Rules of Engagement

by Christina Dodd

  “No! That would be expecting too much, I think.”

  “You wanted her to tell you she loved you?”

  “Yes.” Kerrich sounded defiant, even in his own ears.

  “Why didn’t you tell her that you loved her?”

  His grandfather knew. His grandfather knew that Kerrich loved her, and he wasn’t mocking Kerrich about his vow never to love, or crowing that he was right. Grandpapa was clever that way. So Kerrich answered, “If I told her I loved her, she’d win.”

  Lord Reynard’s bafflement appeared to be real. “Win…what?”

  “She’d hold the power in the marriage, and I’d be like my father, a beggar at my own table.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Lord Reynard tapped Kerrich’s chest hard with his cane. “Your father wasn’t a beggar at his own table! Don’t you remember their marriage at all?”

  Despite the warm sun, chills ran up and down Kerrich’s spine. “I remember Mother smiling at Father and hugging him, but—”

  “Your mother adored your father. Yes, she’s the kind of woman who has to have a man, but she hasn’t remarried. Do you know why?”

  “She’s been with so many gigolos no decent man will have her,” Kerrich muttered.

  “Damn! I hate it when you’re deliberately obtuse.” Another set of horses came out of the starting gate. Lord Reynard didn’t stop talking, but he did lower his voice in deference to the bettors. “Your mother is a wealthy, noble widow. She’s attractive and knows how to make every old man young again and every young man a virile giant. Any man in England and on the continent would be glad to wed her, but she’s never loved a man since your father.”

  “She had a damned funny way of showing it.” Kerrich’s voice vibrated with old, carefully preserved fury.

  “There were never any other men for her while your father was alive. He was a generous man, and he would want her to be happy now. So if she loved him and made him happy when he was alive, and he’d wish her nothing but the best now, what are you bellyaching about?”

  From the depths of his ancient anguish, Kerrich confessed, “They laughed.”

  His grandfather followed his conversational wandering without trouble. “They? The other young pissant aristocrats like you?”

  “Yes! And the adults, too.”

  “So your indignation isn’t for your father’s sake, or about your mother at all. It’s about you and your pride.”

  With immense reluctance, Kerrich nodded. “It sounded so much better before.”

  “Before you realized you were a selfish young snot-nose?” Lord Reynard stared him in the eye. “Don’t worry, I’ve known it for years. Listen, boy, I don’t know the recipe for success, but I know the recipe for failure, and that’s trying to listen to everyone. Hell, every ass has an opinion. That laughter is envy, and what they say about your mother is nonsense. I’ve known her since she was a child. She’s a good woman—and you’re a great deal like her.”

  Kerrich sprang back. “I am not!”

  “You were always searching for the woman you loved in every face and in every body. Think, boy, how much like Miss Lockhart all your mistresses have looked.”

  Because I’ve been wanting her all my life. The thought sprang into Devon’s mind, alive, rising with the beauty and peril of an asp from a basket with the aid of a charmer’s flute. With a shock he realized—he would never want another woman again. Only Pamela.

  Because when Pamela loved, she gave herself completely. When Beth was angry with her, Pamela didn’t waste time wondering how it would be if Beth rejected her or whether she would be hurt by that rebuff. She had just reached out for Beth and embraced her. Pamela’s wholehearted dive into love frightened Kerrich; how did she dare without protecting herself first? And how could he make her love him like that?

  Kerrich and Lord Reynard leaned against the rail and watched the horses start around the track.

  Into the silence, Kerrich burst out, “I wouldn’t care what anyone thought, if I could have her on my terms. I want to know I’m going to be happy.”

  “So you’re looking for a guarantee of happiness, are you? You think as long as you’re the man in command you’ll be happy? What about her? What if she’s not happy?”

  “I can make her happy.”

  “Boy, if you think you can make that woman do anything, you don’t know her at all.”

  The race finished while Kerrich wretchedly pondered that insight. Lord Reynard was right. He didn’t know Pamela. That was part of her appeal. The truth of her remained beneath layers upon layers of complex personality and evasive smiles. But he caught glimpses of the core of the woman, and each time he liked her more. Loved her more.

