“It may have escaped your attention, but Melly is no longer an infant. She is sixteen and turning into a very beautiful young lady. And after gallantly carrying her to the house, didn’t you spend the remainder of the afternoon sitting by her side, amusing her, instead of escorting Ellen, along with several other cousins, on a picnic near the river, as had been planned?”
“Well, yes, but Melly could not go,” protested Hugh, his blue eyes worried. “I could not just leave her all alone at the house while the rest of us went and had a merry time of it.”
Chance smiled pityingly at Hugh. “Not only are you not letting Ellen know that she is no more to you than a charming brat, but you have been paying a great deal of attention to a little minx who learned how to flirt in the cradle and who happens to be younger than Ellen.” Chance laughed at the expression on Hugh’s face. “Dear fellow, I am not at all surprised that Ellen is displeased with you. I think that if you want to win the fair maiden, you will at least have to let her know that you don’t view her as a mere nuisance.”
Hugh gazed across the lawn just as Ellen dimpled at something Jonathan said. His jaw hardened. He took a long swallow from the tankard of ale he held in his hand. “I believe you are right,” he said grimly, and with a determined stride began to walk across the expanse that separated him from his goal.
Joining the small group that contained Ellen and Fancy, after a few moments of polite conversation, Hugh said abruptly to Ellen, “I believe that I promised to show you Cousin Letty’s solarium, where she grows some of her rare plants and flowers. Would you care to see it now?”
Ellen looked at him, her heart beating a little faster. After the way he had been treating her, it was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. But something in his eyes, something that she had not seen before, made her shrug and say carelessly, “Oh, I suppose so.”
Jonathan stared hard after the departing couple. “Dear me,” he drawled with contemptuous amusement in a low undertone to Fancy, “do I scent a rival?”
They had moved to where they were standing a little distance from the original group. Over the rim of her punch glass, Fancy looked at him and asked dryly, “Does it matter anymore?”
Jonathan’s eyes glittered fiercely as he returned her look. “Oh yes, dear lady, it still matters.”
Fancy regarded him uneasily, but he suddenly smiled with great charm and said gaily, “Obviously I must look to my laurels. I think it behooves me to remind Ellen of her original suitor before she becomes too enamored of the dull, stalwart Hugh. I have been very remiss of late, something I shall have to correct.”
His words should have reassured Fancy, should have made her feel that she had thoroughly misread the situation, that Jonathan had always intended to marry Ellen, and that she had been totally mistaken in his excessively fawning attitude toward her; but there was a note in his voice, an ugly expression in his eyes, that made her extremely anxious. Which was the real Jonathan? The charming gentleman she had known in England? Or the dangerous creature she glimpsed occasionally in his eyes?
Deciding to settle at least some of her worries, Fancy took a deep breath and, a little frown between her eyes, demanded, “Jonathan, what game are you playing at? From time to time you have acted, much to my confusion, as if I were your choice of a bride, which we both know was never true. Yet now you seem to imply that it was Ellen you intended all along to marry. . . .” Her words trailed off at the look of haughty astonishment that crossed his face.
“My dear lady! I am appalled that you have mistaken my sincere regard for you as something else. I would not have had something so embarrassing happen for the world.” He smiled at Fancy, a smile that was not reflected in his hard eyes. “There was never any doubt whom I intended to marry. Let us just say that there have been a few unexpected obstacles along the way. My plans are the same as they were in the beginning. Exactly the same.”
Even less reassured by his words than she had been previously, Fancy said mendaciously, “Well, I am pleased that there is no misunderstanding between us.”
Jonathan brought her hand to his lips. “Oh, there is no misunderstanding, believe me. None whatsoever.”
Wishing she could banish the feeling of unease that had lodged in her chest, Fancy smiled brightly at him and made some excuse to go join the others. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she suddenly wanted to put as much distance between Jonathan Walker and herself as she could.
Smiling distractedly at Letty’s light comment that Hugh seemed very smitten with Ellen, Fancy watched with growing trepidation as Jonathan began to stroll in the direction Hugh and Ellen had taken. Feeling that it would not be a good thing for Jonathan to find Hugh and Ellen alone, she said quickly, “I think that I would like to see the solarium, too.” She glanced at Letty. “Would you mind if I saw it now?”
