Until You (11 page)
Authors: Judith McNaught
Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #England, #Historical Fiction, #Americans - England, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Americans, #Amnesia, #Historical, #English Fiction, #General, #Love Stories
"Charming," the Frenchman said with a tranquil smile. "And unique, I suspect. Based on what I have witnessed, I cannot believe Stephen is immune to her attractions."
Satisfied that he'd gathered all the support he could have hoped, Hugh looked at Clayton Westmoreland, the one member of the group who he knew could, and would, put a stop to any sort of intervention if he didn't agree. "Your grace?" he invited.
The duke gave him a steady look, and said one word, very clearly and very distinctly: "No."
"No?"
"Whatever you're thinking, forget it. Stephen will not welcome our interference in his personal life." Oblivious to his wife's swift intake of breath as she started to argue, he said, "Furthermore, the entire situation he is in with Miss Lancaster is already impossibly complicated and fraught with deceit."
"But you
do
like her, don't you?" Whitney put in a little desperately.
"Based on what little I know of her," Clayton emphasized, "I like her very well. However, I am also thinking of her best interests. It would be wise if we all remember that when she recovers her memory and realizes that Stephen was responsible for her fiancé's death, and that he has been lying to her about everything since then, she is not going to like him nearly so well. In fact, she is unlikely to think very well of any of us, when that day arises."
"It's likely she will be embarrassed and angry when she first realizes she'd never set eyes on Stephen until last week," Dr. Whitticomb conceded. "However, even before she was out of danger, she showed great concern for Stephen. Kept asking me not to let him worry, and so forth. I think that shows a remarkable understanding—the sort that could enable her to see very quickly why we all had to lie to her."
"As I said before," Clayton said firmly, "Stephen will not welcome our interference in his personal life. If anyone in the family feels the need to try to dissuade him from finding her a husband or to influence him in her favor in any way, then it should be done openly. Today. After that, the matter should be left to Stephen and Miss Lancaster and fate."
Surprised when there was no objection from his wife, Clayton turned to tease her about her uncharacteristic acquiescence, but she was frowning at DuVille, who, in turn, seemed to be vastly amused about something. He was wondering about that silent exchange when Stephen strode swiftly into the study.
"S
herry is safely out of hearing and out of the house," Stephen announced as he carefully closed the study doors behind him. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but you were all more prompt than I anticipated." Walking over to his desk, he sat down behind it, passed a cursory glance over his accomplices, who were seated in a semicircle in front of the desk, and went directly to the point.
"Rather than getting mired down in the minor complications and details of sending Sherry out into Society," he said in a cordial, but businesslike tone, "let's go directly to the subject of prospective husbands. Did you bring your lists of acquaintances who might serve the purpose?"
A rustling followed as the women searched their reticules and Whitticomb reached into his pocket to extract the lists they had prepared that morning at his instruction. His mother leaned forward and handed her folded sheet of writing paper to him, but she pointed out a major encumbrance. "Without a dowry, Miss Lancaster is at a terrible disadvantage, no matter how desirable she might be. If her father isn't the man of means that you suspect—"
"I'll provide a generous dowry," Stephen said as he unfolded the notepaper. He glanced at the first few names on the list, and his reaction veered from horror to hilarity. "Lord Gilbert Reeves?" he repeated, looking at her. "Sir Frances Barker? Sir John Teasdale? Mother, Reeves and Barker must be fifty years older than Sherry. And Teasdale's grandson was at university with me. These men are ancient."
"Well,
I'm
ancient!" she protested defensively. "You said we were to list any unmarried acquaintances for whom we could personally vouch, and that's what I did."
"I see your point," Stephen said, struggling to keep his face straight. "While I look over the other lists, perhaps you could concentrate on some younger men of good reputation with whom you are not
quite
so personally acquainted?" When she nodded agreeably, Stephen turned to his sister-in-law and smiled as he reached for her list.
His smile faded, however, as he looked down the long list of names.
"John Marchmann?" he said with a frown. "Marchmann is a compulsive sportsman. If Sherry was ever going to see him, she'd have to slog down every stream in Scotland and England and spend the rest of her life in the hunting field."
Whitney managed a look of innocent confusion. "He is exceedingly handsome, however, and he is also very amusing."
"Marchmann?" Stephen repeated incredulously. "He's terrified of women! The man still blushes in the company of a pretty girl, and he's nearly forty!"
"Nevertheless, he is very kind and very nice."
