by Shayla Black
No wonder Kira had asked him where his heart was. She’d known he was not heeding it.
“And since the day you gave her that information, Kira has refused to speak to me,” he pointed out.
She grimaced. “Keep trying. She will come about. But it may require more than a box of chocolates and an apology on your part.”
“God knows I owe her much more,” he said.
“Indeed. But you are a clever man. You will find a way.”
Gavin cast an absent gaze to the white plaster ceiling. He did not feel clever in the least. But Kira… How had someone seven years his junior and without a wide life experience understood something as complicated as the love between them when he did not?
Because Kira was special—just another reason he loved her.
Another reason he did not want to see her hurt.
“Marrying Kira is not as simple as all that,” he admitted finally. “There is the matter of… my father.”
Aunt Caroline frowned. “Your father. His behavior, you mean?”
“I do.” Gavin swallowed. “He… could not control himself where base pleasures were concerned.”
She watched him with narrowed eyes, her mind obviously whirling. “And you… what? Imagine that you are like him?”
Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. It was bloody embarrassing to admit to the woman who was nearly a mother to him that Kira incited a want so powerful, he could not find a straight thought when she came near.
Caroline laughed. “Oh, Gavin. You are in no way like your father.”
Perhaps she did not understand. “I fear you may be wrong. I thoroughly compromised Kir—Miss Melbourne, despite her engagement to James.”
“I know.”
“Despite my common sense and better judgment.”
She nodded.
“I… compromised her more than once, though she was not mine.”
His aunt’s faded mouth curled up in a kittenish smile. “Then you best get her to the altar quickly.”
The woman clearly did not understand. “Do you not think that bespeaks a terrible lack of self-control? Father used to tell me in detail of his drunken orgies. He would tell me how much he needed the gratification he obtained from them. During those… episodes, he would forget everything—time, place, morals, good sense. I never understood…until Kira.”
His aunt crossed her arms over her chest. “My refusal to talk about your father’s scandals have led you to some terrible conclusions, I fear. He filled your head with nonsense.”
Gavin’s heart picked up speed. “What do you mean?”
“Richard was my brother, and I loved him for that reason alone. But he never had any morals or good sense. Perhaps you were too young to understand that.” She sighed. “At fifteen, he was sent down from Eton for cheating and drunkenness.”
“Really?” His father had shown signs of dissipation that early?
“Yes. Mr. Heath, the headmaster at the time, said Richard was one of the most unruly students who had ever disgraced the school. And that was but one of many scandals,” she assured Gavin with a wave of her hand. “I think your father thrived on them, frankly. At least until they became the death of him socially. You, on the other hand, have never shown any penchant for mischief. I daresay I even feared you would go through life entirely too austere.”
“But—but Papa always said perversion was in the blood and that the blood would tell. I know he wasn’t the only ancestor—”
“There were several, I confess.” Aunt Caroline grabbed his shoulders. “Gavin, I ask you, what other good English family with a history as long as ours has not had a knave or two lining their portrait gallery? If respectability had been necessary for responsibility, we should never have had George the Fourth as a monarch for five minutes.”
Gavin frowned, trying to grasp all his aunt said. “Then—then you don’t think I have bad blood or I’ve been cursed…”
Caroline smothered a smile behind her small, soft hand. “Goodness, no. Your father wanted to believe in such things because it was a convenient excuse for his behavior. If he were already cursed, why bother restraining himself?” She smoothed a hand over his shoulder. “The truth was, he loved your mother and she married him because her family ordered the match. Rumor had it, however, that she loved a dashing Army officer and her father, a very proper earl, did not find the man quite smart enough for his daughter. He died in the war against Napoleon. Your mother was heartbroken, but married your father. When Richard could not win her, he seemed to go mad. And his behavior spun out of control. In the past, he had been merely embarrassing. He soon became all that was shocking.”
“Why? I do not understand. He sullied our reputation as a family, our very name.”
