Breathing hard, she glared daggers at him. Heavens, the man could seduce a saint—his gold hair was tousled, his eyes dark with passion, and his mouth. She dragged her greedy gaze away before she could throw herself back at him like a lusty barmaid.
“Stay away.”
“You know you want me,” he said, his arrogance and husky voice as effective as his lips had been.
Want. If that single word encompassed all the liquid heat running rampant through her, then of course she wanted him. But not at the expense of what he intended: for her position to be terminated. She steeled herself, remembering what was at stake. “The only thing I want, Lord Northridge, is for you to keep your distance.”
“Lana.” He leaned in purposefully, but she anticipated his movements and pushed past him, rushing up the stairs.
When there was a safe amount of space—at least a half dozen steps—between them, she turned, her voice cold. “If you take it upon yourself to tell Lady Dinsmore anything, I will be forced to betray your secret.”
His eyes widened as he took her meaning. Lana would never do such a thing, but Gray didn’t know that, and if her threat stopped him from exposing her, then so be it.
“And sober up before you embarrass yourself, Lord Northridge. No one likes a drunk.”
…
Gray stood on a balcony of Hadley Gardens. The lush landscape below, lit with small lamps and glass globes, did nothing to distract him. All it made him think about was dragging Lana into that shadowy arbor, tearing every inch of clothing from her sumptuous body, and doing all manner of indecent things with his hands and his mouth until she screamed his name. He shifted uncomfortably at the mental image, his body still half-aroused as he inhaled several gulps of cool, evening air. He could still taste her on his lips, mingling with the whiskey he’d tried to drown himself with.
She was a siren who would drive him to madness. To destruction.
Gray sighed, thinking of her parting threat. He didn’t believe she would tell anyone about Sofia, but he couldn’t take the risk. Lana was as fierce and determined as she was vulnerable, and she very well could retaliate if he followed through with his own threat.
Announcing to his mother that Brynn’s lady’s maid was in danger of his untoward attentions would have been humiliating, but he would have done it. At least he would not have been lying. The attraction between them was real and compulsory, even when she was furious, as she’d been in the stairwell.
She’d bewitched him.
“Graham, what are you doing out here?”
He composed himself before turning around to face his mother, who stared at him with thinly veiled consternation as she swept through the balcony doors. He’d found another glass of whiskey somewhere between the servants’ stairwell and balcony, and, looking at it now, found it nearly empty.
“Jus’ taking the air, mother.”
“Lady Cordelia has been waiting patiently for you to ask her to dance, and I’ve taken it upon myself to traipse this entire residence to find you.” Her disparaging gaze swept him from head to toe. “And here you are, shockingly in your cups. Come, make yourself look respectable.”
He eyed her, squinting at her blurry face. “Shouldn’t you be busy crowing to the other mamas about your daughter’s splendid match?”
Her mouth tightened. “Don’t be rude.”
Gray bent to kiss her cheek and nearly lost his footing. Damn. He truly was bashed. “Apologies. I’ll be in shortly, and I’ll make it my sole purpose to find Lady Cordelia and sweep her right off her privileged feet.”
Lady Dinsmore frowned. “What has gotten into you, other than too much drink?”
He knew too bloody well what—no, who—had gotten into him.
“Nothing.” He took her arm with a gallant bow, but the effect was spoiled by an undignified burp. “Allow me to accompany you back inside.”
Gray escorted his mother to the refreshment room, paying close attention to his every step and attempting not to stumble. As soon as they arrived, he quickly made his escape from the throngs of matchmaking mamas settling their avaricious gazes on him. He signaled to a nearby footman to bring him another glass of whiskey. Where had the other one gone? He couldn’t recall setting it down anywhere.
He knew he’d promised to dance with Lady Cordelia, but in his current state, it would be a disaster. Lady Cordelia was far too well bred and far too poised to tempt him to stray from being a proper gentleman, no matter how intoxicated he was. She didn’t incite his blood the way Lana did. No woman did. No woman ever would.
