“Two for each of us,” Grif reiterated.
“As my concern is naturally for the girl’s safe return, I won’t quibble over money,” Edmund said benevolently.
He extended the note to Grif, who reached to take it. Edmund, however, pulled it back out of Grif’s reach. “Of course, nephew, before I part with such a sizeable amount, I need to know the condition in which you have returned her.”
Grif shrugged. “You saw her. The girl is hale and whole.”
Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”
Grif examined his fingernails, hoping to look monumentally bored by this conversation. “You’ll have to enlighten me then, uncle.”
“Did you touch her?” his uncle asked through clenched teeth.
“Hard not to,” Grif stated casually. “The little hellcat kept trying to escape, so a couple of times I had to—”
“Stop being deliberately obtuse!” Edmund snapped.
Grif smiled a slow, satisfied grin before looking up, knowing his uncle gauged his expression. “Wondering if I ruined her, eh?”
At his uncle’s glare, Grif shrugged again and leaned back in his chair, hoping he looked utterly smug. “I imagine most bridegrooms wouldn’t be too pleased to hear someone’s been poaching their property,” he said at last.
“Did you?” Edmund asked through clenched teeth. “I told you explicitly that she needed to be returned unspoiled.”
Grif raised a sardonic brow. “And we both know how I love following your orders.” At his uncle’s black look, Grif clucked his tongue. “Edmund, you seem rather perverse, pushing for sordid details. You know a gentleman never kisses and tells. Besides, Lady Kyra has more to recommend of herself than her virtue. What’s innocence compared to cold, hard coin? And rumor has it that Kyra has more coin than Croesus.”
“Brumley will be most unhappy to hear that, Grif.” Edmund hopped up and began pacing. “I never should have entrusted her to you. You’re nothing more than a degenerate—”
“Brumley?” Grif snorted in false surprise. “You told me Hammond.”
Edmund was watching him carefully. “Did I? How embarrassing.”
Grif managed to keep his cool, even though his blood was simmering. “So you’re going to marry her off to Brumley? By god, that’s brilliant. Lady Kyra will certainly keep him busy. Maybe he can finally quit abusing prostitutes and chambermaids.”
Edmund’s lower lip turned white. “You approve the match? Knowing Brumley’s reputation? I thought you and the girl were friends.”
“I was friends with Riley, not with his loudmouthed, hardheaded sister.” He heard his uncle’s stifled curse and suppressed a smile. “Brumley and Kay.” He chuckled. “Those two devils deserve each other. Besides, even Brumley is smart enough to know hurting a beloved member of the ton would be most unwise.”
Grif put his feet up on Edmund’s desk, stretching out lazily. “Though considering the man’s reputation, I’m surprised you risked your own status by backing such an unholy union. You know how tongues wag. Despite her impetuous nature, Lady Kyra is rather a darling of the ton. They seem to adore her antics.”
Edmund was not smiling. “Quite.”
Grif’s smirk faded and he pretended to study his uncle. “But tell me, uncle, how did you manage to talk poor Brumley into taking such an ill-tempered cat to wife? I must admit, when I thought I was her guardian, I feared I’d have to scour the ends of the earth to find someone to take her off my hands. She’s a beauty, but with that temper...” He whistled. “She hasn’t exactly had many suitors since that ‘accident’ with the marquess of Fletcher and the soup tureen. Lobster bisque, if I remember.”
“Brumley wanted the girl,” Edmund said softly, looking agitated. “Said something about how he’d enjoyed breaking such a spirited filly. In exchange he agreed to see that a few of his...friends in Parliament vote a certain way on certain upcoming property and trade bills. And he offered me half of her dowry.”
“Ah,” Grif said, quietly mocking. “He took one look at the Deverill fortune and the lands that would come to him as her husband and he pounced.” Grif shook his head. “Not that it wouldn’t be tempting. But I can’t believe you were so easily bought, uncle. A few promised votes from a few of the poor saps he’s blackmailing and he’s rich. And what do you get? A marquess in your pocket—for as long as he allows, anyway.”
