The Defiant Hero (13 page)
One day, when Eve had been unable to get a job, when she was driving back from Ramsgate—James kept three different cars in the garage of his estate and she saw no reason not to use them at her leisure despite her lack of driver’s license—as she was pulling up to the main house, she first encountered her brother’s new tutor.
He had just ridden up on his bicycle and had accepted a drink from Mr. Johnson, the caretaker.
At first she’d thought he was a traveler passing through, a young man on break from college, biking his way across the English countryside, stopping for a drink, or—even more likely—to ask if he could camp for the night in the nearby woods.
“You can sleep up by the orchard if you promise not to light a fire,” Eve said to him as she slid out from the car’s expensive leather seats.
The young man laughed—his grin was infectious and his eyes actually twinkled—and she realized he was older than she’d first thought by about five years. “Do you always greet strangers with non sequiturs?”
She looked at his bicycle—old but well-kept; his clothes—that of a traveler, jacket off and sleeves rolled up to beat the heat, one pant leg tucked into his sock to keep it from getting caught on the bike’s chain; his face—damp with perspiration but still strikingly attractive, framed above his very English and somewhat patrician forehead and long elegant nose by thick, dark, wavy hair; his eyes—hazel, with long, dark lashes, and still dancing with amusement.
“Of course, you’re pretty enough to get away with just about anything, aren’t you?” he added.
“Aren’t you looking for a place to spend the night?” she asked.
Something shifted in those hazel eyes as they skimmed her from the hat that went perfectly with her eggshell-colored suit, all the way down her silk-stocking-clad legs to her matching pumps. She’d seen that look in a man’s eyes plenty of times before and knew what it meant.
If she were her mother, she’d pull her shoulders back a little bit, throwing out her breasts, showing off her female attributes. But Eve was tired and her feet hurt. It had been a long, disappointing day and the last thing she needed was some stupid college boy drooling on her, no matter how pretty his eyes were.
She reached up to pull her hat pins free. She couldn’t wait to get back to her room so she could change into her blue jeans, her cowboy boots, and one of her father’s old shirts. She’d find Nicky and they’d take a walk over to the beach and . . .
“Actually, no,” the young man said. Despite the heat, he rolled down his sleeves and slipped his arms into his jacket, the perfect gentleman. “I’m here to see young Nicolas Linden. I’m his new tutor, Ralph Grayson.” He wiped his hand on his pants before holding it out to her. “I was told he had an older sister, but I’m afraid they didn’t mention your name.”
This was Nick’s tutor.
His name was spelled Ralph, but he pronounced it the crazy English way—Rafe.
He had a poet’s or maybe a piano player’s hands, with long, graceful fingers. They should have been cool and otherworldly, but they weren’t. He was hot to the touch.
“I’m Eve,” she told him.
“Eve,” he murmured, still holding onto her, his eyes at least as hot as his hand. “Delightful.”
And Eve knew in a flash that she held the ultimate power. Ralph Grayson had no clue he was casting lustful looks at a fifteen-year-old girl. All she needed was for him to say or do something completely inappropriate—one kiss was all it would take—and she’d control him. Then if he upset Nicky—which he would invariably do—she’d whisper the truth about how old she really was into his ear and tell him she’d keep their little nasty secret, provided he resign immediately.
And then, poof, like magic, he’d be gone.
She pulled back her shoulders and gave him her mother’s million dollar smile. “The pleasure’s completely mine, Ralph. May I call you Ralph?”
“Absolutely. I have to confess, I was looking forward to working with your brother and to spending the summer near the seaside, but now I’m completely ecstatic.”
Cripes, he shoveled it on pretty thick. Eve pulled her hand free. “Why don’t we go inside? I’ll get Nick and a pitcher of lemonade.”
“Excellent idea.”
Or maybe he was just stupidly enthusiastic about everything.
“This house is gorgeous,” he proclaimed as they went inside. “Do you know its history?”
