The Traitor's Club: Ford

by Laura Landon

  The corners of his mouth lifted to show a set of perfectly white teeth. As if that were not compelling enough, two ridges deepened on either side of his mouth to accentuate a matching set of dimples.

  His dark complexion clearly signaled more rugged days spent in the out-of-doors than relaxing in one of his clubs or sleeping away much of the day and only coming out at night. The skin of his face was taut, and Callie would wager a great deal of money that the rest of Fordham Remington’s muscular body was, too.

  And then he spoke.

  The rich baritone of his voice washed over her like warm honey over a thirsty biscuit, soaking into every pore of her body. Although she didn’t want to allow it, his mellow tone wrapped around her heart like a thick woolen blanket on a frigid eve. Every protective instinct in her body warned her to take care. Screamed for her to protect herself from another handsome man who could break her heart if she allowed him to.

  Thankfully, after a few innocent remarks that included her, the captain concentrated on holding a conversation with Frank. She sighed in contentment. She was free now to merely watch him.

  And she did.

  Although Callie couldn’t help but eavesdrop on what the captain and her brother were discussing, their words didn’t include her. She couldn’t explain the relief she felt. It was as if the captain knew that she was struggling to ignore a temptation and so removed it altogether.

  But her relief was short-lived. The sound of another familiar voice forced her to join her brother’s conversation with the captain and one of her grandfather’s closest friends—Viscount Shatterly.

  “Shatterly, allow me to introduce Captain Fordham Remington. Ford, Viscount Shatterly. He and my grandfather have been the best of friends since their boyhood.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Shatterly,” the captain said.

  “As well. As well,” Shatterly answered, then turned to her. “Lady Calinda,” he greeted.

  “My lord.”

  “I’ve neglected your grandfather terribly of late. Estate business took me away from London, and I’m afraid I’ll have to return to the country once again tomorrow.”

  Callie couldn’t help but smile at the nervous gestures of Viscount Shatterly. His hands waved as if he were indicating the direction he would go to visit his estate, and his feet shuffled as if he’d already started his journey. He was a curious gentleman, but she overlooked his odd habits because he was such a good friend of her grandfather.

  If not for Viscount Shatterly, she wasn’t sure how her grandfather would spend his days. The two had gone to war together, and it gave both of them the chance to relive every voyage they had made and every battle they had fought.

  Although Callie had heard each story a dozen times or more and had all the battles memorized, she was glad her grandfather had someone whose visits occupied his time in such an enjoyable way.

  “I must be going,” Shatterly said, already moving toward the door, “but tell your grandfather I will return the end of next week and we’ll have a mighty long visit.”

  “I shall,” Callie answered as Viscount Shatterly left the room.

  “That was a short visit,” Frank said when Shatterly was gone. “It’s usually impossible to be rid of the viscount.”

  “Frank,” Callie said in a warning tone. “We should be thankful he’s such a good friend to Grandfather. At their age, it has to be terribly lonely to know that most of their friends have died.”

  “You’re right, Callie,” Frank said. “You always see things in a more positive light than I do.”

  “That’s because I have a heart.”

  Callie enjoyed the sound of her brother’s laughter. She also enjoyed the rich, mellow sound of the captain joining in. Even though she didn’t want to enjoy it. She didn’t want to enjoy it at all.

  She gave her brother a dismissive look, then turned to watch her sister. When the music ended, another gentleman approached to claim Nora for the next set. The dance was a waltz, and Nora’s gaze lifted. A smile lit her face. If Callie wasn’t mistaken, her sister was telling her partner that she was glad he’d claimed her for a waltz.

  Callie added Lord Blankey’s name to her list. She almost pitied her brother. The list was getting longer with each event they attended.

  The music was about to begin, and Callie turned to tell her brother to add Lord Blankey’s name to the growing list of gentlemen he needed to investigate. But Frank wasn’t the person whose gaze locked with hers.

