Desire Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  “You seem to have the matter well in hand,” Cornelia commented, setting down her cup of punch with a snap of the wrist.

  The heaviest ground behind them, Silas settled back into his chair. “At the moment it may seem so,” he explained, “but you must understand that we are at sixes and sevens here ourselves. The news caught all of us by surprise.”

  At least that much was the truth, Luc thought ruefully.

  Somehow they managed to get through the rest of the visit without any embarrassing or upsetting incidents. Resigned to Luc’s marriage, Emily and Cornelia were all that was polite and fell in with the plans put forth by Luc and the others, but it was with relief that they were finally able to take their leave and escape.

  But they didn’t escape Luc. His announcement that he would accompany them back to Windmere filled both ladies with dismay.

  “Oh, that isn’t necessary,” exclaimed Emily, dying for a private word with Cornelia. “You must have many things to discuss with your bride-to-be.” A half smile curving her lips, she said, “We won’t tell his lordship. You may do that.”

  “And the sooner I tell him, the better,” agreed Luc. He cocked a brow. “Will you deny me your charming company on the ride to Windmere?”

  There was nothing for it, but to accept the inevitable. Shortly, his horse tied to the back of the closed carriage that the ladies had taken to High Tower, Luc, Emily and Cornelia departed.

  As the coach rattled down the road on its way to Windmere, Luc leaned back against the blue velvet squabs and said, “Well? Out with it! You both look like you’re going to burst.”

  “Oh Luc!” Emily wailed, unable to hide her distress. “Are you very sure that you want to marry her?” Her eyes big with horror, she added in hushed tones, “What if she did, indeed, murder her husband?”

  Luc brushed that question aside. “Is that your only objection to her?” he asked, his gaze fixed on both women as they sat across from him in the carriage.

  Cornelia’s lips thinned. “It’s rather a large one, wouldn’t you say?”

  Luc sighed. “I don’t disagree, but you admitted that all you really know about the murder of her first husband is gossip. Perhaps the gossip is wrong.”

  Neither lady looked totally convinced, but Cornelia shrugged and Emily made a face. Luc leaned forward. “The murder aside, I mean to marry her. Is it going to cause a problem?”

  “I am too old and too fond of you to cast you out of my heart because I think your choice of a bride is unwise,” Cornelia muttered. “I’ll not throw a rub your way, and until she gives me reason to act otherwise, I will treat her with politeness and respect.”

  Emily nodded. “We love you too much to allow your marriage to come between us.” She smiled faintly. “We want you to be happy, and if Gillian Dashwood makes you happy ...” She swallowed. “Then we will be happy for you.”

  It was as much, even more than he expected. A crooked smile curved his lips. “Thank you.” His expression thoughtful, he admitted, “Considering the gossip that she murdered her first husband, your objections are not without merit, but I am relieved that you are willing to give her a chance.”

  “Do you think she killed her husband?” Emily asked, her gray eyes anxious and curious at the same time.

  Luc shrugged. “I have seen nothing that would lead me to believe that she is capable of such an act.” He paused, frowning. “It would be understandable if she did murder her husband for her family to close ranks behind her, but I doubt they would seek close association with her. I have not discussed it with Silas, but I do not think he would have such deep affection for her or have her living with him, let alone be so happy about our marriage, if he thought that she had killed her husband. Her cousin, too, appears very loyal to her, and it has been my observation that Mrs. Sophia Easley is an astute and intelligent woman. I do not think she would ally herself with a murderess.” He stared out the window at the passing countryside, considering Stanley and the tension he had sensed in the beginning between Gillian and her brother. “I know there was an estrangement between Gillian and her half brother of some sort, perhaps in connection with her husband,” he said eventually, “but of late they seemed to have put their differences behind them. I do not think such would be the case if Stanley believed or knew she had killed Charles Dashwood.”

  “I agree with you,” Cornelia murmured. Her eyes bright with challenge, she added, “It is my intention to write to ... friends to glean what I can about the murder—and Charles Dashwood.”

  Luc tipped his head in her direction. “I thank you for that, Madame.”

