by Meara Platt
Laurel shook her head in confusion. “What was that about?”
Graelem held her back when she was about to start after Daisy. “I think I know.”
“You do?”
As the crowd began to move toward the back of the hall where a dais had been set up beside what would be the new wing, Graelem took the opportunity to step to the side and sit in one of the chairs along the wall that was now left empty. “Sit with me, love. In truth, my leg won’t hold me up much longer.”
“Oh, dear.” Laurel’s hands were already on him to lend comfort as he sank into the closest chair.
She took a seat beside him. “I’ve grown used to us spending our afternoons together. In truth, this party has upset my schedule. Although I chatted with acquaintances and studied some of the exhibits, I wasn’t enjoying myself very much. My thoughts kept returning to you.”
He laughed and shook his head. “My thoughts never left you, lass.”
“But you’re not going to like what I must do next.” She began to nibble her lip and glanced toward Devlin, who happened to be standing at the back of the crowd, looking sullen. “I’ve disappointed him terribly. I must speak to him. I owe him that much.”
Graelem shifted uncomfortably in the chair that was too small for his large frame. “You don’t owe him anything. He and Anne already have a new scheme to interfere with our betrothal. Anne showed me a letter you supposedly wrote to Devlin.”
“A letter?” She shook her head and frowned. “I wrote him several in the days immediately following our first encounter. But they were mere apologies for why I couldn’t meet him in the park or at a particular ball or musicale. I did start to write him an important one the other day, explaining my feelings for you, but I never finished it.”
She paused to cast him a pained glance before continuing. “Everything was happening so fast and I honestly didn’t know how I felt about you… or how you felt about me. It’s still sitting in my writing desk. I never got beyond the first few sentences.”
He’d shaken her comfortable existence by claiming her for his own and giving no thought to her wishes. He was still doing it, the only difference being that she was more accepting of it now. Still didn’t make it right. “The letter Anne showed me says you plan to meet Devlin this Saturday at the mews behind Chipping Way.”
“At midnight?”
He nodded. “You knew about this letter?”
“No, but that’s what Devlin asked me to do several days ago. Well, it was more of a demand, and I must say, I didn’t like being ordered about. No, not one bit.” A sadness suddenly stole into her eyes. “Just as I don’t like being forced to marry you. You and he are both in the wrong.”
He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “I know.”
This was the undercurrent that coursed through all of their conversations. He had tricked her into the betrothal and she was bitterly hurt by it. That was bad enough, but he was making it worse by still refusing to allow her out of it.
He knew he had to fix this mess. Devlin’s deceit was nothing to what he had done to her.
He would fix this mess as soon as Devlin was no longer a threat.
But telling Laurel now would do no good. She wouldn’t believe him until he actually released her from their betrothal and he wasn’t ready to do it yet. In truth, he didn’t ever wish to do it. When it came to letting go of Laurel, he was a coward and an ass.
He could face Napoleon’s army without flinching.
Why couldn’t he let Laurel go?
Laurel nodded her head as though coming to a decision. “I must speak to Dev. Right now.”
She stared at him, daring him to disagree.
He wanted to, but knew she’d go off anyway to talk to the bounder. “Laurel, he isn’t in love with you. He never was. Just remember that.”
“Because he hasn’t kissed me yet? Not all men are like you. We’ve discussed this before. He’s more reserved than you are, that’s all. It means nothing that he hasn’t tried.”
He sat up in his chair, every possessive, protective, oafish instinct now on full alert, for he’d stopped listening after that first sentence had slipped from her lips. “He hasn’t kissed you yet?”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way. I have no intention of kissing him back. Ever. Is that better? Indeed, I’d crack a chair over his head if he ever tried, as I should have done when you kissed me.” She grinned at him, melting his anger. “But I had too much fun kissing you and didn’t want to stop, as you well know.”
“Lass, you can toss about words like polite and reserved and gentlemanly, but men are men. We see a beautiful woman and we want her. Naked. In our bed. Plain and simple.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s men.”
She pursed her lips and frowned lightly. “Is that what you think when you look at me?”
“Hell, yes.”
She gasped and blushed furiously, an angry blush. “Why, you big—”
“And I also think of the wonderful wife you’ll make, and wonderful mother for our children, and how empty my life had been until I met you. But I still want to take you into my bed and hold your soft, warm body in my arms. Only difference is that I want you beside me for all my days.”
“You’re still an oaf,” she muttered, and while her blush remained, it was clear that her anger had completely faded.
“Ideas of chivalry and nobility are pounded into our male brains, but it isn’t our brains that usually do our thinking for us. Certainly not when it comes to women. If Devlin truly wanted to kiss you, he would have found a way to do it long ago. Blessed saints, I’ve been thinking of nothing else since the moment I met you. Lass,” he said more gently, “you wouldn’t have responded to me the way you did if you truly wanted him.”
Her blush deepened, no doubt because she was recalling her behavior in Eloise’s parlor a few days ago. To call it reckless and wanton was an understatement.
