by Allison Lane
“She’s a lady!”
Progress. Max did not protest the attack, merely the class of the victim. He made his voice as dispassionate as possible, though he longed to shake the truth into his friend’s thick head. “Dornbras attacks anyone who rebuffs him, Max. Open your eyes. The man is an unscrupulous scoundrel. But even scruples would not have mattered this time. He thought she was one of the maids. I suspect he was lying in wait for them – he was muttering about the lack of variety last night. He still thinks she is a servant, for I had that impression myself until you introduced her. That gown is hardly the dress one expects of a lady.”
“She’s been nursing a sick mother.” He sighed. “I must apologize to her.”
Blake shook his head. “You had better do more than apologize. Your only choice is to send us all packing before something worse happens. What possessed you to set up this party?”
“It wasn’t my doing,” Max protested again. “Ashburton said nothing about the house being leased when he signed over the estate. Nor did his solicitor.”
“Start at the beginning,” he begged, then was shocked when Max did.
“So you must admit that she is all right,” Max said. “She lives in a separate household, protected by her mother and her own staff.”
“Two elderly servants, a mother abed with a raving fever, and a shared roof over her head. She may be safe from the gossips – though the technicality may escape some – but I would hardly call her protected.” He waved at the rose garden. “If I hadn’t been nearby when she screamed, she would have been ruined – and not gently. How dare you introduce five courtesans and a predator like Dornbras into a genteel household? Quit hiding behind excuses and look at yourself. You should have moved into an inn on arrival and sent us packing.”
“I will have to work harder to protect her,” Max said doggedly.
“You need to send us back to London,” insisted Blake, pacing restlessly about the garden.
“On what pretext? You are just as blind as you think me – as I was, for you are right about Dornbras. He should not be here.”
Blake stumbled and nearly fell. If the attack on Miss Ashburton had brought this change, then Max was serious, indeed, though he would undoubtedly deny it.
“But he is here,” continued Max. “If we ask him to leave, or even cancel the party so we all leave, he will rightly conclude that this incident is to blame. Temper will force him to avenge the insult by tracking down the girl. What will he do when he discovers Miss Ashburton’s station and residence?”
“Ruin her reputation by denouncing her to society,” Blake said wearily. “Then cry compromise in an attempt to ruin you as well.”
“Exactly. He will feel the same grievance toward me for tossing him out as he would toward her for precipitating the action. So we must stay at least a week. By then, the cramped quarters will be excuse enough to leave.”
“Does that mean that Miss Ashburton must remain indoors?”
“We will discuss that shortly, but I cannot risk her running into anyone else. Nor can I risk Dornbras exploring the east wing – if he is truly bored, he might enjoy flirting with its supposed dangers. Why the devil did I not see through him earlier?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Max nodded.
Blake drew a deep breath and laid his friendship on the line. “I made the mistake of criticizing him when you were smarting so badly from Montcalm’s orders that you automatically denied any suggestion.”
Max’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. Several minutes passed in silence.
“That’s it?” he finally asked. “That’s stupid.”
Blake breathed again. “Probably, but—” He stopped, unwilling to push his luck a second time.
“But what?” Max demanded.
Did he dare?
“Don’t coddle me, Blake. If you can’t tell me the truth, who can?”
Who, indeed? “Once you lodge an idea in your head, you rarely let it go.”
“Good God.” The sun slipped above the horizon, illuminating his white face. “That’s what my father does.”
Blake nodded.
“I’m turning into my father?”
“I didn’t say that, Max. You share one trait with him, but you needn’t keep it. Now that you are aware of the tendency, you can let it go.”
Max shook his head. “I need to think. But first I must safeguard Miss Ashburton. The provisions I made earlier won’t work with Dornbras, but I can block the most easily penetrated access by moving into the dressing room attached to her wing.”
“What?”
“I should have considered it earlier. The two wings mirror each other, so the empty bedchamber in the east wing is like yours, with a dressing room that opens onto the central hall. I can position a bed in there so it blocks the bedchamber door. It will increase her safety.”
“And how will you explain moving into a dressing room when you have a perfectly good room of your own?”
He shrugged. “I’m through with Annette anyway. Her pouting is annoying enough that I needn’t mention she has the brain of a hen.”
“So why not turn her loose under the same rules as the other girls?”
Max frowned. “It is not fair that you gave up your dressing room. Now that I am unencumbered, I can play the perfect host by taking the room we all know is dangerous, giving the largest room to the girls. They can sleep there, making all of us happier.”
“And reducing the urgency of terminating this party for lack of space.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” snapped Max.
“Only that you keep the girls out of your new room. This situation is already too close to being compromising.”
“True, though her mother is recovering. And that dressing room is the only real way anyone can enter. The wardrobes take two hefty men to shift, and my presence will prevent anyone from experimenting with keys. She will be safer than before.”
“Very well. But I will be watching. If any harm comes to her, I’ll hold you responsible.”
