Not Always a Saint

by Mary Jo Putney

  His mouth thinned before he replied. “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’ve come up with a perfect solution.”

  She frowned. “There’s nothing that needs solving. The situation is quite straightforward, and I think Philip handled it very fairly.”

  “I was robbed of my inheritance!” Frederick snapped. “No one knew that the title came from a damned barony of writ, and there was no need to bring it up! Beth would still be an heiress and she’d never have missed being Lady Kelham.”

  So Frederick had not recovered from his tantrum. “Perhaps not, but it gave Philip great joy that she was his heir,” Jessie said icily.

  “My uncle is beyond caring,” Frederick retorted. “But as I said, I have a solution. Marry me, Jessie. Then we can be a family together at Kelham Hall.”

  She stared at him, shocked. “Have you run mad? I’d never marry you after all you’ve done!”

  “I haven’t always behaved well, Jessie,” he said with an apologetic little-boy smile that didn’t suit him. “But you wanted to marry me once, and we had a great time together. There’s no one like you, and I was a fool to let you go.”

  Her mouth tightened at his disingenuous description of how their affair had ended. “I am honored by your regard, sir,” she said with deep sarcasm, “but I must refuse, for I fear we would not suit.” She frowned. “I’m not sure it would even be legal since you’re Philip’s nephew.”

  He shrugged that aside. “We’re not blood kin, so that’s no barrier. And think of the advantages, Jessie!”

  Ignoring her flinch, he cupped her chin, and said huskily, “You’re a passionate woman, Jessie, and you need a man. I know how to make you happy, eh?”

  Revolted, she retreated out of touching distance. “Why the devil would I put myself and my daughter under your control? Kelham Hall and the title belong to Beth, and marrying me won’t change that, Frederick! You’ve inherited a comfortable fortune and you needn’t worry about running an estate or sitting in Parliament or any of the other boring responsibilities that go with the title. So enjoy your life and leave us alone!”

  His handsome face turned ugly. “My damned uncle tied up my fortune in a trust so that I’m living on a quarterly allowance like a bloody pauper! I’m Kelham of Kelham Hall and I deserve better!”

  Her stomach knotted as he revealed his weakness and greed. Those traits hadn’t been visible when they’d first met. She’d been too young and foolish to see beneath his amusing surface.

  As she edged slowly back to the far end of the balcony, she had horrific visions of what it would be like to be his wife. He would take over Kelham Hall and invite hordes of his drinking and gambling friends. He’d find ways to skim money from the estate, not caring if he destroyed what had taken generations to build. And he’d surely continue his quest to have Beth declared his illegitimate daughter rather than Philip’s legitimate heir so the title would come to him.

  His voice coaxing again, he followed her, keeping too close for comfort. “You’re a smart girl, Jessie. When you think about it, you’ll see what a fine plan this is. We’ll rule at Kelham together and you’ll have a real man in your bed. Philip was a good old fellow, but you can’t claim that he was much of a lover.”

  Her fear changed to swift rage. “You weak, contemptible swine! Philip was a hundred times the man you are, both in and out of bed!”

  Frederick laughed. “I’ve always liked your spirit, Jess. It’s why you were such a great mistress. But sheathe your pretty claws and accept the inevitable, because if you don’t marry me, you’ll regret it.”

  “Rot in hell, Frederick!” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “I’ll never marry you. Stay away from us, and do not ever set foot at Kelham Hall again! I have powerful friends and I won’t hesitate to ask for their aid if you try to cause us trouble.”

  “How long will they be your friends if they know the truth about you?” he sneered. “That you’re a whore and Beth is my daughter. Anyone seeing us together will recognize the truth. She looks like me and she was born barely nine months after you and I parted. I’ve made all the preparations to file a suit to gain custody of the brat. I’ve already talked to a Chancery judge, and he said it won’t be difficult to be declared her legal guardian.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “Accept my generous proposal, Jessie, or I’ll ruin you and take your daughter. I swear it!”

