Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel

by Lynna Banning

  Curbing such futile regrets she assumed her chilliest demeanour and placed the very tips of her fingers on his sleeve as they set off through the busy streets. She was aware of the attention they were attracting. She acknowledged politely the sly smiles and nods of her many acquaintances but ignored their knowing looks. She noted too the admiring glances that were cast at her escort. His height immediately drew the eye, and there was no denying that his figure was good. It showed to advantage in his russet coat of superfine wool with its silver-gilt buttons. There was no creasing or straining of the material across his broad shoulders or where it tapered gently to his waist before flaring out, and even then a vent in the heavy folds allowed his sword to pass through without marring the elegant lines. In normal circumstances she would have been very pleased to be seen on the arm of such a handsome gentleman, but the circumstances were far from normal and she could not forget his odious behaviour towards her the previous evening. He interrupted her reverie by remarking with a laugh in his voice,

  ‘It behoves us to have some conversation, Miss Salforde.’

  ‘I did not realise I was obliged to entertain you.’

  ‘To escort such a beautiful lady is entertainment enough.’

  She could not resist a glance at him as she said drily, ‘Trying to turn me up sweet, Mr Bastion?’

  ‘Could I do so?’

  The glint in his eyes challenged her and she fought down the impulse to smile back at him. Instead she looked away and said in an indifferent tone, ‘You have certainly charmed my aunt.’

  ‘I have no doubt she is relieved to have someone share the responsibility for your guardianship. You must be a sad trial to her.’

  ‘That is not it at all,’ she retorted, nettled. ‘I am not the least trouble, I assure you. In fact I am of great use to her.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I practically run the household.’

  ‘You rule the roost.’

  ‘No, not at all, I—’ She bit her lip. ‘You are making a May-game of me, sir.’

  He merely laughed at that, and as they had arrived at the circulating library she said no more.

  Mr Frear, the library’s elderly owner was behind the counter and immediately came forward, his friendly greeting balm to Elyse’s wounded pride. She handed back her books and explained that she would not be requiring more.

  ‘Ah yes, I have heard that you are leaving us,’ he declared. ‘Your going will be a sad loss to the town, Miss Salforde.’

  ‘By heaven, word travels quickly.’

  ‘It does indeed, sir, when it concerns Scarborough’s brightest star,’ replied Mr Frear gallantly.

  Elyse glanced up at the gentleman beside her. That should show him she was held in some esteem here. And he could not accuse her of flirting with old Mr Frear.

  * * *

  Her errand complete and spirits raised somewhat by her reception at the circulating library, Elyse and her companion set off back towards Aunt Matthews’s house in Northfield Square. Her escort behaved with such civil courtesy that she was emboldened to try once more to delay their departure.

  ‘Is it imperative that we quit Scarborough tomorrow, Mr Bastion? Surely an extra day would make no odds.’

  ‘We may need that extra day if the weather should turn. We are a long way from London, Miss Salforde. I would have thought you impatient to see Mr Reverson again.’

  ‘I am, of course.’

  She could not avoid the heartbeat’s hesitation before making her reply. Marriage to William had been her future for so long that she had come to take it for granted, but the knowledge that she would soon be making her home with William’s family was a little frightening. After all, they were almost strangers, even William. She had not forgotten the pleasure of dancing with him, the elation she had felt at his shy proposal, the thrill of the chaste kisses they had exchanged in secret, but they had been together for such a short time.

  William had left Scarborough soon after they had become engaged. Elyse had been heartbroken for a week, but then she had settled down to life as one of the belles of the town, happy in the knowledge that she need not join the other young ladies in their scramble to make a suitable alliance. It amused her each Season to watch them pursuing their quarry at the routs and assemblies but she envied none of them their husbands. Apart from headstrong Jenny Malden who had eloped with an actor and been disowned by her family, they had all married sensibly and although they all appeared to be happy enough, not one of them had married for love, which is what she would be doing, as well as marrying into one of the highest families in the land. How could she not be proud of her achievement?

