by Candace Camp
Charity giggled.
“And what have you done, Miss Emerson, while I have been tussling with the gravely misnamed Lucky?”
“Why, he’s very well named,” Charity retorted indignantly. “What could be luckier for a poor stray dog than to become the favored pet of a peer of the realm?”
“Perhaps I should have said it was the dog’s keeper who was the victim of the misnomer.”
“Well, you are luckier than I. I have been doing very little except attending the most boring of parties.” She hesitated, then added softly, “I have not seen Mr. Reed since you left.”
Simon gave her a searching look; then a faint smile touched his face, and he said, “Thank you.”
“I was avoiding him, anyway, but then Venetia told me about…what happened to her.”
His eyebrows vaulted upward. “She did?”
“Yes. She was worried that I might not do as you asked. She didn’t want anything bad to happen between us because of her. It made me realize a lot of things. I—I have not been completely open with you about some things.”
Dure’s hand stiffened on hers, and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” His voice was suddenly cool and remote.
“Please don’t be angry.” Quickly Charity told him about the notes she had received implicating him in murder and warning her against him. She explained how Reed had always been there and had offered his help. “I’m sorry,” she finished. “I know I was awfully naive. It would probably have been obvious to you that it was Reed sending the notes.”
“Yes. That swine.” Simon’s eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light of the opera box. “I should have done more than just threaten him the other day.”
“You threatened him?”
“Yes. He’s been trying to blackmail Venetia about what happened between them.”
Charity gaped. “You mean, he would dare to extort money from her because of the way he wronged her? What unmitigated gall!”
“Faraday Reed is certainly not lacking in that. I’d like to draw and quarter the rogue. Perhaps I should pay him another visit. He seems to think that he can do whatever he likes to me and mine.”
“No, please, Simon. It would only create a scandal. Everyone would wonder why you had done it. Venetia is very afraid of any word getting out.”
“I know. That’s why I haven’t done anything to him before now. It would start tongues wagging. Besides, everything he does is so underhanded and secretive that it’s difficult to catch him doing anything. Someday he’ll go too far, though, and I will have to get rid of him.” He paused, then asked quietly, “Why did you not tell me when you got those notes?”
“I did not want to hurt you.”
Simon stared at her blankly. Finally he said, “You mean, you were trying to protect me?”
“Yes!” Charity snapped. “Why does everyone find that so strange? I didn’t want to see you hurt by what the notes said. I thought it would make you feel bad to know that someone was spreading such lies about you.”
“And you are so sure they are lies?”
Charity shot him a disgusted look. “Of course I am. You would not have killed someone, let alone three people. If you were the type to kill, you would, after all, have done in Faraday Reed long ago.”
A faint smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. “You are a loyal person. Feisty. Brave.” Simon smoothed the back of his hand down her soft cheek. “I am not sure anyone has ever tried to protect me before. Certainly not a female. I feel…honored.”
“Honored?”
“Yes. That you have chosen me to marry. That you have given such courage and loyalty to me. I’m not sure I am worthy of it.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Charity smiled at him, and Simon wished they were somewhere else, so that he could kiss her properly. But even such a lax chaperone as Aunt Ermintrude would be shocked if he pulled Charity into his arms here. So he had to content himself with pressing her hand to his lips again, letting his mouth linger on her skin. He wondered how he would be able to get through the four months until he and Charity could wed without comment.
Charity glanced around the ballroom. She still could not see Dure anywhere. He had planned to be at the Bannerfield ball tonight, or so he had told her, but so far he had not arrived. Charity knew that it was unlike Simon to arrive at any party this early, but her eagerness to see him kept playing her false, making her feel as if hours had passed. It seemed as if it had been days since she had been with him at the opera.