  “Might I persuade you to join me on the dance floor, Lady Calinda?”

  She wanted to refuse, truly she did. She hadn’t danced even once since Society had considered her in mourning over her lost love. And that had been three years ago.

  She knew what they’d think if she accepted Captain Remington’s dance request. She knew rumors would fly throughout London if she danced even one dance. She prepared to refuse his offer, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force the word “no” to her lips.

  “I would be honored, sir,” she answered.

  The handsome captain extended his arm and she lightly placed her fingers atop his coat sleeve. His flesh beneath the fabric was sinewy hard. She told herself she wasn’t impressed by the muscled strength beneath her hand, but that was a lie. Just like telling herself it was just a dance. Just one dance. But that wasn’t true either.

  It may be just one dance, but the dance was a waltz.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bloody hell but she was beautiful.

  Ford hadn’t been so foolish as to expect that the female who kept the books for Crown’s Shipping Company would be one of the ugliest females in Society. Nor did he think she would be a flighty female with her head in the clouds, the type he couldn’t abide and would dread having to woo. But one look at the delicate maiden with hair the color of new honey and enormous azure eyes and he suddenly looked on his assignment as a gift from above. She was fresh, lively, and yet graceful in an almost regal way. The contradiction was mesmerizing.

  Not only was Lady Calinda Barclave beautiful, but she caused his body to react in ways it hadn’t for longer than he could recall. Of course, he could never act on those impulses, but knowing that he would spend hours in this lovely woman’s company was a pleasant thought. And she was all woman.

  Ford guessed she must be of an age with him, at least twenty-five or twenty-six to his twenty-seven. And she comported herself with a maturity that impressed him. So why wasn’t she married? Why did she hide herself away at Crown’s with her grandfather?

  When they reached the dance floor, Ford took her in his arms and swept her into the waltz.

  “Thank you for accepting my invitation to dance, Lady Calinda,” he said as they took a turn around the floor. “I know you considered refusing.”

  She lifted her gaze to bravely look at him. “Would you have accepted my refusal?”

  Ford smiled. “Most assuredly not. I would have followed you around the ballroom and embarrassed you until you accepted, just to have the opportunity to dance with you.”

  He watched her try not to smile, and fail. When at last she lost the battle, her face beamed brighter than the dozen chandeliers that lit the ballroom.

  “I anticipated as much, Captain. And as I have always had a tender heart for lost puppies I had no other recourse but to accept.”

  “Ah!” he laughed. “Tender-hearted and witty.”

  A blush darkened her cheeks, and she lifted her gaze to a spot over his shoulder.

  “Why do you seem embarrassed to be out on the dance floor?”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” she countered.

  “Yes, you are. And from the surprise on all the faces, I’d say people are not accustomed to seeing you dance.”

  Her expression froze to the distant look he’d seen earlier, robbing her face of the light he suddenly found himself missing.

  “Don’t you enjoy dancing?”

  “Yes, I enjoy dancing.”

  Her tone was almost harsh, her words cu
rt.

  “Well,” he said as he whisked her into a series of turns, “it can’t be me.” He pulled her close enough that their nearness would be considered scandalous, then turned her once again. “I’m reputed to be an excellent dancer.”

  She stumbled, then caught herself and looked up at him.

  Ford made sure there was a broad grin on his face. He relaxed his hold to what was considered a proper distance, then resumed staid and steady waltz steps.

  Her mouth opened in surprise, then to his amazement she laughed. “You’re a rogue,” she said, grinning recklessly.

  Ford tried to look shocked. “Oh, my lady. You wound me. Never think such a thing. You assault my sensibilities.”

  “I doubt you possess sensibilities that can be assaulted, sir.”

  “Perhaps you are correct,” he said, twirling her wickedly. “But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

  “I don’t recall your asking a question.”

  “I asked why people seem so surprised to see you on the dance floor.”