“Indeed, but I think he truly wanted your mother to hurt the way he did. You know what a reserved creature she was. Did you think it was a coincidence that she died mere weeks after the scandal?”
Truthfully, Gavin had never considered the timing ironic, just unfortunate. “Are you saying she took her life?”
“No. Heavens, no. She would have gone to hell for that, you know. I think she wanted to die. She did extra charity work that winter, spending a great deal of time in hospitals. It did not take long before she contracted lung fever. I think she wanted it that way.”
Gavin paused, stunned. Had his father been driven to debauchery by grief, not madness? Had unrequited love compelled him to hurt himself and everyone around him? Now that Kira had introduced him to the power of love, Gavin began to understand how forceful a motive it could be.
“So, you do not believe there is a Daggett curse?”
“In a manner of speaking. Daggett men are cursed with intelligence, warmth, and charm. Your father used his unwisely, much like Lord Vance, in fact. What you do with your ‘curse’ is up to you. But I have high hopes for you. You’ve been a different man since meeting Miss Melbourne. You’ve struggled at times, but I think you are a better man for loving her.”
“I think she has shown me my heart,” he confessed.
“I think you are right.” She smiled.
Gavin dropped a kiss on the bright apple of her cheek. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, my dear boy.”
She embraced him. Gavin paused, holding the unique woman who had all but raised him in appreciation.
“By the way, though Miss Melbourne has not been ‘at home’ when you’ve called upon her of late, I have received an invitation for this coming Friday to attend a party at Lord and Lady Westland’s, honoring Mr. Darius Melbourne’s brave deeds. I do not imagine Kira would miss an opportunity to see her brother celebrated as a hero, do you?”
With that Aunt Caroline winked and left the room.
Likely, she was right. Refusing to waste another minute, Gavin began to plan.
Chapter Twenty-One
Friday came, and with it, the Westland’s party in honor of Darius’s heroism. As Kira alighted the coach with her brother’s assistance, she glanced up at the pale stone town house rising up toward the milky sky. Men and women dressed in all their finery darted toward Lord and Lady Westland’s town house, stepping carefully to avoid the mud and horse droppings.
“Are you certain we must be here?” Darius asked.
“Yes.”
He cursed beneath his breath. “This is ludicrous. I am no hero.”
Kira smiled at her brother, who looked very dapper—and even a bit mysterious—with his perfectly black coat playing contrast to his rich hazel eyes. When had he grown up? It seemed like only yesterday that she’d been tending skinned knees from his numerous falls out of trees. And now he was a man, a good man, full grown.
“I disagree,” Kira said. “I think you’re very heroic.”
Darius grunted. “I might have agreed had you allowed me to kill Cropthorne.”
Kira sighed. “We’ve been over this. As long as you leave Gavin alone, he will have no need to disturb us again.”
Indeed, Gavi
n seemed to have given up already. He hadn’t come `round to see her in three days. Not that she would have received him, but still… Whatever she and Gavin had shared was well and truly over, except in her heart.
Would loving him ever stop hurting so much? Would he ever realize that he wasn’t cursed and admit he loved her too?
Remembering the distress on Gavin’s face as he admitted his “weakness” to her, Kira doubted it. He truly believed himself damned. It seemed doubtful she could persuade the stubborn man to recognize the bond they shared. Nor could she be married to a man who did not wholly accept her as she was.
Once inside Lord and Lady Westland’s foyer, Kira saw a sea of people making their way up the stairs, many she did not know. When they reached the top, their uncle and his wife were there to greet them. He looked very fine in evening black. His salt-and-pepper hair enhanced the blue of his eyes. He even wore a smile. Lady Westland looked lovely in a deep yellow dress, her red-brown hair swept away from her face in an intricate coil of curls.
“There you are!” Their uncle looked positively proud.
“How good to see you both,” Lady Westland greeted with a wide, frozen smile.
