“Emily’s right,” Sara said. “I don’t blame you for misleading me.” Suddenly, an image of Ian glaring at her when she’d thrown him out of the house sprang into her head, making her laugh. “And if ever a man needed his pride pricked, it’s Ian. You should have seen his face when I accused him of taking advantage of you under my roof. I’ve never seen him look so offended.”
“And with good reason.” Felicity’s gaze swept briefly to the dressing table. “Although he repaid me amply for that maneuver.”
Sara sobered. “You haven’t yet told us what he did this evening after you left the card room and came up here. I know the two of you didn’t simply talk. Yet I also can’t believe Ian would be so callous as to…I mean, he did not…he didn’t—”
“No.” But Felicity’s blush belied the words. “He kissed me again. That’s all.”
Emily laughed. “If that’s true, then Ian is more of a gentleman than my husband ever was.”
“And mine,” Sara added with a chuckle.
Their words seemed to shock Felicity. “But your husbands are so gentlemanly!”
“Oh, they have the trappings of civilized men, to be sure.” Sara reclined against a pillow on Felicity’s bed, propping herself up at the elbows. “That’s only because we won’t tolerate anything less in public. In private, well…” She couldn’t prevent the smile that curved her mouth when she remembered Gideon’s fierce lovemaking this morning. “They’re wicked as can be, aren’t they, Emily?”
“Thank goodness,” Emily retorted, her eyes shining in the firelight.
Felicity halted her pacing, looking from one to the other in complete confusion. “So this evening when I let Ian…when he made me feel…Am I not—”
“Wicked because you felt desire?” Sara shook her head, remembering all too well her self-disgust when Gideon had first stolen past her defenses and made her desire him. “There’s nothing wrong in feeling desire, my dear.”
“That’s what Ian said, too,” Felicity whispered.
“Still,” Sara added hastily, “that doesn’t mean he can make love to you without taking responsibility for his actions.”
Felicity scowled. “Oh, he’s eager to take responsibility, even though all he did was…” She blushed again. “Anyway, that’s the trouble—he wants to marry me.”
“Yes, he did say that. Which means his feelings were sincere.”
“Or at least his desire was sincere,” Emily added with an edge of cynicism.
Sara regarded her sister-in-law thoughtfully. Emily knew Ian’s recent character better than she. Did Emily think Ian incapable of anything but desire? Sara couldn’t believe that. “In any case,” she went on, returning her gaze to Felicity, “you refused him. You truly have no wish to marry Ian?”
“None.” Felicity’s words held conviction; her expression did not. She began to pace again. “How could I marry a man whose only interest in me is as a mother to his heir? I have responsibilities—I have four brothers to care for and an entire household that depends on me. Ian wouldn’t want to take all that upon himself.”
“How do you know? Did you ask him?”
“I don’t need to. He only wants me because I can provide him with his heir. And I’m sure he also hopes to rid himself of my troublesome interference in his affairs. He thinks to do all of it by marrying me. Ours wouldn’t be a real marriage, however.” Her tone grew wistful. “It wouldn’t be like either of yours, and I want nothing less.”
“Good for you,” Emily said. “Every woman deserves a man who cares about her. But judging from the way Ian looks at no one else when you’re in the room, the way only you seem to rouse his fury—and his passions—I think he does care for you.”
“The man doesn’t know the first thing about caring,” Felicity said petulantly, “or he wouldn’t lie to me about that…that woman!”
Sara straightened, her interest piqued. “You mean his friend on Waltham Street?”
“Yes! He won’t tell me the truth about her! He admits that Miss Greenaway isn’t a soldier friend’s sister, but he won’t say who she is to him. He wants me simply to ignore her existence.”
“Miss Greenaway?” The name nagged at Sara’s memory. She touched a finger to her brow, trying to think where she’d heard it before.
With great animation, Felicity hurried to the bed and sank onto the down mattress. “Do you know her? Who is she? Why won’t he talk about her?”