  “Wait until I hear what my friends have to say,” Cornelia commented dryly, “before you thank me. You may not like what I discover.”

  Upon arrival at Windmere, once the ladies had been shown into the mansion and disappeared upstairs to their rooms, Luc had gone in search of his half brother. He found Barnaby in his study. Waved to a chair by the fire, once Luc was seated comfortably and greetings exchanged, he plunged into the reason for his visit.

  Barnaby took the news of Luc’s engagement without a blink. The information that Luc would be leaving for London in the morning to obtain a special license and that the wedding was planned for Saturday at High Tower raised an eyebrow, though.

  “Special license? And marriage on Saturday?” Barnaby asked carefully from his seat across from Luc. “Not that it’s any business of mine, but is there some reason for this haste?”

  His long legs stretched out in front of him toward the warmth of the fire, Luc grinned. “You’re right it isn’t any of your business.”

  Barnaby grinned back at him. “Well, that certainly puts me in my place.” He rubbed his chin. “Gillian Dashwood, hmm. I don’t believe I’ve the pleasure of meeting the young woman. Tell me about her.”

  There was no reason to prevaricate and every reason to tell Barnaby everything, and without hesitation Luc did so, leaving out only the circumstances that led to the sudden engagement.

  When Luc finished speaking, Barnaby studied his half brother for a long, unnerving moment. Having come to some internal decision, Barnaby shrugged. “Far be it from me to give you advice when it comes to matters of the heart.” He smiled. “So far I find that marriage agrees amazingly well with me—I trust it will be the same for you.”

  “No words of warning about the folly of marrying a woman some think murdered her husband?”

  “Would you listen?”

  Gillian’s sweet face, her eyes drowsy with desire, shimmered in front of Luc, and an explosive mixture of lust and tenderness slammed through him. Shaking his head, Luc muttered, “I fear not.”

  Barnaby chuckled. “If that is the case, then allow me to extend my heartiest congratulations and express the wish that you have a long and happy life together.”

  “Merci.”

  There was a tap on the door, and at Barnaby’s answer Mathew Joslyn wandered into the study. Expecting to find Barnaby alone, Mathew halted a few steps into the room. “Oh. I beg your pardon, I didn’t know that Lucian was here.”

  The eldest of the English Joslyns, Mathew’s resemblance to Luc was striking, clearly revealing a common ancestor in their background. Both men possessed the tall, athletic bodies, the thickly lashed azure eyes and classically handsome features for which the Joslyn family was famous—as did Simon and Lamb. Barnaby, on the other hand, bore only passing resemblance to the others, having inherited from his part-Cherokee mother her dark complexion and gleaming black eyes. While all of the Joslyns were tall men, Barnaby and Lamb were the tallest, standing half a head above the others and their builds were broader. Luc, Mathew and Simon stood within half an inch of each other, and the Joslyn family features were so strongly stamped on the three of them that strangers might mistake them one for the other. Thomas, Mathew and Simon’s dead brother, had borne the same family features.

  Watching Mathew and Luc greet each other like cats willing to be friends, but wary, Barnaby smiled. They had all come a long wa
y since he had first arrived in London over a year ago to take the title Mathew had thought was his, and much had happened in that intervening time. Warmth flooded through him when he thought of one of those events—his marriage to Emily. Their child would be born before many more weeks passed, and he was elated and anxious for the arrival of the infant. To hold his child in his arms had become one of his greatest desires.

  Luc had not seen Mathew for several months, and he was shocked at the changes he saw. Lean and elegantly muscled like all the Joslyns, Mathew was noticeably thinner and his patrician features more finely drawn, the usually brilliant azure eyes appeared dull, glazed. To Luc, Mathew was a stranger, having only been in his company a few times prior to Thomas’s death and since the funeral not at all, but even he could see that the man was greatly changed from his first meeting with him earlier in February. Thomas had died in March.

  From comments made by Barnaby and Simon, Luc knew that Mathew had taken Thomas’s death and his part in it hard, but until he’d seen the man, he hadn’t realized the depth of Mathew’s grief. Luc glanced at Barnaby, thinking of his emotions should something happen to his half brother ... if he brought about his death ... and his heart clenched with such anguish, his knees nearly buckled. Understanding and sympathy flooded through him, and his thoughts of Mathew were far kinder than they had been in the past. Thomas may have been a villain but Mathew had loved his brother and to have killed him ...

