Staying low, he raced like some primal beast toward the next jump.
Yes, now he understood consequences, even if Hannah didn’t. Perils lurked out here, and how would she avoid them? Her earlier life hadn’t been easy, but since he had taken her under his wing, she’d had only the best. Food. Clothing. Education. Finishing school.
The train was going faster. The gap between the next cars seemed wider. But this time he barely allowed himself a breath before he jumped.
Then he looked around. This was it. Hannah’s car. He was on top. She was inside. The door was open, and the only way in was a simple bit of acrobatics…which he hadn’t performed in years.
This time he didn’t laugh. He swore. He inched toward the side. He peered over the edge. Hannah’s feet no longer dangled outside. Apparently, as the train had gained speed, she had moved back. Wise girl. Wise…well, no. Not so wise. She didn’t know not to challenge Dougald Pippard.
She might not realize it, but he had bound her to him, and with the most honorable of intentions. Now his duty—nay, his affection—demanded he protect her, even if he had to protect her from herself. He smiled. Yes, she was his. She just didn’t know it yet.
Grasping the door sill, he steadied himself, then vaulted around and down—
Inclining his head, Dougald lifting his glass and toasted the memory of that wonderful day when youth and love and adventure had been theirs.
Hannah seemed unimpressed with his salute. “So Charles hired the men who followed me in London…they were yours, of course?”
His appetite faded, and he replaced his spoon. “Of course.”
“You set a trap.”
“As soon as the situation here had stabilized, I called Charles back and hired the detectives to…make you nervous. Then I offered a job which I knew would appeal to you. It was only a trap if you sprung it.” Putting his foot against the table leg, he shoved it aside. The dishes rattled, the silverware shivered, but he cleared the space between them so he could see her without hindrance. See her, dressed in those plain black work clothes. Always she disguised herself…on the train in boy’s garb, today in a caretaker’s severity. Always her beauty shone through. Nothing could hide the translucent skin, soft as a child’s, or the wealth of golden hair, or the lips which beckoned a man to kiss them. If a man looked beyond her countenance, he saw the curvaceous figure…oh, not as rounded as in earlier years, but increasingly alluring in its slender grace. She walked, she moved as she always had; as if the Almighty had created her for Dougald’s pleasure, and used her to entice him away from sin and into holy wedlock. The Almighty’s plan had worked almost too well, for when she left him, she took with her every delight. She left only darkness.
Luckily, he dwelt well in darkness. He plotted to overcome the past. He planned for the future. And every scheme had worked, for she sat before him now. “If I had a doubt, it was that I could frighten you into giving up your precious Distinguished Academy of Governesses. After all, it offered what our marriage did not—work, and more work.”
“You dare.” She viewed him as if he were a monster…wise woman, for the years of loneliness and disgrace had created a monster within him. “Dare to accuse me of your own sins. You also worked, my dear. Worked endlessly while expecting me to allow you to care for me.”
“Like a wife!” The heat with which he answered surprised him. He hadn’t indulged in such useless indignation for years.
“Like a feeble-minded incompetent,” she shot back at him.
“Your mother spoiled you for leisure.”
Her voice rose. “She worked all the time, and I wanted to help her!”
He shifted in his chair, wanting to demand she see matters his way, knowing the futility of ever having Hannah see reason. “I know. Your desire was admirable. Your ability to adapt to my desires was not.”
“Mother taught me that work is virtue. That truth did not change because my circumstances did.”
“And you have spent your life chasing after virtue like a kitten after an elusive butterfly.” Dougald leaned his head back and watched her through slitted eyes. “Yet you abandoned your marriage and disregarded your wedding vows. Where’s the virtue in that?”
She twined her shaking fingers together. “No more virtue than seducing an eighteen-year-old girl.”
“You were eighteen and leaving me. Seduction was the fastest way to get control of you.”
“Ah. Seduction saved you the time you would have spent on courtship.” She bit off the words. “An admirable shortcut, my lord.”
He laughed, a brief, hard laugh, and used his knowledge to hurt her. “I didn’t have to seduce you. I didn’t have to be so kind. I had already bought you—from your mother. Remember?”
5
Dougald had never been cruel before. He had been manipulative, unscrupulous, and thoughtless, but never had he taunted Hannah with the desperate events that had brought her to him. “My mother didn’t sell me to you. She placed me with you. There is a distinction.” Hannah took a breath, trying to ease the constriction in her chest. “I considered myself one of your philanthropic undertakings. You had so many.”
He shrugged. He had never talked about the people he helped—the orphans he had placed with families, the women he had found jobs for, the men he had trained.
“Besides, what else was my mother to do?” Hannah’s voice trembled as she remembered that dreadful time. “She was dying.”
“Exactly. She did the best she could for you in the circumstances.” He sat so still, watching her, weighing her reactions, seeing the sorrow the memory of her mother still brought her. “And you are wrong. She knew exactly what I wanted from you. She and Grandmama set it up between them.”
She couldn’t help but mock him. “But you, you poor little thing, didn’t realize their plan.”