  She tried to dart around him to escape, but he grabbed her into a hard embrace. “Damn, I’ve missed you,” he breathed before his mouth crushed down on hers, his tongue hot and wet as he tried to force it between her lips.

  Revolted, she managed to twist her head away, but he laughed again. Catching her left hand, he pressed it against his hard erection. “Remember how much you liked that? Show me again.”

  Furious, she shoved her hand lower and grabbed his testicles, squeezing with all her strength. He gave an agonized squawk and fell back toward the railing. She bolted around him toward escape, but she couldn’t outrun his furious words. “You bitch!” he swore. “You and your brat will pay for this!”

  Before he could say more, Jessie darted through the doors into the ballroom. The laughter and music were jarring, as if she’d fallen into a different, happier world.

  She closed the doors behind her and leaned back against them for a moment, bending her head as she fought the desire to vomit. She must collect herself before anyone noticed that she looked like a madwoman.

  Relax your expression. Smile. Stop panting like a frightened hare. As her heart slowed to a more normal rate, she cursed herself for making a bad situation worse. Believing that Frederick had accepted Beth’s inheritance had been foolish on her part. He cared only for himself, and she feared that a desire for revenge might overcome his natural sloth.

  Would he be able to convince a court that he was Beth’s father and should have custody of her? Marcus Harkin hadn’t thought so, but he hadn’t said it was impossible either. Dear God, how long would Beth survive if she was in Frederick’s hands?

  Jessie wanted to seize her daughter and run so far and fast they’d never be found, but Marcus had been right about the dangers of that. Jessie should have continued with her plan to marry a man of power and influence who would protect Beth. Might she be able to convince Sir Harold Truscott that he needed her for a wife? She’d consider that later when she wasn’t so upset.

  She raised her head and brushed down her skirts, then moved away from the French doors. She needed to disappear before Frederick returned to the ballroom. Would the Ashtons mind if she asked to have their coachman take her home? She would settle for waiting quietly in the coach until her friends were ready to leave.

  Her restless gaze searched the room—and stopped when it reached the tall, compelling figure of Lord Romayne.

  Chapter 14

  Jessie caught her breath when Lord Romayne turned and their gazes struck and held. As Mariah had said, the saintly Dr. Herbert fit her requirements perfectly, except for age, and that was hardly his fault. For Beth’s sake, she’d overlook his saintly tendencies, and the dangers of him coming to know more about her.

  His eyes narrowed as they stared at each other, intensity pulsing across the width of the ballroom. He didn’t look pleased to see her, but neither did he look as if he despised her.

  She’d been attracted to him from the beginning, and abruptly she recognized that her attraction had counted against him because her judgment in men had always been terrible when desire was aroused. But she was older and wiser now, and he was very different from the men who’d given her grief in the past. He was much more like Philip than like Frederick. Besides being a lord in his own right, he was friends with Kirkland and Ashton and Randall, all powerful men who could help protect Beth if necessary.

  It was time to risk all. Hands shaking, she started across the ballroom, dodging dancers doing a reel. He watched, his face coolly impassive, only his eyes sharp with curiosity. And wariness, too, she suspected. She couldn’t blame him for that.

>   She halted within touching distance, her pulse hammering. “Lord Romayne.” She moistened her dry lips. “May I speak with you? In private?”

  He frowned, but said courteously, “As you wish, Lady Kelham. I believe there are some quieter rooms off that corridor.”

  “Thank you.” She tucked her hand in his elbow and felt a shiver run through him. Or perhaps that was her own reaction to touching him.

  The second door on the corridor was open and revealed a small, empty reception room. Jessie gave thanks that most of the guests were dancing or demolishing the buffet in the supper room, so they had this place to themselves. Lord Romayne detached himself and turned to her. His impassive face showed none of the warmth she’d seen on earlier occasions. “How may I be of service, Lady Kelham?”

  “This is . . . difficult to say.” She’d rejected his offer of courtship, and he’d rejected her suggestion of an affair, yet the reason for both offers smoldered between them, mindless and urgent.

  “Do you have an ailment you’d like advice about?” he asked in the helpful but neutral tones of a doctor.

