by Robyn Carr
“Papa? Did you insist on this contract?”
“I do not see encouraging him to take you in marriage as punishment for folly,” he replied gruffly. “If it gives you any peace of mind, it was the captain himself who pointed out my advantage; I only agreed he was right.”
“Is that a good way to have me married, Papa?”
He laughed suddenly. “Do you pity this poor beaten man, daughter? You discredit yourself. Let him play the angry groom and bemoan his poor disadvantage. He is a proud man, and his pride bites at him now. But he sees not the face of his own devil; the faces he sees are ours, which swim before him as the culprits who would abuse him. Still, he is a clever man, and in time he will name his devil and best him. For now it is enough that he behaves responsibly.”
“But Father, if he is angry...”
Lord Ridgley’s brows drew together. “You protect him in one breath and fear him in the next? Nay, child, this insult he feels will not leave a mark on your tender hide, for though he does not realize it yet, he is more angry with himself than any of us. I have tried to teach you to trust your feelings, girl. If you haven’t already, you may begin now.”
“What about Andrew?” she asked tremulously.
Her father touched her cheek, his rough fingers attempting a gentle caress. “I give you to the captain. Andrew will surely feel the rub for many years.” She smiled into his eyes, for she appreciated the value he placed on her.
“I have used great restraint, Vieve.” He tilted her chin to keep her gaze locked into his. “I have not demanded to know what events brought the captain to the fore. It is enough that his offer is acceptable and you are willing. I have no aversion to protecting what is mine, but I am an honest man. There is one answer I require of you. We do not cheat the captain? Andrew did not—”
“No, Papa,” she insisted. “Tyson was...” she stumbled for the right words. “Tyson was in time.”
“Good,” Boris said. “Come to dinner. There is no need to say any more. Paul and Evelyn know only that you are to be wed, and as far as I’m concerned, the rest is no one’s damn business. Not even mine.” He held out his arm to escort her. “Let’s do what we can to turn the rest of this evening into a happy one.”
Vieve was still shaken by the abrupt change in course her life had taken. Paul and Evelyn handled their happiness for the couple with enthusiasm, as if all were proper, and asked no questions.
Tyson proved his ability to use charm when it suited him. If he was angry and suspicious, he carefully concealed such emotions. His eyes twinkled as if in amusement, his lips were turned upward in a confident smile. His clever use of innuendoes successfully hit their mark on her while seeming to provide romantic conjecture to the others. “I assured Lord Ridgley that you had already responded to my declaration very agreeably. I thought you would be pleased that your father is so willing to oblige us.”
She bit her lip at the notion of any declaration, but looked up at him in what she hoped would be perceived as glowing adoration. Since the die was cast and her humiliation had already been great enough, she hoped to add nothing more to the imaginations of those around her. Tyson was playing the part of eager groom; she was smart enough to behave as a delighted bride. The others need not know her pinkened cheeks had any deeper meaning.
He had risen to the advantage very quickly, for she had been the one startled by this sudden marriage contract. But she remembered the details of the previous afternoon at least as well as he, and all she wished to see in those hard, diamond-bright eyes was an affirmation of love.
“Although Tyson did not put the question to me in a very straightforward manner, his actions were very firm in declaring what he wanted.” She glanced at her betrothed, seeing his mouth tighten. “The captain would not be refused. He is most persistent.”
“So long as we are bent on a single purpose, my love,” he said. His voice was tender, his eyes burning. She thought she had learned to read those eyes, but she found herself wondering if she saw passion or fury.
“I never could have guessed you’d actually take my advice, Vieve,” Paul said with a sudden laugh.
Vieve looked at her brother in confusion, while Tyson’s cold stare curiously questioned him.
“Last spring,” Paul went on, “on the very day of your arrival, I told my sister she would be better off setting her sights on you than wasting her time on Shelby.” Vieve felt her cheeks grow hot. “Of course, I didn’t even know you then, Tyson. And I was speaking more from anger with Andrew than true purpose. But as luck would have it, the two of you have fallen in love.”