He gave her a grin that made her cheeks flame a hot, bright red. Having Laurel speechless was an advantage he did not wish to overlook, so he continued making his point. “This is a conversation we’ve had before, but he’s growing more desperate and you have to be made aware. I know his type. Pampered, self-important. Not one to appreciate what he has until he thinks he’s lost it. He isn’t a good loser. Quite the opposite; he’s angry and doesn’t care whom he hurts in retaliation. Anne is helping him out, and I’m not sure why. It could be that they’ve become lovers, or are both feeling spurned and that has drawn them to each other. Whatever the reason, it concerns me that Anne was speaking privately to Daisy.”
Laure paused a moment to digest what he’d told her. “You think she showed this so-called letter to my sister?”
“Or told her about it. Yes, I’m certain.”
Laurel nodded. “No wonder Daisy was behaving so oddly. I’ll warn her. But I still need to speak to Devlin.”
He wasn’t going to dissuade her, but he intended to stay close enough to come to her aid if she needed help. He’d do his best not to kill the bounder, even though his hands were already itching to close around his fashionably bedecked throat.
Laurel didn’t immediately leave his side, apparently having more to discuss with him before she did so. “Graelem, did you believe I’d written the letter that Anne showed you? Or was it a poor forgery that you saw couldn’t have been written in my hand?”
He ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “No, actually the forgery was quite good. That’s why I think Daisy might believe you wrote it. But not me, love. I never would. Not because of my so-called prowess with women, which is non-existent, by the way. But because of who you are.”
“Me?”
“You’re incredible, Laurel. You love with all your heart. You’re faithful and honorable and loyal.”
She grinned. “And I don’t have fleas.”
“What?”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, Graelem! You’ve just described the virtues
of a dog. Faithful, honorable, and loyal. I can also be trained to fetch slippers and curl up on your lap on cold, winter evenings.”
“Blessed Scottish saints,” he muttered, shaking his head dazedly. “I told you I’m no good at this courtship thing.”
She laughed again, this time more softly. “I know. You’re simply dreadful at it. That’s why I know you mean it. Thank you. I’m pleased you consider me as noble as a dog. I’m delighted that you trust me, because now I have hope that you’ll do the right thing before Midsummer’s Day.”
She didn’t wait for his response, no doubt knowing it wasn’t going to be what she wanted to hear anyway. Trust her? Of course he did. So why couldn’t he release her from their betrothal? All he had to do was utter those three simple words, I release you. In the next breath, he could ask her to marry him and she’d accept.
It was such an easy fix to the bad start of their betrothal.
So why couldn’t he do it?
He knew the reason why. To let her go would be like cutting out his heart and he couldn’t live without that vital organ. That’s how important Laurel had become to him.
Perhaps she understood it, too. Which would explain why she was no longer spouting that demand with her every breath and storming out in a fury when he refused.
“Are you certain you’re all right?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts.
He nodded.
“Good. I’ll be back shortly.” She rose, all the while staring at him, her expression determined. “Remember, you can’t interfere, no matter what Devlin looks like he’s about to do. I can handle him. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you, lass.” It was Devlin that he didn’t trust. If she thought he was going to hold back if Devlin so much as put a finger on her, she was sadly mistaken.
No, indeed.
Not likely.
Graelem would break every bone in the bounder’s body if he dared to touch Laurel. He understood Devlin’s plan. But Laurel had now made it her life’s mission to repair their friendship. It wasn’t going to work, for Devlin had never valued that friendship.
It was all about Laurel’s trust fund. For Devlin, it had only been about the trust fund.
Always.
Graelem ached for Laurel and the hurt she was about to receive. “I’ll be here, love. Waiting for you.”
Waiting to take her into his arms when she cried her heart out for the shattered friendship between her and that undeserving wretch.
“Graelem…” She began to wring her hands.
“Yes, love.”
“I’m glad you’re the one… that is, I’m glad you’ll wait for me.”
* * *
Laurel’s apprehension grew as she approached Devlin and noted the brooding anger in his eyes. This was a Devlin she hadn’t seen before. Outwardly he was fashionably dressed, his stark white shirt collar perfectly starched, his fawn-colored jacket neatly tailored, his silk cravat impeccably knotted and held in place with a gold stickpin… but inwardly, he was in obvious turmoil.
She knew it because they’d long been friends.
His hair was meticulously curled, not a strand out of place, giving his face the fragile air of one of those doomed poets so adored among the Upper Crust, but there was an underlying darkness that sent a shiver up her spine. “Dev, I’m so sorry that I’ve upset you. These past few weeks have been difficult for me as well.”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Am I supposed to forgive you now and assure you that we shall always be friends? You betrayed me, Laurel.”
Her heart began to pound, partly out of remorse but mostly out of frustration. “I didn’t intend to. You know this situation was forced upon me, and I didn’t like it at first. But I won’t lie to you. I think I could love Baron Moray. In time, he might come to love me. I hope so.”
Devlin glanced toward the dais where the Duke of Lotheil was still expounding on the magnificent plans for the Royal Society’s new exhibition wing and laughed mirthlessly again. “And that’s it? I’m now to be cast off?”