* * * *
Max watched his friend stride away, astonished at the threat – which echoed the similar one Miss Ashburton had made the day he’d arrived. Hers he could understand, but what was Blake’s interest? Had he formed a tendre for the girl? It seemed unlikely, but so did his interest in a stranger’s welfare.
The sun was barely up, yet he’d already suffered more shocks today than in years. The worst was that doubler Blake had landed. Was he really as stubborn and closed-minded as his father? Granted, he had supported Dornbras long after he should have seen the truth, but some of that had arisen from manipulation. If he were honest, he had to admit that Dornbras flattered him often. After enduring his father’s complaints for so many years, he had welcomed the adulation, ignoring evidence of the man’s true nature.
He wasn’t sure he completely understood that nature even now. It would take time to sort out the facts from his long-standing impressions. But that was for later.
Tension had infested the party from the beginning. He had assumed that his imagination was to blame, for he knew that every sound could be heard in the east wing, but now he had to wonder what else was going on. Maybe Dornbras was the source of it, though he hoped not. With luck, freeing Annette would inject new interest. And allowing everyone to sleep better should also help.
He would soon find out. Glancing at the windows to make sure he was not seen, he rapped on the library door. He had a full morning ahead. First he must deal with Miss Ashburton, then give Annette her congé and move his things to the spare bedchamber – he would not sleep in the dressing room, though Blake need not know that. Once that was done, he could settle the girls in their own room.
* * * *
Hope pulled a book of poetry from a shelf, praying that it would calm her shattered nerves. The morning had brought so many shocks she could hardly think.
Her mother’s improvement was good news, though recovery was a long way
off. Yet it had led her into trouble, for she would not have ventured outdoors if the fever had remained. Now she faced a new danger. Merimont’s eyes had nearly scorched her with their fury.
And he was right. If she had stayed out of sight as he’d asked, Dornbras would not have cornered her. His assault had shaken her badly – far worse than Merimont’s own attack. If Lord Rockhurst had not heard her screams for help…
The thought pulled her up short. She had always believed that all gentlemen were alike – unscrupulous, arrogant libertines who never looked beyond the desire of the moment and cared nothing for others. The description fit her father, her uncle, and Lord Millhouse, whose estate abutted Redrock.
Now she had to admit that honorable gentlemen also existed. Rockhurst had forced Dornbras to leave, then made no move to take her for himself. And once he’d discovered her breeding and residence, he had been furious at Merimont.
Had she taken her mother’s admonitions too seriously? Though the aristocracy was small, it was large enough to encompass variety – just as other classes did. The local gentry included the very silly Mr. Croman, stuffy Major Baldwin, kind Dr. Jenkins, hunting-mad Squire Foley, and lecherous Sir Virgil.
Even Merimont had tried to protect her, though his reputation was quite sordid. And she had let him. How could she have pressed against him, allowing the heat of his body to thaw her fear?
She shivered, praying that he would attribute the action to shock. If he discovered her lascivious dreams, he might yet turn on her. Prudence demanded that she stay away from him. He made it difficult to think. And prudence also demanded that she remain wary of his friends. Rockhurst clearly hated Dornbras. His interference might have sought only to annoy an enemy.
A rap on the window interrupted her thoughts. Merimont stepped inside, then stopped, staring. “This room is huge.”
“It occupies half of the wing.” There was little point in mentioning that it had originally been the dining room. She had converted it, with her grandfather’s assistance, when she was thirteen and had run out of space in her sitting room. Now tall shelves lined the walls, crowded with leather-bound volumes. Lower shelves surrounded study tables, a comfortable couch where she could relax while reading, and a corner where she and her grandfather had debated ideas. She’d not seen another room arranged this way, but he had agreed to every request, for the library was her personal refuge. Even her mother never used it.
Merimont wandered along the wall, pulling out an occasional volume to riffle its pages.
“I’ve rarely seen such an extensive collection, Miss Ashburton,” he murmured at last. “Quite a find.”
“But they are not yours, my lord. Only that shelf belongs to the estate.” She pointed to a dozen volumes of collected sermons. “The rest are mine.”
“Do you claim to have read all of these?” he demanded incredulously, waving a copy of Homer’s Odyssey in the original Greek.
“You need not sound so shocked,” she snapped in that language before returning to English. “Grandfather encouraged me to study anything of interest. I could not attend school, for Mother needed my help even before he died, but he provided anything I requested – probably to make up for keeping us here rather than at Ashburton Park, as was Mother’s right. I have continued to add new titles whenever finances allowed it. Books are my window to the world.”
She stopped talking. Gentlemen did not care for educated women, she remembered too late. She certainly should not brag about it, though she had read every volume at least once. Many were favorites that she reread often. Reading was her one indulgence. She knew well that she would never leave Redrock House, never have a family of her own, never experience life in London, let alone in other lands. But giving him a new reason to despise her could only lead to trouble.
He made no comment, replacing Homer, then thumbing through a volume on agriculture that had arrived only a month earlier. “I’ve not seen this one yet – not that I could have afforded it if I had,” he muttered.
“It only cost five guineas. You probably lose more than that at cards of a night.”