  Lord Reynard groaned and clasped his arm. “I’m tired, and while I’m usually hesitant to give you the benefit of my experience, I’m ninety-two and might not live long enough for you to get smart.”

  “You’re eighty-four, Grandpapa.”

  “Stop sassing me and help me sit down.”

  Surprisingly, Kerrich wanted someone to tell him what to do, so he gave Lord Reynard his arm and assisted him while he sat. Then he squatted beside the old man. “Tell me.”

  Lord Reynard tapped Kerrich on the forehead, right between the eyes. “Marriage isn’t about who’s in command. It’s a partnership where you stand or fall together.”

  “But to get Pamela, I’d have to sink my pride completely. I’d have to grovel.”

  “If it makes you feel better, lad, I groveled for your grandmother.” Lord Reynard grasped one of Kerrich’s wrists. “Tell me something, boy. When you saw Lewis take aim at your woman, did you jump for joy?”

  “No!” Kerrich didn’t want to think about that awful moment when he dove for Lewis, knowing all the while he couldn’t make it.

  “When you were holding her and the doctor dug out that bullet from her shoulder, did you think, ‘If her lungs are hit, I’ll be rid of her’?”

  “No!”

  “I saw your face. All you could think while she screamed was that she could be dead soon, and you wanted everything to be different.”

  Kerrich clutched at his composure. “I wished I could have saved her the pain. Of course I did.”

  “If you were so bloody indifferent, why didn’t you get a footman to hold her? You could have left the room.”

  “No!” Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Kerrich blotted the sheen of perspiration from his forehead. “That is, I felt responsible, and thus should be there.”

  Lord Reynard pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it worriedly, shook it, raised it to his ear.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was afraid, with the load of manure around here, that the works on my watch would be ruined.”

  “Grandpapa, that is not funny!”

  “Ah, you’ve lost your sense of humor.” Putting the watch back in his pocket, Lord Reynard leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Have you thought she might have taken seriously what you poked at her in fun?”

  With a glance at the footmen standing sentinel, Kerrich did the same. “Do you mean, have I thought she might be increasing? Yes, I’ve thought of it. In fact, it’s…likely. I deliberately didn’t use the French sheath because I thought if every other method of getting her to marry me failed, she’d have to come to me and—”

  “Wait.” Lord Reynard put his hand on Kerrich’s forearm. “You thought that woman would come to you and beg—”

  “I didn’t say beg!”

  “—beg you to wed her because she was with child?” Lord Reynard’s fingers tightened, and he burst into laughter. It was an insulting laughter, one that mocked Kerrich’s intentions and his intelligence.

  Unfortunately, Kerrich knew he deserved it. He waited patiently until his grandfather had finished, then handed him a handkerchief to wipe his wet eyes. “I don’t want her to marry me only because she’s increasing.”

  “You’re a picky bastard, aren’t you?” Lord Reynard sighed. “You’re
in love with a quick-witted woman who has as much pride as you do and who doesn’t need you. She’ll survive without you. Hell, she’ll prosper without you. And why do you love her?”

  “Because she’s quick-witted, proud and capable.” Kerrich hated this. He was handsome, he was wealthy, he was well connected and he had nothing to offer Pamela that she desperately needed. He had only love to offer, and he could take a chance and offer it, or never tell her and regret it for the rest of his life.

  “This is what you do,” Grandpapa instructed. “You figure out what you want. Then you tell her. Then you ask her what she wants, and you listen to what she says. Then you give it to her, and maybe she’ll take it, and you in the bargain, and maybe someday, if you don’t blunder too badly, she’ll love you.”

  Kerrich stared at his grandfather and remembered the fantasies she had shared. “I already know what she wants.”

  “Then what are you waiting for? Give it to her.”

  “Yes. Yes, I will, but first…” Confession was good for the soul, Kerrich told himself. “Grandpapa, I was the full moon on a foggy night.” Then he braced himself for Lord Reynard’s amazement.