Edmund paced a bit more, clearly considering his nephew’s words. He sat back down and absently fingered the banknote. Grif knew it was time to for the coup de grâce.
“Brumley rather outmaneuvered you, didn’t he?” Grif sneered, trying to appear happy at the thought. He dropped his feet with a thud and rose to leave. “Really, Edmund, you should thank me for...leveling the field a bit.”
Grif strove to keep his tone casual as he approached his uncle. “Hell,” he said, snatching the note from Edmund’s hand. “I should demand another two.”
Edmund jumped to his feet and tore the paper from Grif’s hand. “You’ll not get one ha’penny from me, Grif!”
Grif turned on his uncle with a scowl. “You paid me to bring her back, and I did.”
“I paid you to return her, not to ruin her!” Edmund snapped. He resumed pacing. “Brumley won’t accept the deal now, not without me granting him concessions. Your licentiousness has ruined hours of negotiations! Not to mention that if Brumley refuses to haggle over damaged goods, I won’t be able to pawn her off on anyone. No one of consequence, anyway.”
“Why not?” Grif asked idly, though his heart was racing. “She’s got the devil’s own temper, true, but she is rather a juicy little piece, you know.” He grinned lasciviously. “Quite juicy, really. And she’s bloody rich. I’m sure there’s a fortune hunter or two out there who’d fall over themselves to pant at Lady Kyra Deverill’s dainty feet.”
“One already has,” Edmund purred. He stopped pacing and eyed Grif rather shrewdly. “Better still, he’s indebted to me.”
Grif pretended not to understand. Then, as realization dawned, he slowly shook his head. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, my dear boy, yes.” Edmund nodded, clearly warming to the idea. “Why should I settle for a mere marquess in my pocket when I might have an earl?”
“If you think—”
Edmund Ashford pointed an elegant finger at his nephew. “You will, naturally, forfeit my two thousand pounds, as you did not complete the job to my satisfaction. And you will vote my way on five parliamentary bills of my choosing. And, of course, her dowry is forfeit.”
Grif crossed his arms. “I won’t agree to this. Just because I took a few liberties as compensation for a difficult job doesn’t mean you can amend our agreement any way you like.” At his uncle’s stony silence, Grif threw up his hands and stormed, “I’ve no use for a wife, and the girl is a shrew. She’ll make my life a living hell.”
“You ruined her, you’ll marry her. It’s as simple as that.” Edmund’s eyes glittered. “It’s a fitting sentence, don’t you agree? It’s perfect, actually. No one will think to question a union between the Deverills and the Griffins,” he murmured, giddy. “Rather poetic, really. Dev’s sister turns to her late brother’s best friend for comfort during her time of sorrow. We can explain the hasty courtship, etcetera. The gossips will eat it up!”
At Grif’s silence, Edmund continued. “Oh, stop being obstinate. We both know that a wealthy wife was your only way out of dun territory, Grif. And while Kyra’s income may not be enough to completely undo the damage my wastrel brother did to your estate, I fear this is as close as you’re going to come. You haven’t exactly been presented with many marital opportunities yourself. Unless,” he added in an oily tone, “you’d like to continue working for me to pay down those debts.”
Grif did his best to look furious. “Two votes,” he said after a moment. “Thomas gets his tw
o thousand pounds, and I keep her dowry.”
“Three votes and you may have a quarter of her dowry. I will pay your friend his share, but you owe me a future favor.” Before Grif could protest, Edmund raised his hand. “Be reasonable, Grif. You’re getting the Deverill lands and her very generous yearly allowance. We both know you can’t afford to turn those away—even if it means getting leg-shackled to Medusa herself.”
“What about Brumley?” Grif asked. “He won’t like being double-crossed.”
Edmund waved his hand impatiently. “Brumley is of no consequence. I’ll simply explain that I received a better offer, and that as we had not formally entered into the agreement, he has no claim. Really, I’m doing everyone a favor.”
“Hmmm,” Grif huffed.
“I’ll have Collins draw up the papers immediately,” Edmund murmured, looking very pleased with himself. “Might I suggest you obtain a special license? The girl has an uncanny knack for evading the altar.”