Stephen nodded absently, looked at the next name, and then at her. "The Marquis deSalle won't do at all. He's a habitual womanizer, not to mention a complete hedonist."
"Perhaps," Whitney graciously conceded, "but he does have charm, wealth, and an excellent address."
"Crowley and Wiltshire are both too immature and hot-tempered for her," he said, studying the two names. "Crowley isn't too bright, but his friend Wiltshire is a complete bacon-brain. They dueled a few years ago and Crowley shot himself in the foot." Oblivious to her startled giggle, he added disgustedly, "A year later they decided to settle another argument on the field of honor, and Wiltshire shot a tree." Bending a reproving look on his laughing sister-in-law, he added, "It wasn't funny. The ball from Crowley's pistol ricocheted off the tree and hit Jason Fielding, who'd raced out there to try to stop them. If it hadn't wounded Jason in the right arm, Crowley probably wouldn't have walked away in one piece. If Sherry married either one of them, they'd manage to make her a widow by their own hand, mark my word."
He looked at the next two names and then scowled at her. "Warren is a mincing fop! Serangley is a dead bore. I can't believe you think these men are eligible suitors for anyone, let alone an intelligent, sensible young woman."
For the next ten minutes, Stephen dismissed every name on the list for a variety of reasons that seemed very sound to him, but he began to have the annoying feeling that the group gathered around the desk was finding his rejection of suitor after suitor amusing.
The last name on Whitney's list made his brows snap together and his smile vanish. "Roddy Carstairs!" he exclaimed in disgust. "I wouldn't let Sherry near that overdressed, egotistical, razor-tongued little gossip for anything. He's never married because he's never found a woman who he thinks is worthy of him."
"Roddy is not little," Whitney pointed out firmly, "though I'll grant he's not precisely tall, but he is a particular friend of mine." Biting her lip to hide her smile, she added, "You are being excessively particular, Stephen."
"I'm being practical!"
Discarding that list, he reached for Hugh Whitticomb's, glanced at it, frowned, and tossed it aside. "Apparently you and my mother have a great many friends in common." With an irritated sigh he got up and walked restlessly around to the front of his desk. He perched his hip on the edge of it, crossed his arms over his chest, and regarded his brother with frustration and hope. "I see you haven't brought a list, but you must know someone who'd be right for her."
"As a matter of fact," his brother replied in a voice tinged with ironic amusement, "I've been thinking that over as I listened to you eliminate the other candidates."
"And?"
"And I realized I do know someone. He doesn't meet
all
of your lofty criteria, but I'm no longer in any doubt he's the right man for her."
"Thank God! Who is he?"
"You."
The word hung on the air while Stephen bit back a strange and irrational bitterness. "I am
not
a candidate!" he said frigidly.
"Excellent—" Nicholas DuVille's amused exclamation drew everyone's instant attention as he removed a sheet of writing paper bearing his family crest from his pocket. "In that case I did not waste my time in making out my own list. I assumed," he added as Stephen slowly unfolded his arms and reached for the paper, "that since I was invited here today, I was also to bring a list?"
"It's good of you to have gone to the trouble," Stephen said, wondering why he'd let his brother's absurd jealousy of DuVille color his own impression of the man. Nicholas DuVille was not only a handsome, educated, well-bred man, he was witty and he was damned nice. Stephen opened the list and looked at the single name scrawled across it, then he lifted his head and regarded DuVille with narrowed eyes. "Is this your idea of a joke?"
"I hadn't expected you to find the notion laughable," he countered smoothly.
Unable to believe he was serious, Stephen studied him in cool silence, noticing for the first time that there was an infuriating arrogance about the man, his smile, and even the way he was sitting in the chair, his driving gloves dangling idly from one hand. Realizing that no one else understood what he was talking about, Stephen managed to clarify the matter and still challenge DuVille's integrity. "You seriously want to be considered as a suitor for Charise Lancaster?"
"Why not?" Nicki countered, visibly enjoying the other man's discomfiture. "I am not too old, too short, nor have I ever shot myself in the foot. I dislike fishing, I haven't an excessive attachment to the hunt, and though I do have some vices, no one has ever accused me of being overdressed, razor-tongued, or a gossip."
…
But egotistical, they have
! Stephen thought with another flash of hostility.
And jaded
. In his mind, he saw the suave Frenchman locked in a passionate embrace with Sherry, her hair spilling over his arm like satin fire, and his hostility escalated to outrage. All her warmth and innocence, that rebellious, jaunty spirit of hers, her courage and thoughtfulness would belong to DuVille, who would…
Marry her.