  She said, more confidently, ‘I cannot wait to be with William again. I received a letter from him only recently begging me to come with all speed.’

  ‘Is he a regular correspondent?’

  ‘He writes to me when he can. He is very busy.’

  She would not tell him that it was the first letter she had received in months.

  ‘But you have not seen him for three years.’ He paused. ‘A person can change a great deal in that time.’

  ‘Not William.’

  ‘And what of you? Are you the same young lady you were when Reverson proposed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He stopped and turned to face her. ‘Are you sure of that?’

  Elyse frowned, angered that he should question her in this manner. Of course she had not changed. But when she looked up to tell him so the words died on her lips. He was looking down at her with a glinting smile that sent all thoughts of William out of her head. When their eyes locked she felt a tremor of something she did not understand run through her body. Heat pooled deep inside and her heart began to thud most uncomfortably in her chest. She felt suddenly breathless and wanted to look away from those disturbing blue eyes. They seemed to see into her very soul and read her most secret thoughts. Not only that, they encouraged new and uncomfortable ideas to form.

  She dragged her eyes away but even then they only moved to his mouth and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. She did not doubt that he was very experienced and the thought made the heat deep in her belly curl even deeper. A little thrill of anticipation trembled through her, followed quickly by the knowledge that even thinking of such things was a betrayal of William. Heavens, how could she be so disloyal? In three years she had never before felt like this. She was shocked, and frightened.

  Elyse pulled her hand from his arm and turned away, unnerved by his presence and even more so by her reaction. Northfield Square was in sight and she could see her aunt’s house on the far side. She hurried towards it, not caring whether he accompanied her. In fact she would very much prefer it if he did not. She soon realised he was keeping pace with her but she refused to look at him and did not stop until she had reached the door of her aunt’s house. Only then did she turn and force herself to confront him. There was no laughter in his eyes now when they regarded her, no mischievous glint, only a frowning look. She wondered if she had disappointed him and realised how much she did not want that to be the case.

  ‘Of—of course I have changed,’ she said defiantly. ‘I am older and—and a woman. I am ready now for marriage.’

  ‘You are certainly that, Miss Salforde,’ he retorted. ‘And I pity your husband.’

  She stared at him, outraged that he should say such a thing, but without another word he swept off his hat, made her an elegant bow and strode away.

  * * *

  By the time Drew reached his lodgings his sudden flash of ill humour had abated. It was not the chit’s fault that he found her so damned desirable. He had thought he had himself well under control. Granted he had teased her a little, just for the pleasure of it, but her forthcoming marriage to Reverson was no matter for levity. It was his responsibility as her guardian
to look out for her. To warn her that people could change a great deal in three years.

  He had tried to keep his tone light, but when she had fixed those huge brown eyes upon him he had felt again the stirring of desire, the urge to take her in his arms and make her forget all about William Reverson. He had tried to persuade himself that Harry’s daughter was still a child but it was clear that she was not, and the more he saw of her the more his body told him she was every inch a woman, and a very desirable one. Gaining the seclusion of his room he tossed aside his hat and went over to the washstand. He poured some water into the basin and bathed his face, hoping the shock of it would restore his intellect. His anger was not aimed at Elyse, but at her ability to disconcert him and send all sensible thoughts flying from his head.

  Drew was well aware that such a weakness could spell disaster for a man who lived by his wits, but after a period of cool reflection he could put the whole incident into perspective. She was a pretty woman, he was a red-blooded male. Sparks were bound to fly when they were together. It was up to him to make sure it did not get out of hand.