“Three votes and I get half her dowry,” Grif grumbled. When Edmund finally sighed and nodded, Grif stated darkly, “I’ll send Thomas to the archbishop immediately. Send the papers to Griffin House as soon as they’re ready.”
“Where are you going?” his uncle asked.
“To collect my payment,” he muttered. Behind him, his uncle laughed.
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as he was out of Edmund’s sight, Grif stopped to exhale. He’d done it! Kyra wasn’t going to marry Brumley; she was going to marry him. His heart very nearly danced out of his chest at the thought. The idea of being with Kyra, of sharing his days and nights with her, made him giddy. He could laugh with her and tease her and argue with her for the rest of his days. Gads, he could even touch her—at least whenever she allowed it. It was a gift.
Grif realized his hands were shaking. Drawing a deep breath, he bounded up the stairs, two at a time, and practically ran to the billiards room. Thomas was ruthlessly pummeling Dreyfus in a game for a hundred pounds. Without one shred of regret, Grif dragged his friend away despite Dreyfus’s victorious smirk and Thomas’s protests. When Grif explained his unexpected request, Thomas stopped arguing and beamed.
“Glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses,” he told Grif. “Now go propose before your bride beans a footman with her hairbrush and scuttles up the chimney.”
“She is a rather resourceful creature,” Grif said happily.
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, Grif, you’re truly addled by the woman.” Clapping Grif’s shoulder, he smiled. “I’ll meet you at Griffin House the day after tomorrow with a special license. Provided Kay doesn’t disappear before then.”
“Rest assured,” Grif said over his shoulder as he began trotting down the hall, looking for the housekeeper. “I’ll not let the little baggage out of my sight until after she’s spoken her vows.”
It took him several minutes, but Grif managed to bully Edmund’s butler into telling him where he could find Kyra. He ran up the stairs and down the entire east wing before slowing his gait. When he reached her chambers, he caught his breath and rapped softly on the door. He heard hushed voices, followed by the sound of furniture scratching and slamming. A moment later, Maggie opened the door, her look frosty.
“Yes, Lord Griffin?” she asked, perfectly composed.
“I need to see Kay,” Grif muttered, trying to see past the slender maid.
Maggie, however, was having none of it. “Impossible, my lord. You’d be ruinous to Lady Kyra’s reputation.”
“I find that a bit hypocritical,” he argued, “as she just spent near a fortnight with me in several inns.”
“Utter nonsense, my lord,” the maid stated coolly. “Lady Kyra, grieving over the death of her beloved father, took an extended holiday to Scotland to visit her remaining family. And I assure you, she was escorted the entire time.”
Grif snorted. The maid was almost as incorrigible as her mistress. Well, it was going to take more than a blonde servant to keep him away from his future wife. He feinted left, but Maggie blocked him, landing a subtle elbow in his side. Grif grunted. For a skinny chit, she was deuced strong.
“Two minutes, Maggie. That’s all I ask.”
Maggie shook her head. “I’m afraid Lady Kyra is exhausted after her travels, my lord. She’ll take visitors in the late morning should you wish to call on her then. In the sitting room, as is proper.”
Grif pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said. “But remember, I tried to do this nicely.” Taking a step back, he folded his arms over his chest. Maggie relaxed her stance, just slightly, but enough. Grif lunged, bending down and grabbing the maid at the knees. Maggie shrieked as he flung her over his shoulder and stalked into the room, kicking the door closed behind him.
“Put my maid down at once!” Kyra said dryly, rounding on him. “Honestly, you have no right manhandling my servants.”
Grif bowed politely and returned the maid to a standing position. Maggie sputtered indignantly. Mrs. Myrtle swooped on him like an angry mother hen, hands on hips, to glower at him. “Just wha exactly do ye think yer doin here, lad?”
“I’d like a moment with Lady Kyra. Alone.” When none of the women budged, he added, “Please.”
“Impossible,” Maggie said, edging her way over to Mrs. Myrtle.