He stiffened. “You can hardly claim to know me.”
“I read the London papers.” She hid her instinctive recoil at his displeasure. She could not let him intimidate her.
He slammed the book back onto the shelf. “But you don’t understand them. Gossip columns carry titillating stories, but they are usually exaggerated and sometimes false. One should never form an opinion of a stranger based solely on gossip.”
“I stand corrected.” She tried a conciliatory smile. “I suppose drawing room conversation is equally bad.”
He was also fighting to control his tongue. Circles under his eyes proclaimed that he had not yet been to bed. “If anything, it is worse. I have been credited with the deeds of others and had my own youthful excesses built into full-fledged scandal.”
“Then you can hardly blame me for fearing the worst after listening to tales of reckless debauchery and descriptions of how you disrupted Lady Horseley’s ball. Your recent behavior confirms those impressions. You admitted that you won Redrock at the tables, then immediately arranged a house party that society would shun.”
“Yes, well—” His face flushed, surprising her. “Those tales are prime examples of how gossip twists truth. Lady Horseley’s ball was a youthful mistake that I deeply regret, though it was not I who shot the cat that night. I merely passed out.”
“Then what really happened?”
He shrugged. “Three of us slipped away from school to visit London. My memory of the affair is rather hazy, for we consumed far too much brandy before calling on Lady Horseley – she is a deplorable widgeon, but a high stickler, for all that.”
She chuckled.
He flashed a charming smile. “I’ve no idea what happened, for I’d barely staggered into the ballroom when I passed out most theatrically on the floor.” He demonstrated. “But I am certain it was not I who soiled her ladyship. I have no recollection of seeing her, and I was most vilely ill when I awakened in an antechamber two hours later. My friends had disappeared like will-o’-the-wisps, leaving me as the only one Lady Horseley could identify. So the bagwig sent me down for the rest of that term. Of course, I amply avenged myself,” he added, jumping nimbly to his feet. “My friends had to serve as my squires for months once I returned.”
Hope laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It must have been mortifying, but you do make it sound humorous.”
He grinned. “I’m glad I can amuse you. Most gossip is exaggerated one way or another. As for this house party – which is a legitimate complaint – I will terminate it as soon as possible, though I must wait a few days if your reputation is to survive. I am deeply chagrined at this morning’s unfortunate encounter.”
“I know that you would have preferred that I meet none of your friends, but—”
“I am not referring to Blake, Miss Ashburton. He is a fine fellow who would never cause you a moment of grief. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for Dornbras. I should never have invited him and should have sent him packing the moment I realized that you would be here. No man of sense would condone his actions today. Even had you been the servant he thought you, he should not have pressed once you made your disinterest plain.”
“But why should he believe my protests?” she asked with a sigh. “He thinks himself irresistible – understandably, I suppose. Paying girls as much as he offered me must elicit praise for his prowess.”
Merimont frowned. “An odd way of seeing things.”
“Why? He is willing to pay for whatever he wants. If he wants to feel like the greatest man on earth, I’m sure he can buy that opinion.” This time she made no attempt to conceal her loathing.
“At least he did not succeed in compromising you,” said Merimont soothingly. “You would not have enjoyed marrying him.”
“I would have refused,” she said shortly.
“You couldn’t. Society would ostracize you
.”
“Better that than marriage,” she countered.
“I agree that wedding him would be unpleasant – though he’s enormously wealthy – but you must wed someone. All ladies need husbands.”
“Fustian! You won’t drive me out that easily,” she swore, glaring now that he’d confirmed her suspicions. “Some marriages might be pleasing, but most are contracts with the devil. Men lie and cheat, striking out at any who oppose them. Even wives in desired unions must remain wary lest they incite violence.”
“What do you know of marriage, Miss Ashburton?”
“I need look no further than my parents.” Or her uncle, for that matter. “Men are selfish creatures to begin with. Forcing them to wed someone they don’t want creates a grievance that turns them into monsters.”
“An interesting point of view – not that I agree. Honor does play a role in the world. You should look beyond your parents, Miss Ashburton, for men are not all alike. Consider Blake and Dornbras. But we have moved far afield. I will terminate this gathering as soon as it is feasible. In the meantime, I will strengthen your protection.”
“Oh?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or rant. “Is there a new threat?”
He hesitated. “As you pointed out, Dornbras is accustomed to having his own way. He will never forgive you for laying a hand on him. I fear he may ignore my claims and try to explore this wing, as a cure for boredom if for no other reason. To prevent that, I must move into your spare bedchamber, so he cannot enter through the dressing room.” He must have seen her eyes widen in shock because he hurried on. “I will keep the hallway door locked – in fact, you may keep the key if you wish. And no one will share that room with me.”
“I see.” Though she did not. But the thought of Dornbras slipping through that dressing room to accost her in her own bed made any alternative attractive. “Very well, though it seems easier to simply send your friends away.”
“Soon, I promise. But if Dornbras connects an early departure with meeting you, your reputation would be in danger.”