“Indeed I did. They told me they had arranged a marriage for me with you. You were thirteen then, a pleasant child, handsome. Your mother was of good Lancastrian stock, and she assured us your father, also, had been healthy and of sound mind. Although the particulars of your birth were not savory, illegitimacy was not a great enough matter to disrupt our plans.”
She had never heard the story of her betrothal. Not quite like this. Not explained so bluntly, so indifferently, without the patina of regard to ease the dose. “I still don’t understand why an adult man would allow his grandmother to make a match for him.”
“Arranged marriages are a tradition in the Pippard family. They are always successful.” His mouth curled in self-derision. “Why should I have been any different?”
She knew it was stupid when she said it, but she had to. “Because people don’t do that anymore.”
“Nonsense, my dear, of course they do. You’ve been in society enough to know how ridiculous you sound. How young.” He chuckled, a laugh rusty with disuse. “In some ways, at least, you haven’t changed.”
I have. She wanted to insist he acknowledge how much she had changed. But in this matter, at least, she still believed what he did not. “For a twenty-one-year-old man to agree to train and educate a thirteen-year-old girl for no other reason than to have a wife at hand when he chooses to wed—that is obscene.”
He was still smiling, if you could call that arduous bend of the lips a smile.
“You must admit,” he said, “that most marriages are forged of some ingredient other than mutual affection. Greed, usually, but occasionally expediency.”
“Expediency would have been your motivation,” she accused.
He tossed the accusation right back. “Yours, also. I doubt you would have enjoyed being thrown out in the street when your mother died.”
“You and your grandmother were not the kind of people to pitch me out.” Whatever Dougald and Mrs. Pippard had been or done, she knew that for certain. “But even if you were, I would have found a position somewhere doing something.”
“You were always so convinced of your infallibility.”
“Of my infallib
ility?” She was startled. “I don’t think so. Of my competence, yes.”
“Think about it. Think about it now, using what you’ve learned of the world. The best you could have done was become a maid, probably in the kitchen. You were pretty and refined. You wouldn’t have been like the other maids, so they would have made fun of you. The men would have been after you. All the men, from the footmen to the master and his sons.” His hard tone and rough-gravel voice could only come from a man repelled by the thought of such concupiscence. He pressed her for admission. “I saved you from all that.”
“You’re right, of course.” She owned up to it freely. “So I thank you. But what you have never understood is that my gratitude to you for the education and the finishing school could have been repaid by the sweat of my brow, not with my body.”
He stared at her body now, then flicked a glance at her expression of fierce intent. “You have never forgiven me for taking your virtue from you.”
She hated that he talked about the day she had worked so hard to forget. “I was so young, Dougald, and you swept me away with your sweet words and your attentions.” Your kisses.
“You had found out about the arrangement, and you were leaving me.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “On the train. Remember the train…”
They were rumbling along, headed for Sankey viaduct, and she tilted the bottle of wine once more, tasting the flavors of grape and oak, thinking that Dougald hadn’t had very much of it, she’d been so intent on filling her belly. But looking him over now, watching him munch his apple, she didn’t think he appeared to be thirsty. In fact, he didn’t appear to be missing anything; he was a good-looking man, tall, dark and handsome, and if a girl dreamed of a man, he would be the ideal man to dream of. But he was too old for her—what was he, twenty-six? And so damn complacent and self-assured. It was frustrating, that a man with so much presence, a man who could sweep any woman off her feet, should choose a girl that he did not have to exert himself with. Such a shame; it was probably a sign of some spiritual deficiency on his part.
“What kind of spiritual deficiency?” his warm, deep voice asked.
Hannah blinked. Had she spoken aloud? My heavens, she had had too much wine.
“Probably a little too much wine,” he agreed. “What kind of spiritual deficiency do I suffer from?”
“Wanting to…marry someone without taking the energy to court her.” His steady green gaze mesmerized her. “Why would you abandon the thrill of the chase?”
“I chased you, didn’t I?” Dougald asked seriously.
“That’s not the same, as you well know.” She frowned. “I’ve watched you conduct business. You’re an aggressive, arrogant competitor, and opposition whets your appetite.”
He inhaled, expanding his chest fully. “You’re opposing me. You’ve fulfilled my fantasy.”
“Oh.” Hannah swigged a drink from the bottle and passed it to Dougald. “Quite unintentionally, I assure you.”
He stuffed the remnants of their lunch in the sack, closing that subject for the moment. Stretching hugely, he unbuttoned his shirt and rubbed his chest with the flat of his hand.
She covered her eyes with her hands. “Mr. Pippard. Please, this is improper!”
With a lazy purr, he said, “Surely not so improper between a man and his betrothed.”
Dropping her hands, she glared at him. “Yes, it is, and you cannot make it the contrary by decreeing it so.”
“You would be surprised what I can decree. Did you bring a blanket?”
“No, but I wish I had. At least then you could decently cover yourself.”
“If I wanted to cover myself, I’d button my shirt again.” Standing, he pulled his shirt out of his waist-band.
She wanted to cover her eyes again, but if she did there was no telling what he would dare remove next.
