The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress (21 page)

Curiosity shone in his eyes. “What happened?”

“We grew up, I think.” She shrugged as best she could in his arms. “Both Jackson and I kept coming up with very sound reasons to put off our engagement. I finally realized we were doing so because, in spite of our families’ wishes, neither of us truly wanted to marry the other. Make no mistake,” she added quickly, “Jackson will always be my dearest friend even if he cannot seem to get over the idea that he has some responsibility for me.”

“That explains quite a lot,” Cameron said under his breath.

“It certainly explains his hiring of you and his asking his cousin, Lady Dunwell, to keep an eye on me as well.” She sighed. “As annoying as it is, I suppose it’s understandable given he probably is feeling somewhat guilty about me. You see, when he discovered the father he thought was dead was very much alive and came here to England to meet his family, he fell in love with the woman he was fated to be with.”

“So much for the dynasty.” He chuckled.

“You may call it fate or whatever you wish, but things turn out the way they’re supposed to in the end, Cameron,” she said firmly. “I truly believe that.”

“Tell me, Lucy.” Caution sounded in his voice. “You were not disappointed that he had found someone else?”

“Goodness, no.” She laughed. “I was relieved. You see, I’ve always done exactly what I was supposed to do.”

“Have you?” He cast her a disbelieving look.

“I most certainly have. I’ve never been involved in scandal or trouble of any kind for that matter. I have always been the perfect daughter. And I’m afraid I probably would have married Jackson and been a perfect, dutiful wife.” She smiled into his dark eyes. “But I am very grateful that is not to be my fate.”

His brow rose. “Don’t you want to marry?”

“Every woman wants to marry, but I’m in no particular hurry. I am having entirely too much fun at the moment.”

He laughed. “I am well aware of that.”

“I’m not especially looking for a husband.” She studied him for a moment. “And, as turnabout is fair play, might I ask you the same question? Do you wish to marry?”

“I’m not opposed to marriage but I haven’t given it much thought.” He chuckled. “Even if I was considering it, I would never let my grandmother know. She is determined to find suitable matches for all of her grandchildren, although she’s finding it a daunting task.”

“A stubborn lot, are you?”

“That does seem to run in the family.” He grinned. “But Grandmother doesn’t just want us to marry; she wants us to find love.”

“How very modern of her.”

“Not really. She married for love as did my parents. That too runs in the family.”

“So what you’re looking for is love?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but as I don’t intend to marry for any other reason, I suppose you’re right.” He smiled. “But I’m not actually
looking
for anything. It seems to me the most interesting things in life happen when you’re not really looking for them.”

She nodded. “When they strike you unawares.”

“Exactly. One minute, your life is perfectly acceptable. You’re doing what you want to be doing, pursuing your own goals, chasing your own dreams. And the next . . .” His gaze met hers and the world around them slowed, faded.

She held her breath. “The next?”

“And the next minute”—his gaze searched hers—“everything has changed.”

She swallowed hard. “Everything?”

His hand tightened around hers. “And nothing will ever be the same again.”

“No, it won’t, will it?”

For a long moment her gaze locked with his. The music continued around them. Their steps didn’t falter—they moved as one. But in the endless depths of his eyes she saw the reflection of her own cautious excitement and growing awareness.

And with awareness came resolve. It was time to stop waiting for him to be honest with her and ask him outright what he was hiding. Given the things he had said to her, the way he made her feel, the way he obviously felt, the time for secrets was past. She drew a deep breath. “Cameron—”

“Blast it all,” he muttered, and she realized the music had ended. He quickly escorted her off the floor. “My apologies, Lucy. This has been a delightful and most informative dance but I’m afraid I must take my leave.”

“Now?” She stared in disbelief.

“Unfortunately.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I have another matter to attend to.”

“You do not. You—” She gasped and glared at him. “You’re escaping, Mr. Fairchild. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Not at all, Miss Merryweather.” His tone was clipped, brisk. “But I must be off.”

“Yes, well, the work of a private investigator never ends, does it?” she said sharply, yanking her hand from his.

“About that . . .” His gaze slid past her and he shook his head. “Tomorrow, Lucy, we shall speak more tomorrow.” He turned and fairly sprinted away as if someone, or something, was hard on his heels. The truth, no doubt.

“Nothing will ever be the same again,” she said under her breath. “Ha!”

“Miss Merryweather, may I have the honor of this dance?” a voice said behind her.

She drew a calming breath, adopted her most pleasant smile, and turned. At once her mood brightened. “Freddy! How delightful to see you.”

“I was afraid you would not remember me,” Freddy said with a wry smile.

“I would never forget you. Especially as you and your parents are my only relatives here in England.”

“The only ones you know, at any rate. There are others but . . .” He shuddered. “We do try not to mention them.”

“How very remarkable.” She leaned closer in a confidential manner. “We have those on my side of the Atlantic as well.”

“Do you think they’re the same ones?” He frowned as if seriously considering the idea. “They simply spend their lives traveling the seas from one continent to the other, embarrassing unsuspecting relations?”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

He laughed and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“I’d be delighted.” She took his arm and he led her back onto the dance floor. “But I am quite annoyed with you, you know.”

“Me?” His eyes widened. “What have I done?” The first notes of another waltz sounded in the air.

“Nothing, Freddy.” She heaved a heartfelt sigh, placed one hand in his, the other on his shoulder. “Nothing at all. Except that you did say you would call on us and show us the sights of London and you failed to do so.”

“On the contrary, Lucy.” Indignation rang in his voice. “I called on you several times but you were always out. With the exception of one day when I was told you were indisposed.”

“Oh, yes, well.” She wrinkled her nose. “My apologies then.”

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” He shook his head. “I failed to leave a note or my card. But only because I did want to see you in person and it’s terribly easy to ignore a card.”