  The initial greetings dispensed with, and hoping to arouse a spark of interest in Mathew, Luc said, “I hope that you will wish me happy. I am to be married on Saturday to Mrs. Gillian Dashwood, Silas Ordway’s younger niece.”

  Mathew forced a smile. “I congratulate you.” His voice infused with a heartiness he didn’t feel, Mathew added, “I understand that other congratulations are in order also—Barnaby told me of your purchase of Ramstone.”

  Luc nodded. “Thank you.”

  Mathew shook his head, a faint smile curving his handsome mouth. “You Americans! You certainly move swiftly. In England only since February and already you have bought an estate and are about to marry. Again my congratulations!” Seating himself in a nearby chair, Mathew said, “Barnaby and I are not the best correspondents, but surely I should have heard word of your engagement. When were the banns called?”

  Barnaby looked at Luc with a cocked brow. Luc sighed.

  “Ah, there was no calling of the banns,” Luc confessed. “We will be married by special license. I leave in the morning for London to obtain it and plan to return on Thursday.” The flicker of interest in Mathew’s eyes should have pleased him, but he found himself cravenly wishing that some other news had caused it.

  “Really,” drawled Mathew, his eyes fastened on Luc’s face. “How, er, enterprising of you.” It was obvious Mathew had questions, but he politely refrained from asking them. He did, however, inquire, “Do you have your introduction to a bishop?” When Luc looked startled, he added, “It’s required, you know.” At the expression of dismay that crossed both Barnaby’s and Luc’s faces, he added with a genuine smile, “No, I didn’t think so. Have no fear, I know a bishop and I shall be pleased to accompany you to London and introduce you. What time do you plan on leaving in the morning?”

  Brushing aside Luc’s profuse thanks, Mathew said, “I haven’t been to London since ...” He swallowed. “Since Thomas died. An overnight trip will be just the thing to remind people that I am still alive.” To Barnaby, he said, “You don’t expect anything to happen with Nolles while we are gone, do you?”

  Barnaby shook his head, his face thoughtful. “Beyond some heavy gambling amongst Padgett and the others, Simon said that everything appeared normal at The Ram’s Head last night. And Lamb reported no activity at The Birches.” He cast a look out the window at the patches of blue sky. “The barometer is holding steady since last night’s small storm passed, so a run is unlikely tonight or even tomorrow night.” He grinned. “You and Luc should be back in time to join in any excitement that might arise.”

  Eventually Luc took his leave, and having made arrangements to meet with Mathew early tomorrow for their trip to London, he departed for Ramstone. The door had barely shut behind him before Mathew, staring at Barnaby frowning, asked, “You do know who Gillian Dashwood is, don’t you?”

  “Luc mentioned the rumors associated with the death of her husband,” Barnaby admitted. “He discounts it as just gossip.” Barnaby’s gaze sharpened. “Do you have something to add?”

  Mathew leaned back in his chair and contemplated his gleaming black boots. He scowled. “Devil take it! I mislike sharing scandal broth and I’ll confess that all I heard was precisely what you say, gossip.” His eyes met Barnaby’s. “I do know that Welbourne is an ugly customer and that those parties of his at his lodge are notorious for the excesses committed. No woman with any regard for her reputation would be caught within a mile of the lodge when the duke is hosting a, er, gathering. It’s hard to come up with a reasonable excuse for Gillian Dashwood to have been there, but ...” He paused, his frown deepening. “Charles was a bad ’un and he circled with a segment of the ton not held in the highest esteem. Until her husband’s death, I never heard a hint of scandal associated with Gillian Dashwood, but then, I did not listen to half the on-dits flying through the ton either.”

  Barnaby rubbed the side of his jaw. “Luc’s determined to marry her and I know my brother—objection or resistance will only make him more determined.” He smiled. “It’s been said more than once that there is a strong suspicion of mule in our background.”