Miss Greenaway’s identity suddenly flashed into Sara’s mind, and she cursed herself for not having remembered it before. “Oh, she’s not anyone to concern yourself with,” she said, attempting to cover up her mistake.
The look of betrayal in Felicity’s eyes was unmistakable. “That’s what he said.” She sighed. “But I don’t blame you for not wanting to tell me, given my profession.”
“That’s not why!” Sara took Felicity’s hand, wondering how she’d managed not to notice the ink-stained tips of the woman’s fingers before. “I simply don’t want you to leap to conclusions about Miss Greenaway and Ian based on my little information.”
“It doesn’t matter what you tell me. I know she’s his mistress.”
“I’m not so sure.” Sara debated a moment. But Felicity deserved to hear the truth, even if Ian wouldn’t reveal it. “When I knew Miss Greenaway, she worked for Ian’s uncle as governess to the man’s children.”
“Then she’s an older woman?” Emily asked from her perch on the stool. “If so, she couldn’t be Ian’s mistress.”
“She’s not that old,” Sara said. “She can’t be more than thirty-two. Miss Greenaway went to work at the Lennard household when she was only twenty, a few years older than Ian at the time. Edgar Lennard’s estate adjoined Chesterley, so I imagine Ian had many opportunities to see her. But I never heard of anything between them.”
“Well, there’s something between them now,” Felicity said tersely. “She bore a child not long after Ian put her up on Waltham Street. She must be his mistress. I don’t know why he doesn’t just admit it.”
“There’s a child?”
Felicity nodded. “He says it’s not his.” Her voice sounded brittle and unconcerned, but Sara could tell that Felicity was anything but that.
A wave of pity for the young woman swamped her. “Then perhaps you should believe him. Ian’s an honorable man, despite the impression he’s given you. He would claim any child of his, bastard or no. The woman may be another man’s mistress, perhaps his uncle’s.”
“Why didn’t he say that, if it’s so innocuous? And why isn’t his uncle keeping her instead of Ian?” She swiped at her eyes, and only then did Sara realize she was crying. Felicity jumped to her feet, turning her back to them. “Well, I don’t care what Ian does with her. I won’t marry a man with a mistress. Other women accept it, but I couldn’t.”
“I don’t accept it,” Emily said sympathetically. “Believe me, Jordan knows if I ever found him with another woman, I’d take an ax to a certain part of his anatomy.”
Sara smiled at the image, but her smile vanished when she saw Felicity’s unbending posture. The poor woman wouldn’t admit the reason for her distress, but Sara knew. And she wished she could put Felicity’s mind at ease.
The trouble was, she no longer knew Ian at all. Over the years, he’d grown secretive. Just look at his recent behavior. He’d lied to them from the time he’d arrived—about how he knew Felicity, the woman he kept in London, and probably even his reasons for his hurried trip to town.
What’s more, his manner had changed. These days he was always distant, aloof. The only time he’d behaved like his old congenial self was tonight in the hall. When he was speaking to Felicity.
Hmm. Sara surveyed the young woman thoughtfully. Perhaps Felicity was wrong about Ian’s motives for proposing marriage. What if Ian was merely having the same trouble accepting that he was falling in love as Gideon and Jordan had both had?
One thing her experience had taught her—men hated falling in love. They fou
ght it, they explained it away, they called it sex or passion or lust, anything but love. A man would rather brave hell than admit his weakness for a woman and give her power over him. So why should Ian be different? The more she thought about his behavior toward Felicity, the more that possibility made sense.
“So what do you plan to do about this mess?” she asked Felicity.
The young woman faced them. “I don’t know. Ian says he wants me to help him find a wife.”
“The two of you didn’t invent that tale to mislead us earlier?”
A mournful look crossed Felicity’s face. “I’m afraid not. He says I owe it to him, since my columns have ruined his chances and I refuse to marry him. He has a point, you know. So he wants me to introduce him to other women, advise him on who to marry…that sort of thing.”
