“Oh, right.” Grey shook his head. “What a stupid exercise.”
“Says the duke who can’t be refused,” Beatrice put in.
As he raised an eyebrow, Gwyn said, “If you think it’s stupid, Grey, go away and let me handle it.” She made a shooing motion at him before turning back to Beatrice. “There are plenty of things you can do to stave a man off. As soon as he comes toward you, you can erupt into a coughing fit that will surely make him change direction. No man wants to risk catching a cold from you.”
“Exactly,” Sheridan said, “so the coughing fit will also make all the other gentlemen avoid you.”
“If they’re so easily turned away,” Gwyn said, “then we don’t want them.”
“I agree,” Beatrice said, determined to show solidarity with Gwyn.
Gwyn went on. “You can also ask him to fetch you a glass of punch in hopes that someone else asks you to dance while he’s gone.”
“That seems mean,” Beatrice said.
“Oh, trust me,” Grey said, “once he realizes you’re dancing with another, he’ll leave the punch for you and go off to seek better prey. I’ve seen Vanessa pull that maneuver on any number of gentlemen.”
“Vanessa is an heiress, Grey,” Sheridan called out from the settee. “She can get away with far more than Bea can.”
Gwyn ignored him. “You can send the fellow on other errands: Ask him to fetch your chaperone if she’s out of sight or fetch a shawl you left across the room earlier for that purpose. Sending him on errands makes him feel like a knight helping his lady. But if you happen to get asked to dance while he’s away, it’s not your fault, right?”
“If I were that fellow,” Grey said, leveling his gaze on Beatrice, “I wouldn’t be put off so easily.”
Beatrice tamped down the thrill his words gave her. She couldn’t imagine trying most of Gwyn’s tactics, anyway. “Perhaps I should simply hide under the furniture if I see an unsuitable fellow approaching,” she said glumly.
A new voice came from the doorway. “That tactic doesn’t even work with the dogs, duckie.”
Beatrice whirled to find her brother standing there. “Joshua! What are you doing here?”
With a pained smile, he ignored the others to limp toward her, leaning on his cane. “I thought I should see what these lessons in preparing you for society entailed. And if you’re contemplating hiding under furniture to avoid men, I came in the nick of time.”
Sheridan rose from the settee. “Good afternoon, Cousin. It’s good to see you.”
His stiff manner belied the welcome in his words. All at once, their merry camaraderie disappeared, reminding Beatrice with a horrible lurch that Sheridan and Grey suspected her brother of murdering Uncle Armie.
Aunt Lydia went to kiss Joshua’s cheek without any indication that she felt the tension between the men. “We’re so glad you came over, Nephew. I do hope you’ll stay for dinner.”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Joshua said, flashing her a genuine smile. “I came to fetch Beatrice since we have to discuss the needs of the kennel before I go over to Leicester to look at a couple of hunters tomorrow.”
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Lydia said. “I do wish you could stay.”
Gwyn cleared her throat.
Aunt Lydia glanced over and colored. “I’m forgetting my manners. Joshua, please let me introduce you to another of my sons and to my daughter.”
“Actually, I met Greycourt at the funeral.” Joshua shot Gwyn a furtive glance. “But I haven’t yet had the privilege of meeting Lady Gwyn, though I’ve heard a great deal about her.”
“That certainly sounds intriguing.” Gwyn smiled as she stepped forward. She swept her gaze down him in a quick assessment. “You’re Major Wolfe, I presume?”
He bowed his head. “At your service, madam.”
Unlike most women Beatrice and Joshua encountered these days, Gwyn showed no trace of disgust or coolness toward him for his damaged leg. Nor pity, either, which was equally unusual.
To Beatrice’s surprise—and delight—Gwyn gazed at Joshua with more curiosity than anything else. And perhaps a little attraction? Beatrice had always considered her brother relatively handsome, despite his limp and the straight black hair he kept unfashionably long. Gwyn’s reaction to him proved her right.
Nor was there any mistaking the blatant survey he made of Gwyn’s figure. Her brother never looked at any woman that way . . . or at least he hadn’t since before the war.