She shook her head, and he regaled her with the duke of this and the lord of that all the way to the sitting room.
“Nicky likes plays,” she interrupted him midsentence as he was saying something about visits to this estate a million years earlier from someone named Prinny. “Our mother was an actress.”
The tutor nodded, suddenly serious. “Thank you,” he said, as if she’d presented him with the royal jewels. “Anything else I should know that might help?”
“He hates tutors.”
The smile was back. “I assumed as much.”
“I’ll send him right in,” she said, and hurried out of the room. Why had she told him even that much, instead of leaving him to face Nick’s evil eye on his own?
She found her brother in the kitchen, telling one of his ridiculous tall tales to a giggling Mrs. Johnson. They were waiting for a chocolate cake to finish baking.
“Your tutor’s arrived,” she told him, hating the surly, almost hunted-animal look that came into his eyes at the news. “He’s not old and smelly like we thought, Nick. He’s young and he seems nice.” She gave him a hug, whispering into his ear, “And if you don’t like him, I’ll make him leave, I promise.”
Hope bloomed, banishing the desperate animal, and Nicky nodded. There wasn’t much in this world that he could count on, but Eve had never broken a promise to him yet. Unlike their mother, she’d never made him a promise she couldn’t keep.
“He’s in the sitting room,” she told him now. “Go and meet him. I’ll be there in a sec with lemonade.”
Mrs. Johnson helped her find a tray, and Eve carried the pitcher and three glasses carefully back down the long hallway.
“Ralph,” she heard the tutor say as she went into the room. “Like Ralph Rackstraw in HMS Pinafore.”
Nothing. Nick didn’t even blink. And James had given them tickets to see Pinafore when they’d first arrived in England. Nick had loved it—he’d laughed his butt off.
Eve poured them each a tall glass of lemonade as Ralph, undaunted, tried again.
“Do you know I’m in line to be the king of England?” he asked. He was so focused on Nick, he barely even glanced up to thank her as she handed him a glass.
“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” Nick scoffed. Bingo. Ralph had gotten him to speak.
“It’s true.” Ralph set his glass down on the end table nearest him. “We’re distant cousins of the queen’s. In fact, my eldest brother’s an earl. And if he and all seventeen hundred and fifty-eight other members of the royal family die, I’ll be crowned the next king. But you don’t have to call me Your Highness. Ralph will do.”
Nick was stunned. “You want me to call you by your first name?”
“I thought that might be a good idea,” Ralph replied. “You don’t mind, do you? You Americans prefer informality, right? Just do me a favor and don’t pronounce my name the American way. Ralph,” he said, heavy on the L, then shuddered. “Sounds kind of like the noise your dog makes when he loses his dinner, doesn’t it?”
Nick laughed but caught himself and stopped. “I don’t want a tutor,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to learn to read. I’ve gotten along just fine without it—at least everywhere but at that stupid school.”
“Ah.” Ralph nodded in understanding. “Well, then.” He thought about that. “If you don’t want to learn to read, I can’t very well force you, can I?”
Nick was completely unprepared for such a reasonable response. He didn’t know what to say and his evil eye faltered.
“Tell me then,” Ralph continued. “What do you want to learn how to do?”
Eve felt invisible. It was really pretty amazing. She was used to being the center of attention but neither Ralph nor Nick seemed to know she was even in the room. She crossed her legs with a whisper of silk, but Ralph didn’t so much as glance in her direction. Every fiber of his being was focused on Nicky.
Who had crossed his arms and was back to glaring at Ralph, chin held at a decidedly aggressive angle. “I want to learn to box.”
The Englishman didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even blink. “Excellent. My brother and I both boxed at school. Between us we had two pairs of gloves. I can ask my mother to send them—”
“There are gloves out in the garage,” Nicky informed him. “Hanging on the wall.”
“Better and better,” Ralph declared. “However, since it’s been some years, and since I’ve never actually tried to teach anyone to box before, we’ll need to make a quick trip to the town lending library to get a book on rules and technique. What say we go now?”