  Instead, Grandpapa said, “Did you think I didn’t recognize the Mathewes family jockum? I’ve been holding one of my own for eighty-nine years.”

  “Eighty-four,” Kerrich corrected automatically. His grandfather knew? He knew?

  Kerrich smiled, then chuckled, then roared. All these years, Kerrich had been so careful to keep the truth from his grandfather, and he always knew?

  The footmen stared, his friends gathered around and tried to convince him to tell them the jest, and the wagerers laughed as if Kerrich’s merriment tickled them, too.

  When Kerrich had recovered enough to talk, he told the onlookers, “You’ll have to get the tale from Lord Reynard. I’m off to make my darling’s dreams come true.”

  Chapter 31

  Hannah hurried toward the study, her brow knit with puzzlement. A gentleman had arrived, Cusheon said, and had requested her presence, but the gentleman refused to give his name. By the butler’s smirk, it was obvious he knew, but he shook his head and refused to answer when she questioned him. “Go on down, Miss Setterington,” he said before he hurried off toward the kitchen. “You’ll approve.”

  Pamela was occupied with teaching the class called “Maintaining the Proper Governess Decorum,” so Hannah didn’t bother her. Indeed, Hannah didn’t bother Pamela with almost anything, since her friend had not recovered from the gunshot wound as Hannah had hoped. She had begun to suspect Pamela’s problem was not so much a residual weakness as a melancholy of the spirit. Not even Hannah’s vivacious projections of fame and fortune for the Distinguished Academy of Governesses could cheer her, and when Pamela was not excited about making money, Hannah diagnosed serious problems. Man problems.

  She had subtly questioned Beth about Pamela’s experience at the hands of that despicably handsome Lord Kerrich, and Beth had just as subtly evaded her. Unhappily, the child was disconsolate, too, and that left Hannah with no recourse but to wait until one of them opened up to her.

  She had already waited over a month.

  The door to the study stood open. She sailed in—and it shut behind her. Swinging around, she found herself facing Lord Kerrich, his hand flat against the door, and a giggling Beth.

  He bowed. “Miss Setterington, I hope you will forgive this unorthodox intrusion, but I have a favor to ask of you.”

  His arrogant assurance set her teeth on edge. “What would that be, my lord?”

  So he told her.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t travel with Beth to Brookford House.” Pamela sat on her bed and watched as Hannah packed a bag for her. “I’m still weak from my wound.”

  Hannah ignored her.

  “There’s so much for me to do here.”

  Hannah held up a plain, white pair of pantalettes and frowned at them. “A little lace trim would not go amiss, Pamela.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I find those little furbelows cheer me.” Hannah folded the pantalettes and placed them in the bag. “You could use some cheering.”

  “Have I been glum?” Was that why Hannah insisted Pamela go on this dreadful trip that would end in her seeing Kerrich and hearing his voice? Because if that was it, Pamela could change. “I’m glad you told me. I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ll make an effort to be more blithe.”

  Hannah put down the petticoats she had deemed travel-worthy and took Pamela’s hands. Looking right into her eyes, she said, “Dear, I’m not trying to tell you I don’t need you here. It took the three of us, Charlotte, you and I, to start the Distinguished Academy of Governesses. Without the support, knowledge and combined income of all of us, we could never have succeeded so quickly. But we have reached the time of which we dreamed. The school is organized, the placement agency is popular, and the whole structure needs only the lightest of hands on the reins. A chance like this, a chance to travel to Brookford House, should be seized and enjoyed.”

  “But you—”

  “Beth likes me very much, but you are her particular friend and dear guardian. You must take her.”

  The only time Hannah sounded this firm was when she was speaking to a recalcitrant student.

  Pamela put her hand on her back. “I hate to mention it, but the place where the thief stabbed me is painful, too.”

  “He stabbed you on the other side.” Hannah stuffed Pamela’s boots into a second, still-empty bag. “I think to travel you should wear your new light blue dimity with the white flower pattern—”

  “I should be still in half-mourning for my father,” Pamela objected. Besides, she’d picked out that color because Kerrich had once suggested she would look lovely in that shade, and to wear it in front of him seemed an admission of sorts.