How very interesting.
“I’ve been telling my brother about all of you,” Beatrice put in, not wanting Gwyn to wonder where Joshua had heard of her.
“Yes, my sister sings the praises of our new relations . . . and their relations,” Joshua said caustically, though he kept his eyes fixed on Gwyn.
Far from being put off by his tone—or his bold stare—Gwyn flashed him what could only be called a coquettish smile. “Well, your wonderful sister has hardly said a word about you, sir. I began to think you a hermit in a cave somewhere. How delightful to learn I was wrong.”
Clearly unused to having a woman flirt with him these days, Joshua gaped at Gwyn as if she were an odd new creature in a menagerie.
Beatrice stifled a laugh and walked over to stand next to him. “My brother isn’t one for company, I’m afraid. He buries himself in his work.”
Grey spoke up then. “I understand, Major Wolfe, that you’re the head gamekeeper for the estate.”
“I am indeed,” Joshua said testily.
“I’m sure my brother is delighted to have you handling that position so admirably,” Grey said, “since he’s had to spend so much time untangling your uncle Armitage’s financial affairs.”
Devil take the man for his deliberate mention of Uncle Armie!
“Good luck,” Joshua told Sheridan amiably. “As you’ve probably noticed, our uncle was terrible at managing money. Your father despaired at having to figure out where his brother had spent it all.”
“And now I am despairing, though it does seem Uncle Armie wasted a great deal of blunt on new landscaping,” Sheridan said, more warmly than before.
“Ah, yes,” Joshua said. “Several ha-has were built, and Uncle Armie became obsessed with creating a ‘wilderness’ area that everyone in town calls ‘Armie’s Folly.’ Not to mention the fortune he spent on the various garden buildings.”
“Am I right that there’s even a ruins on the estate?” Grey persisted, sending a chill through her.
Blast it, did he know that Uncle Armie had died near the ruins? Because if so, she must change the subject. “There’s a ruins and a Chinese gazebo and the prettiest little hermitage—”
“A ruins!” Gwyn exclaimed, unaware of how she thwarted Beatrice by seizing on that particular building. “Why am I only now hearing of this?”
“Because we’ve all been rather busy,” Sheridan told her, shooting Grey a veiled glance she couldn’t interpret.
“And because it’s not a real ruins.” Joshua’s voice was surprisingly courtly. “Uncle Armie had them constructed. You’d be shocked how much blunt it takes to create a ruined abbey with a fully functional bell tower.”
Beatrice relaxed. Either Joshua was dissembling very well, or he had no idea that Grey had been trying to trip him up.
“I wouldn’t be shocked at all,” Gwyn said. “A structure of such magnitude? Quite expensive to build.”
Her brother’s expression altered, and for a moment interest glinted in his eyes. “Indeed it is. Which is why it still remains unfinished.”
“A ruined ruins,” Grey said acidly. “I have several of those on my estates, but we call them ‘tenant cottages.’” When Beatrice shot him a quick glance, he added, “My father was rather lax in keeping up his property, something I am determined to change.”
“Yes, yes,” Gwyn said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “we know all about your grand schemes to make improvements, Grey. But these are deliberate ruins, created just for show. I’ve heard of the English doing
them, but never thought I’d be near one.” She smiled at Joshua. “I should very much like to see these ruins.”
“I doubt a lady as fine as you would consider it entertaining,” Joshua said.
Gwyn lifted an eyebrow. “Even fine ladies can have unusual interests, sir. But then you might know that if you ever came to visit us.”
Joshua narrowed his gaze on her. “You would welcome a visit from your half brother’s gamekeeper, madam?”
“My half brother’s cousin, sir.” Challenge glinted in her eyes. “That makes you family.”
“You and I aren’t related, Lady Gwyn,” Joshua said in a hard voice. “Thank God.”
“Trust me, Major Wolfe,” she said with a coy tilt to her head, “I’m as delighted as you to hear that we are in no wise related.”
Joshua appeared momentarily rendered speechless.