Kira peeked at Darius. The look he shot her was equally puzzled. Lady Westland actually welcoming? Most surprising.
“Come, come!” She extended a hand to Darius. “It’s not every day we host a hero. Everyone is dying to meet you.”
Lady Westland reached up for Darius’s arm. He had little choice but to give it. And he looked none too happy to hear that he had a crowd just waiting for him.
At Kira’s side, her uncle offered his arm. They fell into step behind Lady Westland and Darius as they crossed the landing to the brightly-lit ballroom.
“How have you been?” he asked. His gaze shone with concern.
That was a tough question to answer with any honesty, so Kira lied. “Well, thank you. And you?”
He shrugged. “Well enough. I hear you won’t be wedding Mr. Howland.”
“We did not suit, my lord, as husband and wife. Though I believe we shall always be friends.”
“I see.” He frowned. “What will you do now?”
She shrugged. “Care for Darius until he finds a wife, I suppose.” And try to forget Gavin…somehow.
“After all the complimentary articles in the dailies, there are some eager mamas here, so that day may not be long in coming.”
Her uncle’s words conjured up an image of gaggling women surrounding her reserved brother, all vying for his reluctant attention. The thought made her laugh for the first time in days.
“I’m certain Darius will be thrilled.”
“Indeed, he should. He will need a wife. I’ve no children, so once your father and I are gone, he will be the next Earl of Westland.”
Darius was ill at ease with that fact. Her brother had never wanted to be a member of the peerage, and Kira decided she would not remind him of that possibility just now. Let him enjoy his scheming mamas for a while.
“It will be up to your brother to carry on the title,” her uncle pointed out. “And I’ve heard a whisper or two that he may even be knighted for his brave deed.”
Knighted? Wouldn’t that throw her brother into a fit? Kira didn’t have the heart to tell her uncle that Darius disliked all the attention.
“Indeed.”
She repressed a smile. Watching her brother fend off a hoard of feminine attention tonight would afford ample distraction for now. She could talk to him of titles and honors afterward. By then, he ought to be in a smashing mood.
“Have you had word from your father lately?”
Kira peered into her uncle’s face. He met her steady gaze, his own holding a measure of contrition. “Actually, yes. He should be home any day.”
“I think it’s past time we spoke,” he admitted, looking down the stairs at the ensuing party below. “We should patch things up. Neither of us are getting any younger.”
Smiling, Kira cast a gaze up to her uncle. “I sincerely hope you do. For all his blustering over the years, I believe Papa misses you a great deal, my lord.”
He patted her arm in a fatherly gesture. “We’re family, my dear. Call me Uncle George.”
With a small incline of her head, she thanked him.
As they reached the entrance to the ballroom, clusters of brightly clothed women and dashing men covered the exquisite white-tiled floor in the ballroom. Gas lamps shone with sparkling brilliance on the scene. Windows has been thrown open to allow in the fresh June air. Dances formed and gossip carried on behind fluttering fans.
And when the crowd caught sight of Darius at the top of the landing, they began to cheer.
In front of Kira, he stood stock-still for fully thirty seconds. Then he peered at her over his shoulder, his eyes wide and nervous.
“I’m moving to another country tomorrow,” he muttered.
She stifled a giggle as they began their descent into the room. “You’ll do no such thing.”
Darius merely raised a jet brow in challenge.
“He looks uncomfortable.” Her uncle wore a worried frown.
“He is unused to much attention. He will be fine,” she assured Uncle George. And she knew Darius would be fine… eventually. “The attention will be good for him.”
“Smashing,” her uncle said, though he did not look quite convinced. “I should tell you that we invited your former fiancé before we knew that you no longer planned to wed.”
Now it was Kira’s turn to stop, utterly stunned. She would welcome a chance to speak with James, but if he had been invited, then likely his whole family had been as well. If that was the case, then…
Oh, no. Kira drew in a deep, shaky breath. She wasn’t ready to face Gavin tonight. Not even in the next month. Even the next millennium was questionable.