If Letty was surprised at Fancy’s request, she gave no sign. She just smiled and said graciously, “Why, of course.” Looking at Constance, Letty inquired, “Would you care to join us?”
Constance pursed her lips, but she nodded and said, “Oh, I suppose, although I cannot fathom what could possibly be so interesting about a room full of plants.”
Feeling some of her tension easing as the three of them began to walk toward the solarium, Fancy wondered how this whole convoluted situation was going to end. She certainly hoped that Ellen’s eventual marriage, whoever her sister married, would start out much more auspiciously than her own.
* * *
At the moment, marriage was the furthest thing from Ellen’s mind. Hurt and bewildered by Hugh’s behavior toward her since their arrival at Walker Ridge, as well as his pandering to that saucy-eyed hoyden Melly Sinclair, Ellen had finally given up on him. She had worked her wiles on him for better than a fortnight, and all she had to show for it was an avuncular pat on the shoulder and a jovially pinched cheek. Consequently she was very much on her high horse and determined not to weaken in her resolve to put Hugh Walker from her heart even if just his mere presence made her feel as if she had swallowed a crock of butterflies and even if he did look oh so very handsome in his close-fitting dark blue satin jacket and breeches, his bronzed face appearing even darker and more exciting above the pristine whiteness of his lace-covered shirt.
Airily brushing back one long powdered curl from where it lay nestled in the crook of her neck, Ellen said tartly as they entered the large solarium, “Are you certain you can spare the time from dancing attendance on poor, dear, dear Melly?”
A pleased smile quirked at the corner of Hugh’s mouth. Was that a note of jealousy he detected? Greatly encouraged, he felt his heart lighten. Mayhap Chance was right. Mayhap it was time to let Ellen know exactly how he viewed her.
“Oh, Melly don’t mind if I don’t pay her any heed,” he said easily. “She is just a child. I have known her since she was in swaddling clothes, and I felt sorry for her.” His voice deepened, and he carried Ellen’s hand to his lips. His blue eyes gazing warmly into hers, he murmured, “I would much rather have been with you than spent my time with a child like Melly.”
Ellen’s breath caught and her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said stupidly, wishing her heart wouldn’t pound quite so fast in her breast.
Hugh smiled tenderly into her upturned face. “Did you really think that someone like Melly could blind me to your charms, sweetheart?” And he swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly.
Drowning in the sweet sensation of finally having Hugh’s lips on hers, Ellen let herself drift, let herself be caught up in the tide of emotions that swept through her. This was where she had dreamed of being, this was what she had dreamed of for weeks, Hugh’s strong arms about her, his warm, knowing mouth moving softly against hers.
Ellen’s senses were swimming when Hugh finally lifted his mouth from hers. At the dazed expression on her face, he smiled with blatant satisfaction, which proved to be an extremely unfortunate tactical error.
Seeing that almost smug smile on his face and recalling how very mis
erable she had been when he had paid such marked attention to Melly and all the unhappy days during which he had treated her only to brotherly kindness, Ellen stiffened, and her temper, normally remarkably even, suddenly sparked. An angry flush bloomed in her cheeks, and with a decidedly Ellen-unlike fury, she slapped him smartly on one lean cheek. “How dare you, sir. Unhand me this instant.”
Bewildered, Hugh dropped his arms instantly, and in utter confusion he stammered, “E-E-Ellen, sweetheart, what is wrong?”
Her eyes flashing like blue diamonds, Ellen said hotly, “Do not call me sweetheart. And I will tell you what is wrong, you, you, cretin.” Shaking a finger under his very handsome nose, she went on, “You have ignored me for weeks; you abandoned me so that you could sit at Melly’s feet; and you have treated me as if I were your slightly addled younger sister. Now, when it suits you, you sweep me into your arms and expect me to fall into your hands like a ripe plum. Well, sir, you are mistaken.”
Too angry to be moved by the stricken expression on his face, she lifted up the skirts to her amber silk gown, spun on her heels, and began to march out of the solarium. She had almost reached the door when Jonathan opened it and stepped in.
