“And cannot you, of all people, look past his injury and see a man who wishes to display his strengths, not his weaknesses? Not only have I driven at a pace that would put an infant to sleep, you may notice I stationed Lieutenant Standish to my right. He’d have to crash through me to fall out of the carriage.”
“Having borne his deadweight a time or two, I have no doubt he could do just that.”
“With me handling the ribbons,” she returned sweetly, “he’d have no occasion to. Surely you believe I would never do anything to injure the lieutenant.”
In full dudgeon now, he was delighted at this chance to speak his mind. “Not knowingly, perhaps. But there are matters at stake here of which you may be unaware. Alex is currently enduring a…disappointment of the heart and would be, I fear, all too vulnerable to a woman of such surpassing charm as yourself.”
She looked at him then, surprise in the green depths of her eyes. “Is that a backhanded compliment of sorts?”
“I doubt you have any need to be reminded how attractive you are. Your large court of sycophants, I am sure, do a fair job of that daily.”
“And you think I mean to add Lieutenant Standish to that number?”
He reined in his temper with an effort. No sense affronting her such that she proceeded to do precisely what he warned against, merely to spite him. “I believe you might attach him without conscious effort. Few men could resist the heady gift of your company, and once close, ’twould be all too easy to fall under your spell. For one who is vulnerable, that is.”
“And I’m the sort of mindless, shallow flirt who delights in collecting men’s hearts as trophies?”
While he hesitated, trying to turn that blunt indictment—which he tended to believe—into words polite enough to agree with, she cut the phaeton neatly out of the line of plodding carriages, inched the pair past the two vehicles in front of them, and sprang the horses.
The sudden forward motion slammed him into his seat. He grabbed the rail, his protest lost in the rush of wind past the phaeton. To his consternation—and grudging admiration—Miss Beaumont urged the team on, neatly catching the thong of her whip as she kept the pair at a ground-eating gallop, then guided them into a sharp turn onto the trail leading toward Kensington. Not until they’d reached the far limits of the park did she finally slow the horses.
Despite his temper, the drive left him breathless and exhilarated. Miss Beaumont appeared to be breathing rather heavily as well, he noticed as his gaze strayed to the rise and fall of that deliciously rounded chest. He jerked his eyes away.
“Was that little exhibition meant to chide me for lack of faith in your driving, or terrify me anew?” he asked when he caught his breath.
She turned an innocent gaze upon him. “You were to observe the action of my horses, I thought.”
In spite of himself he had to grin. Damn, but she had a quick wit. “So I was. A good purchase—they’re well matched.” Fairness forced him to add, “And your driving is most competent. If a bit reckless, to race such a powerful pair in the crowded confines of the Park.”
“I knew you could not bring yourself to deliver a barb-less compliment.” Fisting the reins in one hand, she turned to him, eyebrow raised. “You might observe,” she made a sweeping gesture with her free hand, “beyond the carriage road there are no crowds.”
Indeed, given the tall stand of trees at the park’s border, one could no longer see fashionable London promenading on Rotten Row far behind. They were, in fact, nearly alone, their only observers the warbling birds, a small herd of cows, and at some distance, a few farm laborers toiling in the fields.
His gaze fell to her full lips, slightly pursed in irony. A sudden, terrifying impulse came over him to lean past the small space that separated them and kiss her, capture for an instant her passionate contradiction of recklessness and courage.
Her eyes widened with something like alarm. Abruptly she moved away and flicked the reins. Once again the motion threw him back against the seat.
Barely conscious of the pounding hooves and swaying carriage, he retreated to the far edge of the phaeton. He’d been without a woman far too long, that was all, he assured himself, trying to minimize the intensity of his response to her.
’Twas base need that inflamed his admiration for her wit and daring into this spurious sense of…kinship. A discreet, willing widow would tame these misguided impulses, and he should seek one. Soon.
Before he got himself in hand enough to dredge up some thread of conversation, they’d reached the crowded carriage way.
