The Bachelor

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “I’m not afraid of your brother, dear girl,” Malet said. “I’ll fight a duel with him any day of the week.”

  “No!” she cried. “You will not. I will turn you both in to the magistrate before I allow it. You have your hundred pounds, so we are done, I tell you. Done! And if you don’t like it, you can go to hell.”

  “We are not remotely done, my sweet.”

  “Let go of me, Lionel!” she cried. “Stop it!”

  Time to intervene. Joshua would have preferred to preserve her secret by not letting her know what he’d heard, but clearly that had become impossible. He headed down the alley toward them, fire erupting in his blood as he saw that Malet had her pinned against a wall and was fighting to kiss her. She shoved at him and tried to hit him, but was clearly losing the battle.

  The bastard! How dared he?

  An unholy fury overtaking him, Joshua rushed up to hit Malet with his cane. The devil howled and pushed away from her to come at Joshua, but Joshua braced his bad foot against a barrel and started striking Malet with his cane, over and over—in the head, the chest, whatever he could hit. Malet attempted to defend himself and got in a punch or two, but no one was a match for Joshua in a temper.

  Joshua struck Malet until the man dropped to his knees and started shielding himself with his hands. Blood ran down Malet’s face from an open wound on his head, and even that did not keep Joshua from his course.

  Then Joshua felt Gwyn pulling on his arm and heard her screaming, “Stop! Stop! Stop! You’ll kill him!”

  He rounded on her, still holding his cane like a cudgel. “Do you care?” he snarled.

  Fear leaped in her eyes. “About him?” she choked out. “No. But I very much care that you not hang for murder, especially when it’s committed on my behalf.”

  The words were a bucket of ice water thrown in his face. They brought back to him some semblance of control, of rational thought. They cooled his fevered blood to the extent that he was able to lower his cane.

  Then shame set in. Once again, she’d seen him behave like an ungoverned arse. A savage animal. What she must think of him! Now that she’d witnessed him at his worst, she feared him. It was his only regret. Because he sure as hell didn’t regret beating Malet. Joshua only wished he’d thought to pull out the blade of his cane and kill the bastard.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t have time, thanks to you.”

  Meanwhile, Malet was wiping blood from his eyes. “You damned whoreson! What is wrong with you?” He tried to get up and had to brace himself against the wall to do so.

  “Gwyn,” Joshua said, “go join your mother.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  To Joshua’s surprise, worry etched lines in her face as she pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at his cheek. Apparently, some of Malet’s blood had sprayed onto him.

  Malet made a grab for her and nearly fell flat on his face, which seemed to infuriate the man further. Struggling to get up off his knees, he growled, “I see you’ve got quite the gallant protector, Gwyn. So the cripple yearns for you, does he?”

  Anger fairly choked Joshua. “You’re the one trying to force yourself on her. You’re the one yearning, it seems to me.”

  “For her?” Malet wiped blood from his eye with the back of his glove. “I had her years ago, in Prussia. And a sweet piece she was, too. I’d happily take her to bed again, but yearn for her? Never.”

  Joshua looked over to find Gwyn’s face reddening with humiliation, which told him all he needed to know. That Malet spoke the truth. That this was what the arse had been blackmailing her over: her seduction . . . possibly her rape. Malet wouldn’t make a distinction between the two.

  Nor would anyone else in society, sadly enough. If news of either got out, she would be the one ruined, not Malet.

  And the thought that the arse had tried to make money off her past . . . infuriated Joshua all over again. It reminded him of Uncle Armie trying to blackmail Beatrice into becoming his mistress.

  “Please, Joshua,” Gwyn whispered, “can we just go?”

  “In a moment. I have a few more things to say to this scoundrel.”

  He reached down to snatch Malet’s purse out of his greatcoat pocket, then remove the hundred pounds and hand those to Gwyn.

  “Hey!” Malet cried.

  Joshua pushed the button on his cane, which allowed him to pull the blade from its “scabbard,” then pressed the point of the sword to Malet’s carotid artery. “Come near her again, and I will thrust this so deep that you’ll bleed to death within moments. This is the end of your blackmailing her, do you hear me?”