No. It was the safety of Lady Cordelia’s toes he worried for. He drained the contents of his glass and decided to take his leave, to hell with the whispering that would follow such an early retreat.
He pushed through the crowd, intent on finding the ballroom’s damnable exit, when the pointed rise of conversation stopped him. Something about someone fainting. He didn’t know how, but he was certain it was Brynn. His sister had fainted. He’d known something had been amiss. She’d agreed to this farce out of fear, or something else. The bastard had coerced her into marriage. The thoughts were racing through his muddled brain too quickly to make sense, but he knew he had to find her.
Gray snagged the arm of a passing footman. “Have you seen Lady Briannon?”
“I don’t know, my lord. Perhaps Heed can be of service.” The footman nodded to a white-haired man standing off to the side in front of a pair of closed doors.
Gray’s eyes narrowed as he strode toward the butler. The old man said something. His lips moved. His white-gloved hands lifted to stop Gray, but he plowed past him and shoved the doors open.
“Where is she?” he snapped, his eyes taking in the occupants of the room, including Hawk and Brynn, seated side by side upon a chaise. Both looked at him with surprise and vexation, which only fanned his ire.
They were not the only ones in the room.
His eyes fluttered to Lana as she appeared in his vision, barring his approach. She stared him down like an enraged governess. “She is upset enough, Lord Northridge.”
“Get out of my way, Lana.”
“I will not allow you to make her worse.”
God’s teeth, she provoked him beyond reason. “I am not here to endanger my sister,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Now let me pass.”
“You are drunk.”
“And you forget your place.”
Her eyes flashed her fury at him. “Do I?”
Brynn was the one to interrupt the escalating tension between them, requesting that Lana wait outside. After raking him with a glare he felt to his bones, she did as Brynn asked.
“Gray,” Brynn began. “I know you’re upset, but this is not the time nor the place.”
“It is the perfect time,” he seethed.
“You’re foxed,” she said. “His Grace and I—”
“His Grace,” Gray hissed, his eyes sliding to the silent, imperious duke standing at his sister’s side. Though they used to be friends as children, Gray could not fathom the aloof man as a match for his gentle-hearted sister, not if all the gossip about his coldness and ruthlessness were true. Hell, he had struck his own father in anger. What kind of husband would he be to Brynn? No, she deserved better.
As did Lana.
Gray’s breath faltered, the latter half of the thought demolishing him.
At least Hawk would give Brynn a life of luxury. What could he offer Lana but ridicule and ostracization? A union between them would not be tolerated by society, and though she was a maid, she deserved so much more. He’d wanted to protect her, but it’d only been his own whims he’d been serving. He’d wished to be the hero…her savior, but it had only been to satisfy his own vanity and the way he wanted Lana to see him. Not to truly help her without any thought for recompense.
He was contemptible.
His self-disgust found an easy target in Hawk, whose cool, unflappable expression ignited the furor in his own wretched heart.
Gray s
neered at him. “The man has looked down his nose at all of us for years, preferring to spend his time in a stable than in his own house. It was a surprise to everyone at large that his father claimed him out of all his other bastards.”
“That is enough!” Brynn gasped, a shocked look on her face.
“I won’t give you the thrashing you deserve,” Hawk replied in a low, arrogant tone that only served to fuel Gray’s rage. “If only out of respect for your sister, soon to be my wife. I will offer you the chance to leave of your own free will.”
“Your wife,” Gray repeated, rocking unsteadily as the bright sweep of the liquor coursed through him. “What did you do to get her to agree to your proposal? She would never marry you. Did you compromise her honor? Did you?”
“Gray! Stop this. He did no such thing.” Brynn flushed to the roots of her hairline, and Gray’s fury erupted. He could see that she was lying. That lying miscreant had seduced his innocent sister.
The same way I’ve seduced her innocent maid.
