Edith Layton (3 page)

Now he could act. Rafe came up to her to say his farewell. He got his first clear look at her, and paused, gazing at her helplessly. He quickly looked to the hand she offered him so she wouldn’t see what was so obviously in his eyes.

“Lord Dalton!” she said with pleasure. “Rafe, I mean,” she added, showing him a dimple near her lips as she smiled. “You were so silent I thought you’d left without saying good-bye.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you had. Such a gabble! Thank you for the flowers, by the way.”

He’d sent her flowers because he’d danced with her the other night, and wanted her to remember that. But the room was filled with flowers. She’d danced all night.

“You’re welcome. Thing is,” he said, daring to gaze directly at her eyes, “I’m not much for polite chatter. Well, as you saw. Or rather, didn’t hear. I leave the jokes and stories to other fellows. But I make a very good audience. So I wondered if you’d care to drive out with me this afternoon. If you’ve had enough gabble, I can at least promise you some quiet time in the park. I’m reckoned a good driver, and it’s a fine day.”

She tilted her head to the side, obviously weighing
him, clearly considering him. “How kind,” she said, “but I’m so sorry, I’m promised to Radcliffe this afternoon.”

He nodded. “So I thought you might be. Then may I ask if you have escort to the Swanson ball Friday night?”

“Lud! Another party at their house! But yes, I recall I accepted Croft’s kind invitation.”

He’d heard enough. A man might want to storm a castle. But if he hadn’t the right provisions, he couldn’t no matter how brave his heart. “Then maybe you’ll save me a dance. Good morning, my lady.”

“But that drive in the park sounded so good,” she said wistfully. “And I heard you were a member of the Four in Hand.”

The Four in Hand Club was a prestigious driving club, membership difficult, awarded for skill, not connections or money. He nodded. “I am, and so perhaps you could come driving with me Saturday?”

“Alas, no,” she sighed.

He’d heard quite enough. He was besotted, but not a fool, and wouldn’t be made one. He knew what he was. If it wasn’t enough, he didn’t blame her. But he wouldn’t make himself less. His face went still. His voice grew cold. “Too bad,” he said. “Another time then.” He inclined his head in a bow and turned to leave.

“Tomorrow?” she asked suddenly.

He turned again, his surprise clear.

“Don’t tell Mama I’m so forward or she’ll have my skin,” she added with a little grin, looking to
where her mother was still sitting. “I don’t mean to beg, but as it happens, I am free tomorrow, and so…if you are too?”

“I am,” he said, trying to tamp down his delight so he wouldn’t grin like an idiot. It might be the prestige of being with a member of the Four in Hand, she might be simply bored. But she would be going out with him. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. He had to push his luck and try for more of her company. “At two? Would that be good for you? That way we can take tea, as well. There’s a place near the park.”

She went still, considering. Had he asked too much? he wondered, waiting.

“Lovely,” she said. “I look forward to it. I hope it’s a fine day too.”

Rafe bowed, went into the hall, clapped on his hat, and strode out into the street. But he didn’t see where he was going. He was too excited, and then too busy wondering what sacrifices a man had to make to the gods in order to hold off the rain.

He walked home, counting his assets. He had to prove to himself it was more than luck; she might actually want to spend time with him.

First, he had good birth. He possessed a passable fortune which he’d increased by wise investments. He’d been helped with that by the advice of Drum and Damon Ryder. As to that, he had loyal friends and through them entrée anywhere, even among the best families in England. Rafe’s footsteps slowed as he realized there wasn’t much else he could think of to recommend him to a lady like Annabelle.

He tried to think of more.

He didn’t look like a Greek god, like the man she’d adored, but no female had ever run from him either. He had a strong back, good teeth, clear skin, and could drive a horse to an inch. He was a bruising rider. He didn’t drink overmuch. He’d never raised his hand to a female and never would.
Wonderful,
he thought ruthlessly,
next you’ll be mentioning that you’re kind to animals.

Naturally then, he mercilessly listed his deficits.

