‘Good. First, you can take a horse to water and all that. He can tout me about and flatter me as much as he likes, but I assure you, I don’t feel under any obligation at all to do any more than listen politely, and if he tries to push me, then I won’t be so polite. Understand?’
Cordelia nodded.
‘Secondly, I’ll be having a word with him on the finer points of our agreement. You’ll get your time with your brothers and sister, if not tonight, then as much as you want over the next few days. I know we’re leaving for Plymouth soon, but we can put that back a bit and still make our ship, if need be.’
‘But how will you make him if he won’t agree?’
‘He’s in too deep to pull out now, but I’m not—or at least, that’s what I’ll tell him.’ Iain smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. ‘It won’t come to that, don’t fret.’
‘Thank you.’
‘There’s no need. We’re in this together, remember? I’ll be right by you.’
‘You don’t mind all this—this show?’
He laughed. ‘Honestly, that’s exactly how I think of it, a show. I’m annoyed to be done out of my dinner though.’
‘There will be at least two suppers, if Bella has anything to do with it. My father’s wife is very fond of her food, as you will be see from her girth. Thank you, Iain—again. I am, as you would say, braced,’ Cordelia said as the carriage began to inch towards the foot of the steps and the waiting footman.
‘Aye, but you’ve forgotten something.’ He pulled her towards him. ‘It’s not braced, you’ve to be, it’s in thrall,’ he said, and kissed her hard, swiftly and passionately.
As the carriage slowed to a stop, and the door was flung open, Lord Armstrong’s footman was treated to the spectacle of Lord Armstrong’s daughter in exactly the kind of compromising position he’d expect of such a scandalous female.
* * *
The town house had been transformed. Every window blazed. The huge hallway was awash with people glittering in jewels, powdered, primped and pomaded to within an inch of their lives. It reminded Cordelia of her coming-out ball. This was the milieu in which she had been raised, which she had been expected to inhabit and in which she now felt utterly and completely alien. She recognised several faces as she crossed the hallway, having discarded her cloak. False smiles. She returned them, equally falsely.
Iain was waiting for her, propped against the doorway of the book room, looking perfectly at ease, a smile, half amused half contemptuous, on his face. ‘The fallen daughter returned to the fold seems to be as much of an attraction as the rich, influential shipbuilder,’ Cordelia said under her breath as she took his arm.
‘They must lead boring lives, if all they have to do is talk about others.’
‘These people have made a career out of talking. Diplomats, politicians, half of Whitehall seem to be here. I noticed several Whigs too. There was a time my father would never have given them house room.’
‘There was a time when this could have been your life,’ Iain said.
‘I know. You’ll not be surprised to hear that I was thinking the same thing a moment ago.’ Cordelia looked around her, at the procession of finely dressed men and women ascending the stairs, listening to the low, anticipatory buzz of conversation that always preceded a party, no matter how tedious it turned out to be. She smiled up at him. ‘It’s certainly not a life I wish to return to. Shall we get this over with?’
‘Ready?’
‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, feeling absurdly nervous.
* * *
They ascended the staircase arm in arm. While Cordelia received knowing smiles and the occasional leer, it was Iain who attracted more attention. Her father had obviously been doing his groundwork, puffing up his prospective son-in-law’s fortune and influence, for the men were clearly sizing him up. The ladies on the other hand, looked rather more predatory. She was not surprised, she had been looking at him hungrily enough herself, earlier, but she was taken aback by how proprietorial she felt. She tightened her grip on his arm.
They had reached the top of the stairs, and Cordelia caught her first glimpse of her father, resplendent in evening dress. The tall young man beside him was unmistakably James, made in his father’s image, with her own blue-grey eyes. No sign of any of the other boys, but there was...
‘Good grief!’ She covered her mouth too late. ‘Bella,’ she whispered, in answer to Iain’s enquiring look. ‘She is quite transformed.’
