THREE HEROES

by Jo Beverley

  Would Con notice? Would he care?

  She pulled on long gloves, draped a gauzy scarf over her arms, then reviewed herself again.

  Elegant and ladylike. Not a bit like the housekeeper, or like the young girl scampering over the rocks and shore. Shorter tendrils of hair were already escaping around her face, however. She reached to repin them and found she couldn’t. After a moment she decided the effect was becoming—in a wanton kind of way.

  So be it. In fact, she’d go further.

  She took a pot of rouge out of a drawer and subtly deepened the color of her lips, then added a touch on her cheeks. There. That completed the effect. With a laugh she thought of the warrior tribes of Africa and America who went into battle with their faces painted. Apparently it was supposed to frighten the enemy.

  She hoped it made her dragon shake in his shoes.

  Chapter Twelve

  David was waiting for her in the kitchen, chatting to the servants. “Lovely, but a little grand, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t have anything in between,” she said, linking her arm with his.

  As they walked along the corridor he said, “You’re not thinking of trying to marry him, are you?”

  She wondered whether rouge hid or enhanced a blush. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  “I can’t imagine,” he said dryly. “What are you up to? I always thought you might have fallen a little in love with him that time. You were strange for a while afterward.”

  “I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “Of course I noticed. I don’t want you hurt, love.”

  She tried to find a joke, to find any response that made sense, but then said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “As bad as that, is it?”

  They’d taken the outer corridor toward the dining room. She stopped and faced him. “Perhaps there was a bit of love, but it was a long time ago and we were very young. We didn’t part on good terms, though, and this invitation is a kind of challenge.”

  “What caused the falling-out?”

  “None of your business.”

  “In other words, you were in the wrong. Would it be asking too much for you to say you’re sorry?”

  The idea appalled her. “After eleven years? What is all this to you anyway? Not still hoping I can turn him to your cause? Believe me, David, I can’t apologize. It wouldn’t help.”

  “As bad as that, is it?” He tucked her arm back through his. “Why do I feel you’re ready for battle? Honey would serve the cause better than vinegar.”

  It was almost a command, and she narrowed her eyes. “Being Captain Drake is going to your head.”

  “Being Captain Drake is a real and demanding responsibility. I don’t want things snarled by some petty disagreement between you and the earl.”

  “Petty!”

  “You admit there’s a disagreement.”

  “I admitted that we parted on bad terms. I will be civil as long as he is.”

  “I’m sure he will be,” he said with confidence that made her want to throw something at him. “Come on, then. Let’s advance together.”

  Con and de Vere were in the drawing room, and to Susan, walking into that conventional room seemed shockingly like walking into another world. The two men had both changed, but not into formal evening wear, probably because David would still be in day clothes. She was slightly overdressed, but she’d known she would be.

  She noted Con’s sharp attention before he looked away, however, and it was reward enough.

  One glance at Susan was almost enough to knock Con off his feet. This was a Susan he’d never seen before— the beautiful, elegant lady. But at the same time it was the Susan he’d expected to see here. There was no clear connection to the coltish girl in rumpled schoolroom clothes, and yet the essence was the same, and it ignited the same urgent response.

  He’d wondered if she planned to seduce him again, and now he saw that she did. He tried to be outraged, but something inside growled like a hungry tiger.

  He managed a calm smile as he greeted her. “Mrs. Kerslake, I’m pleased you could join us.” He gave thanks for the Mrs., which reminded him of the Susan in gray and white, and set her slightly among the married.

  However, Kerslake said, “I think my sister should be Miss Kerslake for this occasion, my lord.”

  Susan seemed as startled as he was. “David, that’s not necessary.”

  “I think it is.”

  It was as if Kerslake had read his thoughts. Or perhaps he was an ally in the planned seduction. Con’s sense and senses steadied. He would regard their hopeless efforts as an amusing show.

  “Of course. Miss Kerslake, may I offer you sherry?”

  There were no servants in attendance in the room, so he poured the wine himself. As he passed it over, their fingers brushed, and it took all his discipline not to start. It was like touching hot iron.

  Even with control, he’d come close to knocking her wine down her lovely dress. Her lovely dress that revealed far too much of her round breasts, much fuller now than they’d been back then ...

  He snared his wits and stepped back. “If I am to be here for any length of time, it will be necessary to hire a footman. To serve wine, among other things.”

  He saw her eyes flicker to his with understanding, and her cheeks color. But then he suspected a touch of the rouge pot on those cheeks. She’d definitely come here all guns to the ready.

  “And a butler, my lord,” Kerslake said. “My sister had to recruit me to wine duty.”

  “My apologies,” Con said dryly. “But in the chaos left by my predecessor, we all have to make do. It would seem excessive to engage a butler when I will rarely be here.”

  “I think the ladies of the area hope to persuade you to stay, my lord.”

  “Really?” Con shot Susan a look.

  Her color deepened, but she was otherwise composed as she said, “Everyone hopes you will stay, my lord.”

  “Even the smugglers?” he asked.

  He hoped Kerslake would have to answer, but Susan’s brother looked admirably as if smuggling were a matter of scant interest. It was Susan who said, “That rather depends on your attitude to the Freetrade, my lord.”

