by Mary Brendan
A sense of calm drifted over Faye as she wandered further into the cool dim environment. Even the starchy scent of plain cotton was pleasant. Across the top of a swathe of blue silk Faye spied Anne Holly by the counter with her neighbour. Stepping around the obstacles, she started forward to say hello when snippets of their conversation reached her ears, making her proceed cautiously.
‘I wouldn’t believe a word that girl uttered,’ Anne’s elderly neighbour was saying, inspecting a gossamer glove the draper had placed in front of her. ‘Mrs Bullman complains she’s a daydreamer. Fanciful nonsense is what it is.’
‘I’d call it downright lies,’ Anne Holly returned pithily. ‘I know Claire is a decent girl, whereas Peggy Miller...’ A snort stood in for her opinion.
‘Miss Shawcross will not want this coming hot on the heels of her bad business with Westwood and her accident. The poor lamb’s nerves must be shredded. What a shame Mr Collins is not here to take matters in hand...’
‘My friend copes marvellously and needs no man to deal for her!’
Anne’s voice held such a strength of pride that Faye felt a smile tilt her lips despite the horror of knowing Peggy Miller had carried out her threat. She hoped she could live up to Anne’s praise, but feared that things were running out of her control. With her fiancé far away and limited resources to call on since Westwood had decimated her inheritance, the problem of protecting her siblings and her family’s good name was an ever more daunting task.
‘When Derek is back from his meeting with the bishop I shall have him drive me to Mulberry House. I want the family to know that we do not believe a word of that little minx’s lies...’
Faye didn’t wait to hear more. Quietly, with bolts of cloth and laden shelves giving cover, she slipped from the shop.
* * *
This time when Faye employed the huge brass knocker on Valeside Manor’s heavily ironed door her summons was speedily answered by a smartly uniformed manservant. Politely he asked her business.
Before Faye could answer a lilting Irish voice addressed her.
‘I know why you are here, Miss Shawcross.’ Ruby had materialised from the shadows and now stood peering about the butler’s solid frame. Her petite figure was clad in pastel muslin and she looked enviably cool, Faye thought, as she made use of the shade cast by the porch.
‘The Viscount is out; you may come in and talk to me, though.’ Without waiting for an answer Ruby turned away, throwing her next words over her shoulder. ‘I expect you would like some tea...or perhaps something cool, like lemonade, might be more to your taste.’ She pivoted about in a swish of skirts and started pacing backwards. Silken ringlets draped her shoulder as she cocked her head to one side, assessing her guest’s hot and bothered countenance.
‘Tea would be very nice, thank you.’ Faye strove to keep her voice level. She would not allow a child to unsettle her. Now she had been face to face with Ruby she could tell that Kavanagh’s relative—if indeed she was such—was about the same age as Claire.
‘Come in then and sit in the parlour with me. Graveson will arrange for tea, won’t you, Graveson?’ Ruby skipped ahead.
The butler murmured an assent to his young mistress’s order as he led Faye past the grand old furniture in the hallway. Turning into a panelled corridor, he showed Faye into a sitting room that was at least ten times the size of her own cosy parlour.
Faye stepped over the threshold, already regretting having allowed her natural inquisitiveness about Ruby to get the better of her. She should have returned home on discovering that the master was out. This young lady would be of no help to her; Faye wasn’t sure that Ryan Kavanagh would be either. But she was hoping he’d agree to listen to her outrageous request. If he caught her quizzing Ruby behind his back, he’d suspect her of prying. In truth, Faye knew she’d like to discover more about his relationship to Ruby. She was also intrigued to know how the master of Valeside could be an aristocrat, a soldier and just a plain mister.
‘Will Mr Kavanagh...that is...the Viscount, as you named him...be away from home for some time?’ Faye asked. She perched on the sofa, obeying her young hostess’s patting hand insisting she settle beside her.
‘Oh, goodness only knows when my guardian will return,’ Ruby said with pronounced ennui. ‘He is always busy with this and that and I’m lonely and long to see him.’