“Then we’ll say that we are both at fault and leave it at that.”

“Agreed.” He smiled. “And are you enjoying our great city?”

“London is remarkable.” She returned his smile. “I may well be having the best time of my life.”

“You’ve already seen all the sights then?”

“Some.” Most from the point of view of a bird. She pushed away the thought. “I doubt we could ever see them all.”

“And have you met anyone interesting?”

“Well, I am getting to know Lady Dunwell better. She is extremely interesting.”

“True enough.” He chuckled. “You certainly are in demand here tonight. I could barely fight my way through the crowd. I saw you dancing with Effington a minute ago. I could have sworn he saw me but I must have been mistaken.”

“Who?”

“Effington. The chap you danced with right before me. I haven’t seen him recently. I wonder what he’s up to these days.”

It was all Lucy could do to keep from stumbling through the steps of the dance. “What did you say his name was?”

“Effington. Cameron Effington. Actually Lord Cameron Effington. He’s the son of the Duke of Roxborough.”

She stared.

Freddy raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you weren’t properly introduced.”

“A dreadful breach of etiquette, I know.” She plastered a pleasant smile on her lips. The son of a duke?
A duke?
She wasn’t entirely sure, but she suspected a duke was rather significant. Why on earth would the son of a duke be working as a private investigator?

“But one easily forgiven,” he said gallantly.

“Thank you, Freddy.” The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was make idle chatter with Freddy or anyone. She needed to consider this new bit of information. Still, one did hate to be rude. Her mother had once told her that men loved to talk and if a lady kept a smile on her face and nodded now and then, a gentleman scarcely ever noticed if she was indeed paying attention. It was advice that had come in handy on any number of occasions.

She favored him with a pleasant smile. “Tell me, Freddy, how are your parents?”

“Quite well, all things considered. Oh, Father has . . .”

Unless Cameron’s father,
the duke
, had disinherited him. No, she discarded that idea. While he’d been extremely vague about his family, she’d had no sense of a rift. She searched her mind trying to think of everything Cameron had mentioned, but aside from a few bare facts—he had three older brothers and an older widowed sister—there was not much to recall.

“. . . and naturally Mother has been talking about putting together a small soiree to introduce you to . . .”

Unlike in America where most wealthy men expected their sons to follow in their footsteps in choice of a profession, it was her observation that sons of wealthy noble families in England rarely had any actual profession at all. That Cameron did was decidedly odd.

“. . . rather eager, really, to know more, and I must say, I think it’s an idea . . .”

Odder still that he wasn’t using his real name. It did seem like a great deal of trouble given that Cameron didn’t seem to have a particular passion for investigation, but then she had already surmised that he hadn’t been at it for very long.

“We dance together beautifully, Lucy. I think we make an excellent pair.”

“We do dance well together,” she said absently.

Perhaps he didn’t want his family or anyone to know until he had made a success of himself. He had spoken of failure and being a disappointment to those he cared about. It was entirely possible that he wished to succeed on his own without having to rely on his family’s name and influence. How very . . . independent of him. And admirable.

“I’m not one to beat around the bush, Lucy. When I have something to say I come right out and say it.”

She nodded. To want to stand on one’s own two feet and make something out of one’s life was commendable. Why, even her father would find that impressive.

“My parents think, and I have to say I agree with them, that it would be an excellent idea if you and I were to marry.”

“What?” Her attention jerked back to her partner and she nearly stumbled.

“Oh, not right away of course,” Freddy added quickly. “We would probably want to get to know each other a little first.”

She stared. “That would be advisable.”

“And really, isn’t that what marriage is for? To get to know each other.”

“I suppose but—”

“You do like me, don’t you?”

“Well, yes but—”

“And we do seem to get on well together.”

“Thus far, but we’ve had no more than one conversation and a single dance.” She shook her head. “Hardly enough to begin a serious discussion of marriage.”

“I know marriages that are based on far less,” he said staunchly.

“I do not intend for mine to be one of them.” She adopted a firm tone. “Good Lord, Freddy, don’t you want more than that?”

“But we do have more. Much, much more.” His tone was earnest. Too earnest. “Why, the first time I saw you, I knew you were the only woman in the world for me.”

“The first time you saw me, you looked at Miss West as if she were the only woman in the world for you.”

“A momentary lapse, nothing more than that. You’ve conquered my heart, Lucy. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep. You’re everything I ever wanted and more. You are in my thoughts day and night. Please end my suffering and say you’ll be my wife.”

She stared at him for a moment, then choked back a laugh. “I don’t believe any of this.”

“None of it?” Disbelief crossed his face.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Not even the part about you being everything I ever wanted and more?” A hopeful note sounded in his voice.

“As flattering as that was.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Or the part about you being in my thoughts day and night?”

“Again, no.”

“Oh dear.” He winced. “I’ve mucked it up then, haven’t I?”

“I can’t say since I have no idea what you’re thinking or what brought all this about.” She studied him curiously. “Why on earth would you ask me to marry you?”

He grimaced. “It wasn’t actually my idea.”

“Whose idea was it?” she said slowly.

“My parents, but I thought it was an excellent idea,” he added.

She chose her words carefully. “Why would your parents, and you, think it was an excellent idea?”

“May I be perfectly honest?”

“Now
that
would be an excellent idea at this point.”

“Well, this is awkward but . . .” He paused to choose his words. “The family finances are not what they once were. The only real way to shore them up is for me to marry well. You’re an heiress and . . .”

She stared. “You want to marry me for my money?”

“I’m so glad you understand. I was afraid you wouldn’t.” He blew a relieved breath. “Although it is something of a family tradition, you know. Rutledges have almost always married for money.” He paused. “But affection has inevitably followed. My parents are very happy with each other.”