“C-courtship?” Miss Tamony stammered. He could see her cheeks blooming with color even in the dim light. “With me? My lord, have you lost your senses?” She tried to pull her hand free.
Malachi held her fast. “I don’t believe so. Can you devise a better plan to allow us to be in company when necessary without endangering your reputation?”
“Yes, I can,” she told him. “You might agree to let me interview you for my book. That would require numerous meetings. Or at least we can tell anyone who asks that it does.”
“No one would believe it. One or two meetings, perhaps. Not several. And I shall need to be able to seek you out at social events, to have cause to take you driving in the afternoons, to be able to speak to you whenever we meet without doing more than causing the ton to speculate upon when an announcement will be made. At the end of the Season, if all goes well, you can tell your particular friends that we’ve quarreled and I shall cease being in company with you so often. If we continue to treat each other kindly, without evident malice, we should come out of the entire escapade without damage to either of our reputations.”
“But we’ll be at odds once more about the book,” she said.
“Unless you manage to change my mind,” he acknowledged.
Pulling her hand free at last, Sarah Tamony stood. “No one will fall for such a deception,” she said. “I’ve seen your mistress, you know. Lady Whiteley. Aunt Speakley pointed her out to me when we were in Piccadilly one afternoon. I realize I shouldn’t discuss such things with you, but the fact of the matter—which of course you already know—is that she is very beautiful. No one could possibly think that the Earl of Graymar would leave a woman like that in order to court a bespectacled lady author possessed of an honorable but by no means exalted lineage.”
She strove to keep the sound of jealousy from her tone, but Malachi could hear it. Just faintly, but it was there all the same. Strangely, the knowledge gave him pleasure. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to linger over it.
“Lady Whiteley is indeed very handsome,” he agreed. “But if you believe, Miss Tamony, that you are not her equal, perhaps more than that, then you clearly don’t spend enough time looking into a mirror. I don’t wish to waste time discussing such matters, which are, quite rightly, private. Suffice it to say that Society doesn’t consider a man’s relationship with his mistress as having any bearing at all on his relationship with his wife, and that Lady Whiteley herself will be neither overset nor harmed by any pretense we undertake. In point of fact, she’s planning on leaving London before the Season begins in order to travel. She has always wished to see Italy in the spring.”
Malachi had been surprised, pleasantly so, when he’d visited Augusta to make a settlement on her for her years of devoted and affectionate service. He’d offered to give her whatever she desired, and she’d replied at once that she wished to travel. Not just to Italy, though it was a start. She wished to see the entire Continent. Malachi had promised that he would make it possible, and they had parted as friends.
“Oh,” Miss Tamony said, sitting beside him once more and looking into his face. Her expression, he saw, had cleared of whatever emotion had been troubling her. “I see. How fortunate for her. I’m sure she’ll have a marvelous time. Italy is especially lovely in the late spring and early summer. We’ve spent a great deal of time there, as you might imagine.”
“Given your father’s love of Roman history,” he said, “I would be surprised if you had not. But you haven’t yet given me an answer, Miss Tamony, regarding my proposal.”
She gazed at him for a long, silent moment, her lips slightly pursed in consideration.
“I’ll agree,” she finally said, “on one condition.”
“What is it?”
She leaned slightly nearer, her green eyes alight with excitement.
“I’ll agree to your proposal, Lord Graymar, if you’ll promise that, at the end of the Season and before we part ways, you’ll take me flying again.”
The request made him smile. If she only knew how he wanted to fly with her in his arms again, she’d realize it was a boon he’d grant regardless of her agreement.
“If that is what you wish, Miss Tamony.”
“More than anything.”
He lifted his hand, then, and stroked a single finger down her cheek. “What an amazing woman you are, Miss Tamony. Is there nothing you fear?”
The smile on her face faltered beneath his touch, and now, he knew, it was her heart’s turn to race. Her eyes widened and he felt a shiver coursing through her.
“Many things,” she murmured. “But I believe that I can trust you, even with my life.”