‘He is your guardian?’
‘I’m an orphan.’ Ruby sighed theatrically and gazed at her visitor with dark, dewy eyes. ‘The Viscount is very good to me.’
‘Should I address him as Viscount Kavanagh?’ Faye asked quite seriously.
‘Only if you want to annoy him. I just do it to tease him and he lets me because he is fond of me. Neither does he like to be called Major, yet he should be proud of that title as he is a great hero and was decorated after Waterloo. He can fight with pistols and swords, you know.’
‘I see.’ Faye didn’t really see at all why he preferred to be addressed plainly, but she hadn’t forgotten his bitter remark about the battlefield carnage at Quatre Bras.
Her late father had had friends in the military and he’d relayed to her stories, passed down, of returning soldiers, outwardly brave faced, who’d privately regretted having taken the King’s shilling. So many, he’d said, had resented the glorification of the Peninsular Wars that had stolen their youth and their limbs, leaving them scarred in mind and body, and poorer than church mice.
Faye became aware that Ruby was studying her minutely so removed her bonnet and gloves in a show of ease, then placed those things by her side on the sofa. As Kavanagh had said they were related Faye guessed Ruby might be his niece as well as his ward. Were they brother and sister the young woman surely would have said so.
‘I know why you want to see him.’ Ruby twirled an ebony curl about a finger. ‘It is to do with your sister running off to Donagh Lee, isn’t it?’
‘If your guardian is going to be away for some hours, I should return another time.’ Thoughts of a pleasant chat had been dashed. The last thing Faye wanted was to be drawn into an argument with Claire’s rival for Donagh’s affections.
‘I expect your sister has told you that I fell in love with Donagh and I know she did, too. She can have him, though, if she wants. He doesn’t want to marry me any more and even if he did my guardian said he’d shoot him if he comes after me again.’ Ruby pulled a little face. ‘The Viscount was very angry with me for going out late to the gypsy camp even though the Lees are my kin.’
‘You are related to the Lees?’ Faye remembered the whispers about Kavanagh’s mistress being related to the gypsies. Sudden enlightenment hit her like a thunderbolt. If Kavanagh had told the truth about Ruby being his relation, then he also had Romany blood.
‘You and your sister are very pretty. But Claire seems much younger. Oh, tea has arrived...’ Ruby rattled off as the door opened.
‘It was kind of you to offer me refreshment, but as Mr Kavanagh might be some time, I really can’t stay, Miss...’ Faye floundered, unsure how to formally address her ingénue of a hostess.
‘Her name is Ruby Adair. I’m sorry I wasn’t at home to properly introduce you to her earlier.’
Faye leapt to her feet, her heart vaulting to her throat. She swung about to see Ryan Kavanagh standing on the threshold of the room, looking as disturbingly handsome as ever. His clothes and hair looked dusty from riding and Faye immediately recalled the last time she’d seen him unkempt...stripped to the waist on that occasion. It suited him to be dishevelled, she realised; it gave him a buccaneering air that sat well with his swarthy good looks.
A maid bearing a tea tray bustled past him to deposit the crockery on the sideboard. When her master politely gave her leave to quit the room the servant immediately did so.
Ruby rushed to slip her arm through her guardian’s. ‘Miss Shawcross came to speak to y
ou, but she is just about to have a drink and a chat with me.’
‘So I see...’ Ryan drawled.
Faye flinched beneath his sardonic regard; he believed that she’d come to snoop in his absence. Tempted though she was to turn tail, she knew if she did his suspicions about her motive would appear justified.
She had come to see him and only him. It was not her fault that Ruby Adair had ambushed her, then divulged information that perhaps she should have kept to herself.
‘I apologise for this intrusion, but would beg a few moments of your time, Mr Kavanagh.’ Faye quickly regained composure.
‘You remembered not to address him as a viscount, so that’s a good start,’ Ruby said saucily. Her clutch on his arm seemed possessive and her narrowed eyes held a glint of rivalry as they watched Faye.