With, he noted unwillingly, consummate skill she insinuated the vehicle back to the spot where Alex stood. A small group appeared to be waiting with him, in which Sinjin recognized a cluster of Miss Beaumont’s usual admirers—and two carriages containing eligible young ladies and their mamas. Looking more at ease than Sinjin had yet seen him since returning to London, Alex was conversing with a pair of dark-haired girls, eliciting a peal of laughter from one and a blush from the other.
“Excellent animals indeed, and a most…interesting drive, Miss Beaumont.” Intent on drawing Alex away before he could attempt to retake his seat in the phaeton, Sinjin added hastily, “There’s that matter of import I must discuss with you. Now. Miss Beaumont, my apologies for stealing your escort, but if you would be so gracious as to excuse him? I shall return myself in a moment to see you home.”
“No need for that.”
Leading a tall gray, Lord Alastair emerged from behind a carriage. His tense, aggrieved look told Sinjin he must have watched their reckless drive across the park—and into the woodlands beyond. “I’d be delighted to accompany Miss Beaumont. Grenville, you’ll mind my horse, won’t you?”
Sinjin need not even see her home. Feeling a pang that must be relief, he swung down to allow Alastair to replace him on the high perch beside her.
“Rather play groom than risk my neck in that demmed phaeton,” Grenville said as he walked over to take Alastair’s reins. “Notable whip you may be, Clare, but nothing would induce me to ride in that rig. Even if I drove.”
“If you drove she’d end in a ditch for sure,” Alastair returned. “Whenever you’re ready, Miss Beaumont.”
Sinjin felt the heat of her green-eyed gaze upon him, the sizzling flash of sensation between them nearly palpable. “You shouldn’t judge so harshly…Lord Alastair,” she said.
Before Sinjin realized her remarks were not addressed to him, she’d turned to smile at Alex. “I have no qualms at all driving the phaeton, particularly when accompanied by so accomplished a cavalryman as Lieutenant Standish. Had we encountered the least difficulty, I am quite certain he could have controlled the horses in a trice.”
As her tribute was clearly audible to the young ladies in the nearby carriages, Alex’s lean cheeks reddened. “Miss Beaumont, you are too kind.”
“The truth merely, Lieutenant. I shall release you to military necessity,” her stress on the word told Sinjin she found his excuse for detaching Alex all too transparent, “but only if you promise to meet me again very soon. Indeed, as it happens I’m planning to attend Covent Garden this evening. Would you be free to join me?”
“I should be honored.”
“Excellent. I shall expect you at my house tonight, then.” She offered her hand.
Alex limped over to take it. “It will be,” he touched his lips to her fingers, “a great pleasure, Miss Beaumont.”
But instead of allowing Alex to release her hand, she clasped his fingers in hers and leaned closer. Positively batting her indecently long lashes at him, she murmured, “I shall endeavor to see that it is, Lieutenant Standish.”
The purring intimacy of her voice made every hair on the back of Sinjin’s neck stand on end. Uninterested in enticing Alex, ha! Not even the glare on Lord Alastair’s face could match the outrage swelling Sinjin’s chest as he witnessed that blatant display.
With an arch—nay, challenging!—upsweep of lashes, Miss Beaumont glanced at Sinj
in, then straightened and gathered the reins in hand. “Shall we be off, Robert?”
As the phaeton moved away, the understandably bedazzled Alex remained motionless, hand still outstretched where Miss Beaumont had released it. “Come along, Alex,” Sinjin growled, pulling the lieutenant’s arm.
Like a wooden puppet, Alex followed him. Not until some moments later did the lieutenant find his voice. “What an entrancing woman,” he said in tones of awe.
“Just remember what kind of women cast spells,” Sinjin spat out, still seething.
Alex gave him a startled look, as if not sure he’d heard correctly, then burst out laughing. “How very unhandsome of you, Colonel!”
“Perhaps,” Sinjin admitted, a little shamefaced, “but you’d do well to consider the crowd of men at her feet and beware. A siren indeed is the beauteous Miss Beaumont. Don’t forget what happens to mariners who sail past.”
“Am I to be lured onto the rocks of destruction?” Alex asked, his tone amused. “Colonel, I think you mistake Miss Beaumont. She’s very kind.”