“I hope that’s so,” he said, thinking of the cythraul and praying that he wasn’t exposing her to a graver danger than he could keep her safe from. With a sigh he dropped his hand and grew serious. “I mean for it to be. Remember, Miss Tamony, that you must obey me in the matter to come—without question—especially if danger arises.”
The smile lifted the corners of her lips again, creating the most charming dimples. “I can scarcely agree to that without knowing what the supernatural event is. Perhaps when you tell me, you’d best exaggerate and make it as frightening as possible in order to instill a proper fear in me.”
“Exaggeration won’t be necessary,” he assured her. “And powerful demons always instill fear in those who become involved with them. It’s part of their peculiar magic.”
“A demon,” she repeated breathlessly, looking utterly thrilled. “Oh, please. Tell me everything at once.”
Most women, even some who were magic mortals, would have pleaded with him to stop speaking of such awful things. Sarah Tamony only looked as if Malachi was the next best thing to Father Christmas. The pleasure her reaction gave him was frighteningly addictive.
“They’ll be expecting us inside soon,” he said. “I must explain quickly. If you have any questions, they shall have to wait until we’re able to speak privately again.”
And with that, he told her about the cythraul, his plans for finding it, and the spirits who, for completely unknown reasons, had involved her in the matter. With every word he spoke her excitement grew, causing her eyes to sparkle and her lovely features to fill with anticipation. By the time he had finished, Sarah Tamony was already making plans for helping him to capture the demon, and that was exactly what Malachi had hoped for.
Chapter Twelve
Malachi arrived at the Tamony household the next morning to pay a visit, which, as he had at last been formally introduced to the family, was now socially acceptable. All of the ladies were at home and he enjoyed their genuine pleasure at his appearance, though Sarah Tamony again did little to temper her teasing looks. Malachi managed to remain composed and, following social dictates, took his leave after fifteen minutes of conversation. He then made his way to Mrs. Speakley’s less fashionable dwelling to tender his gratitude for the previous night’s amusements and found her in company with her friends Lady Wilbay and Lady Bawstone. He politely endured twenty minutes of their ecstatic admiration and then made his escape, returning to Mervaille to consider his next move.
The fact of the matter was that he was thirty and six and had never attempted making a siege upon a woman’s heart. Indeed, it had usually been quite the opposite, and he’d been obliged to avoid the traps that young ladies and their mamas had laid for him—some of them quite elaborate and cunning, too. His mistresses and briefer dalliances had come to him easily and willingly and, with the exception of Augusta, had never birthed any desire for a more permanent union.
But he had vast experience in the art of courtship, nonetheless. From the moment he’d gained his majority it had been one of Malachi’s tasks each Season to oversee the romances of not only the Seymours but the other magical Families who gave him their allegiance as well. He had become so proficient at keeping love-sickened youths in line that he might almost have made an occupation of it.
He knew all of the rules and dictates o
f proper courtship. For example, to keep rumors from springing up and making all those concerned uncomfortable, especially the parents, it was vital that the couple involved not be seen in company too often or attend the same social events each evening until a formal betrothal had been announced. This particular rule had been the bane of all the young lovers Malachi had chaperoned, for as they had often assured him, being parted from their loved one for even a few brief hours was agony. Malachi had been sympathetic with their plight but had firmly maintained his resolve. Magic had sometimes been necessary to keep the lovers from sneaking out and meeting in private, and then it had been Malachi who’d had to endure agony as they’d poured their tears and misery into his ears. Once they were wed this same couple came to their senses and thanked him for keeping their names and reputations free from harm. They realized, just as he did, that honoring expected standards was not only good but also necessary.
Which was why, later that evening as he was ushered into Lady Kendall’s drawing room in anticipation of a poetry reading, Malachi could only wonder at his lack of self-control. Perhaps he needed someone to chaperone him, now.