He swayed on his feet with the sudden awareness. He’d seduced Lana. She may have kissed him in return, opening herself to him and allowing her own passion to burn high, but he’d still abused his position of authority the same way Hawk and the late duke both had. Gray recoiled.
“Name your second, you bastard,” he growled, his loathing for Hawk and for himself blurring into one monstrous thing.
He threw his arm out in a wild swing that missed his target by a wide margin. Hawk caught him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him out to the balcony.
“Go home,” Hawk said. “You’re drunk, and you’re making a scene.”
“I demand satisfaction,” Gray shouted. “Do you hear me, Hawk? At the point of a pistol. You forced my sister into this. She is obviously terrified of you. So terrified that she nearly fainted in your arms at the thought of sealing this betrothal. Don’t you think she knows that you were questioned for the late duke’s murder? Everyone knows you are no gentleman.”
The words, they wouldn’t stop. They came to his tongue and jumped, wanting only to injure. You are no gentleman. No, Hawk wasn’t. Neither was Gray. But at least Hawk didn’t try to hide what he was.
“Enough,” the duke warned, a muscle going wild in his jaw. “Or you will have exactly what you want. I assure you I am an excellent shot, and where will that leave your beloved sister? Without a brother?”
“Without a bastard of a husband,” he replied, but he felt the fire leaving him. He looked to the glass-paned doors, catching sight of Brynn’s anguished face. Regret surged through him. It was her engagement ball, and here he was, a drunken idiot, ruining everything. His mind clouded as the whiskey loosened the strength of his legs. He slumped to the ground, leaning against the railings.
“I assure you my parentage is as unsullied as yours,” Hawk said. “You may dislike me, but I am still marrying your sister. And unless you are truly willing to die to stop this wedding, I suggest you return to Bishop House and sleep it off. This is what she wants. What we both want.”
“You will only hurt her.” Gray hiccupped quietly and saw Lana’s figure moving within the room with Brynn. “Everyone knows of your proclivities—and the type of women you favor.”
The types of women Gray himself used to favor.
“It would break her, and she doesn’t deserve that,” Gray said, feeling the bluster leave his body. “She deserves a chance to be happy.”
That was all he’d ever wanted. Brynn’s happiness. And Lana’s. The moments Lana had seemed happy were so limited. When she’d been speaking about her sister. When she’d been whispering tales to Sofia. Gray wanted her safety, yes, but he also wanted to see her smile more.
“You are right. She does,” Hawk said. The silence stretched between them as Gray studied the stringent man standing above him—the boy who had once been his childhood friend. Brynn’s, too. “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it,” Hawk said after a long moment.
Gray nodded, sensing something like sincerity in the duke’s tone. He might not love Brynn, but he would make sure she was taken care of, that much he knew. “Brynn’s heart is special. I want your word as a gentleman that you promise to do right by her.”
“You have it.”
Gray accepted the hand that Hawk reached down to him. He nodded again, though mostly to himself. “Tell her I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll take my leave now, Your Grace.”
Passing unseen through the side gardens, Gray hailed a hackney. He’d leave the carriage for his parents and Brynn, not trusting he wouldn’t be sick all over the floor as it rocked over the roads back to Bishop House. His head was spinning from the effects of all the whiskey when a voice penetrated his foggy senses. His eyes focused on a woman striding toward him, a cloak and hat in hand. Lana. She still looked furious, but something like compassion shone in her eyes.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“Lady Briannon insisted that I see you safely home.”
He frowned, feeling chagrined. “I do not require a chaperone.”
“It is my lady’s wish.”
She signaled to someone behind her, and his family coach ambled into view with Colton at the helm. Gray swayed, nearly tripping at the curb and crashing headfirst into the waiting carriage, when Lana’s firm grip steadied him. Her lips twitched as she helped him into the conveyance. “Don’t worry. I promise your virtue will be safe, Lord Northridge.”