“I value your friendship.” She wanted to put a hand on his arm to reassure him, but there was a palpable tension in his stance and she honestly didn’t know what to expect from him, so she kept her hands at her sides.
In any event, Graelem would shoot to his feet if she touched Devlin. He’d pound Devlin into the ground and she didn’t want to be responsible for that. She sighed. Better to keep a respectable distance. “There will never be more than friendship between us. I intend to be faithful in my marriage.”
Devlin’s expression turned to one of disdain. “And what of your oafish baron? Do you truly believe he’ll do the same?”
She nodded. “Yes. I haven’t a doubt.” In truth, she knew for a certainty that she and Graelem would hold to their vows. Perhaps that was why she’d fallen in love with him. Her heart must have sensed his merit. She wasn’t the only one who had the attributes of a faithful hound. So did Graelem. She knew that he’d be loyal, honest, and affectionate. Goodness, he’d be far more than affectionate.
Even now, at this completely inappropriate moment, her thoughts were on him, recalling the intensely hot way he’d touched her and roused sensations within her body. She didn’t just want Graelem, she craved him.
“He’s already carrying on an affair with Anne, you know.” Devlin’s laugh was bitter and taunting. “Dora Pertwhistle wants him too. Will you spend your life wondering with which young lady he’s dallying whenever he slips out of your sight?”
“Stop it, Dev. Obviously, you’re the one who’s carrying on with Anne. Why else would she be circulating that forged letter and trying to undermine my betrothal? It didn’t work. I’d appreciate your ripping up that letter and forgetting about any more underhanded tricks. There’s nothing you can say or do to interfere with this betrothal.” She sighed and held out her hands in a plea. “Please be happy for me, as I will be for you when you find love.”
“When I find love? That’s a jest. I did find love… with you. Only now, you won’t have me.” He glanced over her shoulder as he spoke. Laurel turned and followed his gaze, surprised to realize it was trained on Daisy.
She turned back to him, this time angrily. “You’re not to go near my sister. Do you hear me, Dev? If you do anything to harm her, you won’t have only Baron Moray to fear. I’ll kill you myself.”
His icy glower secretly shook her to the core, but she refused to let it show. “Have I made myself clear? Keep away from Daisy. For that matter, keep away from all my sisters.”
Too overset to return to Graelem’s side, she hurried outside to catch a breath of air. Not that London air was all that clean, but it was preferable to Dev’s malevolent stench.
She’d botched that encounter.
Graelem probably knew it and was giving her a moment to calm down before he followed after her.
But as Laurel stood on the street and turned back to look at the Royal Society building, it was Devlin who came toward her, attempting to apologize with a quick “I’m sorry” followed by an overly ardent hug.
She quickly pulled away and stared at the doorway, worried that Graelem might have seen the exchange and misunderstood the reason for it. But it was Daisy who was standing at the top of the steps.
Daisy who was frowning at her.
Daisy for whom that embrace had been staged.
Why?
Chapter 16
LAUREL TRIED TO DRAW Daisy aside once they’d returned home and were back in their bedchamber to dress for supper, but Daisy refused to listen. “Not now, Laurel. I’m busy.”
“Nonsense. We’re merely getting dressed, not sitting for exams at Oxford. Give me a moment to explain what really happened at the duke’s tea.” Laurel’s head was pounding and her heart was in her throat. Gladys was flitting in and out of their room, setting out their slippers and freshly aired gowns, then hurrying next door to the twins’ quarters to help those imps dress. “You must talk to me.”
“Must I?” She arched a
n eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
“Please hear me out. It isn’t what—”
She turned her back on Laurel. “Gladys, should I wear the lemon silk or the poppy red?”
Laurel sighed, realizing she would not have a decent conversation with her sister this evening. In the brief time they’d been alone, she’d tried to reason with her, and Daisy had interrupted her each time.
Laurel wasn’t certain what to do next. She’d always been the hot-tempered sister and Daisy had always been the one to calm her down. The situation was now reversed and she had no idea how to handle it. Obviously, she was making a muddle of everything, doing a terrible job of calming Daisy down.
“Very well,” she said, sighing again and feeling quite foolish standing in the center of their bedchamber with her hands outstretched in pleading. “But you can’t avoid me forever. I’ve done nothing wrong and I haven’t lied to you.”
Daisy gasped. “And you expect me to believe that? You can’t lure me into another one of your schemes. I’m sorry I ever helped you out.”
Tears began to glisten in Daisy’s eyes. She brushed them away with the back of her hand and concentrated on securing the clasp to her cameo necklace, which gave her an excuse not to look at Laurel. “I like Lord Moray. I thought you did, too.”
“Here, let me help you with the clasp.”
She moved toward her sister, but Daisy darted away. “No, thank you. It’s done.”
Laurel was almost in tears herself, for she couldn’t bear to see her sister so distressed. “About Lord Moray. I do like him. Very much. I wish to marry him.” Good heavens, she was so deeply in love with him. Why wasn’t it obvious to her sister?
“Just how gullible do you think I am?” Daisy turned to gape at her. “If you’re so eager to marry him, then why were you embracing Devlin? How can you think to elope with him?”