“I’m just looking for a pillow. Between the meal and the wine and the rocking of the train, I’m ready for my nap.” He loosened the last of the buttons, walked over and collapsed in the loose pile of cotton. Propping his head on his rolled-up flannel shirt, he shuffled the cotton around to his satisfaction and closed his eyes. “As you keep pointing out to me, I’m not as young as you are.”
“You’re going to spill that wine if you’re not careful.”
Hannah blinked. The goblet in her hand was indeed tilting; hastily she righted it. She wished now she hadn’t finished that wine. She wished she hadn’t drunk at all. While she was at it, she should wish for a thousand pounds sterling and a pony of her own—and wish that Dougald didn’t wear that knowing expression. Banishing her reminiscences, she pretended she thought of nothing but their discussion, abandoned for the Lord knows how long while she wandered the lanes of her memory. She groped for conversation, anything to take his attention away from her and her flushed complexion, and landed back at the Governess School. “These last three years have proved that I could be successful, so your concern for my youthful abilities is unnecessary.”
“Success as an impostor is no success at all.”
His charge took her aback. “What do you mean, an impostor? I’m not an impostor. I lived abroad and in London as a companion of Lady Temperly for six years. I was a good administrator and a good attendant, and it was as such I advertised myself and the school.”
“You didn’t use your own surname.”
Indignation rose in her. “Illegitimate children don’t have a surname. I didn’t have one, as you very well know.”
Briefly, the curtain of constraint lifted, and she got a glimpse of the snarling beast beneath his calm. “Yes, you did. I gave you my name when we married.”
“I was grateful,” she said tersely. She had been grateful. Her mother had called herself a widow, but always the truth followed them. Then Hannah would hear the taunts and the laughter. The gift of Dougald’s name had been one of the blessings of their marriage—and the first chain she had thrown off when she escaped him.
“I didn’t want gratitude, I wanted—” As his voice rose, he stopped himself.
But her voice picked up where his left off. “I know what you wanted. Undying love and devotion.”
“I gave you much in return.”
“When the thought of me intruded, then yes, you did. As long as I did as I was told, then yes, you did. As long as I didn’t want too much or expect you to remember the promises you made that day when you convinced me that you loved me…then yes, you did.”
In their raised tones, she heard the echoes of the past.
She thought, by the way he glared, that he did, too.
She had to master herself. If she did not, he would have the upper hand—as he had always had. Instead she had to show him her maturity, let him know he could no longer manipulate her by playing on her emotions. She’d learned how to curb her temper; dear Lady Temperly had instructed her, and she had refined her methods teaching the young ladies at the Governess School.
Hannah took several long, slow breaths, noting the faint odor of woodsmoke and the leathery scent of the chair. She allowed her gaze to roam about the drawing chamber, seeing the wide, black windows framed by heavy brocade curtains and the emerald brocade wallpaper, obviously new, that covered the upper walls. This room had been remodeled for a master’s comfort.
She risked a glance at him.
A master who obviously knew what he wanted and how to get it. As she had been glancing around and separating herself from her anger, he had been observing her.
Had he once taken his gaze off of her since she entered the room? She thought not. So she must behave with sensibility and calm, for to be anything else would grant Dougald a victory. In a polite, even tone, she said, “If I had used your surname or my mother’s surname, that would have made my departure a mockery. You would have found me at once.”
“And saved us a damned lot of trouble.”
“Saved you a damned lot of trouble,” she retorted. “I didn’t leave until…until our marriage had failed completely. Until I kne
w we had no chance.”
His lips barely moved as he retorted, “We always had a chance.”
“Nonsense.” She kept her voice reasonable, pretending to herself she was explaining a sample situation to a particularly obtuse student. “You never listened to me. You patted me on the head and told me you knew best. I might as well have gone out and shouted my discontent to the wind.”
“I adored you.”
“I didn’t want adoration, I wanted a life of purpose.”
“Most women—”
Most women would be happy to be idle. How many times had she heard that before? She held up her hand to stop him. “Please. Not the same old argument.”
Irritation flashed over his features. “I was going to say—most women would be happy to be idle, but I should have known that you would be different.”
What did he mean? Was he saying he’d been wrong all those years ago? She glanced at him, but he sat there, austere and expressionless. If he had actually changed so much he could admit fault…She glanced at him again.
Now he was staring at her breasts with such a penetrating gaze they might have been bare, rather than wrapped in layers of clothing.
No, he hadn’t changed. If he had actually changed so much he could admit fault, he did so to hide an ulterior motive. She had to remember who he was. She had to remember the hard lessons she had learned.
People didn’t change.
And men were like people, only worse.
And Dougald…she chuckled softly. He was the preeminent man. Confident to his bones. Domineering because he was right. Raised by his grandmother and father to believe that the long line of their ancestors had been successful because they were inherently superior, and that Dougald was the ultimate result of all those generations of breeding. No woman had a chance against that kind of indoctrination. Certainly not a woman who did not know the truth surrounding her birth. Who even yet didn’t know her father’s family name. She would do well to remember that, and to ignore Dougald’s broad shoulders.
So she began the flagging conversation once more. “Once, I had lived in the village of Setterington with my mother. A fair place it was, so I took that name as my own.”
Rules of Attraction Page 5