  He thought she wanted free medical advice? “Nothing of that sort,” she replied. “This is quite a different matter.” And it was going to be even harder than she’d expected.

  Nervously she brushed at her hair, loosening a dark glossy strand to fall along her throat. It was unintended, but she was gratified to see how his gaze became riveted on that untamed lock of hair. This could only work if he desired her enough to overcome all the reasons he should run in the opposite direction.

  “I wish to invoke a woman’s right to change my mind.” She began pacing around the room with small, tense steps. “A fortnight ago, you expressed an interest in courting me. I refused, saying that I didn’t think we would suit.”

  “I was there,” he said dryly. “I remember. I thought you covered our differences quite thoroughly. What changed your mind?”

  She smiled crookedly. “My head was trying to be wise, but my heart has drowned it out. I’ve been thinking of you ever since we met. I would be deeply honored by your courtship, and should you offer for me, I swear I would do my best to be the kind of wife you want and need.”

  Her words visibly rocked him, but he said coolly, “Perhaps we should stay with heads ruling our hearts. We barely know each other, and what we know doesn’t suggest that marriage would be wise.”

  “I’ve never been particularly wise,” she said wryly. “Except for choosing my late husband, Philip. Marrying him was the wisest thing I’ve ever done. I believe marrying you would also be wise.”

  “But would it be wise for me to marry you?” His mouth twisted. “That was your objection before.”

  “That part hasn’t changed,” she said honestly. “But you were right that we should take the time to know each other better.”

  “So we can hurt each other more?” he asked in an edged voice.

  She inhaled sharply. “I hope not. Isn’t the fact that we can hurt each other a sign of caring?”

  “Perhaps. But not a very encouraging sign.”

  Despairing, she wondered if she’d already destroyed her chance with him. She must play her only trump card. “There is one thing we undeniably have in common, and it’s powerful and very real.”

  She closed the distance between them. When she was only a step away, she halted and raised a tentative hand. “I suspect desire is why we’ve been feeling each other’s sharp edges up until now.”

  Her fingers skimmed his high cheekbone and drifted through his bronze-blond hair while he stood rigid. Strong bones and deep-set gray eyes formed a handsome face where lines of seriousness were balanced by lines of laughter. If a man’s character was written on his face, this man was strong and intelligent and kind.

  “Daniel,” she whispered, and her hand curved around his nape as she drew his head down for a gentle, exploratory kiss.

  When he’d kissed her the first time, it had been fire and frustration and had driven them both half-mad. Now she offered softness and promise, the better parts of herself. She drifted forward until her breasts pressed against his chest. He had a wonderful strong body, one she wanted to explore. But first she must persuade him.

  “Jessie.” He made a choked sound and his arms came hard around her, one at her back, the other circling her waist. He locked her tight against him as if he were a dying man and she was the water of life. “You drown my senses and my wits!”

  His lips opened and the kiss deepened. After a wave of weak-kneed relief, she fell into their embrace, savoring his strength and warmth and the uniqueness that was neither doctor nor lord, but quintessentially Daniel.

  She loved the feel of his quickening heartbeat and the slow caress of one hand over her hip. Why had she resisted him when this was so clearly right? The question faded away as she let him drown her senses and wits in turn. She wanted this embrace to last forever. . . .

  “Merciful heavens!”

  The shocked exclamation in a woman’s voice jarred Jessie like an ice-water plunge. Dear God, how could she have forgotten where they were?

  She jerked away from Daniel and spun toward the door. A stiff, white-haired woman with an expression of malicious outrage was glaring at them through a diamond-studded lorgnette. “She’s no better than she should be,” the woman spat out, “but I would have expected better of you, Lord Romayne.” Her disdainful gaze rested on Jessie. “Though men are so weak. Easy prey for trollops.”

  Other guests were gathering behind the woman and were watching with expressions of shock or distaste. Dear God, there was Frederick, a vicious smirk on his face! He was surely contemplating Jessie’s ruin and an easy grant of custody because Beth’s mother was a slut.