Not a Greek god, no, not by a long shot. He knew his face had all the charm of the side of a cliff. And there was that damnable hair. Not a poet. What had lovely Isabella, his paid companion in Spain, said? Oh yes. When she’d stopped laughing, she’d managed to tell him, “Raphael,
mi amor.
Telling me my hair is so shiny and lustrous, just like a horse, is
not
flattering!”

Rafe smiled now, remembering. But so she had had silky, long, black hair, almost blue-black in the sunlight. It had captivated him. “Flowing black mane” was what he’d actually said, though he conceded that wasn’t much better. Isabella had followed the armies. She’d had a merry heart and no morals, and in her short life had had more men than he’d cared to think about. Still, the memory of a woman who had genuinely liked him cheered him now. Because when he’d been wounded and lay all those months in hospital, she’d visited him regularly. And he hadn’t even had the keeping of her by then.

The sum of it was that he didn’t know what fate and Lady Annabelle had in store for him. But a man
had to try his fate or he was less than a man, and there was no sense fretting over it. Stranger things had happened. He had a chance simply because life was all chance. He quickly took the steps to his door and let himself in. He’d change his clothes, go to his club for luncheon, and hunt up Drum, he mused as he went up the stair.

But Drum was on his way to Italy, he remembered. The Ryders were in the countryside now. Their neighbors, his old friend Ewen and his wife, Bridget, were at their estate with their children. London was thin of company in the summertime. But Annabelle was here. That was enough for him.

Rafe whistled as he stripped off his jacket. He washed and then selected a more comfortable jacket. He’d go driving after luncheon, take the team out and put them through their paces, get any tics out of their stride so Annabelle’s drive would be perfect. He heard the door knocker echoing through the empty house as he stepped out of his room again.

Maybe Town wasn’t so empty after all, he thought as he went to the door. Maybe Drum’s gypsy notions had faded and he’d decided to stay in the country.

Rafe swung open the door. And stared. It took a moment for him to recognize the man in his doorway.

A very tall fellow, broad shouldered, but his jacket hung from those wide shoulders. Thick honey blond hair, too long but strangely attractive around that classically handsome face—a too thin face, all cheekbones now. The face once had a deep tan; now it only served to make his skin more sallow. The hazel eyes showed fatigue; his smile was wide but thin. He was
a wreck of a man, more so because he’d once been a very handsome fellow.

“
Eric? Eric Ford?
What a surprise!” Rafe said, hastily concealing his shock. The man had served with him in the Peninsula. But then he’d been a healthy young giant, so handsome everyone said his face had saved his life many a time, since no one—not even a Frenchie—would want to put out his light. It would be like defacing a work of art. They’d been friends in those days, and had corresponded since. Rafe went home, but Eric had gone with his army career. India had been his last address. He’d written to say he’d been ill. Rafe hadn’t realized the extent of it. He was staggered. It hadn’t been that long, yet the man was a shadow of his former self.

“Eric, by God!” Rafe exclaimed, recovering, “Come in, come in. How long has it been?”

The gaunt man on his doorstep shrugged. “A few years, to be sure. Are you sure about us coming in?”

Belatedly Rafe realized there was a woman on the front stair too. She stood in Eric’s shadow. Rafe got a fleeting glance of a wan, foreign-looking face with great dark eyes, before she dipped a curtsy to him. But Rafe’s gaze didn’t linger on her. He saw a pile of hard-worn traveling cases and bags on the steps beside the couple now too. His eyes flew to his old friends’.

Eric shrugged again. “Wrong time, if not the wrong place, eh? When I wrote to say I’d be coming to London, you suggested I stay on here with you. But plans change. Aye, who knows that better than us, eh, Bren?” he asked the woman. “Lucky thing the
hack’s still there,” he said, looking back at the hired hackney at the curb. “Good seeing you, Rafe.”

“It won’t be if you take one step away!” Rafe threatened, throwing his door wide. “I remember now. My head’s been all sixes and sevens these days. You did write. I did invite. By God, Eric, you have not been uninvited. There’s plenty of room! Come in, stay as long as you like. My plans changed. That’s true. But not towards you or your lovely wife.”

“Wife? God forbid. Me and my lovely sister,” Eric murmured. “In truth, Rafe, I’d leave on the instant. But at this particular instant, I do believe I need a chair.” He laughed weakly. He closed his eyes, swayed, and toppled over.