The sly dog, Sara thought. She understood his purpose now, and he was shrewder than she would ever have guessed. “And you intend to do so?”
“I suppose. But I know so few women who might suit him that it seems pointless for me to try.” Her voice grew sullen. “Yet he insists that I do so. It’s very annoying.”
“Perhaps you dislike the thought of matching him with another woman.”
“Not at all!” Felicity sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. “I don’t want to marry him! And I don’t care who else he marries, as long as it isn’t me!”
The devil you say, Sara thought. The prospect of watching Ian court other women was killing Felicity, and Ian undoubtedly counted on that to help him win his suit. What a clever maneuver. And guaranteed to work, judging from Felicity’s misery.
Maybe Felicity was right, after all, and Ian was simply the most calculating male in England. He’d certainly been moving them all around like chess pieces. Such attention to strategy didn’t bode well for his feeling any strong emotion for the woman.
Then again, something had glittered in his eyes when he looked at Felicity—
There was only one way to discover his true intentions. “You know, I could help you with your endeavor if you want,” Sara said in an offhand manner.
Felicity seemed more than eager to pounce on her offer. “Could you? How?”
Sara shrugged. “I know as many young women as you. I can make introductions and help dispel the rumors about him myself.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful! I wouldn’t have to be around hi—” Felicity broke off quickly. “That is, it would free me to attend to my own business.”
“What business?” Emily asked.
“My work, of course. I must be free at social occasions to gather gossip for my column, and I can’t do that if I’m busy helping Ian find a wife.”
“Ah, yes,” Sara remarked, watching Felicity with new interest. How odd that a young woman with such intelligence and sensitivity could be so eager to write scandalous material for a common newspaper. “I forgot you’re Lord X. But surely your Mr. Pilkington could do without Lord X’s column for a short time.”
“He could, but—” The woman broke off, her gaze flitting from Sara to Emily. “I-I wouldn’t want to stop writing it. I like it, and I worked hard to gain my readers. I don’t want to lose them. Besides, after all the holiday parties in the next few weeks, there will be nothing until the Season begins. I must be free to move about now.”
A lame explanation if Sara had ever heard one. Felicity clearly had some other reason for continuing her writing. But what? Judging from the woman’s apparel and rumors about her father’s inheritance, Felicity had no financial difficulties. “Will my help free you to write?”
“Oh, yes!” Felicity said earnestly.
“Very well, then I shall help you. Gideon and I planned to spend Christmas in town this year anyway. We’ll take you home tomorrow, and then accompany you to those social events Ian expects you to attend.” She watched Felicity closely. “I’m sure I can find him a wife without you if need be.”
“Yes, of course you could,” Felicity said in an oddly deflated tone.
Her look of desolation told Sara all she needed to know about Felicity’s feelings. Whether Ian was in love or not, Felicity was halfway to being there already.
“But will Ian mind if it’s you and not me who helps him?” Felicity asked. “He seemed to think he needed my help.”
Sara caught Emily’s eye, and a look of understanding passed between them. Not surprisingly, Emily had guessed Ian’s purpose as well. Their husbands had trained them well to recognize the machinations of devious men.
“I’m sure Ian would welcome anyone’s help,” Emily told Felicity cheerily, her mischievous expression showing that she thought no such thing.
“I’ll speak to him this evening on the matter,” Sara added. “No doubt he’ll be delighted at my involvement.”
The devil he would. If he was, it meant that Ian possessed as little real interest in Felicity as he’d had in Lady Sophie and the Hastings girl. In such a case, it would be best for Felicity to discover that now.
But Sara doubted that Ian wanted anyone’s interference in this matter. Sara had never seen the man so agitated by a woman, so reckless in his pursuit. God knows he’d never cornered Lady Sophie in her bedchamber.