He stared at her as she arranged herself primly in the seat across from him. “Ah, but will yours?” From the rosy color tinting her cheeks, he knew she was recalling the last carriage ride they had shared. “I give you my word that I will stay in this seat,” he said, crooking an eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you wish to join me.”
“You are stewed, Lord Northridge,” she whispered.
“And you are beautiful.” He grinned. “Too beautiful for your own good. And mine.”
Lana blushed, lowering her eyes. “I am still angry with you.”
He blinked against the fog encroaching on his brain and leaned back into the velvet squabs. “Yes, well, it seems I have no control when it comes to you. I am completely at your mercy. And I’m truly sorry I angered you. Whiskey, it seems, is good for dulling one’s wits, drowning one’s misery, and not much else.”
“Why would you consider saying such a thing to Lady Dinsmore?”
“I only want you…to be safe.”
“I am safe here.”
He closed his eyes, his voice turning to a harsh whisper. “If anything were to happen to you, I would not be able to—”
He stopped himself. Just as he’d felt when he’d received that letter from Sir Cooper, stating Sofia was ill, a wild beating of panic took flight in his neck and chest at the thought of Lana falling prey to Zakorov.
“To what, Gray?” she prodded.
“Live with myself. Live at all.”
The question was soft, as if coming from a great distance away. “But…why?”
“Sweet Lana.” His response was a slurred, barely audible whisper. Gray inhaled deeply, the smell of fresh wildflowers filling his nostrils. He’d never known a scent to stir his blood so deeply. His eyes felt so heavy, the rocking of the carriage lulling him into a quiet stupor. The sounds around him faded into silence as he gave in to the fog. But first, he had to finish his one thought. “Surely you must know by now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lana pinned a last curl into submission and stood back from Brynn, inspecting her in the mirror. “You do not look ready to receive visitors,” she said with a shake of her head. Brynn had insisted on a plain dress and ordered Lana not to fuss over her hair. A simple bun would do.
“It’s not yet nine in the morning. No one will be out and about at this hour to pay a visit anyhow,” she replied. Lana knew she was right. The engagement ball had run into the small hours of morning, with dawn just about to peel back the night when Lord and Lady Dinsmore and Brynn had returned to Bishop House.
By that time, Gray had been unconscious in his bed, placed there by both Braxton and Harrison. They had dragged Gray’s inebriated body up the stairs from the foyer moments after Lana and Colton had seen him inside the house.
Surely you must know by now.
They were the last words he’d said in the carriage before passing out, and they had haunted Lana the rest of the night. They had ricocheted around her mind when she’d woken from a light sleep to help undress Brynn and get her settled into bed at three in the morning. They had echoed when she’d then roused herself at five to start the day’s duties. And even now, they taunted her as Brynn dismissed her with a grateful smile.
Surely you must know.
Know why he could not live with himself if anything were to happen to her? Why he felt a responsibility to protect her? Gray was attracted to her, yes. He’d insisted time and again that he could not control his longing for her, and the times they had been intimate he had clearly been just as affected as she had been. But he couldn’t feel more for her than lust and some misplaced responsibility for her because of it.
Could he?
Lana took her leave from Brynn’s rooms and quickly hurried to the kitchens. She sat at the table with a few other maids but couldn’t eat. Her stomach roiled with misgivings, and with the lingering worry that Viktor or her uncle would appear at Bishop House and drag her away at any moment. Their Frenchman would be arriving in Cumbria any time now, as would Gray’s man. She hated not knowing what was happening. And where was Langlevit? Shouldn’t he have been back from his meeting by now?
Avoiding Mrs. Frommer’s evil-eyed stare, Lana’s hands shook as she excused herself and stepped out the back door of the kitchens into the stable yard. What if something had happened to the earl? Her uncle or Viktor…what if they had led him into a trap? They knew where Irina was. They must have known Langlevit was involved somehow. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She’d been so wrapped up in Gray and his threats to see her released from service that she hadn’t stopped to consider it.
My Darling, My Disaster (Lords of Essex) Page 22