She slowly tilted her chin, looking up at Tyson. His lips were turned in a one-sided smile. How had Paul sabotaged her so innocently? She almost shook her head in denial, but caught herself in time. She swallowed hard, thinking that now there could be no doubt in Tyson’s mind that she had deliberately planned what had happened.
“What an odd coincidence,” Tyson said slowly, “that Vieve discovered her love for me at precisely the same time the baron discovered my abundant funds.”
“Let’s eat,” Lord Ridgley commanded brusquely. “I am for putting business aside and finding the mood to celebrate.” That said, he guided them all to the dining room, Paul and Evelyn in the lead.
As Tyson escorted her to the dining room, Vieve looked up into his eyes, showing fierce temper in her own. “You might have warned me,” she whispered. “I had no idea you were going to make an offer of marriage.”
“I thought we had decided to forgo warnings,” he returned.
As they entered the dining room, Vieve resisted, her arm looped through Tyson’s so that they lingered in the doorway. She looked up at him with what could be surmised as love and longing. She smiled, while her words bit out an icy remark. “I suppose you expect to find me grateful for your...”
Her words trailed off as she became conscious of the slow, rhythmical caressing of her bare arm. He smiled at her, but his eyes glittered with a menacing light. “Your father has ordered a more festive mood. I am for following his instructions, as I have already proven.”
“Tyson,” she began.
“Beware, my love, betrothals are toasted, not grieved. Unless you choose to shed more light on our sudden desire to be wed....”
“Come, come, there is enough time for all of that,” Lord Ridgley said, standing before his place at the head of the table. He rang the bell for the meal to be served. Tyson dropped a rather husbandly peck on her brow and turned her toward the table, seating her between Paul and her father. Evelyn occupied the seat across from her husband, and Tyson sat beside her. Vieve breathed a sigh of relief that she was not next to him until she looked up from her plate to see his intense silver eyes directly across from her. She swallowed hard and hoped she would survive his anger.
Evelyn was delighted with the anticipation of planning a wedding, Paul was excited about the future profits of their combined families, and Lord Ridgley was lifting his glass with unusual gusto for a man who had issued a firm command for his daughter to be led to the altar.
“When can we begin making plans?” Evelyn asked.
“I can see no reason to delay,” Tyson replied. “I think I have already revealed my greatest flaw,” he said, checking eyes with Vieve. “I am a very impatient man.”
“Then the wedding will be soon. Oh, it will be grand,” Evelyn said.
“I’d rather it be small,” Vieve said, trying not to look at anyone in particular.
“If Vieve wants an intimate wedding, all the better,” Tyson said. “I will not be contributing a long guest list.”
“Small weddings are sometimes prettier, more memorable,” Evelyn agreed.
Vieve began to lament the lie into which her family had been innocently drawn. In a sudden pang of conscience she considered the meager benefits of blurting out the truth. An offer of marriage under these conditions was not what she had ever wanted.
But before she could confuse the situation with any sudden confessio
n, she turned to see who had entered the dining room. Charles Latimer stood in the doorway. He was wearing his riding clothes, which in itself was rare, since he preferred taking coaches and was not much of a horseman. And his expression was especially fierce; even his smile was a little more wicked than usual. “Well, you’re all gathered. It almost appears as if you were expecting me.”
Lord Ridgley cleared his throat, a pained expression on his face. “Had we known you were coming, Charles, we’d have set another place. Come in,” he said. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“I did not come to dine,” he said flatly. “I did not come to spoil your dinner, either, but then I thought you would be finished by now. I’m here on some unpleasant business, and it involves all of you. I have spent the entire day listening to the woeful tales of Andrew Shelby. It seems he had nowhere else to turn.”
Lord Ridgley retorted instantly. “I don’t doubt that, Charles,” he said. “Andrew has cooked his own goose. He has treated my daughter quite dishonorably.”