“Now?” Nick’s voice cracked in surprise. “Well, sure.”
“I wonder if your sister would drive us in that car of hers.” Was it possible he’d forgotten she was in the room? Eve cleared her throat and he looked over at her, his eyes dancing. He was enjoying himself. He’d gone up against her brother’s evil eye and had actually come out of it sparkling. “Oh, hello, Lady Eve. Unless this old place has its own library . . . ? “
“It does.” Even more amazing—Nick was actually excited and letting his excitement show. “There are shelves and shelves of books,” he said in his regular voice, not that angry and dripping-with-scorn voice, nor even that dead, flat tone he used when he was forced to be at least partially polite to teachers and tutors. “More than you could count if you spent an entire week at it. And there’re ladders on wheels to get up to the top shelves.”
“Well, then lead on, Nick old pal. Isn’t that what you Americans call each other?”
They went down the hall at Nick-speed, and Eve had to run to keep up. She finally stopped and kicked off her high-heeled shoes, but by then she’d lost them. When she reached the library, they were already inside.
Ralph was on one of the ladders, showing Nick how—if he pushed just so—gently though, not with a great deal of force—he could glide all the way from one side of the room to the other.
“Any chance these books are in any kind of order?” the tutor wondered aloud as he climbed down to give Nick a turn.
“They’re arranged by subject, fiction’s by author,” Eve informed him. James Hertford loved his books.
Nick was riding the ladder back and forth now. “You’re the first tutor who’s ever taught me anything useful,” he proclaimed.
“Then we’re off to a fabulous start. Tell me, if this were your library,” Ralph called up to him as he quickly scanned the shelves, “would you file Boxing under Boxing or Sports?”
“If this was my library,” Nick pronounced, “I’d toss all the stupid books out in the yard and use this room for a theater. Or maybe a zoo.”
“See now, I like it just as it is—as a library. Because even though I’m rusty when it comes to boxing, as long as I know how to read, I can find a book, read it, and relearn everything I might’ve forgotten and— Aha!” Ralph said, triumphantly pulling a book from the shelves. “A Gentleman’s Guide to Boxing. Just the thing! Come quick, Gentleman Nick, and show me those gloves and— No! I’ve a meeting in town with my new landlord. And I must pick up my trunk—it’s coming in via train. I really just stopped in to say hello. Classes don’t officially begin until tomorrow. Which is good actually. It gives me time to read this book.”
“But aren’t you staying here?” Nick asked. “With us? This place has forty bedrooms at least and—”
He cut himself off, the funniest look on his face. It was the first time in his entire life that he’d ever implored a teacher to stay.
Lord, Ralph Grayson was good. Nick was completely enthralled and totally unaware that the lesson he’d just been given had little to do with mastering the library ladders and everything to do with the mighty power of books.
“Why don’t you go dust off those boxing gloves,” Ralph told the boy. “I’ll be back in the morning, first thing. I promise.”
In a flash Nick was gone.
Leaving Eve alone with Ralph.
“I’m sure you’re probably wondering whether I’ve gone completely mad.” He was gazing down at the book he still held, but now he glanced up at her, amusement in his eyes.
“No,” she said quietly, “I’m not.”
He smiled at her. Now that Nick was gone, she was the focus of all that energy and intensity. It made her heart feel as if it had lodged in her throat.
“Good,” he said. “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow, too. I don’t suppose you also harbor a secret yearning to learn to box?”
Eve laughed, suddenly giddy with hope that this would work out, that this man truly was the answer to all of her and Nicky’s prayers. “No, but I don’t suppose you’d teach me how to sail? James bought Emily a yacht for a wedding gift, only she gets seasick, so they’re probably going to sell it. I’d love to go out in it at least once before they do and . . .” She was babbling. She sounded like a ten-year-old. If she didn’t shut up, he’d guess that she wasn’t twenty after all, and then she wouldn’t have the power to . . .
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