Indeed, the woman standing at Lord Armstrong’s side was a shadow of her former self, no longer corpulent, but slim, and really quite pretty, in the pink-and-cream style of a faded English rose. Cordelia had always thought of her as old, yet she looked to be no more than forty—and a young forty at that.
‘Cordelia.’ Her stepmother studied her, as a collector would study a specimen. ‘You look well.’
‘Bella. You look...’
‘Thinner,’ her ladyship finished for her.
‘Younger.’ From the corner of her eye, Cordelia saw Iain usher her father out of the line into an alcove on the landing.
‘I find that country life agrees with me very much, now that I have my daughter,’ Bella was saying. ‘You must come tomorrow to meet Isabella. She is quite enchanting. So unlike any of her brothers or sisters.’
‘I would love to come. And to meet the rest of my brothers too. James, it is lovely to see you again. You have grown considerably.’ Her brother blushed and bestowed a very awkward kiss on Cordelia’s cheek. Iain had his back to her, but she could see her father, looking rather dwarfed and not at all happy.
Bella was also eyeing the altercation in the alcove. ‘Could they not have waited until later to discuss business?’ she said waspishly.
‘Personal business. We were under the impression, Iain and I, that this was to be a small family gathering,’ Cordelia replied, and when Bella looked surprised, explained tersely, ‘I would have been more than happy to have you come to Killellan, but that option was not given to me.’
Lady Armstrong cast a fulminating look at her husband. ‘I never come to town these days, your father and I lead very separate lives, but he told me that this party was what you wished, and if I did not play his hostess I would not meet you.’
The two women stared at each other, but before they could speak, the perpetrator of the deceit came back to the line, and the crush of bodies behind Cordelia began to push forward. ‘Come to me tomorrow,’ Bella said hurriedly, ‘I shall ensure that you have time alone with your brothers and sisters.’
‘What was that all about?’ Iain asked, taking her hand again.
‘You first.’
He grinned as they entered the drawing room. ‘I think I managed to put him straight on a few things.’
‘He lied to Bella too. He told her this party was my idea. He told her— Iain, she said they lead separate lives. And I have just remembered something Aunt Sophia said about skeletons. Do you think...?’
‘I think it’s time for us to play our parts.’
She looked up to find a sea of faces gazing at her. Her father was pushing his way into the centre of the room, Bella following in his wake. Lady Sophia was already ensconced in state in a thronelike chair.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Lord Armstrong raised his hands for silence. ‘Tonight, we Armstrongs welcome another member into the family fold. Mr Hunter, as those of us who know about such things will be aware, is what we call an up-coming man.’
He touched his finger to his nose, smiling in that condescending way that made Cordelia’s hackles rise. Looking up at Iain, she saw it had the same effect on him.
‘Mr Hunter’s shipbuilding company is currently the foremost in this great island of ours. With his new connections, namely myself—’ Lord Armstrong anticipated the polite laughter with a modest bo
w ‘—I predict that Hunter will soon be a name recognised throughout the world. In a matter of days, thanks to my connections, he sets out to conquer Arabia. Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to Mr Iain Hunter. And of course, to my daughter.’
They were still standing in the doorway. Cordelia was trying very, very hard not to be inflamed by her father’s speech in which she had not even been named and more to the point, in which Iain had been patronised to a point well beyond acceptability. She would happily have stalked out, if he had not taken her hand. And cleared his throat.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Iain said, halting the toast in midair. ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean to, but his lordship has made my betrothal to his daughter sound like a business alliance. Welcome though his contacts may be, let me assure you that I’ve no need of his help to build my ships, unless Lord Armstrong here knows how to rivet steel.’
This time, the laughter was spontaneous. Her father’s smile looked as if it were forged in the metal Iain used for his ships’ hulls.
‘While I’m thankful for his pulling of the various diplomatic strings which have enabled me to open up discussions with Prince al-Muhanna, as far as I’m concerned, there’s one thing, and only one, that Lord Armstrong has done that matters, and that was bringing this wonderful woman into the world.’