  “You’re almost out.” Going to the cupboard, Hannah brought out the gown. “Besides, you never cared before.”

  “I do now.” Pamela did, too, and was prepared to be stubborn about it.

  So Hannah proposed the perfect solution. “Then you shall carry my gray cashmere shawl with the embroidered flowers along the hem. They’re blue, too, and will match the dress, and the gray will make everything proper.” Hannah laid the gown across the bed next to Pamela, then took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You don’t have to stay at Brookford if you don’t wish to, Pamela, but you are going. And Pamela?”

  “Yes?”

  “You might think about leaving your father’s watch behind.”

  Shade from the magnificent oaks dappled Pamela, Beth and Lord Reynard in the luxurious open carriage as it traveled along the wooded drive toward Brookford House. The wheels crunched as they rolled over the gravel and the breeze carried a hint of autumn. The huge park boasted an extensive wilderness and a fishing pond, all of which Lord Reynard had pointed out with pride. To Beth’s great excitement, she spotted a deer, and even Pamela found reluctant serenity among the green, red and gold leaves.

  “Coachman,” Lord Reynard said, “stop at the top of the rise.”

  The trees thinned. The carriage slowed. The house came into view.

  Pamela’s mouth dried. A green sweep of scythed grass swept from the shore of the lake to the edge of the stone piazza. The Italianate house rose three stories high and stretched twelve windows wide, an architectural marvel of rosy stone and Ionic pilasters. The peak at the top of the portico was rife with intricate floral carving. A stone railing surrounded the roof, and chimneys of various heights rose above it all. Overall, the effect was one of mellow beauty set among the sylvan hills.

  Beth exclaimed, “Bless my soul. This one’s bigger than the one in town!”

  “Much bigger,” Lord Reynard said. “Almost two hundred rooms, with forty-seven bedchambers and twenty baths—with plumbing! It’s really too big for a single man and, as Devon has recently discovered, it’s a dreadful place to housetrain a puppy.”

  Beth giggled.
r />   The carriage lurched onward.

  Lord Reynard said, “Devon bought it in Norfolk so he could be close to me. I live not far from here, Miss Lockhart, on the Mathewes family estate.”

  “Oh.” Pamela found herself wanting to fidget as the drive wound closer and closer. “How pleasant that the two of you are close.”

  “Devon’s a good grandson and a fine man.” Lord Reynard nodded. “Don’t you think so, Miss Lockhart?”

  “A very fine man.” If he hadn’t been, Pamela wouldn’t be in this state of apprehension. Brookford House loomed, inundating her with the impression of wealth and comfort. A small group of people stood lined up on the steps, craning their necks as the carriage approached.

  Then she saw him. Kerrich, standing on the piazza waiting for them to arrive. The house became nothing but a backdrop, a place where he could be viewed, and she was lost. Drowning in desire and need and love, seeing only him and wanting to launch herself into his arms.

  As the carriage came to a halt and the footman opened the door, he strode forward, as handsome and arrogant as the first time she’d seen him in the study of the Governess School. But this time, his gaze danced from one to another, and he smiled broadly. “Welcome to my home!” he called.

  Beth did what Pamela longed to do. She jumped from the carriage into his embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his arms clasped her close, and he spun with her in a delirious dance of joy.

  “I missed you, Devon, I missed you,” she said.

  “I missed you, too, Beth. There’s been no one to laugh at me when I lose a wager on the horses.”

  His back was turned to the carriage, but Pamela could have sworn she saw him kiss the top of Beth’s head, and she swallowed. Beth had pined for him; apparently, he had missed her, too.

  Setting Beth on her feet, he said, “Your horse has been lonesome without you, so I hope you’re prepared to ride her as much as she wants.”

  “Yes!” Beth yelled.

  Pamela began to remonstrate, but changed her mind. Conduct was less encumbered in the country, and Beth would calm down soon.