The ballroom was hot and airless, despite the opened doors leading to the terrace, and Charity’s feet ached already from the new slippers she had worn. And as if that weren’t bad enough, Faraday Reed was at the party, and had been pursuing her from the moment that she and her family walked through the door. She had managed to elude him every time he came close, but it was wearying. She also worried what would happen if he came face-to-face with Simon, given the way Simon felt about him.
Charity sighed and looked longingly toward the terrace doors. It would be so nice to step outside and feel the cool evening air on her face, to be away from the noise and the crowd.
She glanced at her mother beside her. Caroline was deep in conversation with Mrs. Greenbridge, on the other side. The Greenbridge girl had got married two months ago, and Caroline was finding her mother a fountain of information and advice.
Charity edged away from them. She looked back at Caroline; she was still thoroughly enthralled by the subject of wedding gowns. She scanned the floor; no one was watching her. Quickly she walked toward the outer doors, skirting clumps of conversationalists and smilingly turning down an offer of a dance from one of her admirers. With a final surreptitious glance around her, she slipped out the door and onto the flagstone terrace.
She sighed with relief at the touch of fresh air on her face, and walked quickly away from the door, putting the noise of the crowd behind her. There was a couple on the terrace, also, talking in quiet tones beside the balustrade. They did not even glance in her direction. Charity moved quietly away from them and down the shallow steps, onto the garden pathway. There was a full moon out, and the garden was bathed in its light. Charity had little trouble finding her way along the path that wound between the carefully tended flowers and plants. There was a small fountain in the midst of one square of flowers, and a low stone bench sat at the edge of the walkway beside the flowers. Charity sank down onto the bench and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing music of the cascading water. She gave herself up to thinking about Simon, recalling his voice, his eyes, the strength of his arms around her.
She was aroused by the scrape of a heel on the path, and she glanced up, startled. A man was coming down the path toward her. With dismay, she recognized him as Faraday Reed.
Charity jumped to her feet. She glanced in the opposite direction. That way only led deeper into the garden, and Reed would, without doubt, catch up with her. So she turned and walked toward him, her head aristocratically high, and when she neared him, she started to sweep around him without a word.
Reed, however, obviously had other plans in mind. He stepped quickly in front of her to block her path. “Charity! You must speak to me!”
Charity looked at him with an icy gaze. “Pray, step out of my way, Mr. Reed. I wish to return to the house.”
“Not until you have talked to me. Tell me what is wrong. Why have you been avoiding me the past two weeks? I thought I was your friend. I thought you trusted me.”
“Unfortunately, so did I,” Charity replied crisply. “Obviously, I was naive. Now, please, let me pass.”
“No!” Reed said explosively, reaching out and grasping Charity’s upper arms. “Not until you tell me the reason why you won’t see me anymore. Why you refuse me admittance when I come to call and avoid me at every social gathering. Is it because of Dure? Did he tell you something about me? Did he lie to you, try to blacken my character?”
“No, he did not!” Charity snapped back, wrenching herself ou
t of his grasp. She knew that a proper lady would not even talk to him, but his slur upon Simon’s character was too much for her loyalty. “Lord Dure would not lie. He is not a blackguard like you! He did not say anything about you except to warn me against you. He would not betray a woman’s honor even that much. It was Venetia who told me the truth. She told me what you had done to her, how you had deceived and betrayed her.”
“Venetia!” Reed’s brows drew together ominously, and the smooth, pleasing expression he usually wore changed into something truer and far worse. His face became heavy, and his mouth twisted with bitterness. He looked somehow darker and older, and his eyes were pools of hate and evil. “Damn her to hell. She thinks she can play me thus!”
“I would say that Venetia was hardly playing. No doubt you cannot realize how much it costs a woman to reveal such a thing about herself. She was most noble and brave, to come to me and explain why I should not be in your presence anymore. She told me, too, about how much you hate her brother for foiling your wicked schemes. She told me about your campaign of malicious gossip against Dure all these years. How you have spread lies and insinuations about his wife’s and brother’s deaths. I realize now, sir, that it was probably you who sent those notes to me.”
