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TO ZOE’S IMMENSE relief, she got her wish, and a half hour later they were all assembled in the dining room. Aunt Flo had suggested that perhaps they needed some refreshment, and Zoe was grateful. She hadn’t eaten in hours, and even her dinner had been scant since she’d been pretending to be too sick to attend the premiere.
So despite the tension of the situation, she fell on the food with a ravenous greed that went beyond hunger. In the midst of wolfing down a slice of ham, she glanced up to find Tristan, who sat next to her but at the end of the table, staring at her in amusement.
“A bit hungry, are you, princess?” he teased.
“I daresay you got to eat before we went to meet with Milosh.”
“Actually, I did.” He smirked at her, but for some reason it no longer bothered her. His smirk was part of who he was. “And it’s not my fault you came racing over to Manton’s Investigations to apologize.”
“Next time I run off half-cocked, sir,” she said lightly, “I will make sure you feed me.” Deliberately, she shoved a hunk of bread in her mouth.
Tristan laughed, and she nearly choked on the bread trying not to laugh herself. But she sobered when she caught Papa watching them.
“I still can’t believe you have been sneaking about all this time with Bonnaud,” he said sullenly.
Guilt gripped her. “I’m sorry, Papa. But I had to know the truth. I knew you wanted me to marry Jeremy, and I had to be sure it was necessary before I acquiesced.”
Jeremy snorted. “It pains me how all of you assumed I would just up and marry the woman you chose for me because you wished it.”
“They didn’t realize you were a blind fool,” Tristan said dryly. “It was reasonable to assume that any man of sense would want to marry her. Aside from the fact that she’s beautiful and fascinating and—” He halted when he realized they were all staring at him. “Well, aside from all that,” he continued gruffly, “she’s an heiress. A very important heiress.”
“Is that why you want her?” Jeremy asked.
When Tristan bristled, Zoe sighed. “I do wish you men would stop baiting each other.” She set down her fork. “The fact is, by marrying me Tristan is making it materially difficult for me to continue as an heiress. So no, that is definitely not why he wants me.”
Jeremy said, “Perhaps it’s time you explained all that.”
For the next hour, they attempted to lay out the situation for Jeremy, an endeavor that required quite a bit of explanation about the differences between English law and American law. Fortunately, Papa knew them very well. He had, after all, been considering the vagaries of her future since the day he and Mama had taken her in.
Jeremy was oddly silent until they were finished, asking only a question here and there. But once everything was elucidated to his satisfaction, he rose to pace the room. “So this has all been about Winborough and the earldom.”
“Exactly,” Papa said.
“And you’re telling me that Zoe cannot legally inherit a damned thing.”
Papa gritted his teeth. “If the truth comes out, no.”
“So you hoped to coax me into marrying Zoe so she could still inherit the land and all that came with it, no matter what turned up in the future about her natural parents, since I am also your heir.”
“That about sums it up, yes,” Tristan said.
“And you kept this secret from me because . . .”
“That should be obvious,” Zoe said. “Now that you know about it, you can challenge me for the inheritance once Papa dies. And you will win.”
“Why the dickens would I do that?”
Utter silence reigned as they all gaped at him. Had he not understood what they were saying?
Zoe was the first to speak. “Because . . . because you would gain an estate and a title and a fortune, of course.”
“I already have a fortune. And I intend to use it to see the wonders of the world, and paint every one of them.” Jeremy scowled. “If I had your estate, I’d have to manage the damned thing. Either I would have to stay rooted in England, or I’d have to hire managers I trust not to cheat me at every turn—which we all know is virtually impossible when the owner doesn’t live there.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that you can’t trust anyone—” Papa began.
“Really? So why do you live in Yorkshire most of the year, my lord? For your health?”
“It’s my home!”
“Precisely. But I am not looking for a home. So let’s assume that I did hire a manager to care for my estate. I would still have an obligation, as a lord of the realm, to come to London to sit in Parliament for the months that it is in session. Am I correct?”
“That’s mostly right,” Tristan said coolly. “Though I believe you’d have to relinquish your American citizenship to claim the right to sit in Parliament.”
“But you wouldn’t have to claim that right,” Aunt Flo said hastily. “You could still hold the title alone. And if you married Zoe, she would take care of all your duties to the estate, and you could just enjoy yourself.”
Good Lord. Her aunt would do anything to avoid having Zoe marry a man Aunt Flo considered too low. “It doesn’t matter, Aunt Flo,” Zoe said to preclude Tristan from protesting, “because Jeremy and I are not marrying. Even if he wanted to do so, which I gather he does not.”
“No offense, coz,” Jeremy said, “but I have no desire to sacrifice myself for the English idea of heaven on earth. Which is not my idea.”
Papa eyed him warily. “So what are you saying?”
“That I don’t give a damn about saving Winborough for future generations or becoming an almighty English earl. I have worlds to paint, places to see. You can keep your title and your lands. I’m perfectly happy to stay mum about Zoe’s natural parents if you four are.”
“You don’t want the title,” Papa said incredulously.
Jeremy uttered a drawn-out sigh. “Did I not just say that?”