‘Go and find something to do while I’m busy, Minx.’ Ryan brushed the back of a finger over the girl’s cheek, then turned her towards the door.
‘But I should like some tea,’ Ruby protested, wriggling free of his hands.
‘Ask Mrs Bateman to make you some more. Take it into the garden and enjoy the last of the sunshine. Clouds are blowing in...’ His mild tone held an edge of authority, causing Ruby to pout but dutifully leave.
‘I’m very sorry to turn up again and bother you, sir,’ Faye blurted as soon as the door had closed.
He strolled to the table and poured two cups of tea. Having splashed milk into the brew, he held out her drink to her. His own he left on the tray. He propped himself against the furniture on two straight arms, his head lowered, concealing his expression.
Faye watched him, her cup and saucer unsteady in her hand. Viscount or no, it seemed he was not too high and mighty to serve himself and his guests from the teapot.
‘I made it obvious when you were last here that I like being bothered by you, Miss Shawcross.’ Slowly he straightened and turned to face her. ‘In fact, I’m hoping you’ve saved me the journey to Mulberry House to speak to you. If you’re back to tell me you feel the same way about me, I can suggest what we can do about it.’
The irony in his voice couldn’t quite disguise the fact that he meant every word. And heaven only knew she did crave having his strong arms about her again. She knew if he bruised her mouth with his own as he had before, his fiery passion could eradicate every worry from her head as easily as sunlight dissolved snow.
‘I deduce from your silence that you’re in two minds on it. Perhaps I should help you decide.’ He plunged his hands into his pockets and pinned her down with a dangerously challenging stare.
Faye put down her untasted tea in a rattle of crockery. ‘I bid you to be serious, sir, if you will.’
‘I’ve never been more serious in my life,’ he returned.
His vivid, unsmiling eyes tangled with hers before travelling over her body in a way that caused iced heat to streak through her veins.
‘And neither was I more serious than when I told you I will soon be married.’ Slashes of bright colour accented Faye’s cheekbones. ‘You shouldn’t have kissed me, Mr Kavanagh, and I shouldn’t have...’ Unable to explain herself, she snatched up her hat and gloves from the sofa.
‘You shouldn’t have betrayed your fiancé by liking it?’ he suggested. ‘Perhaps your feelings for Mr Collins aren’t as strong as you thought they were.’
‘You are the most arrogant and conceited man!’ Faye breathed, furiously aware that he was too incisive in his taunts. ‘And my feelings for my fiancé are unchanged. I love him.’ She marched towards the exit.
He didn’t attempt to block her way this time as he had on the last occasion she’d felt an unbearable tension building between them, prompting her to flee. By the door she twisted about; she would make some explanation for her visit even if it had been fruitless. ‘I have learned about another problem threatening my family following the debacle with the Lees. Impetuously I came straight here to speak to you about it.’ She gave a small mirthless laugh. ‘I can see now that was not wise; I also regret that I intended to take advantage of your good nature.’
‘Good nature?’
He echoed her words in an amused way that made Faye sorry she’d not kept her praise to herself. But she added stiltedly, ‘You have been helpful and generous to me and my family... I believe that shows you to be a decent man.’
‘It’s sweet of you to say so,’ he drawled. ‘But my generosity comes at a price, Faye Shawcross, and you know it. So what’s your answer?’
He approached her in slow strides, but halted when there remained a distance between them. She knew she could turn about and leave if she wanted to. But still she stood where she was, aching for him to touch her—even just a little would do. She’d felt jealous of Ruby when he’d stroked her cheek.
‘Whatever it is you want of me, you know I’ll give it, don’t you? I’ll keep you and your family safe, if that’s what you’ve come to ask.’
‘And in return?’ Faye whispered.
‘Come, we’re adults, there’s no need to act coy. Your fiancé is away...the date of your marriage...should it ever come...is uncertain. We are two people in need of one another. So, if you wish it spelled out, in return for my help I want you as my mistress. I desire you and want to sleep with you...as you know.’