He found her at once in the crowded room, standing with her cousin and mother and surrounded by too many male admirers. A few were addressing Miss Philistia and two older gentlemen were speaking to Lady Tamony, but the majority were fixed on the beautiful authoress, who wasn’t even wearing her spectacles to frighten them away. The gown she wore, composed of a soft gold material that almost appeared to glow, clung to her curves in a manner designed to entrance every man who set sight on her. The color caused the highlights in her hair to shimmer and made the glorious green eyes even more astonishing. Malachi had no doubt that every man in the room wanted to be near her, for what could be more alluring than a beautiful, unmarried, famous, and wealthy woman of good birth? If her scribbling and travels made her something of an oddity, so much the better. Everyone knew that a desirable object only became more valuable if it was unique.
But Malachi could tell, as he approached, that Sarah Tamony was bored. She stood with a polite smile upon her lips, nodding every now and then as the men around her chattered on, but her gaze was unfocused, filled with disinterest.
His arrival caused the sea of men to part. Many of them were acquaintances, and these he nodded at with the correct reserve that was expected of the Earl of Graymar. Then he moved forward, giving them the option of either moving aside or being walked over. They moved aside.
Sarah Tamony’s eyes lit with pleasure when he came close enough for her to recognize him, and the smile she gifted him with filled Malachi with satisfaction.
“My lord, how marvelous,” she said, then realized that she’d spoken out of turn. Propriety declared that he must greet her mother first.
Lady Tamony was cordial and Miss Philistia was openly delighted. The same could not be said of the group of admirers, who suddenly seemed to realize that they’d somehow been outdone in being able to claim prior familiarity with the Tamony ladies. One by one they began to wander away.
“Sir Alberic and Mr. Tamony haven’t accompanied you?” Malachi asked Lady Tamony politely.
“Papa would have come,” Sarah replied before her mother could speak, “but he wished to work on his speech for the Antiquities Society. Julius would rather be shot in the foot than attend a poetry recital.”
“Sarah,” her mother reproved. To Malachi she said, “You must forgive my daughter’s plain manner of speaking, my lord. I fear her upbringing has been rather too lax.”
“Not at all, my lady,” Malachi assured her. “Miss Tamony is refreshingly frank. I prefer it to the practiced conversation one so often must endure in Society. I would wager you find the English to be more deeply entrenched in such behavior than citizens on the Continent.”
He was very good, Sarah thought as she watched the Earl of Graymar lead her mother into exactly the sort of philosophical and political conversation she liked best. Lady Tamony was never pleased to be treated by men as if she were intellectually inferior, and His Lordship clearly understood that. With Philla, however, his tactics changed. He complimented her on her dress and jewels and admired the arrangement of her hair. He asked whether she was to attend Almack’s and related a few small pieces of gossip about the famous patronesses that made her laugh.
At last he turned his attention to Sarah, and she could see that he was satisfied with himself.
“I hope I find you well, Miss Tamony,” he said politely. “Are you a devotee of poetry?”
“If it is good, yes,” she replied. “If it’s not, I fear I will probably begin to laugh and embarrass my poor mother and cousin.” She leaned slightly nearer, confiding, “It’s one of my particular failings, you see. Inappropriate laughter. I daresay the idea is foreign to you.”
“Of course it is,” he replied without so much as a change in tone. “The Seymours never laugh out of turn. Or step a toe out of line. We are a very exacting sort.”
She laughed at that, but not inappropriately. The evening, which moments before had been deadly dull, suddenly became pleasant. “I fear I must disagree with you, my lord, though it pains me to contradict you in regards to your own family. I could tell you stories about your forebears that would—”
“Sarah.” Her mother’s voice broke in. “You’re not to speak of your writing tonight, dear.”
“Why not? I’m sure His Lordship doesn’t mind.”
Lord Graymar cleared his throat and addressed her mother. “Perhaps I might divert your daughter’s mind, madam, with a short parade about the room. I understand the recital is to be rather lengthy. Some exercise beforehand might prove beneficial.”