Stephen's inexplicable wrath abruptly gave way to common sense and the realization that fate had just delivered the ideal solution to his problems. DuVille was perfect. He was, in fact, regarded as a tremendous matrimonial prize amongst the ton.
"Am I to take your silence for assent?" DuVille inquired, looking as if he knew perfectly well that Stephen couldn't have any objection to his suit.
Recovering his manners, if not his cordial attitude toward the other man, Stephen nodded and said with scrupulous civility, "Certainly. You have my blessings as her…" He had started to say guardian and broke off because he was not her legal guardian.
"As her unwilling fiancé?" Nicki suggested. "Who wishes to be relieved of the obligation to marry her himself so that he can continue as a bachelor without the tiresome burden of a guilty conscience over her unmarried state?"
Whitney saw Stephen's jaw tighten, and she recognized the ominous glitter in those narrowed blue eyes. In a mood like this one, she knew Stephen could and would flay Nicki alive, regardless of the fact that he was her friend or a guest in his home. Her fear was confirmed as Stephen recrossed his arms and subjected Nicki to a contemptuous, raking stare that slid slowly down his entire length. She opened her mouth, waiting to see if Stephen might somehow rise to Nicki's bait by saying he would marry Sherry himself. Instead, Stephen announced in an insulting drawl, "I think we ought to discuss your qualifications or lack thereof a little further, DuVille. In rejecting one of the other contenders, I believe the word 'lecher' was mentioned—"
"No, it was not!" Whitney burst out so desperately that Stephen looked at her, and while he'd momentarily lost some of his momentum, she said fiercely, "Stephen,
please
do not take your frustration out on Nicki. He wants to help." She glanced swiftly at Nicki, who had gone perfectly still from the moment Stephen launched his tirade and who looked more like he was contemplating murder than marriage. Her exasperating husband was sitting there looking as if he was
enjoying
both men's predicament, but he responded to her silent appeal and intervened. "Really, Stephen, this is no way to treat your prospective son-in-law," he said dryly, using humor to dispel the tension.
"My what?" Stephen demanded with disgust.
Clayton replied with a mocking grin, "Since you not only promised to provide a dowry, but a 'generous' one, I'd say that puts you in the role of father. Now, since DuVille has merely offered himself as a possible suitor, not a husband, my advice is to wait to antagonize him until
after
the nuptials."
The absurdity of that scenario was not lost on either of the combatants, who visibly relaxed, but Whitney scarcely breathed until Stephen finally held out his hand to Nicki in a gesture of conciliation. "Welcome to the family," he said ironically.
"Thank you," Nicki said, leaning forward and accepting the handshake. "How large a dowry should I expect?" he joked.
"Now that we've overcome that hurdle," Stephen said, walking back around his desk and sitting down, "let's get down to the problems we're likely to face when we introduce Sherry to Society."
Whitney surprised him with an instant objection. "There's no need to do that. Nicki has already offered himself as a prospective suitor."
Stephen flicked a quelling glance at her as he withdrew a sheet of writing paper from his desk. "I would like Sherry to have more than one suitor from which to choose, which means she will have to be out in Society. I'd also like her to have her affections set on someone by the time her memory returns, if at all possible. That will help diminish whatever grief she may feel when she learns of Burleton's death."
DuVille's objection was next. "That is hoping for too much in too short a time."
Stephen overruled that with a shake of his head. "Not in this case. She scarcely knew Burleton. He could not have become the entire center of her universe during the short time he was with her in America."
No one could argue the logic of that, but from there on, everything concerning Sherry's actual introduction to Society went up for endless debate. Stephen listened in growing frustration as everyone suggested various pitfalls and problems, from the possible to the absurd, that might be encountered if Sherry were introduced to the ton during the Season.
A
t the end of an hour, when impatience finally drove Stephen to begin brushing aside everyone's objections to his plan, Hugh Whitticomb suddenly decided to give his professional medical opinion of it as Sherry's physician. "I'm sorry, I cannot allow it," he said flatly.
"Would you care to enlighten me as to your reason?" Stephen said caustically when the physician acted as if the matter was settled and there was nothing more to be said.
"Certainly. Your contention that Society will overlook Miss Lancaster's lack of knowledge about our ways because she is American may be partially correct. However, Miss Lancaster is sensitive enough to notice immediately that she's lacking in certain social skills, and
she
is likely to become her harshest critic. That will add to the extreme stress she is already under, which I cannot permit to happen. The Season begins in a few days, and that's an impossibly short time for her to learn everything she'd need to know to make a full-fledged debut, as intelligent as she is."