Beatrice nearly crowed her pleasure aloud. She would love to learn that trick. Never mind the come-out lessons—perhaps Gwyn could give her a lesson in how to handle prickly brothers, since the lady managed to keep her own mostly in line.
“In any case,” Gwyn went on, with a fluttering of her lashes, “I would be simply ecstatic if you would show me the estate ruins, sir.”
“You could go there yourself,” Joshua said. “I’ll tell you how to find it.”
“Then I’d miss the informative commentary you’re sure to provide,” Gwyn said. “I wouldn’t hear of it.”
When Joshua drew himself up as if preparing for battle, Sheridan stepped in. “Please forgive my impatient sister. She has a passion for old buildings. She fills notebooks with rapt descriptions of their artistic characteristics and their ancient part in history. When we were children, she was incessantly dragging me, Thorn, and Heywood down some secluded street in Berlin to see a house she thought was ‘splendid.’”
Gwyn sniffed. “It was good for you. None of you have an adequate sense of the beauties of architecture.”
As Grey rolled his eyes, it dawned on Beatrice that this might be a good chance for her to show him and Sheridan that she wasn’t bothered by the prospect of witnessing the site of Uncle Armie’s demise, since it happened to be close to the ruins. But it would only work if she could make sure that Joshua was left out of it.
“I can take you to see it.” Beatrice broadened her gaze to include Sheridan and Grey. “It’s a few miles away—we could all walk or ride there.”
“Only if Major Wolfe joins us. What do you think, sir?” Gwyn asked Joshua. “Shall we go now?”
The direct request for immediate satisfaction struck terror into Beatrice’s heart. She figured she could govern her own reaction at seeing the spot where Uncle Armie had died, but how was she to govern Joshua’s?
A muscle worked in Joshua’s jaw. “You seem to have forgotten, madam, that I came here merely to fetch my sister home.”
Beatrice watched his face. A mask had come down over it that made his expression unreadable. But if she had to guess, she’d say he was none too happy at the prospect of accompanying guests out to the ruins.
She glanced over to find Grey equally interested in her brother’s reaction, blast him. “It’s growing late for it, anyway,” Beatrice said. “By the time we got there, it would be too dark to see anything.”
“Then let’s visit the ruins tomorrow,” Grey said.
“A capital idea!” Gwyn cried. “We can make an excursion of it, bring a picnic lunch and everything.”
“But Gwyn,” Aunt Lydia put in, “what about the lessons?”
“If I don’t have a chance to be outdoors for at least one day, Mama, I shall go mad,” Gwyn said. “We have months for our lessons. And you know how I like looking at such things.”
“Then it’s settled,” Beatrice said. “I’ll come for you at ten tomorrow, and we’ll go visit the ruins.”
“We will come for you,” Joshua said firmly. “I can put off my business in Leicester for one day.”
Beatrice gaped at him, surprised that he seemed to like the idea.
Then Joshua bowed to the company. “But Beatrice and I will leave you now so we can make plans for this ‘excursion.’”
His tone brooked no refusal, so with a nod, Beatrice said her farewells to the others and left with her brother.
She waited until they were well away from the hall before she ventured, “Are you sure you want to spend tomorrow at the ruins?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, though he kept his gaze fixed upon the path. “You’ve been nagging me for weeks to spend more time with our relations.”
“Yes, but . . . well . . . it’s so near where Uncle Armie died.”
He shrugged. “Why would that matter? Don’t tell me you miss the old bastard.”
“No, of course not.” She tried to read something from his expression, but it showed nothing. And the fact that he wouldn’t look at her might not mean anything, either. She knew better than anyone how difficult navigating a gravel path was for him. “Uncle Maurice was much preferable to Uncle Armie. And Sheridan is even nicer.”
Her brother grunted, taciturn as usual.
“Indeed,” she went on, “they’re all very nice. But I’m only too aware how you dislike being forced into their company. So if you prefer not to go—”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” he growled. “You’re itching to spend another day with your precious Greycourt, and you want me out of the way while you do.”