R
afe carried Eric to a bedchamber, then anxiously watched until his friend regained consciousness.

“Thank you,” Eric said, grimacing after he swallowed the brandy he’d asked for as soon as he’d roused from his faint. “Swooning like a girl. Who would have thought it?”

“I would,” his sister remarked from a corner of the room, where she was unpacking his kit bag.

“Skipped luncheon,” Eric grumbled, ignoring her comment as he held out his glass for Rafe to refill. “As soon as I get some food in me, I’ll be fine.”

“Need more than food,” Rafe said, withholding the decanter. “First you tell me what’s toward, then you get another glass. Not before.”

“Yes, sir! Captain, sir,” Eric said with sarcasm.

“I won’t ‘Lieutenant’ you if you don’t ‘Captain’ me,” Rafe said calmly. “That’s over. You sold out, as
did I. We’re equals here. Only not yet. When you can take me in three rounds—which is two and a half rounds more than you’d need if you were fit—we’ll be equals.”

“Ho!” Eric said hollowly. “No man could batter you down. No matter what shape he was in. You’re slender but tough, as firmly set as an oak growing by the water, Rafe.”

Rafe’s gaze was steady. “Going to tell me the whole of it? Or just fling praises at my head? I’m not going to blush and change the subject. Out with it, man.”

Eric sighed and looked down into his glass. “You know I had that leg injury in the Peninsula…” He looked up. “By the way, how’s the arm?”

“Attached,” Rafe said.

“Damn near lost it too, didn’t you?”

“Aye, but I had the other to bat them away when they came at me with the saw,” Rafe said, frowning. But only because his friend’s comment made him remember the ugly scars he bore, scars he was sure would repulse a tender lady—at least at first.
But a man can make love in the dark, or turned the other way. For that matter, he can keep his damned shirt on,
Rafe thought, and added, “My arm’s here. As are you. Now, are you going to tell me or not?”

Eric shrugged again and hitched himself up higher on the pillows. “The leg healed. But I think it undermined my health. I used to be stout as the titan I resembled. When I caught that fever in India I was almost put paid for. If Brenna here hadn’t shipped out when she heard, and nursed me back—I don’t know if I’d be back at all. I’m recuperating, Rafe. But
it was a near thing and it will take a while for me to be sound again. That’s why I’m here. The brat insists I see a first-class London physician before we head home. As to that, I think we’ll just have enough money to get back after I do! Not that we’re impoverished, mind,” he added hastily. “It’s just that the sawbones here in London have fees big as their heads. I only hope their talents merit it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe said, “You’ll have the finest doctors, I’ll see to that. And you’ll stay on until
you
can pull the horses home.”

“I should think not!” Eric said, sitting up and trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

Rafe was there before he could put a foot down. He grabbed his friend’s shoulders hard and looked him in the eye. “White as the pillowcase,” Rafe muttered angrily. “Damme, no! Listen, my friend, you did me a good turn once and I’ve been waiting a long time to do you one. I’m not going to let you deprive me of that. Here you are, and here you stay until you’re better.
All
better. What, should I let a friend stay in a hotel when I have the whole of this house to myself?
I
should think not. So get yourself into some nightclothes. I’ll send for the finest physician you could want.”

“We couldn’t impose…” Eric’s sister said anxiously.

“Nor will I!” Eric said.

Rafe cut them off. “You’d be doing me a favor. I’m alone here. Peck—remember him? He’s my valet and butler now, but he’s gone off to visit his sister. I
thought I’d be gone now too. Good thing I changed my plans, at that! The plain truth is, I forgot you were coming. I was going to Italy with my old friend Drum—the earl of Drummond—you must remember him. You were still in the hospital when I left with him, or rather when he hauled me off to play cat and mouse with Bonaparte’s supporters on the Continent.”

“I envied you that,” Eric said with a wan smile, settling back on his banked pillows again.