  The smile he so enjoyed seeing on her face dissolved. Her muscles tensed beneath his hands. Ford could tell she was pushing him away, and every instinct he possessed refused to allow her to shut him out. He continued their dance in silence. When they neared the open French doors, he whisked her out onto the terrace.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” she said in a voice that questioned his motives yet held a hint of relief at being away from the curious stares from those inside. “That wasn’t at all discreet.”

  “It was getting warm.”

  “Not overly warm.”

  “Perhaps not, but it was too crowded to carry on a decent conversation. I wasn’t able to hear your answer to my question.”

  “That’s because I didn’t answer you.”

  “Ah,” Ford said as he urged her across the terrace. Colored lanterns lit the main path through the garden, but he didn’t lead her down the steps and into the shadowy darkness. He wasn’t sure she would allow it. “Perhaps now that we have more privacy you’ll give me an answer if I ask my question again. Why are people surprised to see you dancing?”

  She turned to face him. “Because if I made a habit of dancing, the assumption would be that I have re-entered Society with marriage in mind.”

  “Re-entered?”

  The lady’s eyebrows arched sharply. “I am the daughter of an earl, Captain. Surely you don’t think at my age I didn’t go through my Season or attempt to find a husband.”

  A wave of unease sliced through him. Was Lady Calinda married? Surely Thrush wouldn’t have encouraged him to form a friendship with a married lady.

  “Were you successful?” Ford held his breath until she answered.

  Lady Calinda drew in her voluminous skirt and stepped around him. She took three steps away, then turned. She was angry. It was more than obvious from the expression on her face. The sharp tone of her voice and her clipped words only emphasized it.

  “Not entirely,” she answered curtly.

  Ford watched her pace the length of the terrace and stop a few feet beyond him. “Please take me back inside.”

  Ford knew if their conversation ended now, he’d never have a chance to be near her again, and seeing her again suddenly seemed more important than anything else he could think of.

  He stepped to her and held out his hand. She took it, expecting him to escort her back inside. Instead, he took her to the three steps leading to the garden.

  “I said I’d like to go inside.”

  He looped her arm through his and walked down the steps with her at his side. They followed the lantern-lit pathway. “You’re too upset, my lady. I don’t want anyone thinking I did something to vex you, even though I obviously did. I’m just not sure what it was.”

  They walked past one bench on the side of the path, but Ford didn’t stop there. They walked on to the second bench. He led her to it and they sat.

  Ford waited several moments. He didn’t want to be the first to speak. He didn’t want it to seem as if he were interrogating her. It took several moments, but finally she looked down at her clasped hands in her lap and breathed a heavy sigh.

  “I apologize. I had no cause to snap at you.”

  “I don’t think you were intentionally snapping at me. I simply happened to be the person in your line of fire.”

  She turned and surprised him with a smile. “That may be, but it’s still inexcusable.”

  “Insufferable, I should say.” He winked, and took heart when her eyes showered him with gratitude. “Which forces me to demand an explanation. Why are you unhappy to be here?”

  “I doubt you’ll understand this, but I am very content to avoid social functions. Since my sister’s come-out, however, I’ve been forced to step back into Society. I find it very unsettling.”

  “The reason you find it so unsettling?”

  She lifted her gaze and looked at him. Her eyes sent a piercing message that he should retract his question lest he be forced to endure her answer. But he merely cocked an eyebrow, practically daring her to continue. “To put it simply, sir, you are going to regret your curiosity. I have avoided Society these past three years for reasons that remain unknown even to my own family.” She paused. “Except for Frank, of course.”

  “Ah, well then, speak no more of it, my lady. I shall merely ask Carmody.”

  He expected her to decry his outrageous suggestion, but she simply huffed.

  “My brother would die before betraying one word to you. He is the most honorable of men and even though he clearly thinks highly of you I cannot fathom in the farthest stretches of my imagination a scenario where he would stoop so low as to—”

  Ford raised his hands in surrender. “Then I shall take it as the most sincere compliment if you yourself should choose to enlighten me.”