  Malet turned white as chalk.

  Joshua went on. “It had also better be the end of your trying to tamper with Thornstock’s carriage. You could have killed us all in your attempt to . . . to . . .” It dawned on him that it made no sense for Malet to try waylaying their carriage if he’d simply been blackmailing Gwyn.

  And Malet’s face showed nothing but confusion. “I’ve never tried to tamper with anyone’s carriage. You can blame that on someone else.” Then his voice turned sullen. “I’m only guilty of trying to get some money for myself. Which I deserve, damn it. Gwyn’s family has done nothing but try to ruin my life. Between Colonel Lord Heywood and Gwyn’s damned brother—”

  “Her ‘damned brother’ did the right thing, and I intend to continue in his footsteps. Just to make sure you don’t forget, let this be a warning to you . . .” Joshua dragged the point of his blade over Malet’s cheek, taking grim satisfaction from the line of blood it left behind. “Approach her again and you die.”

  Joshua sheathed his blade in his cane, then turned to usher Gwyn to the entrance to the alley.

  Malet cried out behind them, “I will tell the world all your secrets, Gwyn. I don’t have to come near you to ruin you, you little harlot!”

  She flinched, and Joshua felt his anger swell all over again.

  Looking back at the bastard, Joshua said, “Go ahead. I dare you. The day you spout your lies, the newspapers will hear the truth about your leaving the army—how you seduced an orphan girl of fifteen and refused to marry her. How she died as a result of your cruelty. How you were cashiered for it. Then I will announce my own engagement to Gwyn, making your accusations sound like so many sour grapes over losing her.”

  Gwyn gasped, but Joshua wasn’t done with Malet. “Once all the gossip has died down and Gwyn and I are wed, you’ll wake up one day to find my blade at your throat. And not a soul will know—or care—who murdered you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  It wasn’t entirely an idle threat. If there were any way to wipe Malet off the earth without Gwyn suffering further scandal, Joshua would find it. Indeed, he prayed he could prove Malet a traitor. Because then the man would hang, and Joshua wouldn’t even have to dirty his own hands to kill him. Although it was possible that the money Malet’s landlord said he was expecting was simply the blackmail money. A hundred pounds would buy lodgings for quite some time.

  They left the alley then, with Malet cursing behind them. It was a good thing that not many people were shopping just then, so they’d had no witnesses to the confrontation. Or none that wished to acknowledge it, apparently.

  Joshua started to walk toward Gunter’s, but Gwyn stopped him. She took his right hand in hers. “Your glove is ruined.”

  He looked down to see that his right glove had split during his beating of Malet.

  She stripped it off. “Oh, dear. You’ll have to keep your hand in your pocket.”

  “Can’t. I have to use this hand to hold the cane when I walk.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She looked anxious. “But Mama will wonder—”

  “I have a new pair of gloves.” He took them out of his pocket. “I’ll just wear these, all right?”

  As he removed his old ones and pulled on the new ones, she frowned. “They’re a different color. Mama w
ill notice. She always notices such things.” She lowered her voice. “Though I suppose we can tell her that your old ones were too ragged to salvage, so we discarded them at the glover’s.”

  He nodded. “I’ll let you handle your mother. You’ve had far more experience doing it than I.” Something else occurred to him. “Where’s your shawl?”

  “Oh, Lord, it’s still in the glover’s shop. Let me just fetch it.”

  When she came out with it and they began to walk again, she glanced down at his cane. “I hope you didn’t ruin it by beating Lionel with it.”

  “I don’t care. Just as I don’t regret what I did to him in the alley.”

  Her gaze shot to him, and a blush stained her cheeks when she saw how intently he was looking at her. “Later, you and I will talk, I promise,” she whispered. “But right now, we must join Mama before she comes looking for us and happens to see Malet in the alley. Or worse, stumbling out.”

  Joshua had so many questions, so many matters he wanted to clarify. But she was right—here and now was not the time.