Charles laughed as if the comment was a poor jest. “Oh, really? Is that what she told you? Why, the little vixen has been carrying on with Andrew for quite some time now, and he expects only what is fair. He wishes to become her husband now. He tells me that money is no longer a reason to delay.”
“Money was never a reason,” Lord Ridgley said. His face became more red as he spoke, and he refused to stand in his brother’s presence. “I think Shelby ought to be glad no one calls him out. Aye, I’ve heard a tale or two, and if I had not heard so late, I would have taken care of Shelby myself. And you, Charles, will not speak about my daughter with less than the utmost respect in my house.”
“Why, Boris, I only appeal to your honorable nature,” Charles said. He betrayed his inner calm by the way he twitched the crop at his side. “The girl has been with Andrew for a long time. Their behavior together has been most... most... They must marry. In the name of decency.”
Vieve looked uncertainly at Tyson. He braced his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his hands. For a moment she saw a slight curve of his lips and a twinkle in his eye.
She became calmer as she watched him. It was an odd sensation to fear him one moment and the next find his quiet strength so sure and reliable. He could have intervened at any moment, but it was as if he held greater control by his silence. She relaxed slightly in her chair and decided to follow his silent instructions, remaining quiet and observant.
What amazed Vieve most was that Andrew had had the gall to go to yet another member of her family, especially her uncle. Charles Latimer had never cared one hoot for her.
“Worry about the decency of your own daughters, Charles,” the baron grumbled. “If my daughter’s behavior displeases you, it is my concern and not yours. Go home and tell the whining young whelp that he’s lucky Tyson didn’t do worse to him. Had I known the things he dared with my daughter, I’d have whipped him myself.”
Charles stuttered and coughed. “Do you have any idea what’s been going on because of your daughter? Well, clearly you don’t, or you’d have done something. This man here,” he said, pointing to Tyson with his crop. “This man you treat with such generous hospitality attacked Andrew for no reason at all. By his bruises I’d say the captain here meant to kill him. And when Andrew went to his closest friend to seek help, your son turned him out.”
Paul stood up and faced his uncle. “It seems to me,” he said slowly, “that Andrew should have been turned out a long time ago.”
“Boris.” Charles turned to his stepbrother. “I appeal to your decency.”
Lord Ridgley’s hands hit the table and he came to his feet. “I’ve had enough of your damned appeals. You’ve been a pain in the gullet for better than forty years, and by God I’ve tried, with respect to my dead mother, to treat you civilly, but you will not question my daughter’s virtue in my own house. This is none of your bloody business; Vieve’s marriage plans have nothing to do with you, despite your determination to get involved. Get those simpleminded scarecrows of your own married.’’ He gave a flourish of his hand that had the appearance of dismissal. “Give one of ‘em to Andrew, now that you have him sitting right in your house.”
As Lord Ridgley bellowed, Charles’s posture became more rigid. “You’ll be sorry, Boris. Perhaps when you need me, I won’t be here.”
“Hell,” the baron scoffed as if frustrated by Charles’s assumption of importance. “I’ve never needed you. I’ve had my troubles, more because of you. You flaunt your money and tempt me, and when I won’t take your charity, you sulk away. But then you come back, if only to make certain everyone can see how willing you are to be my benefactor. Once and for all, neither your money nor your relation to me is of any influence here. You’re nothing but a braying, screeching braggart. Now get out.”
Charles broke into a wide grin, but his eyes sparked with rage and his cheeks were flushed. The crop twitched at his side, hitting his boot. “You’ll be sorry when you get the slut married and she’s turned back to you as a dirty bride. Shelby’s had his way with her, you know.”
Tyson rose, the last of the men to stand, and when he came to his feet, he seemed to fill the room. Charles even seemed to cower slightly. But Tyson’s voice was smooth and carefully controlled.
“You may leave the proof of virtue in my very capable hands,” he said slowly. “The woman will be my wife, and you may tell Shelby that if he ever touches her again...I will kill him.”