Seeing him, knowing he didn’t love her enough to recognize his own feelings, it hurt too much. Pray to God he never found her in this crush of people.
They reached the floor just as couples lined up for a new set. Kira scanned the crowd for Gavin’s dark head so that she might know in which corner was safest to hide. She leaned forward to warn Darius, but he was quickly swallowed up by a circle of women, both young and old, assessing him—and liking what they saw, it seemed.
Kira was on her own.
“I’ve distressed you,” her uncle said as he deftly maneuvered her toward the edge of the room. “I hoped that since you and Mr. Howland are still on friendly terms…”
He had done nothing wrong, and she did not want to trouble him further. “I’m certain it will be perfectly fine.”
“It will not be fine,” Lady Westland said as she approached, all pretense of a smile gone. “The entire room is abuzz about you.”
Kira looked at her small hostess. Lady Westland’s pinched mouth bespoke displeasure. Apparently, her affability only extended to the hero of the evening. Kira wasn’t surprised.
A quick glance about the crowded room proved a number of gazes locked on her, more than a few with contempt. A familiar wave of fury, frustration, and insecurity rolled through Kira.
Using the might of her will, she shoved the shame away. Blast it all, why should she allow petty people to trouble her? They could not make her feel inferior unless she let them. And that she refused to do.
“Let them talk. I’ve heard every lie imaginable told about me. And about my brother. Indeed, some of the most ridiculous fabrications come from very close quarters.”
Kira shot the woman a pointed stare. Lady Westland had the good grace to look away.
“So their opinions really do not matter,” Kira finished.
“Then I shall leave you,” said the small woman. “I merely meant to warn you that gossip says you only agreed to marry Mr. Howland because you set your cap at the Duke of Cropthorne. They whisper that no one expects better from one of your breeding and descent.”
Frustration rocketed within Kira. “That is ridiculous! I agreed to wed Mr. Howland because
he offered and I respected him a great deal. He is a very good friend. And having a Persian mother hardly makes me more inclined to scheme to marry a duke than any other girl. Don’t you agree?”
Under the weight of Kira’s sharp stare, and a similar one from her husband, Lady Westland crumbled. “Of course.”
Gathering steam, Kira went on. “Being Persian hardly makes me different at all. I am still a woman with feelings and hopes and dreams. I am heartily sick of everyone’s insistence that a foreign mother makes me different.” She thrust her hands on her hips and shot the woman a challenging glare. “I live as everyone else does. My skin might be different, but when did that ever affect anyone’s ability to make a decision?”
“Never, at least to my mind.” Her uncle rubbed his square chin, a chin much like Darius’s, and mocked deep thought. “What about you, Clara?”
Lady Westland cast her gaze down. “I’m certain you are right. Forgive me.”
Kira wasn’t certain the woman meant the apology, but it hardly mattered. She did not care in the least what Lady Westland thought.
“Naturally,” she said, smiling.
The small woman regarded her with a warning stare. “By the way, his grace is not happy. The rumor also indicates that you enticed him to dip into his cousin’s inkpot, as it were, with the hopes of tricking him to the altar.”
Kira gasped at the blatant lie. The entire room thought her a whore all over again. And this time, they’d dragged Gavin’s name into the mud with hers. Knowing how he hated scandal, Kira had no difficulty believing that he would indeed be furious.
And that only gave him another reason to avoid the feelings between them.
“In fact, I believe his grace is searching for you even now,” said Lady Westland before she turned away and disappeared into the crowd.
Gavin is searching for me?
Kira clutched her suddenly roiling stomach. A confrontation with him was the last thing she wanted. Enduring his anger and blame would be difficult, but being near him and knowing he did not share the love she harbored so deep in her heart… A jagged swipe of pain ripped through her. She closed her eyes.
“Miss Melbourne?” said a kind, familiar voice.