  “And what is your attitude, Miss Kerslake?”

  Her look told him that she thought that an unfair blow. “I cannot approve of any illegality, my lord, but in truth, the taxes levied by London are criminal themselves. And of course, I am the daughter of a man transported for smuggling.”

  A bold attack. A warmth that was almost tenderness spread through him. She was as brave and direct as she’d always been.

  He turned to Kerslake. “And you are his son, Kerslake. Does the association cause you much trouble?”

  “Very little, my lord. And of course he is no longer here.”

  There was a spark of mischievous humor in the young man’s eyes that he’d do well to conquer. It cracked his otherwise excellent act.

  “So there must be a new Captain Drake, I assume,” Con said.

  But Race joined the conversation then. “Captain Drake. Called after Sir Francis Drake?” Eyes bright and alert, he was, as he’d promised, acting like an audience at an enjoyable play.

  No, he’d said farce.

  Con let the silence ride, and it was Kerslake in the end who said, “Yes, but also from the associations with dragons here. A drake is another name for dragon, of course, as is wyvern.”

  “A two-legged winged dragon who eats children,” Con contributed. “The earls of Wyvern do seem to have sealed their fate, don’t they?”

  “We can only hope it is not unfixably attached to the title, my lord,” Kerslake said smoothly, then added to Race, “Have you visited Dragon’s Cove yet? A guide to the area described it as a quaint fishing village....”

  Con watched with admiration as Susan’s brother steered the conversation to local points of interest and other innocuous subjects. A young man of remarkable talents.

  Susa
n smiled at David’s comment, but her mind was buzzing with the effect of Con. That one, sizzling look had speeded her pulse, had alerted her to him in a way she’d not experienced before.

  She watched him turn, and her breath shortened. It was such an elegantly powerful movement. He was by the fireplace, and his strong hand was framed for a moment, brown against white marble, stunningly beautiful despite the white slashes of minor scars.

  When he’d smiled at David’s comment, it had been a frank, open smile unlike any he’d given her here, though it recalled smiles of the past. If only he would smile like that for her again.

  This was no good. She joined in the talk of local points of interest, and didn’t let herself look at Con at all, but he still dominated her mind.

  Her reaction was simply physical, but she’d felt nothing like it for eleven years. It had its own power, its own imperative. She was struggling to converse coherently.

  Could she bear to part from Con without tasting this desire between two mature people with time and freedom to explore it... ?

  A sip of wine almost went astray because of her unsteady hand. Was she thinking of trying to wipe away Lord Rivenham and Captain Lavalle in Con’s bed?

  Oh, no. There be dragons, indeed.

  When Race and Kerslake fell into hunting talk, Con seized the opportunity to talk to Susan. “Your brother seems to be an excellent young man. De Vere is impressed with his administrative capabilities.”

  “He’s very clever, yes.” She was sipping her wine and looking at her brother, not at him.

  “Is he moving with a limp now and then? A permanent affliction?”

  She hesitated a second too long, but that was the only betrayal. “I gather he was involved in some sort of fight last night. Over a woman.”

  “Did he win?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I suppose it’s not the sort of thing a brother tells his older sister. Do you mind him being protective of you?”

  Her eyes met his then, a little startled. That he’d understand her impatience with it?

  “It is the way of the world, my lord. But it’s one reason I prefer to have employment.”

  “How very American.” At her questioning look, he said, “The lure of independence. So, what will you do when you leave your position here, Miss Kerslake?”

  “I have not yet decided, my lord.” She met his eyes. “What is your opinion of the American states, my lord? Do you think they can continue to prosper?”

  Thus she steered talk firmly toward different forms of government, leaving Con puzzled. He’d given her an opening and there’d been not a trace of flirtation in her.

  Did she think her lovely and arousing appearance would do the work for her? Again?

  Ah, no. He had to have learned better than that.

  When Diddy came to announce that dinner was ready, Susan gave earnest thanks and took Con’s arm to lead the way to the dining room. It had been rarely used in recent years, however, and despite polish and flowers had that strange aridity of an abandoned place.

  The massive, dark oak furniture gave it a somber atmosphere even though she’d ordered the table reduced to its smallest size, and candles lit. Even the chairs were huge and carved, and upholstered on arms and seats with red velvet.

  As they all sat, she felt as if they were a body of judges gathered to consider the case of the meal. As with all the other ground-floor rooms, glass-paned doors opened into the courtyard, but they were closed. It wasn’t yet dark outside, but the two branches of candles created intimate ovals of light, intensifying the sense of a secret meeting.

  She almost expected Con on her left to bang a gavel and launch an accusation against David for being Captain Drake.

  Instead, Jane came in with the soups and placed them on the table. Susan was distracted for a moment by watching to see that the service was correct, and then by tasting her soup to see that it was good. Then she made herself put that aside. She was Miss Kerslake tonight, not the housekeeper, and she had other need of her wits.

  David had adroitly engaged Con in talk about his home in Sussex, and Susan listened as best she could, remembering the fondness he’d shared for it in the past. She was pleased that affection lived on. He had a home he loved, and a woman he loved too. It gave her genuine pleasure.