“Wife?” Charles croaked. He looked at his brother in stunned wonder. “You can’t just let the wench change her mind now that she’s become bored with her intended.” Charles met with the hard, implacable eyes of three angry men. He laughed suddenly. “Good God, Boris. You’ll marry your daughter to this colonial? What about your family name?”
“Good night, Charles,” Lord Ridgley said, keeping his anger in check. “Do not return to this house without an invitation.”
Charles stared at them one by one and then, with an angry snap of his riding crop, left the room. The three men slowly resumed their seats. Vieve’s cheeks grew warm and she stared at her plate.
“If you were having such trouble with Andrew, why didn’t you come to me long ago, Vieve?” she heard her father ask.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Papa, I was afraid you would blame me.”
“Blame you?”
“It is what I am accustomed to,” she said with a hurt shrug. “Whenever Andrew misbehaved, there was always someone close at hand to tell me why he could not help himself.” She looked at Tyson and nearly laughed aloud, because the color in his own cheeks had ripened. Then her gaze was diverted by Paul reaching into her lap to squeeze her hand. She turned to look into his guilty eyes. “Even Andrew blamed me for the fact that he had little control over his own actions.” She looked back at her father. “May I be excused, please? I have lost my appetite.”
Her father nodded, and the look of sympathy in his eyes was obvious. She wished she could erase the last year of her life.
As Vieve left the room, Tyson pushed his chair back from the table. “My lord, is it your brother’s custom to make even matters of your daughter’s marriage his business? Is he a longtime friend of Andrew’s?”
“Charles has always presumed upon even my most personal affairs. And I do not think his friendship with Andrew goes beyond acquaintance, but that has never stopped my brother before.”
“I cannot make a contract of marriage with a woman and deny her desirability in the next breath, but I wonder if you have ever considered the strange partnership between Andrew’s desperation to have Vieve and Charles Latimer’s uncanny support. Until tonight, I faulted the young man’s behavior, but I did not see anything suspect in his desire. Now I think you should consider your brother’s motives.” He tossed his napkin onto the table as he stood. “Excuse me. I think I should assure myself that she is all right.”
“Perhaps I should go,” Lord Ridgley said, making a motion to rise.
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“Sooner or later you will have to entrust her welfare to me, my lord.”
He did not wait for Lord Ridgley’s permission, but he did listen for some verification that he was not followed from the dining room. He called out to her as she reached the bottom of the staircase. She slowly turned toward him.
“Somehow I did not expect this reaction from you,” he said. “From your own lips, marriage was the price you put on your virtue. I have met your price. Yet you act as if you’ve been greatly wronged.”
“It is not an act, Captain Gervais.”
“Whatever it is, it is best stopped now.” Although he kept his voice low, he was no less stern. “Unless you have a better solution for our predicament, I should appreciate a more graceful acceptance of our lot.”
She shook her head, furious with his assumptions. “You have obviously accustomed yourself to making all the decisions alone, Tyson. Do you not even see the necessity of asking me if I will have you?”
He smiled roguishly and reached out a finger, gently lifting a curl off her shoulder. “My mistake, petite. As I recall, you staked your claim already.”
“You made the claim, sir, I...”
“Vieve,” he warned, his fingers dropping to caress her shoulder. She was stilled by the look in his eyes. “If it is your desire, we can go over the details again; we may argue endlessly whether I urged or forced you, or whether I met with seduction or resistance. You may already carry my child. The argument pales in the face of that single possibility.”
Her eyes widened with astonishment. In all her confusion it was that single fact that had completely slipped her mind. She had thought a great deal about her lost virginity, but had not considered a more serious consequence.
He laughed lightly. “I knew it unwise to meddle with one so young. Your body beckons, but your mind is still chasing butterflies with the other children.”
She fought the urge to slap his face. Instead she smiled wryly. “You are not so clever as I thought, Captain. You had but to insist that Andrew had violated me before you arrived at the old keep. My father would have believed you, and Andrew would have thanked you.”