“Or the estate?” Aunt Flo said, disbelief in her face.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jeremy said, clearly flustered. “Has it not occurred to you English that not everyone wants what you revere?”
“No,” Tristan said bluntly. “It hasn’t.”
“Well, it should. I’m free-living—I don’t even know what to do with the property I already own. So, for the last time, I don’t need Winborough, and I don’t want an earldom.” He flashed Zoe a rueful smile. “And I most assuredly do not want to marry a woman who has her eye on another man.”
Zoe’s heart had begun to pound. “But . . . but you would keep our secret? Let the world continue to believe that I am Papa’s legitimate child?”
“Why not? It’s no skin off my nose.”
As the ramifications of that hit her, she beamed at Tristan. “I could still inherit. And have Winborough. And you!” Something perfectly delicious occurred to her. “You’d be my representative in the House of Lords. You’d take a seat there alongside George!”
“That does have a certain appeal.” Tristan broke into a grin. “And it might possibly be the first time a bastard ever served in the House of Lords.”
“They’ve been serving in the House of Commons for years,” Papa mumbled. “I don’t see why we can’t have one in the House of Lords.”
Zoe and Tristan both gaped at him, then burst into laughter.
“There is one more thing,” Jeremy said.
Her elation vanished. “Oh?”
“I will freely relinquish all claim to the title and the estate . . . but only so long as my sister and I are always welcome in your homes.”
“Of course!” Zoe said.
When Tristan said nothing, Zoe nudged him.
“Oh, all right,” Tristan muttered. “Assuming you leave my wife alone. I mean to be the only rogue in her life.”
“She’s not your wife yet,” Jeremy said, then laughed at Tristan’s foul glance. “Very well, my friend. I will be as a brother to Zoe, no more.”
Tristan rose and held out his hand solemnly. “Then you will always be welcome.”
They shook on it.
“There’s only one problem with all this.” Papa shot Zoe a worried look. “Your cousin may have no choice but to inherit. You said something about Drina’s brother wanting to go after her lover, your natural father. Who is he? Is he someone we could buy off or silence somehow?”
“Not if Zoe marries me,” Tristan said with a sigh. “It’s my half brother George’s man of affairs, John Hucker. If Milosh attacks Hucker and it gets back to George, my half brother will come after Zoe just to punish me.”
“I see.” Papa mused a moment. “Does Milosh know what’s at stake, how much his niece stands to lose if the matter becomes public?”
“Not yet,” Tristan said. “I didn’t want to reveal everything until I could consult with you about the matter.”
“Good thinking.” Papa rose from the table. “If the man cares about his niece, then surely he will care about her future. So we shall just have to impress upon him the direness of the situation, eh?”
“Exactly,” Tristan said.
“Failing that, perhaps we could buy him off.”
Tristan looked as if he was about to make some hot retort, but when Zoe laid a hand on his arm, he checked himself. “Actually, knowing the truth about Drina might be enough to quiet Milosh. That’s all he wants—to know what happened to her.”
“Not quite all,” Zoe amended. “He does want vengeance over the beating, and is liable to want it all the more once he learns that she died from it. There’s also the problem that Hucker might recognize me—”
“We’ll cross those bridges when we come to them,” Papa said soothingly. “Let’s not borrow trouble just yet, dear girl.”
“I did buy us a little time,” Tristan said, “by insisting that Milosh keep quiet until I could meet with you.”
“All the same, we should go talk to him right away. I don’t like leaving these things hanging.”
“Not tonight, Papa. It’s nearly three A.M., and you look exhausted.” Zoe skirted the table to take his arm. “Truly, you ought to sleep awhile first.”
With a scowl, he shrugged her off. “I fought many a battle on little more than an hour’s sleep. I think I can handle some Gypsy fellow.”
“But Papa—”
“I’m fine—just leave me be!” When she winced at the reemergence of the Major, he muttered a curse. Then he cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry, dear girl. I don’t mean to be short with you. But I can’t sleep with this weighing on me anyway.” He glanced at Tristan. “Can you take me to see this Milosh?”
“Absolutely, sir. Though we’ll have to rouse him from his bed, I expect.”
“Then let’s get on with it. I want this matter settled.”
“Yes, sir.”
As they started to walk out together, Zoe said, “Tristan!”
He halted to look at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing all this trouble down on your head on my behalf.”
A faint smile crossed his lips before he scanned her with a heated glance. “You’re well worth the trouble, princess. Trust me on that.”
Then they were gone. Aunt Flo said something about retiring and headed for the stairway. Zoe was still staring after her when Jeremy spoke.
“I have one more favor to ask of you, coz.”
She glanced over at him. “What’s that?”
“When everything is settled, you must introduce me to your uncle. I’ve never painted a Gypsy before.” He grinned. “I understand they, too, like to dress with a bit of dash, and that always makes for an interesting image. Besides, their women are rumored to be quite beautiful.”
Coming on the heels of everything he’d heard about her natural parents, she could hardly believe him. First he wanted brothels, and now he was hunting for beautiful Gypsy women to seduce? “You are utterly incorrigible! I begin to think it’s a good thing you don’t want to be an English lord. You would probably break hearts in every drawing room in London.”