  Mathew laughed and nodded. “Indeed. I cannot pretend that the trait hasn’t made its appearance in our branch of the family either.”

  Despite having thrown his staff at Ramstone into an excitable state by the announcement of his coming nuptials, Luc rode away the next morning, confident that Bissell, Hinton, Mrs. Marsh and Alice had matters well in hand. When Gillian stepped foot into Ramstone, she would find no complaints.

  He’d been a little wary of Mathew’s offer of help in securing the special license, and aware that they were virtually strangers, he didn’t look forward to the trip to London with much enthusiasm. To his astonishment, Mathew proved an amiable companion, displaying a side of himself that only his brothers and those closest to him ever saw. Behind the cool hauteur Mathew showed the world lurked an intelligent, engaging, considerate man.

  Luc wasn’t the only gentleman to revise his opinion of the other. Having thought of Luc as nothing more than a skilled gambler and the black sheep of the American Joslyn family, Mathew discovered that he was wrong. For the first time Mathew glimpsed Luc’s effortless charm and found himself relaxing and enjoying Luc’s easy manner and amusing tales of life in America. They discussed the war with France and Mathew recognized the keen intelligence behind those azure eyes so like his own. He was intrigued by the insights Luc had gained during his time in France, and much of the ride was spent discussing England’s dismal showing in the conflict so far. Both men had a common interest in horses, and Luc confessed that he was considering turning Ramstone into a stud farm. Mathew expressed his liking of this idea. By the time they reached London and the Joslyn town house, where they were staying at Barnaby’s invitation, they were quite in charity with each other.

  There was only a smattering of the ton to be found in London at this time of year, but that suited Mathew’s purpose. With Luc as his guest he made an appearance at White’s, stilling rumors that he had turned into a hermit. Quite the contrary. Known for his austere manner and his abstentious habits, Mathew’s drinking and reckless gambling that night raised more than one eyebrow. By the time he and Luc returned to the town house in the early morning hours, he was thoroughly foxed and had lost over three thousand pounds at the gaming tables. Whether he intended it or not, Mathew could go to bed knowing that there would be no more gossip about “grief-maddened Mathew Joslyn.”

  Despite his aching head, Mathew arranged Luc’s meeting with the bishop. Everything we
nt smoothly, and by early afternoon, the special license tucked into his pocket, Luc and Mathew were riding back to Windmere. It was well after midnight by the time they pulled up in front of Windmere and dismounted. If Barnaby had not yet retired for the night, Luc planned a brief word with him before continuing on his way to Ramstone.

  Luc and Mathew found Barnaby, along with Simon and Lamb, in Barnaby’s study. One look at the three men’s faces told the new arrivals that something had happened ... and that it was not good.

  “What is it?” demanded Mathew.

  Barnaby waved a hand toward Simon. “Ask your brother. He arrived not half an hour ago with the news.”

  Both Luc and Mathew swung their gazes to Simon.

  Baldly Simon said, “Canfield is dead.”

  Chapter 16

  “Mon Dieu! What happened?” Luc demanded, walking over to where Barnaby, Simon and Lamb were gathered in front of the fire.

  Simon stared down into the snifter of brandy he was holding. “I was at The Ram’s Head with Padgett, St. John and Stanton a few hours ago, continuing to voice my boredom with Barnaby’s stuffiness”—he glanced at Mathew—“and complaining of my brother’s arrival, when Townsend, accompanied by Nolles, burst into the private room where we were playing cards.” Simon tossed down a swallow of brandy and muttered, “Nolles looked quite cheerful; Townsend white and shaken. It was Nolles who told us that there had been a terrible accident and that Canfield, having imbibed freely while visiting at The Birches, rode too near the edge of the cliffs. According to Nolles, the three of them were on their way to join us at The Ram’s Head when it happened.” Simon’s lips thinned. “Nolles, who did all the talking incidentally, claims that it happened in an instant and that there was nothing they could have done. Canfield’s horse apparently bolted and while Canfield was trying to get the animal under control they strayed to the edge of the cliff: the footing crumbled beneath the horse’s hooves and Canfield and the horse fell into the sea.”