The undisguised admiration in Alex’s comment made Sinjin wince. “Kind? That fall you took last week must have rattled your wits.”
“You are entirely too cynical.”
Sinjin snorted. “She’s dazzling, I’ll grant you. Just don’t let your loins take the place of your brain.”
Alex turned to give him a measuring look. “I’ve never heard you so anxious to disparage the charms of any lady. Are you sure you’ve no aspirations there?”
Sinjin recoiled. “Me? Certainly not! I’d rather mate with a scorpion! If you’ve not yet felt the sting of that lady’s tongue, you are fortunate, I assure you! Miss Beaumont is a sterling example of why I insist on a sensible middle-class bride. No idiocies of high-perch phaetons and dashes through a crowded park for my wife.”
“If you say.”
Sinjin didn’t much like the grin that appeared on Alex’s face in the wake of that innocuous reply. Before he could think of a suitable retort, however, Alex shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, a disquieting twinkle in his eye, “but for me, I find the prospect of spending time in company of a stunning creature who drives like a Valkyrie and rides like the wind not the least bit disagreeable.”
With an upsurge of alarm Sinjin recalled the big black stallion careening to a halt in front of Sarah’s door. “You’re not riding with her?”
“I haven’t been invited…yet.”
“Well, if you are and don’t have the sense to refuse, at least don’t attempt to match her exploits,” Sinjin grumbled.
Gazing into the distance, Alex sighed. “You must admit, when she turns the full force of those emerald eyes on one and smiles to rival an angel, ’tis blasted difficult to retain one’s sense of perspective.”
Sinjin sighed as well. Indeed it is, he thought, and realized with a shock he’d come perilously close to uttering the admission aloud. Swallowing the words, he growled instead, “Exactly what I’ve been warning you about. Alex, you’re…upset over Lady Barbara. You may not be thinking too clearly now. Just be cautious. I wouldn’t wish you to take another fall. Of any sort.”
The smile Sinjin mistrusted returned to Alex’s lips. “Ah, but such a fall!”
The arrival of the hackney forestalled a reply, and Sinjin decided to give the matter a rest. Best not to be too insistent, lest he inadvertently push the gallant lieutenant closer to the lady by inspiring Alex to take up the cudgels in her defense.
But the whole afternoon left him strangely dissatisfied, and once he’d dropped the lieutenant off at the Albany, the events surrounding Alex and Miss Beaumont returned to buzz about in his head.
What was it about the image of his lieutenant and That Woman together that so aroused his ire? Alex had survived his drive intact. Though Sinjin couldn’t be easy on that score, Alex didn’t as yet seem to have fallen victim to Miss Beaumont’s considerable allure. For the first time since returning to London the lieutenant had engaged him in a conversation in which Alex’s every thought and word had not been of Lady Barbara and the progress of his suit. Wasn’t that the very result Sinjin had hoped for?
Indeed, he’d not seen Alex as relaxed as he’d appeared this afternoon since…since before his injuries.
Alex’s highly public circuit of the park with a ton leader like Miss Beaumont could only improve his credit among the beau monde, as the admiring glances of those young ladies—and their mamas—had eloquently testified. Though Alex had blushed at Miss Beaumont’s praise of his horseman’s skill, he’d basked in the compliment as well.
Was he too protective of Alex, ever focused on his lieutenant’s disabilities rather than his gradually returning strength, as Miss Beaumont accused? Sinjin tried to consider the matter dispassionately, rather than as one who’d watched the young man struggle through a long, painful convalescence.
Another thought occurred, even more discomforting. Was he also, as Alex claimed, letting his prejudice against her whole class bias his opinion of Miss Beaumont’s actions? Surely she knew what influence she wielded in the ton…and how her approval could raise an obscure young lieutenant to prominence. He recalled the cluster of young ladies hanging on Alex’s words after their turn about the Park—and the approving looks of their attendant mamas. Could Miss Beaumont have meant this excursion to display the recovering young lieutenant at his best?
There was that business of her flirting outrageously when she bid Alex farewell, then tossing Sinjin down a gauntlet of a look, as if to prove she could ensorcel the lieutenant if she so wished, in spite of Sinjin’s disapproval.