“Don’t blame you,” Rafe said. “I’d never have thought trickery in a drawing room could equal riding into battle, but it was just as chancy and dangerous. Suited me down to the ground. Any rate, I just changed my plans about going to Italy with Drum. ‘Just’ is the word, I changed my mind abruptly.” He smiled. “It’s what’s got my thinking muddled. For good reason. There’s this lady. Aye, a lady. Not just a female. Well, the thing of it is that she’s here. So here is where I want to be. But she’s the only person I know or care to know in London right now. So you’re more than welcome. I was getting lonely.”

“Lonely?” Eric asked. “With your lady here?”

Rafe’s lean cheeks grew warm. “She’s not my lady yet. Time will tell.”

“Let me tell her a thing or two about you,” Eric said.

“You? Never!” Rafe laughed. “One look at you and all I’ll see of her will be the back of her head. You have a way with women I’ve never seen the likes of. Remember that little señorita in…” Rafe
remembered the man’s sister was in the room, and gave a cough of a laugh. “Perhaps now’s not the time for such remembering.”

“You needn’t stop on
my
account,” she said. “I’ve heard it all, and what I haven’t heard, I’ve seen. It
is
remarkable. I had to screen Eric’s bed from insects in India, but sick as he was, I vow I had to toss more adoring women out than swat mosquitoes.”

Rafe turned his head to look at her. She was an exotic creature, tall and slender, with strongly etched features and dark coloring, making her look more Spanish than English to him. She was not in her first youth, and the dark clothes she wore and the obvious hard traveling she’d done made her seem as tired as her brother. She didn’t resemble him in any other way. He had bright hair; hers was smooth and black. Pulled back from her face, it threw her well-defined features into bold relief, making her exhaustion evident. Skin the color of camellias was further shadowed with fatigue. Her eyes were large, dark, and almond shaped, her nose aquiline. Her mouth was sculpted with a bowed upper lip and plush lower one, curved so she always seemed to wear a half smile. Perhaps she did; her voice was deep, soft, and tinged with amused irony.

“Yes,” she said, her lips curved into a real smile, “hard to believe we’re brother and sister, isn’t it? Everyone thinks I’m his Spanish bride, or an Indian one, picked up in his travels. He
will
go to exotic places.”

“She’s Welsh as Llewellen himself,” Eric said, “on her mama’s side, at least. Bren’s my half sister. Seven
years younger and a world removed from me, in her heritage. My stepmama claims descent from the old princes of Wales, and has books to prove it. The looks as well. My mother was golden as the sun, like my father. He likes to say my stepmama’s luminous as the moon. She is. That’s Bren and me—different as day from night.” He smiled at his dark sister. “But I bless her. The family raised a row when she insisted on shipping out to find me after I got sick. I did too. Much good it did when she’d got her mind made up. Her maid up and quit two weeks after she arrived in India. Her Indian maidservant quit when we said we were going back to England. But Bren stuck it out and got me home. I’m a lucky man.”

“You always had luck with womenfok,” Rafe said. “Mothers and sister as well as every other one, I see.” He took out his pocket watch. “I’ve things to do. Must send a note to my physician and get him to come here. Then get you a nurse—”

“That you will not,” Eric thundered. “I can do for myself, thank you.”

“
If
you don’t do too much,” his sister said too sweetly.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Rafe said, rising to his feet. “In the meanwhile, make yourselves comfortable. There’s a connecting room you can use,” he told Eric’s sister. “You might want to open a window and air it out, but it’s ready for company. Always is. If you need anything else, I’ll be downstairs, getting things together. Dinner at nine? I’ll send to a restaurant for it. If you don’t feel strong enough, we’ll have it right up here.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” Eric said.

“Perhaps,” his sister said.

Rafe smiled and left the room.

After their host stepped out of the room, Brenna walked to her brother’s bedside and gazed at him steadily. “Ought we to stay on here, Eric?” she asked.

“I think we must,” he answered. “I’m weak as a kitten. Do you mind? And if we have to stay on anywhere in London, this is the best place right now. To tell a truth I wouldn’t breathe to Rafe, I’m not sure I could make it to a hotel tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps. And if we have to, we’ll go to one then. But I don’t think we will have to. I think Rafe really did forget his invitation. He’s not a liar. Or at least, not a good one.”