“Ah, here you are, my dear,” he said urbanely as he swiftly took in the situation. The flags flying in Ellen’s cheeks and the interesting outline on Hugh’s cheek gave him a fair idea of what had transpired, and something snapped inside him.
Jonathan had not liked being banished to Foxfield, and only Sam’s threat to name another heir to his own personal fortune had made him give in to his half brother’s request. The morning he had been informed of what had happened, he’d been so enraged that for one frenzied second he had almost stormed down the hall and slain both Chance and Fancy with his bare hands. For Chance to steal the woman he had planned to marry! It was an outrage. The most grievous insult he had ever suffered in his life.
That Fancy had never agreed to become his wife was completely forgotten. He had become obsessed by the notion of making her his wife, convincing himself that he did indeed love her and that she was fated to be his ... someday . . . soon. His initial rage against Fancy had eventually disappeared—after all, she was only a frail female and Chance a practiced seducer; what else could he have expected? He was a man of the world and he was prepared to magnanimously forgive her fall from grace.
But if his half-mad rage with Fancy had faded, he’d had an entire fortnight in which to feed his fury and hatred of Chance and to consider different ways in which to take his revenge against his enemy. A waiting game had seemed the most logical move. He could not stop the wedding, and from Foxfield, it was difficult—nay, impossible—to set in motion any plan for revenge.
Today had been agony for him, and keeping his savage rage in check had tried him sorely. He’d been forced to watch Fancy marry Chance, and he’d had to endure the bitter knowledge that she had already lain in that bastard’s arms and that tonight, and until he could do something about it, she would be possessed by the man he hated most in the world. The thought of Fancy in Chance’s embrace ate at him like an acid. Even knowing that one day Chance would die by his hand and that he planned finally to claim Fancy as his own bride did nothing to cool his raging fury.
Despite all his eventual plans for Fancy, finding Ellen in this intimate situation with Hugh was the final straw. It was bad enough that Chance had managed to steal Fancy, but he’d be damned if he was going to allow another of Morely’s sons to take a woman from him.
Letting fury rule him, Jonathan tucked Ellen’s hand possessively under his arm. Smiling warmly down at her, he said softly, “I have been looking for you, darling.”
Confused by Jonathan’s actions, Ellen stared up him. There had been nothing loverlike about him since they had finally arrived at Walker Ridge, and for him to act now as if there were something between them had her utterly baffled. Sensing that something was not right, but aware that Hugh was watching them, Ellen smiled up at him and asked, “Was there some particular reason you wished to find me?”
“My goodness,” Letty exclaimed teasingly as she entered the solarium, followed by Fancy and Constance, “I do not believe that I have ever had so many people at one time so interested in my botanical efforts.”
“But Cousin Letty,” said Chance as he strolled up, having seen the women follow Jonathan and deciding to see for himself what they all found so fascinating, “your green thumb is known far and wide. Did not Tom Jefferson from Monticello get some plant cuttings from you this spring?”
Letty blushed with pleasure. “Indeed he did—such a nice young man and so interested in some of my rare plants.”
Jonathan laid a hand over Ellen’s, and at the sight of his enemy, his fingers bit viciously into her soft skin. Ellen gave a small cry and stared dazedly down at the faint bruise already showing.
Jonathan lifted her hand to his lips and pressed an ardent kiss onto the back of it. “Forgive me, sweetheart. I did not mean to clasp your little hand so tightly—but now that I have you, I do not want to ever let you go.”
Viewing them, their closeness and Hugh’s perplexed expression as he stood just beyond them, Chance frowned. “Is everything all right?” he asked slowly.
Jonathan smiled, a way to snatch victory from defeat suddenly occurring to him. Looking at Ellen, he said softly, “Nothing has happened as yet, but I think that this would be an excellent time to announce our own news, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Unbearably conscious of Hugh’s startled gaze upon her, Ellen froze, her heart sinking to her satin slippers in fearful anticipation. “Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered, and cast a frantic, imploring glance to Fancy.