  “That will never happen, Captain Remington. The last thing I wish to see upon your face is pity.”

  Her words sounded brave, and laced with courage. And the underlying hurt in her tone warned him not to toy with her. She had been genuinely injured, and remained far from healed. “I could never count you among the wretched souls who have truly earned the world’s pity, my lady.” They were words he might have crafted to win her confidence, but tonight, in the garden with this woman who seemed to be taking his soul by storm, he’d never been more sincere.

  Her eyes widened, and she turned to face him more squarely, assessing him more thoroughly than at any time in their brief acquaintance. When she spoke at last, her words came in slow, hushed tones. “My insignificant tragedy doesn’t compare in the least to the horrid trials of so many men who left for the war hale and hearty, just like yourself, Captain, and returned from the war without arms, or legs, or sight. Or the thousands who didn’t return at all.”

  Her insight caught him momentarily off guard. Rarely had he heard a woman speak so candidly of the travesty of war while at the same time minimizing her own experience as ‘insignificant tragedy’.

  “It seems impossible to comprehend the loss,” he agreed. “I was there. In the midst of it. And yet I can scarcely grasp it.”

  She hesitated for a brief moment, then spoke. “What I experienced couldn’t be called a loss, but a blessing. And it taught me a valuable lesson I shall never forget.”

  Not a loss, but a blessing? Ford sensed the rest of her story was poised on the tip of her tongue. He wanted to know it. All of it. And why it stole so much of the light from her face and caused her hands to clench into fists.

  The silence that followed was filled with the distant strains of a waltz as he waited for her to speak again. He could prompt her, encourage her to tell her story. He was very, very good at getting information out of people. But he’d never used his skills on such lovely vulnerability, and instinct told him that in this moment of quiet seclusion, silence was the thing to draw her out.

  Moments later she proved him right. She began to speak, hesitated as though unsure of her decision, and then took a lon
g breath that signaled her readiness.

  “I met and fell in love my first Season. He was not an heir but a second son. But I didn’t care. He was handsome and charming and a captain in Her Majesty’s infantry. Plus,” she said, focusing on him with a sheepish grin on her face, “he was nearly as fine a dancer as you.”

  Ford couldn’t stop a smile from lifting the corners of his mouth.

  “We announced our betrothal before the end of the first Season and were going to marry when he returned from the war. Except—”

  “He didn’t return.”

  She rose from the bench and shook her head.

  Ford rose behind her. He wanted to go to her and hold her in his arms but knew his gesture wouldn’t be welcome. “I’m sorry.” Those were the only words he could offer. There had been so many women who’d suffered the same loss.

  “I thought I would die of a broken heart. Every day I went to the graveyard where he was buried because I felt closer to him there. Then, one day when I arrived I found another pretty female kneeling at his grave. Tears streamed down her face and I could hear her heart-wrenching sobs from where I stood outside the fence.”

  Lady Calinda turned and took a step down the path. Ford joined her.

  “I thought perhaps she was a relative who’d recently heard of his death, so I approached her to console her. Imagine my surprise when she told me she wasn’t a relative, but my betrothed’s lover. And that he’d promised they’d wed when he returned from the war.”

  Ford clenched his fists. The man was a scoundrel.

  “Of course I refused to believe the woman. I thought she was no doubt delusional. Or perhaps that she was mistaken and had come to the wrong gravesite.”

  “Did you ever discover the truth?” Ford asked.

  Although she didn’t turn her head to look at him, Ford saw one corner of her mouth lift.

  “I didn’t need to look for proof. Less than a week later, I returned and found a different woman kneeling on the ground beside my fiancé’s grave. Her grief was equally as heart-wrenching. Only this woman had a child in her arms. A babe, actually. Not quite one year old. There was no question who the child’s father was. The features were too remarkable to doubt.”