He forced a grin. “Don’t look so worried. I don’t think I’m getting the fever again, I’m just so damnably drained from our travels. I think we must stop here awhile, Bren. I hope it won’t be long, and Rafe’s a good fellow, you’ll see. Honest to a fault, perhaps. And brusque in his manner, unfortunately. He always was. It doesn’t matter to men. You mustn’t take it amiss either. He’s got a heart of gold.”

“So we’ll stay until you’re stronger,” she said simply. “As for your friend Lord Dalton, I think he’s telling the truth too. I’m not put off by how blunt he is, I rather like it. Insincere flattery is what makes me nervous. Not plain truth. Anyway, you’re right. I can see he’s a very good man indeed.”

…But taken, of course,
she sighed to herself as she turned back to finish her brother’s unpacking,
as the
good ones always are
. No wonder. He was so very handsome, that vivid coloring, that strong, determined face, a soldier’s body and a gentleman’s grace. She knew from Eric’s stories what a brave and stalwart friend he was. As for his good heart? It was plain to see from his actions as well as in his face. Now, there was a face a man could depend on. A woman as well. But he’d hardly looked at her. It was more than the fact that she was far from her best right now. His heart was taken, and he was the sort of man who didn’t trifle.

Wasn’t that always the way? she thought gloomily. Eric said she was too choosy. But it was only that there were so few to choose from. She bent to her unpacking with a sad smile. The best ones were always taken—or had been lost.

Rafe woke at dawn, sitting straight up in bed as though he’d heard the call to battle. This was just as crucial to him; today he was taking Annabelle for a drive.

He got out of bed, washed, shaved, and then sorted through his wardrobe, looking for something casual yet expensive, elegant yet…
Like a man on the dawn of the day of battle? Ha! More like a girl on the evening of her first ball,
he told himself in disgust when he realized what he was doing. He closed his wardrobe door smartly. She’d take him as he was or not at all. Any rate, he thought, pulling a clean shirt over his head, even if it was to be not at all, at least he had a good friend to pass the time with until he met
with her. That would settle his nerves. Eric and his sister had arrived with perfect timing, and he was very glad of it.

Last night they’d sat up laughing and reminiscing, only stopping when Brenna firmly told them it was time for Eric to sleep. Rafe had noted his growing pallor too, and helped her get him to his bedchamber. She’d sat by the fireside all evening with them, doing mending, but keeping an eye on her brother. She’d seemed to know just when to ask a question, and just when to be still. She’d laughed so honestly at their stories, they’d soon indulged in their nostalgia.
Sufficiently edited,
of course, Rafe thought with amusement.

Eric and his sister appeared at the breakfast table downstairs, just as Eric had vowed he would. They were good company and made Rafe realize how much he hated eating alone. He was relieved to see his friend looked somewhat better. Faint color tinged Eric’s hollow cheeks, and he ate a decent breakfast. Brenna looked rested too, her face no longer drawn. They laughed together again, and talked a good deal more. The morning passed quickly.

But as the hours went on, Rafe became more distracted. His guests couldn’t help noticing it. They fell still when he checked his watch once too often. Rafe saw it, and his face heated, more so when he realized they could see it. Another curse of his coloring.

“Caught me fair and square,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s nearly time for me to leave. Will you two be all right here on your own? I’m taking my lady driving this afternoon, and then to tea. The doctor
will be here after his usual hours, he said. Well, I admitted it was no emergency. That won’t be until nearly seven. I’ll be back by then. If you need him, I’ve left a note with his direction on my desk. I don’t expect anyone else to call—hardly anyone even knows I’m in Town. So there’s nothing for you two to do but rest. Anything more I can do now, before I go?”

“You’ve done enough!” Eric said. “I’m going to sleep away the rest of the day, I think. And let Bren wash her hair, or do her fingertips, or whatever it is females do when they have time for themselves. Lord knows she deserves weeks of such time.”

“I’ll have them,” she said simply. “Have a good afternoon,” she told Rafe. “We’ll fend for ourselves, and do fine. As will you. You look very well. Any lady would be honored to have you as escort.”

But would the lady of his choice? Rafe wondered as he thanked her, bowed, and left the pair so he could find out.