indeed and owed a good deal of money. He had not paid it as yet, for the money had been required for Dinah’s gowns and the like, for the estate and for various other things that were essential to someone such as he. Besides which, he half hoped that those he owed money to would have forgotten by now. There had been no letters to his estate, no demands that he paid what he owed, and no visits from those who were out of pocket. Therefore, there was every chance, as far as he hoped, that there would be no one searching for him.
“Perhaps that is why you came to London instead of returning to Bath?” his friend asked, elbowing him uncomfortably in the ribs. “You fear to go back there, in case you and your debts are discovered!”
“I am not afraid,” Grayson replied stoutly, accepting the glass of whisky from one of the bar hands. “It is only that I need to find a husband for this dratted cousin of mine. Then, mayhap, I shall finally have the manor house to myself, for Mama might very well chose to move into the dowager house, which is very grand indeed.” He shrugged, seeing how his friend grinned and finding it rather irritating. “I do not know what else I could say or do to convince her otherwise. Therefore, Dinah must have a decent husband.”
Lord Darnley looked interested for a moment, tipping his head and looking back at Grayson thoughtfully. “You know that I—”
“No.” Grayson held up one hand immediately, stemming Lord Darnley’s words. “No, indeed not. I am well aware that you are, at present, without a wife, but you are not the sort of gentleman that she requires.”
“Oh?” Lord Darnley appeared a trifle insulted, lifting one eyebrow and sniffing in a somewhat disdainful manner. “What can you mean, old boy? I would have thought that you would be open to throw her at anyone, given your apparent eagerness.”
Grayson shook his head, trying to think of an explanation that would satisfy Lord Darnley without upsetting him. “My mother would never agree,” he said, trying to appear as apologetic as possible. “She knows of your reputation, I fear.”
Lor
d Darnley seemed to sink into the floor. “As do a good many of the ton,” he muttered, accepting this explanation without question. “That is why I am, as yet, without a wife.”
“Not that you would remain faithful to her should you marry,” Grayson interjected ruefully, as Lord Darnley nodded heavily. “You know that as well as I do – as do the rest of the beau monde!” He saw his friend shrug and turn his head, knowing inwardly that even should his mother have agreed, he would never have allowed Lord Darnley to marry Dinah. He was a drunken oaf, who cared for nothing but pursuing his own pleasures. There was no expectation that any lady who married him would be treated with respect, for most likely Lord Darnley would continue on just as he was at this present moment. That was not a life he wanted for Dinah.
“Might go in search of a woman to warm my bed later on, once this game is finished,” Lord Darnley muttered, leaving Grayson and wandering back around to sit down in his seat. “What say you, Whitehaven? Will you join me?” His voice became louder as he threw the suggestion out towards Grayson, who only grinned and shrugged. He might do so. The thought of returning to his townhouse, knowing that Dinah slept only a few doors away from him, was a torturous one. Perhaps it would be better to go to a bawdy house, in the hope that the warmth of another lady’s embrace would push her from his mind.
“Shall we play then?” one of the gentlemen asked, before Grayson had time to answer Lord Darnley. “Loo, was it?”
“I’ll deal,” Lord Darnley muttered, reaching for the cards and beginning to set them out one at a time, near to each player. Grayson watched with a bored eye, thinking silently that he might have had enough of this particular gambling house for a while. The suggestion of going to a bawdy house had caught his attention.
“The jack!” Lord Darnley exclaimed, gesturing towards Grayson. “That means you are to deal, old boy.” He gathered up the cards and made to hand them to Grayson, only for one gentleman to slam his hand on the table and push himself up threateningly.