  The thought galvanized Jessie’s petrified brain. “I’m so very sorry!” she said in a breathless voice. “We meant no offense. But Lord Romayne and I rather forgot ourselves because we’ve just agreed to wed.”

  What? Daniel stared at Jessie, wondering if he’d heard correctly. She was gazing up at him, a frantic plea in her mesmerizing eyes. Whatever was going on with her was not trivial.

  This must be sorted out, but not in public. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Indeed, we owe you all an apology. Our betrothal is such an unexpected joy.” He did his best to keep any hint of sarcasm from his voice.

  Kirkland appeared at the back of the gathering throng, clearing a path by sheer force of personality. Laurel was on his arm, looking thoroughly bemused.

  The pair of them entered the room and Kirkland offered Daniel his hand. “Congratulations! Ever since you spoke to me of Lady Kelham, I’ve been hoping for your success.” He gave Jessie a glance that was ironic but not unkind.

  Laurel stepped forward and gave Jessie a light kiss. “I am so glad that we are going to be sisters, Jessie,” she said warmly. As always, her presence spread peace.

  With family acceptance of the betrothal, the mood changed from condemnation to best wishes. Daniel endured it as long as he could before saying, “Pray excuse us. I’m going to take Lady Kelham for a walk in your garden, Lady Dunhaven. We have much to discuss.”

  Jessie looked justly wary, but she fluttered her lashes appropriately. “What a lovely idea, my dear! The gardens look so romantic.”

  She certainly could act. How the devil was he going to learn the truth from her? Assuming there was truth to be found.

  Laurel tugged off her wrap, a soft Indian shawl in rich shades of gold and dark red, and offered it to Jessie. “Take this. It’s cool out and I don’t want my brother’s bride to take a chill.”

  Jessie accepted the shawl, her expression surprised and moved. “Thank you so much. I look forward to getting to know you better, Lady Kirkland.”

  “Laurel.” She smiled warmly; then she and Kirkland left the room.

  Daniel draped the shawl around Jessie’s shoulders with a proper show of solicitude. The rich pattern and colors contrasted dramatically with her black mourning gown. Then he took a firm grip on her e
lbow and maneuvered them from the reception room and downstairs into the night.

  The cool air was bracing. As they followed the crushed oyster shell path that led into the gardens, Daniel released his hold on Jessie’s elbow. When she gave him an inquiring glance, he explained, “This may be the most important conversation of my life, and it’s best if I try to be rational. When I’m touching you, reason goes out the window.”

  “I tend to feel the same about you, and heaven knows that we need to be rational!” She looked back at the house, where lights shone from many of the windows and figures could be seen peering out. “I wonder how many people are watching us.”

  “Anyone who can find a suitable window, I imagine. We’ll be a source of exciting gossip for at least a day, maybe even two,” he said cynically. “Lady Dunhaven is surely happy for the spice we’ve added to her ball.”

  Jessie sighed. “I would have preferred not to be so interesting a guest.”

  A stone archway led into the main gardens. The waxing moon cast enough light to see dimly and made it easy to follow the light-colored oyster shell pathways. The lush, faintly decadent scents of late-season flowers and bushes couldn’t mask the misleading innocence of Jessie’s delicate violet perfume.

  Daniel’s head said he should walk away and repudiate their alleged betrothal in the morning, but his heart—and other parts of his body—weren’t convinced. As they moved through the geometrical pattern of the parterre, he said, “In darkness, it’s easier to speak the truth. Will you tell me what that was all about? I don’t think you were trying to trap me into marriage, though if that was your intention, you won’t succeed. I’m perfectly willing to be ungentlemanly and jilt you if we can’t come to an understanding.”

  “I like that you won’t be a prisoner to social expectations,” she said seriously. “I’ve always thought it mad that two people should be forced into matrimony if they’re caught in a compromising situation. Though since I’m a widow, I don’t suppose that was likely here. Your reputation is good enough that you’d be forgiven if you announce that we’re not betrothed, and I’ll be considered the villain of the piece.”