Kind, as Alex claimed—or calculating? Siren—or savior?
Damn and blast! The hot-tempered vixen had nearly thrown him out of that poor excuse of a carriage, flirted blatantly with his susceptible lieutenant minutes after he implored her to refrain from doing so, and worst yet, had seen through all his attempts to cloak his rather negative opinion of her in kinder words.
He had problems enough without becoming caught up in the puzzle of the fascinating but volatile Miss Beaumont. And therefore, he vowed as he sprang down from the jarvey and stomped up the stairs to his rooms, he would dismiss the lady from his thoughts now and for good.
Chapter Twelve
For the first part of the drive back to Grosvenor Square, Clarissa occupied herself with soothing Lord Alastair’s ruffled sensibilities. Distressed already by her neglecting him to drive with not one but two military gentlemen, he’d been nearly beside himself, she could tell, when she cavalierly invited the lieutenant to what had initially been their private theatre party.
Having the lieutenant attend the event as one of her group would forward their designs on Lady Barbara’s peace of mind—but not nearly as well as if Lieutenant Standish were her sole escort. So of course, he must be. Listening to Alastair with one ear, Clarissa contemplated how best to inform her erstwhile suitor that she’d just decided to replace him as her evening’s primary escort.
“Robert, thank you for stepping in to bring me home. I know it inconvenienced you, and—”
“Nonsense. No service I could do you would ever be an inconvenience. Especially not one that allows me to stand here so close beside you. Clare, you know I’d—”
That sounding dangerously like the lead-in to another proposal, she hastily interrupted, “I know. Which is why it is beastly to ask you for another favor.”
Cut off in mid-oratory, he groped for words. “F-favor? What sort of favor?”
“Nothing arduous, but my asking it at this late juncture is rather rude. Robert, I’d like you to let Lieutenant Standish escort me to the theatre tonight in your stead. Only Lieutenant Standish.”
She saw surprise in his eyes—and then a pain that smote her conscience. “You no longer wish my company?” he asked quietly.
“It isn’t that! I’ve undertaken a sort of—mission to help Lieutenant Standish, but ’tis a rather delicate matter. You will divulge nothing of what I tell you, I trust?”
>
Still looking stricken, he nodded a little stiffly. “Of course not.”
“Lieutenant Standish is enamored of a certain young lady who, though she once gave evidence of returning his regard, has been rather fickle of late. I convinced the lieutenant a bit of jealousy might help her discover her true feelings, so for a few days I’m making a show of being seen with him as frequently and publicly as possible. So you can understand ’twould advance my purposes better if he alone escorted me. Will you assist in the plan?”
“Is it just show?”
“Of course. He’s charming, but as you noted, rather young, and in any event he’s in love with another lady.”
Alastair was silent a moment, long enough to make Clarissa feel guilty for asking. Finally, with a sigh he nodded. “If you wish it, of course I shall do my possible to assist. Though I consider giving up an evening in your company a great sacrifice.”
“Then I shall have to see you are amply rewarded.”
“I shall hold you to that.”
Uneasy with the warmth her jesting comment brought to Alastair’s eyes, Clarissa noted with relief that they’d reached Grosvenor Square. “Ah, home at last. Would you hand me down?”
Too impatient by now to fend off the amorous advances she suspected Robert would make, could he get her alone in the parlor, she excused herself from inviting him in, pleading the need to spend some time with her mama. With rather ill grace, he allowed her to summon him a hackney. After pressing a fervent kiss on her hand, he left her.
Sighing, she mounted the stairs to her room and rang for Lizette to set out her dinner dress. Why couldn’t she feel for this kind, handsome man who adored her at least a particle of the attraction that consumed her for one disapproving colonel?
On a happier note, the results of her drive with Lieutenant Standish, she decided as she stripped off her habit, were quite promising. As she’d anticipated, he was an amusing and straightforward young man with a great deal of unpretentious charm. She’d had the pleasure of watching him relax, even become rather animated as he conversed with the awestruck Miss Maryanne. And when they’d passed the carriage containing Lady Barbara and her mother, the reaction was all she could have hoped.
The Proper Wife Page 14