“No, indeed.” He gave her a sly wink. “I would never limit myself to the drawing rooms of London.”
And as she burst into laughter, he strode jauntily out the door.
21
TRISTAN RODE IN his lordship’s carriage with growing apprehension. The man was quiet. Too quiet.
Not that Tristan could blame him. Lord Olivier couldn’t be happy that his daughter had been seduced by a man he neither liked nor entirely trusted. In his place, Tristan would probably be silently plotting that fellow’s murder.
In his place?
Oh, God, what a thought. Might he actually one day find himself with a daughter or daughters to protect from men like him? The very idea squeezed a vise around his heart.
He must be out of his mind to be thinking of marrying anyone. What did he know about being a husband? Or, for that matter, a father?
“Tell me something, Bonnaud,” Lord Olivier said into the stillness. “Did you really steal a horse from your half brother?”
Wonderful. Now he had to deal with that again. “Yes. On his deathbed, my father willed it to me in a codicil, and as soon as Father drew his last breath George burned the codicil in front of me. So although the horse was mine, I stole it, legally speaking. I sold it to Milosh.”
“Ah.” His lordship stared out the window at a practically deserted London, his leathery cheeks washed silver by the weak light of the gas lamps. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Well, that at least explains why you did something so foolish.”
Tristan flexed his hands on his knees. “I did what I had to in order to provide for my family. If not for my actions, my family would have starved.” Sarcasm crept into his tone. “To quote a certain earl, ‘I’d do it again if I had the chance.’ ”
To his surprise, Lord Olivier chuckled. “You’re an impudent devil, aren’t you?”
“Your daughter says I like to provoke her.”
“And do you?”
“Yes. I confess I enjoy seeing her throw herself into it when she’s got her dander up.” He stared steadily at the man who would soon be his father-in-law. “But I would never hurt her. And I swear to you that I will take good care of her and try to make her happy.”
“Do you love her?”
That flummoxed him—not only because he hadn’t thought about it, but also because the question hadn’t come from her. After all her talk about wishing to marry for love, what did it mean that she hadn’t asked him if he loved her?
Nor had she professed any love for him herself. She’d said she wanted to marry him. But only after she’d found herself ruined. Had she really only wanted him in her bed, then been forced to accept a proposal once they were discovered together?
That was a disturbing thought. Especially given that he’d once told her that desire was the only real connection between a man and a woman. Perhaps she’d taken his words to heart, pursued him solely because she desired him.
No, that didn’t seem like her. But then, he hadn’t known her that long; perhaps he was seeing what he wanted to see.
God, he hoped not. He didn’t want to be only a man she desired. Which was rather hypocritical of him, given his philosophy, but it was how he felt all the same.
“Well?” Lord Olivier fixed an unreadable gaze on him. “Do you love her or not?”
He debated what to answer, but after all the truths that had been laid bare this evening, it seemed despicable to lie to her father now. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I fully understand the concept of romantic love.”
“Don’t you? You persisted in offering marriage even when I threatened to cut you off. Even when you knew she wasn’t really my heir and might lose everything if that news got out.” His voice hardened. “Even after you’d had what you wanted from her.”
Tristan hadn’t even begun to have what he wanted from
Zoe. But somehow, he doubted her father would like hearing that. “Yes. What of it?”
“Sounds like love to me.”
“Or wishful thinking on your part. Forgive me for saying this, sir, but a man will do many things to quench his desire for a woman.”
“True. But marry her? When he’s already quenched his desire?”
His lordship was right. Tristan had desired many a woman, but never once had he proposed marriage.
Then again, he’d never compromised a virgin, either. Or been caught by her father in her bed. Perhaps this was how he behaved in that situation.
And perhaps he was just lying to himself about what he wanted, because the thought of loving Zoe, of desperately needing her love, incited panic in his breast. Mother had loved Father deeply, and it had cost her everything.
Love was the most dangerous drug on earth. He didn’t want to be its latest acolyte. That way lay madness.
The carriage raced along for a while, the only sound inside it being the creak of the springs and the muted thuds of the horses’ hooves.
At last his lordship broke the silence again. “Tell me about this John Hucker.”
Tristan seized eagerly on the change of topic. “John Hucker does all the dirty work for my half brother. If George told him to cover himself in paint, he would ask what color.”
“So he’s a toady.”
Tristan thought a moment. “I suppose you could say that.” Apart from what Hucker seemed to have done to Drina, he’d never set out to commit any villainy on his own, to the best of Tristan’s knowledge. It had always been at George’s behest. Odd how Tristan had never thought of it that way.
“Regardless,” Tristan went on, “he’s a nasty piece of work.”
“Would he beat a woman bearing his child, though? That’s the question.”
“Perhaps. Honestly, I’m not sure. He was a decent fellow once, before George molded him in his own image.”
“Ah.”
Tristan spent the rest of the trip telling Lord Olivier everything he could remember about Hucker. And the more he talked, the more he realized how firmly George had put his stamp on the man. That didn’t bode well for any chance of talking Hucker into keeping silent. They would have to convince Milosh to do so.
How the Scoundrel Seduces Page 23