  “Whatever you wish,” he said. “I place myself in your hands.” He stared hard at her. “Until we can be alone.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Until we can be alone.

  Gwyn sighed. There would be a reckoning once they were, and she supposed she deserved one, given that she’d put Joshua in the untenable position of fighting her battles.

  Though, at the moment, she was grateful for his interference. Who knew what might have happened if Joshua hadn’t shown up when he had?

  Still, the fact that he’d had to listen to . . . to Lionel’s insinuations and make his own conclusions . . . She couldn’t stand his knowing the truth about her. It was worse even than having Thorn—or Mama—know. How would she explain it to him? Joshua seemed so rigid most of the time.

  Not to mention, prone to violence. The episode with Lionel still sparked fear in her. It was alarming how much trouble Joshua had controlling himself. The only thing that gave her solace was that she’d been able to bring him back from the brink. Today anyway.

  By the time they got back to Gunter’s, the knot in Gwyn’s stomach was so tight, she had to halt outside to calm herself. She looked up at Joshua. “Mama must never know what just occurred. It will upset her terribly, and given her present fragile state—”

  “Your mother isn’t as fragile as you think.” He glanced away. “But no, I don’t want to tell her that I nearly killed Malet. Or why.”

  “Thank you.” Bad enough to realize that Joshua knew the reason. She certainly wasn’t ready for Mama to know. There was no way of being sure how she’d react. “Mama doesn’t need to have such ugliness in her head.”

  “Does she know about you and Malet at all?”

  Gwyn nodded. “She knows we courted. Remember when she and I were talking about Hazlehurst in the carriage? That’s whom we really meant. It was so long ago, Mama didn’t remember the name, probably because she doesn’t know any of what I told you concerning Thorn and Lionel.”

  “Ah. And you didn’t correct her because you didn’t want me to—”

  The door to Gunter’s opened, and Mama came out with two glass bowls and spoons in hand, effectively ending their intimate conversation. “It’s about time you two returned. Your ices are melting. Why, I’ve already finished mine. And Joshua, why on earth did you go running off? One minute I’m ordering an ice for Gwyn and the next I’m looking around for you both. I had to guess what to order for you.”

  “I’m sure whatever you chose is fine.” He took the bowl from her, as did Gwyn with hers, then added, “Do we eat them here in the street or . . .”

  “We go over to the square to eat them,” she said. “That’s what everyone else does.”

  They walked over to the Berkeley Square gardens, where Gwyn deliberately chose to sit on a bench facing away from the alley. As Mama sat beside her, Joshua leaned his cane—and then himself—against a tree so he could eat, his gaze darting across to the alley every few moments.

  Lord, but he was a gorgeous specimen of a man. Yes, his leg seemed a bit . . . twisted beneath his buff trousers, but his chest strained at the buttons of his old-fashioned, figured waistcoat and his shoulders filled out his blue coat quite pleasingly.

  He caught her staring at him, and, misunderstanding her purpose for gawking at him, flashed her a reassuring smile that made her breathing quicken. He had an amazing smile when he let himself use it. And when she lifted a spoonful of her ice to her mouth, a heat flared in his eyes that she half-expected to melt his ice. And hers. And anyone else’s in the vicinity.

  Unfortunately, Mama caught her and Joshua eyeing each other with something akin to lust and got a speculative look on her face.

  Her gaze narrowed on Gwyn. “Where did the two of you go off to anyway?”

  When Gwyn started and didn’t answer, Joshua stepped in.

  “I forgot about needing new gloves,” Joshua said smoothly, as if he’d been lying to Mama his whole life. “So I returned to the glover’s after Gwyn went that way. And she helped me pick a new pair.”

  “The ones you’re wearing now? Oh, dear, you should take them off while you eat. You’ll stain them.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Gwyn picked a pair that specifically repels ice cream.”

  Mama gaped at him, then laughed. “Sometimes you surprise me, Nephew. Just when I think you don’t even know how to joke, you say something like that.” Aunt Lydia patted Gwyn’s arm. “But you’re right about Gwyn. She is quite helpful at choosing items for gentlemen.”