“What? No!” She hadn’t anticipated this turn to the conversation. And how on earth had Joshua guessed that she and Grey . . . “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? You talk about his opinions and pronouncements more than you realize. That’s why I came over today in the first place—to see for myself how the two of you are together.” He skewered her with a glance. “Then I overheard what he said about how he wouldn’t be put off so easily if he were a man wanting to dance with you—and I saw how you blushed. The two of you together . . .” His features hardened. “It worries me.”
“Why?” Heat rose perversely in her cheeks. Really, must she blush every time she thought of Grey? She marched ahead of Joshua so he wouldn’t notice. “Do you think me incapable of attracting such a man?”
The breath left him in a great whoosh. “Damn it, Beatrice, it’s not about attraction. Men like him and Uncle Armie chew women up and spit them out, just for their own pleasure. Then they actually marry some more suitable female.”
Every word stamped on her heart. “You think I don’t know that?” she cried, her throat raw with unshed tears. She whirled to face him, stopping him in his tracks. “Do you assume I have no sense at all?”
The pain behind her words must have registered with him, for he blinked. “I don’t mean—I wasn’t saying—” He swore a vile oath. “I just want to protect you. Father didn’t leave you so much as a farthing for a dowry, and as you pointed out the other day, our relations are liable to toss us out of the dower house the first chance they get.”
She winced. Those fears had been somewhat allayed in the past week, when it became obvious that her aunt and Gwyn cared too much about her to do such a horrible thing. Even Sheridan didn’t seem to have the heart for it.
Joshua went on. “Not to mention Uncle Armie, who . . .”
When he trailed off, a cold wind blew through her. “What about Uncle Armie?”
“Nothing.” He rubbed a hand over his tight jaw. “The point is, no one, including me, has given you anything to live on that comes near what you’re worth. The others didn’t, and I can’t. But the one thing I can do is keep you safe. And I mean to do it, whatever it takes.”
If ever he’d come close to admitting what he’d done, it was now. She gulped down her fear. “You don’t need to keep me safe. I can keep myself safe.”
He snorted. “Right. Last time I checked, your shooting skills left something to be desired.”
That caught her off guard. Uncle Armie hadn’t been shot. Why was he talking about guns? Was he just speaking generall
y? She tried to read something from his expression, but it showed nothing.
“In any case,” he added, “I’m going with you tomorrow whether you like it or not.”
“What about your business in Leicester?”
“It can wait.” His gaze met hers, then softened. “I know you don’t believe it sometimes, duckie, but nothing is more important to me than your future.”
The kind words were bittersweet. Again, she considered confronting him with her fears. But she couldn’t, when he’d just said more to her and their relations than he had in weeks.
Very well. Perhaps she should confront Grey and Sheridan with what she’d overheard and demand to hear what they knew. And if they had evidence to go with their suspicions, she would argue for why Joshua must have done it. If, after knowing the depths of Uncle Armie’s degradation, they could still pursue Joshua, then she would urge Joshua to flee.
Because if it came to a choice between her relations—or Grey—and her brother, she would choose Joshua every time.
Chapter Fifteen
After Beatrice and her brother left, Grey suggested that Sheridan join him in the study for a brandy so they could talk privately. The door had scarcely closed when Sheridan asked, “What did you think of my cousin, now that you’ve had more time to assess him?”
Grey thrust his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t like how he was looking at Gwyn.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you see the two of them? She was flirting with Wolfe, and he was clearly looking her over with lust.”
“Lust? I sure as hell didn’t notice that,” Sheridan said.
Grey had—he’d recognized the covetous look in Wolfe’s eyes every time the man stared at Gwyn. It reflected the same craving Grey felt every time he saw Beatrice. Which meant Gwyn was playing with fire.
As he was himself, come to think of it. Those Wolfes were a potent pair. “I’m just saying that if you’re right and the major has his eye on the dukedom, he might be looking for a wife to complete the package. Someone like our sister.”
Sheridan laughed outright. “Then my cousin has chosen badly. Gwyn is too clever to marry a penniless gamekeeper, no matter what his rank in the Royal Marines.”
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