If Sara’s instincts proved as correct as they usually did, he wouldn’t like what she told him tonight. Not one little bit.
Barely controlling his anger, Ian glared at Sara from his stance beside the fireplace in the card room. “What the hell do you mean—you plan to help me find a wife? I don’t want your help, Sara!”
“But Miss Taylor said you were adamant about needing hers.” Sara swept about the room, picking up a newspaper here, straightening a cushion there. “I don’t see why my help would be any less welcome.”
“Because I bloody well don’t want to marry you, that’s why!”
She cocked her head to stare thoughtfully at him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Her voice was entirely too smug. He searched her face with narrowed eyes. “Yes, you do. You’re too intelligent for your own good. And you know quite well that the best way for me to secure Felicity’s affections is to make her realize how badly she wants to marry me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is, my meddling friend. She wants to marry me, and I’ll force her to admit it if I have to dance attendance on half of London’s eligible women in front of her!”
A sudden urge to smash one of Sara’s china figurines against the wall possessed him. The last thing he wanted was Sara mucking things up, especially if it put more distance between him and Felicity. He lowered his voice, striving for control. “I appreciate your attempt to help, but I have this well in hand. I’ve already set my sights on the wife I want, and I don’t need you destroying all my plans!”
“Good heavens, Ian, if she doesn’t want to marry you, why waste your time over it? Surely you don’t wish to have a wife who cares nothing for you.”
“She does care for me, no matter what she said. And she’d make me the perfect wife. She’s merely being stubborn about—” He broke off, suddenly conscious of Sara’s intent interest.
“About what?”
He narrowed his eyes on Sara. “How much did she tell you of our discussion?”
Sara looked as if she debated something, then shrugged. “Merely that she refused to marry you.”
“Did she say why?”
“She claimed you wouldn’t suit. Apparently, while she agrees that she’d make you the perfect wife, she’s not so sure you’d make her the perfect husband.”
He scowled. “That’s only because she doesn’t know me.”
“Or because she knows you too well.”
Her barb hit more deeply than he would have thought. “Thanks for all your confidence in me.”
She ignored his sharp tone. “Tell me, Ian, why do you think she’d make you the perfect wife? She’s not the sort of woman you always claim to prefer. She’s not quiet or docile. And she has a huge family that she’d expect you to support.”
“I can afford it.”
Sara inexplicably smiled. “Yes, I suppose you can. Then there is her very troublesome profession—”
“She told you about that?” he asked incredulously.
“Her identity as Lord X?” With an air of complete nonchalance, she sank into a plush chair. “Of course. She told me all about your little war.”
That stunned him into silence. He hadn’t expected Felicity to reveal so much to Sara. What did it mean? And how would this affect his plans?
“I must say,” Sara went on, “that although her tale explained the events of the past few days, it shed no light on why the two of you should marry. Given your apparent disagreement on many matters, I would think you rather unsuitable for each other.”
“Would you?” He glowered at her. “I suppose that means you’re on her side. You think she’s right to refuse me.”
She smoothed her skirts with sudden concentration. “Perhaps I’m on both sides.”
Striding up to where she sat, he bent down and braced his hands on the arms of her chair. “Don’t play games with me, Sara. I’m not in the mood. You can’t be on both sides. I want her to marry me, and she wishes to remain unencumbered. So you must choose: either help me or help her. Or stay out of the matter entirely.”
The infuriating woman merely smiled up at him. “I need more information before I make a decision.”
“What kind of information?”
“Do you love her?”
The words exploded in his brain. Love her? The subject hadn’t come up in his previous courtships. That it should do so with Felicity was very disconcerting.
He shoved back from Sara’s chair. “Not all men marry for that reason. Just because you and your brother fancy yourselves in love with your spouses doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.”
“Then why do you wish to marry her?”
“You know why,” he evaded. “For the same reason every man of my situation wishes to marry. Because I require a wife to run my household and bear my children.”
The Dangerous Lord Page 16