  When Joshua lifted a brow, Gwyn wanted to sink under the bench. “Mama, you make it sound as if I’m buying things for men all the time.”

  “Don’t be silly,” her mother said. “My nephew knows I’m speaking of your brothers. Don’t you, Joshua?”

  “Of course,” he said, his gaze locking with Gwyn’s. “Although surely she has helped a beau or two with such choices occasionally.”

  “Not that I can recall.” Mama stared off across the park. “The only one I remember her helping was that fellow Hazlehurst. But she was so young then. What were you, Gwyn? Nineteen?”

  “Twenty,” Gwyn said wearily. And right then, she was in no mood to continue the subterfuge. “You’re thinking of Ensign Malet, Mama. I think you’ve mixed up those two gentlemen.”

  “Malet! Good Lord, you’re right. I should have remembered that. He had such an odd name. But then, Hazlehurst is an odd name, too.”

  “It is indeed,” Joshua said blandly.

  Gwyn glared at him as she ate her ice.

  “So which one was Thorn nasty to?” Mama asked.

  “Both of them, actually. Thorn was nasty to all my suitors.” And that was the truth. “He never thought any of them worthy of me. My social life got considerably better when he left for England.”

  “Is that why you refused to return with him?” her mother asked.

  Gwyn could feel Joshua’s gaze boring into her like a carpenter’s drill. “That was part of it. Part of it was my not wanting to leave you and Papa.” She smiled at Mama. “And given Papa’s untimely death, I’m very glad I had those years with you both.” Papa might actually have been her stepfather, but he was the only father she’d ever known.

  Her mother smiled and took her hand. “I’m very glad you made that decision, although at the time I thought it might have been better for you to go with Thorn.”

  That startled her. “Why?”

  “Because of your age. I had no idea when we’d be returning to England, and I thought coming here with Thorn might give you a better chance at finding a husband. If you’ll recall, eligible gentlemen were fairly thin on the ground in Berlin, unless you wanted to marry a German. And then we wouldn’t have been able to see you once we returned to England, which we would have done eventually.”

  Gwyn should reveal the truth to Mama about what had happened between her and Thorn. She’d kept it hidden long enough. She could never tell Mama about why T
horn’s actions had nearly proved disastrous for her later on, but at least if she explained some of why she’d been angry, her family could stop speculating on it. Because whatever she told Mama was going to be passed on to the rest of them eventually. Mama had never been good at keeping secrets.

  “Actually, Mama, Thorn wasn’t just nasty to Ensign Malet; Thorn paid the man quite a bit of money to go away. Thorn was convinced that the ensign was a fortune hunter, so he offered the man funds just to see what he would do. Once the scoundrel took the money, it proved that Thorn was right about Ensign Malet’s character.”

  And it proved she had been wrong about it. That still stung, even after all these years. Even after Lionel had turned into a blackmailer. Because she really hated that she hadn’t noticed what an arse he was until it was too late.

  “Why, that arrogant rascal!” Mama said.

  Gwyn blinked. “Who? Ensign Malet? Or Thorn?” “Both, I suppose. Though I was really speaking of your brother. As you said in the carriage the other day—Thorn had no business running anyone off. It’s not as if you were a child. You were perfectly capable of making your own decisions in such matters. I don’t blame you for being angry with him.”

  “Even though he turned out to be right about Malet?” Joshua put in.

  Mama sniffed. “Yes. Because he could have handled it better. He could have told her why he believed Ensign Malet to be a fortune hunter and let her come to her own conclusions.”

  Her mother had hit the nail on the head. That was what had made her so furious with him at the time. Thorn had decided she was incapable of listening to reasonable arguments concerning any fellow courting her, and then had taken steps to handle the matter without her knowledge or consent.

  Mama looked at Gwyn. “I assume that Thorn had evidence of Malet’s eagerness to marry an heiress?”

  Gwyn blinked. “I–I don’t know. I never asked, and he never offered. I just assumed that Thorn had turned into an overbearing arse as he approached his coming of age.”

  Mama chuckled. “He was a bit full of himself back then, wasn’t he?”