The Princess & the Pea (33 page)

His gaze met hers and even at a distance she noted the blue of his eyes burning richer when it meshed with hers. Her resolve melted with her knees, and for the merest moment she wanted to forget all about rumor and scandal and even automobiles and let him wrap her in his arms.

"Forgive me, my love, for ignoring you." Jared took her gloved hand in his and brushed his lips suggestively across the back. Something deep inside her fluttered at his touch. "I had some ... er, business to attend to."

His words brought back the matter at hand. "Jared," she said quietly, "everyone knows."

"I believe this is our dance." He pointedly ignored her comment, placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her the few steps to the dance floor.

"Did you understand what I said?" Her terse tone belied the public smile she plastered on her face.

He took her in his arms and they danced together as easily as if one were made for the other. Cece barely noticed.

"I understood you perfectly," Jared said, his tone casual.

"You certainly are taking it well." Suspicion colored her words.

"It was inevitable that it would come out sooner or later. I suppose." He quirked a resigned smile. "I shall just have to make the best of it. It wasn't my idea to keep it secret in the first place."

Cece stared, surprised by the note in his voice. "Are you suggesting James's advice to keep your work quiet was wrong?"

Jared laughed shortly. "I have rarely thought my brother was wrong about anything. I never questioned him. Now I am beginning to see no small number of things he might have handled better, or at least differently."

She leveled him a curious gaze. "What kinds of things?"

Jared shrugged. "Nothing of any major significance. I've just found some items dealing with estate management, accounting, varied and sundry business practices that can be improved. No doubt James would have found them himself if he had lived."

"How did James die, Jared?" Cece said quietly. Jared pulled her a little tighter and his eyes darkened. She added quickly. "I apologize. If it's too painful—"

"It's not." A muscle ticked in the tense line of his jaw. "It was an accident."

He steered her to the edge of the dance floor, plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and escorted her to French doors that opened onto a terrace. They stepped out into the cool night air and walked in companionable silence for several moments. Finally Jared drew a deep breath.

"James drowned. In that same little pond you drove into that first day. He was alone. And he died."

The setting flashed into her mind: the road from the stable running along a modest ridge, the pasture falling away to the small valley, the water below. From what she'd seen the pond was not especially deep.

"How did it happen?" she said softly.

Jared's eyes appeared very far away, as if he were once again seeing the scene replayed in his mind. "No one knows for certain. It had been raining. We believe his horse slipped on the wet grass and threw him. He must have hit his head and rolled down the hill into the pond." Jared paused, as if choosing his words or his memories. "That's where I found him."

"You found him?"

Jared nodded

"I see." She pulled her brows together and considered her next question carefully. "I thought the stables with your motorcars was the only building on that road."

"It is." He paused and shook his head. "I still have no idea why James was there. At first I thought he had come to find me. I used to spend a great deal more time working on the automobiles than I do now. But then I realized that James knew I was still in London. He didn't expect me at the castle for several days."

"So he couldn't have been looking for you?"

Jared shook his head. "No."

How very odd. What could Jared's brother possibly have been doing on that little-used section of the estate?

"I daresay we'll never know why he was there. At any rate, I suppose it doesn't matter anymore." Jared frowned and eyed her over the rim of his glass. "What does matter now is how to weather this storm of scandal."

"Jared, I don't care—" she snapped her fingers in his face "—that much about what these people think."

"Perhaps not." His tone was wry. "But if we are to live with these people, as you so charmingly call them, in this society—my society. I might add—I would prefer that the Earl and Countess of Graystone be respected, not forever haunted by the taint of manual labor."

She raised a skeptical brow. "And just what do you suggest we do?"

"I don't know," he said sharply. "I've never been in this situation before. Any other time I've been touched by scandal I've quite enjoyed it. I've never tried to repair the social damage I caused."

"Well, what have you done before?" she snapped.

He grit his teeth. "Usually I do something to make the problem a little worse by thumbing my nose at the lot of them."

"Why don't you simply do that now?" Her words were clipped with exasperation.

"Now, I'm the bloody earl!" He ground out the words, his voice barely under control, his eyes flashing. "Before, I was the second son. Nobody expected any better of me. I could do what I damned well pleased."

She cast him a glare of frustration. "Well, I'm not the earl and I can still do what I damn well please! I'm an American. They don't expect anything better from me. I can certainly thumb my nose at them if that's what I wish, and I should derive a great deal of pleasure from the act to boot."

"And just how do you propose to do that?" Ire and sarcasm dripped from his words.

"How?" Her mind grasped for answers. How, indeed? What one thing would show those sanctimonious snobs she didn't care one whit for their haughty, old-fashioned ways of looking at the world? At once the answer struck her with the clarity of fine crystal.

"That's it, of course. It's perfect. We'll show them you're not tainted and their absurd way of looking at the world doesn't mean anything at all. We can announce it tonight. It won't stop the talk altogether. I suppose," she paused to corral her ricochetting thoughts. "But it wifl give them all something else to gossip about."

"Announce what?" Jared's brows furrowed with apprehension. "What are you planning?"

"It is perhaps the most interesting idea I've ever had." She beamed with modest triumph. "I'll simply have to marry you."

"Marry me!" He gasped.

"Yes, thank you, I'd be honored." she said primly.

He glared, outrage shadowing his eyes. "That was not a proposal."

She shrugged and waved her fan lightly. "It certainly sounded like one to me."

"Well, it wasn't." He looked like a little boy about to stomp his foot in a fit of vexation.

"You don't want to marry me?" She widened her eyes and bit her lower lip in an excellent imitation of crushed feelings. "I thought you loved me!"