  * * *

  By the time Drew made his way back towards Northfield Square later that day his good humour had returned and he found he was looking forward to dinner with Mrs Matthews and her niece. He had no doubt Elyse would still be at odds with him and who could blame her, when he had treated her so roughly? Perhaps he should not have questioned her about her betrothal to Reverson, but he had to be sure she was happy about it. He himself was uneasy about this whole business. Harry had not explained to his daughter why Lord Whittlewood had agreed to so unequal a match and Drew was convinced the viscount would not want the truth known.

  Elyse and Reverson might have thought themselves in love during that brief, heady Season three years ago, but if they had been apart since then he suspected there could be little affection left, and although he thought Elyse a little spoiled he did not wish her to be hurt. He would have to be careful in his dealings with her. It had almost been his undoing when he had teased her, for he had been enjoying himself and relaxed his guard. Then she had turned those soft brown eyes to his and he had suffered a sudden rush of desire that had almost knocked him off his feet. It had driven all teasing thoughts from his head and he had wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms.

  Even worse, he suspected she had felt it too because she had pulled away from him and rushed off in a panic. But there was no harm done, he had been taken unawares, that was all. It would not happen again. And Elyse was obviously appalled by the attraction that had crackled between them, sharp as any electrical storm. Perhaps that little fright would do her good. She might now see the wisdom of keeping all men at a proper distance. He grinned, thinking again of the way she had ripped up at him. She undoubtedly had spirit and she was not unintelligent. He would do what he could to lay those ruffled feathers this evening and if he succeeded he thought she would prove entertaining company.

  He arrived at Northfield Square at the appointed hour and was shown into an empty drawing room by a servant who was clearly distracted. However, Drew did not have long to wait before he discovered the cause. Miss Salforde came in and stood with her back to the door. She had not changed for dinner and was still dressed in her plain morning gown of black crepe, adorned only with a snowy apron. The simplicity of the homely garb only highlighted the delightful curves of her figure and he found himself once again indulging in highly inappropriate thoughts. However, when his eyes moved to her face he sobered immediately and his attention jumped back to the present, for her dark eyes were troubled.

  ‘Sir, you must cancel your arrangements,’ she said without preamble, clasping her hands at her breast. ‘We cannot go to London tomorrow.’

  ‘Is something amiss, Miss Salforde?’ His brows snapped together. There was no sign of the confident, teasing miss he had seen last night, nor the haughty ice maiden of this afternoon. Instead she was very close to tears. In two strides he was at her side, taking her arm and gently drawing her to one of the sofas. Her silent compliance only confirmed to him how upset she was.

  ‘Now,’ he said when they were sitting down together. ‘Tell me what has occurred.’

  ‘M-My aunt has broken her arm. She has been hurrying hither and thither all day preparing for the journey and she tripped and fell on the stairs. If she had not been in such haste to make sure we did not keep you waiting—’

  She broke off, hunting for her handkerchief. Drew gave her his own.

  ‘Ah,’ he murmured. ‘So it is my fault. I should have known.’

  She blew her nose and brushed away a rogue tear that had escaped on to her cheek.

  ‘No, of course it was not your fault.’

  ‘Very handsomely said, Miss Salforde.’

  She gave a watery chuckle.

  ‘Well, you cannot be blamed for the accident. Aunt should not have been carrying those bandboxes down from the attic, but Hoyle was busy packing the trunks and—’

  ‘Hoyle?’

  ‘Our maid. She is my aunt’s dresser, really, but she has always looked after me, too. I have never required a maid of my own but with so much to be done in such a short time...’

  ‘And where is your aunt now?’

  ‘In her room. The doctor is with her, setting the bone. He says it is a simple break, but she is very shaken up and he will not hear of her leaving her bed for at least a se’ennight.’ She sighed. ‘So you see, Mr Bastion, we must cancel our journey to London.’

  Drew’s mind was racing. Mrs Matthews might be able to leave her room in a week but he doubted she would be fit to travel for several more—certainly not before Michaelmas. And those ominous words in Lord Whittlewood’s letter were imprinted in his mind—if Miss Salforde was not delivered to him by Michaelmas then he would consider himself to have fulfilled his part of the contract, and the marriage would not go ahead.