He took her hands between his. Their eyes met, and Cordelia forgot about all the other people in the room. This one. She remembered in that moment how it had been that first time. How he had looked at her, and she had looked at him, in just this way. This one.
‘I’d like you to raise your glasses to my betrothed,’ Iain said. ‘A woman who treads her own path. I’m very glad it led her to me. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Cordelia.’
And then, in front of a drawing room full of the great and the good of her father’s world, Iain kissed her. And the great and the good clinked their glasses and burst into spontaneous applause. And her father looked as if his champagne were vinegar. And Cordelia smiled up at Iain, quite lost for words, because he hadn’t lied, and he had praised the thing she had worked so hard at, and even if they weren’t really betrothed, it felt so good, so very good to be standing beside someone who really understood her. She was about to say so, when a man pushed his way through the crowd.
‘No!’
That one word stilled her heart in horror. Tall, dark, handsome and utterly sure of himself. Gideon hadn’t changed at all.
The silence was sudden and complete as he stood in front of her. ‘No, Cordelia, I don’t think so,’ Gideon D’Amery said, turning to Iain. ‘It should have been me seven years ago, but it’s not too late. I had her first. She’s mine. She always will be.’
The words were barely out of Gideon’s mouth when Iain knocked him down with a vicious, extremely effective blow that sent Cordelia’s former lover sprawling on to the drawing-room floor, a fist-sized bruise already blooming angry red on his jaw.
No longer the distinguished man of business, Iain looked like a great big brawny Highland warrior as he stalked menacingly towards his prey, fists clenched. For a moment, Cordelia felt a wild elation, a ridiculous feminine pride in being so defended, but the cruel glint in Iain’s eye brought her rapidly back down to earth. It frightened her, as if his civilised veneer was wearing very thin.
‘Iain...’ She grabbed at the sleeve of his tailcoat. He swatted her away.
Gideon, the light of battle in his eye, was already on his feet. ‘You will name your seconds,’ he said.
This brought Iain to an abrupt halt. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, man. You can’t possibly be thinking of calling me out.’ He sounded quite dumbfounded.
‘Of course I’m calling you out. Any gentleman would, after...’
‘I’m not a gentleman,’ Iain said, proving his point by thwacking Gideon squarely on the nose.
He did not go down this time, but came at Iain with his fists raised, landing a blow to his shoulder that sent him staggering. With a snarl, Iain landed a third punch in Gideon’s stomach, and would have followed through if Cordelia had not thrown herself between the two, taking both by surprise and narrowly escaping Gideon’s counter-blow.
‘Are you all right? Did he hit you? Cordelia, speak to me.’ Iain’s face was white with fright.
She shook herself free. ‘I am perfectly well, thank you, but I prefer to fight my own battles. I did tell you that.’
He flinched. ‘You did.’
‘Not that I am not grateful, for he deserved to be punched,’ she said, softening the blow, ‘and I could not have done half so well as that,’ she added, smiling maliciously at Gideon, who was mopping his nose with a handkerchief.
Gideon sneered. ‘I will call you out for this, Hunter, gentleman or no gentleman.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, shut up,’ Cordelia snapped. ‘What the devil are you doing here anyway? I cannot imagine that you were invited.’
‘There, my dear, you are wrong. You forget, my mother was a Lamb. Lord Melbourne’s cousin, in fact. Now that the Whigs are in power, your father is rather eager to cultivate my acquaintance.’
Cordelia felt her jaw drop. It seemed to be making a habit of it. Glancing up at Iain, she could see her own disbelief reflected on his face. Gideon laughed, a brittle sound that sent shivers down her spine, because she remembered it of old, when he walked away from the tables a loser, before she had begun to play for them both. ‘Blood, it seems, is not really thicker than water, my dear Cordelia,’ he said maliciously, ‘at least, not in your father’s case.’
She became aware of the silence. She had forgotten that they were in the drawing room, in the middle of a party. Across the room, her aunt Sophia was looking pale. Bella, on the other hand, was looking positively gleeful. And her father—her father, no longer the great orchestrator, was slumped in a chair, looking down at his shoes. She should have felt triumphant, but he was a pitiful sight.