"Of course I love you. And I do want to marry you." Jared shook his head, as if to clear the confusion apparent on his face. "But when I ask you to marry me, it shall be my idea."

"I thought it was always your idea," she said innocently.

He stared for a long moment: then understanding dawned in his eyes. He pulled her tight against him, her hands flattened between his chest and hers.

"I had always assumed, when I asked a woman to wed, even an American, even you," he growled the words, and the intensity in his gaze muddled her thoughts and stole her will, "it would be at my instigation, not hers. The act would be in my hands alone."

"Everything seems to be very much in your hands." she said breathlessly.

"Is it?" The midnight of his eyes drew her into their depths until she wondered if she would glimpse his soul, and he would glimpse hers.

"Will you marry me?"

For once Cecily Gwendolyn White could only nod speechlessly.

"Excellent."

His eyes smoldered and his voice simmered with the rich promise of all her silent agreement meant. He bent to touch his lips to hers and she strained forward until their breath mingled.

"Oh dear," she blurted. "I nearly forgot." Her words brushed against his lips.

He groaned with obvious frustration and pulled back to stare at her. "What is it now?"

"Perhaps this is not the right time." She gazed at the desire on his face and wished she hadn't stopped his relentless progress toward another of his rather awe-inspiring kisses.

"What?" he demanded sharply.

"I simply wanted to say you really should talk to my father." Her voice was a sigh of longing. "To ask him for my hand."

Amusement glittered in his eyes. He pulled her closer, and she melted into his arms. And just before his lips claimed hers he laughed softly.

"I already have."

"... and I should therefore wish to propose a toast." Henry White lifted his glass in a salute to Cecily and Jared. The hushed crowd in the ballroom followed suit. "May you find laughter, prosperity and joy. In life. In children. And, above all else, in each other."

Murmurs of agreement and approval rolled through the gathering. There certainly was nothing like the surprise announcement of a betrothal to soften even the stuffiest hearts. Oh, it hadn't quieted the snide jibes about Jared's inventive nature, but it had thrown the dogs of gossip a new bone to chew. It had also proven, once and for all, the worthiness of the soon-to-be Countess of Graystone.

Olivia surveyed the happy couple by her side and could barely contain her delight. Certainly when Jared informed her of his engagement, a scant few minutes before Henry White announced it publicly, she was taken aback momentarily. It was not precisely how she had expected Cecily to handle this last test. Still, she had to admit the girl had finally gained her complete admiration. What better way to display courage and loyalty to a man, and to a family, than to declare to all the world your pledge to stand by his side forever?

Olivia suppressed a satisfied chuckle. This was the last pea beneath the mattress for Cecily. She had passed every trial, every test. Olivia could now give the couple her blessing without reservation and look forward to a life of her own, knowing her son's future was in capable hands.

Olivia looked up into Jared's assessing gaze. "You appear quite pleased with yourself, Mother."

"I suppose I am." Olivia cast him an innocent glance. "You have finally selected a bride who, although American, is still suitable both socially and financially. I am quite happy for you both."

"Are you?" Suspicion underlaid his words.

"Quite." She smiled.

He studied her through narrowed eyes. "No more silly tests?"

"Jared," she said with indignation, "in the first place, it was all in your imagination. I would never subject Cecily to anything so ridiculous. Beyond that." she raised her shoulders in a dismissive gesture, "you did threaten me with the most dire of consequences should you even suspect me of any activity whatsoever.

"It really was not at all fair," she chided gently.

"Perhaps not." In spite of his words, distrust still lingered in his eyes.

She smiled back sweetly. With one last measuring glance. Jared stepped aside to greet the throng of guests eager to tender their congratulations. Olivia turned to find Cecily.

The girl was surrounded by well wishers and fairly glowed with happiness. It warmed Olivia's heart, and any remaining doubt she might have had as to Cecily's suitability to be Jared's wife vanished.

"My dear child," Olivia grasped both her hands and lightly kissed the air by each cheek. "I can't tell you how very pleased I am."

A flicker of surprise flashed through Cecily's eyes, but her expression remained pleasant and composed. "Thank you."

Something in her tone, the merest hint, the tiniest suggestion, caught Olivia's attention, and she considered the girl carefully. Cecily's gaze locked with hers, the look in her eyes direct and candid.

Reserved success colored Cecily's smile. There was no suggestion here of smug, self-satisfied triumph: only the honest victory of a battle hard fought and fairly won.

At once understanding dawned, and Olivia smiled slowly. There was no doubt whatsoever. The girl knew of her tests. The knowledge did not make the trials any less valid, but Cecily's perception raised her esteem a notch in Olivia's book and added a final check to the list in her mind.

"Someday," Olivia arched a brow, "we shall have to have a very long talk."

Unexpected pleasure shone on Cecily's face. "I should like that."

"I rather think we have quite a bit in common."

Cecily laughed. "I would not be at all surprised."

Olivia nodded agreement, then surrendered Cecily to the few waiting to offer their best wishes and the many eager to cast their own critical, assessing eye on the future countess. Olivia had not had this sense of serenity and fulfillment in years. It was as if, having assured herself her son's future was in good hands, she could relax and concentrate on other, less pressing matters.

She turned and surveyed the crowded ballroom, spotting Robert within seconds. Odd that she hadn't had this desire for a new life of her own before his return to England. Was it mere coincidence or fate? Olivia had never believed in either. But now, well, perhaps ...

Olivia headed toward Robert with a determined step. Now that the course of her son's life was firmly set in the right direction, it was past time to take charge of her own.