  Courtesy, however, demanded that she pay attention to de Vere on her right. “I hope you are enjoying your visit to Crag Wyvern, sir.”

  “Now, now, dear lady. You are Miss Kerslake, a guest here.”

  It was a mild rebuke, or perhaps just a reminder. More likely mischief, in fact.

  She sipped some more soup. “Then I am two people in one, Mr. de Vere. I don’t think anyone can put aside a part of themselves at their convenience.”

  “Can’t we? Sometimes there are parts we’d like to put aside.”

  And that was true. “Then perhaps it can be done with strict effort.” She looked at him. “You, Mr. de Vere, are also a Janus. One face is the idle, laughing man, but when it comes to paperwork you show a more serious aspect.”

  “Not a bit of it. Paperwork has me giggling with glee. There is something fascinating about it, don’t you think? Especially confused accounts. Each item provides a piece of a mysterious picture.”

  “A picture of Crag Wyvern? Hardly worth your effort.”

  “A picture is a picture, and sometimes we piece one together for amusement. Have you seen such things? Pointless in a way to cut a picture up so that someone else can put it together, but engaging all the same. This picture is part of Wyvern’s life, and that interests me. As do you, Miss Kerslake.”

  “I?” she asked, a sudden tension in her belly.

  “You. You are a striking woman. I pointed out to Wyvern that you resemble a Renaissance angel.”

  She looked at him, tempted to laugh. “And what did he say to that?”

  “He recognized the truth, of course. Too beautiful to be a man. Too strongly featured to be a beautiful woman ...”

  Jane came to remove her soup plate, which gave her time to think. “I could take that as an insult, Mr. de Vere.”

  “Now, would I be foolish enough to insult you with two ardent defenders to hand? Your looks are very attractive.”

  His words gave her an excuse to look away, at Con and David talking together as if they were just two gentlemen. “Two ardent defenders?”

  “Definitely. So I suspect it would not be wise to set up a flirtation with you.”

  She looked back. “But why be wise, sir? I don’t have much opportunity for flirtation these days.” She leaned her elbow on the table and put her chin on her hand to gaze at him. “And you know, you have much of the look of an angel yourself.”

  A genuine smile fought to be free. It was so long since she’d played this game.

  “Too beautiful to be a man?” he murmured, both wariness and amusement sparking in his blue eyes.

  “But very attractive, even so.”

  His lips twitched. “And what, I wonder, do two fine angels do together in private moments? Shall we find out, Miss Kerslake?”

  Slowly she lowered her arm and sat straight. She could not afford even the most playful entanglement. “It would doubtless not be worth the bother, sir. I assume angels pray.”

  “Or dance on the head of a pin. Easy to fall, wouldn’t you say?”

  She turned aside in an instinctive retreat, and found herself looking at Con, who had probably heard every word. The conversation switched so that she was talking to him.

  “De Vere isn’t the earl, you know,” he said pleasantly, but with cool eyes.

  “Goodness, I must have been confused for a moment.”

  His smile widened as his eyes chilled. “He is heir to a pleasant estate in Derbyshire, however, unless his disapproving father disinherits him. Worth your effort, perhaps, if you’re not absolutely set on Wyvern.”

  Now she was smiling as falsely as he was, and praying that the other two men weren’t listening. “Do I have a chance a
t Wyvern?”

  He froze, looking at her, not smiling at all, and she wondered why she’d fallen into such a destructive exchange.

  “Play your hand, Susan, and find out.”

  It was a challenge. A challenge to seduce him again in case he could be swayed? Surely he knew she would not do that.

  No, perhaps he didn’t...

  She wanted desperately to speak to him directly, to talk about the past, to try to recapture the friendship and trust they’d once had. He was still angry and distrustful, however, and with reason, and she couldn’t imagine how to change that.

  Not with words, that was sure.

  “And you, my lord,” she said, directing most of her attention to her plate, “what ambitions do you have?”

  “Ambitions,” he repeated, in the same polite tone. “I am ambitious for peace, Miss Kerslake. International peace, and personal peace. For simple country days, and comfort for those I love.”

  She looked back at him, relieved that they’d found a safe subject. “Your mother and sisters.”

  “And Lady Anne.”

  Her throat tightened. She was trying to accept the idea of his chosen beloved, but it was hard. She prayed that the hesitation of her fork had not been visible, but the delicious lobster became like clay in her mouth, heavy and liable to choke her.

  She chewed slowly to steal time, then made herself swallow. There was nothing between them anymore, so why did the reminder that he was engaged to marry create a painful lump in her chest?

  She took a sip of wine. “Will your future wife like Crag Wyvern?” It sounded reasonably normal to her ears.

  “No. We are remarkably in tune, Lady Anne and I.”

  “I see now why you do not plan to live here, my lord.” She felt as if she’d reached solid ground again after wallowing in a swamp. It was not ground she’d have chosen, but it was solid.

  “Remember, I do not want to live here either.”

  He was hammering the fact home, and she realized why. He was telling her that even if she somehow inveigled him into marriage she would still not catch the prize he thought she wanted.