“An excellent thought, my lord,” Lady Tamony said with approval. “Perhaps it will help Sarah to sit still for the space of an hour.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. Lord Graymar held out his arm and led her away.
“Is this the beginning of our pretend courtship?” she asked the moment they were out of her parent’s hearing. “I should like to be certain so that I can smile at you a great deal and nod worshipfully at everything you say.”
He laughed. “Worshipfully and adoringly, Miss Tamony. Be certain not to confuse the two. Tell me, pray, what’s become of your charming spectacles. I hadn’t thought you would ever be so vain as to leave them off.”
“I wouldn’t have,” she said, sighing. “I’m perfectly blind without my eyeglasses. Everything and everyone is a blur unless I get quite close. But although my mother hasn’t any trouble letting me wear them during the day, she refuses to allow it on particularly fine occasions.”
“Ladies don’t often wear their spectacles in public,” Lord Graymar admitted. “Even when they should. It’s but one of the details I find so refreshing about you, Miss Tamony. And your looks don’t suffer from wearing them. Quite the opposite. I find them vastly attractive. Perhaps I should tell your mother so.”
“You are very kind,” she told him with sincere gratitude, warmed by his compliments. “But I fear it wouldn’t do any good. You’ll note that she’s not wearing her spectacles, either, and she’s quite as blind as I am. There’s only this, you see?” She lifted one wrist to show him the lorgnette dangling there by a silk ribbon.
“God help us,” he murmured. “Do you intend to use it?”
“Absolutely,” she vowed. “You’d best take care never to wear a quizzing glass, my lord, else it might well be war between us. I’ve been told I’m a deft hand with my lorgnette.”
“I shall take every care, Miss Tamony, not to engage you in such a battle. Perhaps we had better find our seats. I believe the recital is about to begin.”
They sat side by side during the recitation, which proved to be nearly disastrous, for the poetry was indeed quite bad. Though Sarah tried valiantly to contain her amused reaction, His Lordship’s quiet remarks, heard only by Sarah, nearly undid her.
“That was unjust,” she told him later as they stood on the terrace overlooking Lady Kendall’s garden wh
ile the other guests partook of refreshments. “I might have made the most dreadful scene if my mother hadn’t been poking me on the other side.”
“It’s a pity she was,” he remarked evenly. “One good shout of laughter would have broken the monotony. What the devil possessed that fellow to go on about flowers so unceasingly?”
“Flowers are considered very romantic,” she told him. “Which you clearly have not yet realized, my lord.”
“I happen to know a good deal about flowers, Miss Tamony. And one thing I’ve realized in particular is that they needn’t be compared to everything from a woman’s lips to the moon above. It’s repulsive.”
“The poor young man,” she said. “He was remarkably repetitive, was he not? When he compared the heavens to a cluster of bluebells I was certain I should lose all countenance. And then you made that sound—”
“I?” he said, looking at her with feigned bewilderment. “Made a sound? Impossible. You must have imagined it.”
“You made that ‘hmmm’ sound, just as if you couldn’t make out whether the fellow was mad or simply a fool,” she said. “You know you did, and I’ll not have you deny it.”
“I’m the Earl of Graymar, Miss Tamony,” he replied. “No one would believe such a thing possible.”
She sighed. “I know. You are the perfect gentleman, after all, as well as the ideal nobleman. You have no faults.”
“I have many faults,” he said, “but it’s true that I don’t wish to make them known. It’s helpful in my position to be held in awe.”
Sarah smiled. “I know that, too. Now tell me the truth, please. You dislike poetry recitals as greatly as I do. Surely you don’t mean to force yourself into such engagements simply to beget the idea that you’ve an interest in me?”
“You make it sound like a tedious chore, Miss Tamony,” he said. “Your company will more than make recompense for any unpleasantness I might suffer.”
She made a face at him. “If you’re going to begin to spout such silly nonsense, Lord Graymar, I’ll return indoors and plead with the poet to make his recitation all over again.”
Touch of Desire Page 17