There was nothing Fancy could do to help her, even though she did take an instinctive step forward as Jonathan, an ugly triumphant glitter in his eyes, said smoothly, “Why, only that I think now is a very good time to let everyone know of our own coming nuptials, don’t you? That was the reason you and your dear sister traveled all the way from England to Walker Ridge, wasn’t it? So that you and I could know each other better before we publicly proclaimed our betrothal?” He looked across at Fancy. “Isn’t that right, Fancy? Though I am very fond of you, there was never any doubt that I always intended to marry Ellen, was there?”
Chapter Eleven
At Jonathan’s words, Chance stiffened and his eyes narrowed as his gaze traveled slowly from Jonathan’s smug face to Fancy’s dismayed features. Ellen simply stared up at Jonathan, as if she could not believe what he had said. Hugh’s breath sucked in audibly, while a startled exclamation came from Letty and a vexed gasp from Constance. Only Chance, beyond that narrowing of his eyes, apparently remained unmoved in the face of Jonathan’s explosive statement, yet there was something ominous, something almost dangerous, about his very stillness.
But Fancy had no time to think of him or what Jonathan’s news might mean to her own future. Faced with a direct assault, she could do nothing to protect her sister. She met Ellen’s despairing glance before looking at Jonathan and saying quietly, “Yes, that’s true.”
Chance’s features revealed none of the numbing shock he felt at Fancy’s confirmation, but his eyes traveled even more intently across the faces of those gathered in the solarium. No one appeared particularly thrilled with Jonathan’s announcement—except, perhaps, Jonathan. Which meant the bastard was up to something. “Let me see if I understand this situation correctly,” Chance began levelly. “Despite your actions to the contrary—and you must admit that you’ve paid a damn lot of attention to Fancy—there was never any idea of an engagement between you and Fancy? Ellen was your choice of a bride right from the beginning?”
Jonathan’s eyes glittered. “Why, yes, of course,” he drawled insolently. “Though what business any of my actions are of yours, I fail to see. I have always been very fond of Fancy, and I have always looked forward to the day she would be my dearest sister-in-law.” Sneering, he added, “If you, and other gossipy fools, tended to misinterpret my affection
for her, well, that is your misfortune. I am just relieved that it was Fancy who caught your, er, fancy, and not my own sweet Ellen.” He smiled, a bare showing of teeth.
“If it had been Ellen you had trifled with, I might have been forced to kill you.”
“You might have tried to kill me,” Chance corrected him grimly, still reeling from what had been revealed. “And refer to me again as a ‘gossipy fool’ and I am afraid I might have to rip out your tongue.”
“Oh, stop it, you two, right this instant,” Fancy said sharply. “This is not the time for your silly masculine posturings.”
Ignoring the tense exchanges, Letty suddenly posed the question uppermost in everyone’s mind. In obvious bewilderment she asked, “Do you mean that it is Ellen whom you intended to marry?” At Jonathan’s nod, she said in astonishment, “Why, we all thought— Even your mother . . . But Jonathan, you acted as if—” She stopped, plainly at sea.
Jonathan laughed easily, relishing the reaction his words had caused. Claiming Ellen as his bride was an added complication to his ultimate plans for Fancy, but one that didn’t worry him at the moment. It was worth all the additional schemes he would have to devise to reach his goal just to see the dawning awareness in Chance’s eyes. It was also rather amusing to be able to put an end to the silly calf love that seemed to have sprung up between Hugh and Ellen.
Hugh seemed to shake himself as if coming out of a bad dream. His gaze, hard and angry, was fixed on Ellen’s averted features. “Doesn’t Ellen have anything to say?” he demanded harshly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Ellen risked a glance in Hugh’s direction, and at the sight of his accusing, contemptuous expression, her spirit quaked. Oh, dear. What was she to do? She did not want to marry Jonathan. But she was not quite bold enough to refute his words, either, or face the certain censure that would come at being labeled a jilt. Besides, she was still furious at Hugh. Who did he think he was, grabbing her and kissing her that way, after coolly ignoring all her shockingly forward ploys to catch his attention this past fortnight? What right did he have to condemn her? There was nothing between them; he had seen to that. Her chin lifted. How dare he look at her with that bitterly censorious expression!
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