At Reed’s startled look, Charity let out a brief, humorless laugh. “Yes, I saw through it all. It was easy, once I knew what a cad you were. You hoped to ruin my faith in Lord Dure with those notes, and when that didn’t work, you made sure you were always there to offer false words of friendship. You hoped to use them to win my trust, and then somehow turn that against Dure. Well, I can tell you this—it would not have worked, even if I had not found out about you. I would not have mistrusted Lord Dure. Nor would I have done anything to dishonor him.”
Reed’s mouth thinned, and his eyes glittered. “You think not, Miss Purity? You were ripe and ready. It would not have been long before you were swooning in my arms.”
Charity’s dumbstruck look, and the amazed laugh that escaped her, spoke more truly than words could have about the ludicrousness of his beliefs. “You think that I would have fallen in love with you? That I would have betrayed Simon? My heavens, even when I thought you were my friend, I never had even a twinge of romantic feeling for you. How could I possibly be interested in you, when I am already engaged to a man like Simon?”
Her spontaneous words, her laugh, the expression on her face, were like sparks to tinder, and Reed exploded into rage. His face was suffused with blood, and his eyes were suddenly lit with the fires of hell. With a low, enraged noise, he grabbed her and jerked her to him. With one arm tightly around Charity, he plunged his other hand beneath the low-cut neckline of her evening dress, clamping it around her breast.
“You wouldn’t dishonor him, eh?” he panted, his breath hot on her face. “We’ll see about that. We’ll see how much His Lordship wants you when he finds you’ve been breached already. When he learns that it was my seed that first found a home in you.”
Charity was so startled that for a moment she could not even speak or move. He bent and kissed her, his lips bruising hers. His tongue pushed against her, urgently seeking entrance. Disgust poured through Charity. His clasp, his kiss, his hand upon her, were nothing like the fiery, seductive things that Simon had done with her. She felt violated and dirty, just from his touch. She knew that she would be damned before she let him do anything worse to her.
She began to struggle violently, twisting her head aside and pushing against his chest with both her arms. He was too strong for her, and he chuckled at the futility of her struggles. Holding her still with one arm, he reached out with the other hand and seized her hair, pulling her head back and holding it immobilized.
Reed expected her to swoon or give way to panic then. Most other gently reared young ladies would have. After all, he had experience in the matter. But Charity was, as she had told Lord Dure once, not well acquainted with fear. Moreover, she had grown up playing with the neighboring boys, both the squire’s sons and the groundskeeper’s boy. She had learned quickly enough how to fight a larger and stronger opponent, as well as where to hurt a male most.
She did not scream. The last thing she wanted was for everyone in the house to come flooding out and catch her struggling in Faraday Reed’s embrace. It would cause a scandal, even though it would be obvious she was unwilling; everyone would say she should not have gone out to the garden alone. And she did not want to be responsible for any further scandal attached to Dure. So calling for help was something she would do only as a last resort. Instead, she went on the attack.
First Charity stamped down hard with her narrow heel on Reed’s instep. He let out a high-pitched noise of pain and loosened his hold on her. Charity took advantage of that to bring her knee up hard between his legs. Unfortunately, her skirts and petticoats hampered the blow, but it was still hard enough to make him yelp and bend over to grab at the pained area. Charity pulled back her arm, doubled her fist and hit him hard in the nose. There was a satisfying smack, and blood spurted from his nose. Reed let loose an animal howl, staggering back from her. Charity turned, lifted her voluminous skirts, and took off at a run for the house.
There were two men smoking cigars on the terrace who looked at her curiously as she flew up the steps, showing more ankle than was proper.
“I say,” one of them said, “what was that noise?”
Charity shook her head and hurried past them, patting her hair and smoothing down her skirts. She didn’t want to arouse comment and speculation with an untidy appearance, any more than she had wanted to scream and bring everyone onto the scene. She went through the doors at a quick pace, looking for her mother or sisters. Instead her eye fell on a dark man who was standing on the opposite side of the ballroom, scanning the crowd in much the same way she was.