Kyra scooted in as well, dark eyes blazing, and it was then that Grif noticed the half-full portmanteau just behind them, near the wardrobe. The little harpies were plotting another escape for the head harpy. Judging by the size of the suitcase and the amount of clothing, Kay was running farther than Scotland this time.
Grif couldn’t quite stifle his grin. “Going somewhere?” he murmured, his eyes touching on the traveling case.
Kyra drew herself up to her full height. “If you must know, yes, I am.” She motioned for Maggie and Mrs. Myrtle to get back to their packing.
“Ah,” he agreed amiably. “Might I ask where?”
“Mother has a cousin living on the Continent. I thought I might go and stay with her for a year...or twenty.”
Grif nodded wisely. “When?”
Kyra raised a brow. “As soon as you leave my chamber.”
“How do you think you’re going to get out of here, Kay? Your luggage is much too large to take out the window. Or will you hit the butler over the head with your teacup and hijack Edmund’s coach?”
Kay shook her head and turned away from him to help stuff more dresses into the portmanteau. “It’s really none of your business, Grif.”
“True. Until I decide to come after you,” he retorted. Grif grabbed her hand, spinning her like a dancer, and then stopping her to face him. “Then what? Do you really intend to spend the rest of your life running away, Kay? Always looking over your shoulder? That doesn’t seem like much of a life, my dear.”
“It’s better than marrying a troll,” she retorted.
Grif smiled. “Ah, Brumley. What if you could marry someone less...trollish?”
Both Maggie and Mrs. Myrtle raised their heads at that. They looked at Grif then exchanged an interested look. “We should give you a minute—” Maggie murmured, only to be stopped short by an elbow from Mrs. Myrtle.
Kyra narrowed her eyes. “Your uncle has already pledged my hand to Brumley.”
“Edmund changed his mind,” Grif said, taking a step closer. “Apparently he’s ready to foist you on a new suitor.”
“Who?” she asked warily.
Grif’s smile deepened. “Me.”
* * *
Her knees had very nearly buckled at his declaration. Kyra shook her head at her own foolishness. For one beautiful, heart-lurching moment, she’d taken him seriously. Of course, once her head cleared she immediately understood that Grif couldn’t possibly mean what he’d just said. They hated each other, for one. Why, just last
night he’d thrown the idea of marriage back in her face.
Grif was standing there grinning at her, apparently waiting for some sort of answer. Maggie and Mrs. Myrtle were absolutely still behind her, holding their breath. She couldn’t fault her servants for being taken in by him. He was very convincing, smiling like that.
Kyra immediately grew suspicious of that smile. He was definitely hiding something. The only time Kyra ever saw Grif this happy was when he managed to get something he wanted. She wanted to know precisely what that was.
“I see,” Kyra said lightly. “I appreciate the offer, my lord, but no.”
Something crossed Grif’s face—surprise? hurt?—before he scowled at her. “What do you mean ‘no’?” he blustered.
Maggie and Mrs. Myrtle murmured a few inane, incoherent excuses and practically knocked themselves over in their haste to get to the door. Kyra noticed the crabby housekeeper pat Grif’s shoulder as she passed. Grif barely noticed. He was too busy scowling down at her.
Kyra shook her head. “I don’t find this amusing, Grif. And furthermore—”
“Good because I am most earnest.”
She hated that she found him attractive in moments like these. Rather than let herself be charmed by him, Kyra folded her arms defiantly across her chest, a dozen questions popping into her head. Her inquisition began abruptly.
“What are you about?” she blurted, frustration making her a tad defensive.
Grif snorted in disgust. “Why must you make everything so difficult? This is a simple marriage proposal.”
“There is never any ‘simple’ with you.”
He glowered at her. “The proposal was merely a courtesy to you. Edmund’s already decided that we are betrothed. Do you really need a reason more than that?”
“I do. This is all a bit sketchy to me, Grif. One minute you’re dragging me back to England, telling me I must marry Brumley, and the next you’re insisting I marry you.” Kyra eyed him suspiciously. “I want to know why.”
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