So there it was. Out in the open. In an odd way she respected him for being so blatant and honest. No beating about the bush, no mealy-mouthed words of false affection. Yet she hated him, too, for treating her as though she were just another of the women pandering to his wicked desire for diversion, as he’d termed his lust.
She had expected his proposition, he’d been correct in that as well. Mrs Gideon had warned her about the master of Valeside’s hungry eyes, but by then Faye had already felt the weight of them on her. And she had been fooling herself as to why he had often put himself at her disposal. It wasn’t out of neighbourly concern, it was so that she would feel obliged to put herself at his disposal.
From the very first time their gazes had collided on Wilverton High Street she’d sensed he found her attractive. Instinctively she had hurried home that day, avoiding coming face to face with the rakish new master of Valeside and his paramour as she’d then believed Ruby to be.
‘I came to beg for your assistance in helping me stifle a scandal. In return, you say you would like to damage us even more.’ She gave him an icy stare. ‘Yet you have the nerve to talk of keeping me and my family safe.’
‘And so I will. Naturally the affair would be conducted discreetly.’
‘Oh, would it!’ Faye emitted in a suffocated gasp. ‘How good of you, sir. And what, pray, should I tell my fiancé about your disgusting offer?’ She spat, ‘Peter might kill you if he ever discovers what you have done.’
‘I doubt he’ll manage to put a scratch on me, but if he wants to meet me in a misty glade at dawn, I’ll oblige.’ Ryan’s tone was oddly diffident rather than boastful. ‘It would be better if you keep the matter to yourself if you love him as you say. You might be a fire in my blood, my dear, but I’ll not intentionally take a bullet, even for you, so the best I can offer is to wing him.’
Faye’s wide green gaze flitted over his heartbreakingly impassive face. Before today she had thought she was coming to know and like Ryan Kavanagh; but he remained a stranger and she’d been a fool to ever think otherwise.
‘I hoped we might become friends, sir, but I see now all you want is a business partner. From what you’ve said I believe you have enough of those already.’ She ignored his amusement at her reference to his paramours, battling to keep her composure. She would not scuttle away, but leave in a dignified manner. ‘Please thank Miss Adair for her hospitality.’ Faye haughtily tilted her chin. ‘I will have Mr Gideon return your horse in the morning and will reimburse you for every penny you have paid out on my behalf the moment I have your account. Good day to you, sir.’<
br />
Ryan shrugged and extended his hand as though in acceptance and farewell. The moment her small digits touched his he jerked her against him with a muttered oath. His long bronzed fingers looked stark against her pale cheek as he cupped her face, keeping her still while kissing her with seductive leisure. Faye writhed against him, but as heat surged through her blood and a heaviness stirred in the pit of her stomach the fists she had rammed against his chest relaxed, then crept to curl over his shoulders. His mouth worked its wooing magic and a subtle movement of his hand parted her jaw, allowing his tongue to caress the silky contour of her lower lip. It was nothing like the last time he’d bombarded her with sensual delight; yet whether his kiss was savage or sweet she couldn’t resist it or push him away. His hands slipped from her face to her throat to her breasts, tormenting the tingling flesh through her bodice. The hard pressure of his palms and butterfly brushes from his fingertips drew a moan of pleasure from Faye and he lifted his mouth from hers. Her lashes drifted up and her drowsy vision met a pair of sapphire eyes that were watching her scientifically...just a hint of mockery present.
She stumbled back from him, her cheeks burning. No words were needed by either of them, she realised, dragging her eyes away; he’d proved in the most basic way that he could seduce her if he chose to and make her beg him to touch her again and again. Most cruel of all, he’d shown her how easily he could make her forget her fiancé while she was luxuriating in his sensuality. Faye gave a guttural cry of shame and her open palm flew up at his face, striking the thin white scar on his cheek.
‘You are a selfish and callous man. I can see that now. You don’t care who you hurt, do you?’ Faye’s bodice rose and fell in erratic rhythm as she struggled to control herself. ‘You would take another man’s happiness and crush it beneath your foot as though it were nothing, simply to feed your ego.’