“Simon!” Relief and happiness flashed through Charity, and she started toward him.
Dure’s eyes fell on her as she hurried through the crowd toward him, unabashed happiness on her face, and the harsh lines of his own face softened. His chest seemed suddenly full and warm. He moved toward her, extending his hands to take hers. But instead, she threw herself against his chest and clung to him.
“Charity?” Simon asked, amazed, bending his head down to hers. “My love, are you all right? Is something wrong?”
There was a murmur around them, a swift susurration of sound, and Simon raised his head, expecting to find everyone staring at his embrace with Charity. Instead he saw that most eyes were turned toward the doors leading onto the terrace, and he, too, looked in that direction. Faraday Reed was coming through the door. His clothes were twisted and mussed, and his hair was disordered. He held a handkerchief to his face as he walked gingerly into the room.
In an instant, Simon realized what had happened. “Did he attack you?” he asked Charity, his words clipped and charged with fury. “Did he dare lay a hand on you?”
“What? How did you know?” Charity stepped back, gaping at him in astonishment. Then she followed the direction of his gaze and saw Reed.
“I will kill the son of a bitch,” Simon growled and started toward Reed determinedly.
“No! Simon, wait!” Charity pleaded, grabbing his arm and holding on. “Please, don’t do anything rash. Nothing happened. I’m all right, really. Please.”
But Simon paid her no heed, simply shook off her restraining hand and strode through the crowd toward Reed. When he was a few feet away, Reed saw Simon approaching and his eyes widened in alarm. He whirled to run back out of the house, but Simon was too quick. Leaping forward, he grabbed Reed’s arm and spun him back around, then punched him squarely in the jaw.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
REED STUMBLED BACKWARD and crashed ignominiously on his derriere on the floor. Simon took a step forward and seized him by the lapels, jerking him up.
“God damn you!” he snarled, hauling his arm back for another blow.
“No!” Charity shrieked, and threw herself on Simon’s arm, holding on
tightly with both her arms wrapped around his. “Simon, don’t! This is a ball!”
“Damn it, Charity, let go. I’m going to thrash the blackguard.”
“No,” she pleaded earnestly, casting a despairing glance at the interested throng around them. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing happened. I got away from him.”
But her words only seemed to infuriate Simon more. His eyes flashed with an unholy fire, and he pulled away from Charity, launching himself at the dazed Reed.
“I’ll kill you!” Simon roared, curses spilling from his mouth.
It took three men to haul him off Reed. Another man reached down and helped Reed to his feet. Blood streaked his face, no longer just from Charity’s wound, and he swayed as he stood. Several women shrieked at the sight of his blood and began to fan themselves. One lady even managed an elegant swoon into the arms of the gentleman standing next to her. Charity paid them no attention. She was concentrating only on Simon.
“Please, Simon, it was nothing,” she begged, curling her fingers into his coat and gazing up into his face. She had never seen this look on his face before; the blind rage was almost chilling.
“If he ever touches you again, I’ll kill him,” Simon said flatly, but reason was returning to his eyes. He looked down at Charity searchingly. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No. No. I’m fine, really. You can see that.” Charity tried to smile. “Please, Simon, could you just take me home?”
Simon drew a long breath, bringing himself back under control. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
He straightened his coat and offered Charity his arm. “Shall we go, Miss Emerson? I find this is not the sort of party I expected.”
A giggle of relief bubbled from Charity’s mouth. “Quite right, my lord.”
She put her hand in the crook of his arm, and they started across the room. The crowd fell away in front of them, everyone eyeing them with avid curiosity as they walked past. Charity was sure that all the tongues in society would be clacking tomorrow. The Bannerfields had gotten more notoriety from their soiree than they could have imagined.