  ‘No, we will have to go on and your aunt will follow as soon as she is able.’

  He found himself subjected to a disconcertingly direct gaze from those brown eyes.

  ‘But that would be most irregular. I will not travel without my aunt.’

  ‘I’m afraid you must. Lord Whittlewood is expecting you.’

  ‘Then I shall write to him and explain, if you will not do so.’

  ‘If I thought it worthwhile I would do so, willingly, but I do not think the viscount would consider your aunt’s broken arm sufficient excuse to suspend his plans.’ He could almost see the questions forming in her head and added quietly, ‘Lord Whittlewood’s instructions were very clear.’

  ‘Do you mean, if I do not comply, there may be no wedding?’

  ‘That is a distinct possibility, Miss Salforde.’

  * * *

  Elyse sat back. His words were like cold water, waking her from the nightmare of the past few hours into an even worse predicament. If she delayed, then she might lose William for ever. She had been seventeen when they had met, and William only a little older. There was no doubt that she had been dazzled to be singled out for attention by the son of a viscount. He was so handsome, too, everyone had said so. Was it any wonder that she had tumbled into love with him? Of course since then there had only been an occasional exchange of letters, but Elyse held his memory in her heart and longed for the day when he would claim her as his bride. Now the gentleman at her side was telling her that if she delayed that might never happen. She drew a deep, resolute breath.

  ‘Then I shall have to go to William alone.’

  A faint, glinting smile warmed his piercing blue eyes.

  ‘Not quite alone, Miss Salforde. I shall be with you.’

  Elyse found his words reassuring and that surprised her. Their encounters so far had been tempestuous, and occasionally disturbing, yet here she was preparing to travel to London and taking comfort from the fact that he would be with her. H
owever, she had no time to consider such matters, especially since Aston was even now coming in to ask her what she wished to do about dinner.

  ‘I do not know,’ she said distractedly, putting one hand to her temple. ‘I am not hungry.’

  ‘Is it ready to be served?’ Mr Bastion interjected, addressing the butler directly.

  Aston bowed. ‘Why yes, sir. It only needs a word and it can be on the table in a trice.’

  ‘Then we should eat.’

  Elyse bridled. At this juncture any man of sensibility would withdraw and leave the family in peace.

  ‘I think not,’ she contradicted him. ‘I should go to Aunt Matthews.’

  ‘The mistress is sleeping, miss,’ said the butler, trying to be helpful. ‘Hoyle says Dr Carstairs gave her some laudanum before he left and doesn’t expect her to wake up for a couple of hours yet.’

  There was no hint of triumph in the smile her guest bestowed upon her, but Elyse still ground her teeth when he said with maddening calm,

  ‘Then we have plenty of time to dine and you can sit with your aunt afterwards.’

  ‘I am not hungry.’

  Elyse bit her lip. She sounded like a sulky child. What was it about Andrew Bastion that brought out the worst in her? She tried to be thankful that he appeared not to notice her bad manners.

  He replied in soothing tones, ‘Perhaps not, but it will do your aunt no good if you are fainting off from want of food.’ He rose and pulled her to her feet, then he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and patted it in an avuncular fashion.

  ‘Aye, that’s the ticket,’ chuckled Aston, taking advantage of his position as an old family retainer. ‘I’m sure you’ll feel more the thing with some food inside you, miss, and I’ll tell Hoyle to come and fetch you just as soon as the mistress wakes up.’

  There was nothing to be done but to comply. Elyse had to admit that by the time she had partaken of several of the dishes displayed and enjoyed a glass of wine she was feeling much calmer. Her guest behaved impeccably during the meal, conversing on light, unexceptional topics that neither angered nor embarrassed her and she found herself relaxing. Her mind was occupied with the plight of poor Aunt Matthews and she could think of little else.