‘You’re right,’ Iain said, as if she had spoken. ‘Lady Armstrong, will you see to Lady Sophia? I think she needs a brandy. And you—I don’t even know your name?’
‘Gideon D’Amery.’ Gideon sketched a very brief bow.
‘Aye. We’ve business to discuss. After you.’
The crowd parted as Iain and Gideon left the drawing room and headed down the stairs, Cordelia in their wake. As they crossed the threshold, the room burst into conversation.
‘Well, what they merely speculated about us before has certainly been confirmed, my dear,’ Gideon said as Iain closed the door of the book room.
‘No doubt as you intended it should be when you made such a dramatic entrance tonight.’ Cordelia was furious. ‘How dare you! What on earth were you thinking?’
‘Exactly what I said. You were mine first, and you will always be mine. Come, Cordelia, you know that perfectly well. Now why don’t you step outside while I finish my business with this usurper, and we can...’
Her hands formed into fists. She was beginning to understand Iain’s instinctive reaction. In fact, if he had not made such an excellent job of it, she would have thrown a punch just to make herself feel better. ‘This is my business,’ Cordelia hissed.
‘She’s in the right of it,’ Iain said. ‘You don’t know her very well if you think to ride roughshod over her without consulting her.’
‘But that’s the point, isn’t it? I rode her first, though as to roughshod—I do believe I have rather more finesse than that, do I not, my dear?’
This time, Cordelia was faster than Iain, landing a resounding slap, right on top of the purpling bruise. It might have hurt her as much as Gideon, but it was his eyes that were watering. ‘How dare you! I am not some filly you broke in, and if you think to shame me into marriage, or shame Iain out of it—forget it. He knows about you.’
Gideon’s eyebrows rose. ‘How very—noble of him to stand by you, my dear, but
there is no need. No, don’t try and hit me again, save that tempestuous nature of yours for something more worthwhile.’
Cordelia lunged. Gideon took a hasty step back. Iain grabbed her by the waist. ‘Stop rising to the bait,’ he whispered, putting a very firm restraining hand around her waist.
He was right. Again. He was also behaving far better than she. Cordelia sent him a shaky smile before turning back to her ex-lover. ‘Why are you here, Gideon?’
‘The second time you’ve asked me that. My answer remains the same.’
‘I haven’t heard from you in seven years.’
‘You would have done, had I known where to find you, but you seemed to disappear off the face of the earth.’
‘Perhaps because I didn’t want you to find me,’ Cordelia said tartly. ‘Please don’t tell me that you’ve been wearing the willow for me.’
‘There, you underestimate me. When I asked you to marry me, it was nothing to do with honour you know, and everything to do with sentiment.’
‘A shame you were not so sentimental when we eloped.’
‘I think so too. I was a fool not to make you mine when I had the chance. You loved me then, Cordelia.’
He smiled at her. Despite the bloody nose and the blossoming bruise, he was still a very handsome man. Her heart used to flutter, just imagining his kisses. When he had smiled at her across a crowded ballroom, that same complicit smile he was smiling right now, she would have gone to the ends of the earth with him. Had that been love? ‘It was nine years ago, Gideon.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, holding out his hand to her.
She was no longer anchored to Iain’s side. She hadn’t noticed him letting her go, and now he was avoiding her eyes. She looked at Gideon again. The reality of his touch had never lived up to her imagination. He was an accomplished lover, she knew that now. Skilled, considerate, almost never selfish. It had taken her a long time to realise that’s all he was.
He was still holding out his hand. There was still complicity in his smile. And knowledge. It made her deeply uncomfortable, that knowledge. Nine years. Nine years! He didn’t know her at all. How could he have, when she was scarcely formed? ‘I expect what you’ve missed is my presence at the tables,’ Cordelia said. ‘Have the cards been going against you, Gideon?’
Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and UnrepentantReturn of the Prodigal GilvryA Traitor's Touch Page 11