"Even if that weren't an obstacle," Whitney added, "we still wouldn't be able to outfit her for the full Season on such short notice. It will take a great deal of pressure to influence Madame LaSalle, or any other acceptable modiste, to set to work on a wardrobe for Miss Lancaster when they're already impossibly busy working for their regular clients."
Ignoring that problem for the moment, Stephen directed his remarks to Whitticomb. "We can't keep her locked away from everyone. That won't help her meet potential suitors, and furthermore, people will begin to talk and wonder why we feel the need to hide her. More important, Sherry herself will begin to wonder about that, and I suspect the conclusion she'll draw is that we're ashamed of her."
"I hadn't considered that," Whitticomb admitted, looking deeply troubled by the possibility.
"I suggest we compromise," Stephen said, wondering why everyone else seemed bent on finding problems, instead of solutions. "We'll keep her social appearances to a minimum. So long as one of us stays at her side whenever she attends a function, we can shield her from too many questions."
"You can't shield her completely," Whitticomb argued. "What will you tell people about who she is and how she lost her memory?"
"We'll tell them the truth, but without going into too much detail. We will say that she suffered an injury, and though we can all vouch for her identity, as well as for her being of unexceptional birth and character, she simply cannot answer questions for a while."
"You know how cruel people can be! Why, her lack of knowledge could be mistaken for stupidity."
"Stupidity?" Stephen scoffed with a harsh laugh. "How long has it been since you went to a debutante ball and tried to carry on a sensible conversation with any of the chits making their annual debut?" Without waiting for a reply, he said, "I can still remember the last time I did—half of them were incapable of discourse on any topic beyond the latest fashion and the weather. The rest of them couldn't do anything but blush and simper. Sherry is extremely intelligent, and that will be evident to anyone with enough wit to recognize intelligence when it is right in front of them."
"I don't think she'll seem stupid to anyone," Whitney put in slowly. "They're more likely to think her wonderfully mysterious, particularly the younger beaux."
"It's settled then," Stephen said with an implacable finality that warned further argument would be futile. "Whitney, you and Mother make the arrangements to see her appropriately attired. We'll introduce her to Society under our own aegis, and then make certain that at least one of us is always with her. Let's begin by taking her to the opera, where she can be seen but not easily approached. After that, a musicale, a few teas. Her looks are so extraordinary that she's bound to attract considerable attention, and when she doesn't immediately appear at all the balls, the mystery surrounding her will grow, and as Whitney pointed out, that's actually to our advantage." Feeling satisfied that all the important considerations had been resolved, Stephen looked around and said, "Does anyone have anything else that needs to be discussed?"
"One thing," his mother said very emphatically. "She cannot possibly stay under your roof with you another night. If it were known she'd been in this house alone and unchaperoned, nothing we could do or say would salvage her reputation or enable her to make a suitable match. It will be a miracle if servants' gossip hasn't already spread."
"The servants adore her. They wouldn't utter a word to hurt her."
"Be that as it may, they are bound to talk with other people's servants without intending to harm her. By the time the on-dits have circulated through the city, she'll have become your paramour, and we cannot risk that sort of gossip."
"I suppose Clayton and I could invite her to stay with us," Whitney said reluctantly when Stephen seemed to be waiting for her to make the offer, but she wasn't at all pleased with the solution. She didn't want to remove Sherry from Stephen's immediate sphere. Once the round of social activities began with the crushes of people at all of them, Stephen might not encounter her for days at a stretch, or only for a few minutes at a time.
"Fine," Stephen agreed with annoying satisfaction. "She'll stay with you."
Hugh Whitticomb removed his wire-rimmed spectacles and began to polish the lenses with his handkerchief. "I'm afraid that plan isn't fine with me."
Stephen made a Herculean effort to keep his impatience with the balky physician under control. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I cannot allow her to be removed into unfamiliar surroundings among people she does not know." When Stephen's brows snapped together and he opened his mouth to argue, Hugh Whitticomb looked around at the gathering, his tone dire with warning. "Miss Lancaster believes she is betrothed to Stephen and that he cares deeply for her. He is the one who stayed by her bedside when she was hovering near death, and he is the one she relies upon."
"I'll explain to her about the social stigma she risks by remaining here," Stephen said briskly. "She will understand that it simply isn't appropriate."
"She does not have the slightest concept of the importance of appropriate behavior, Stephen," Whitticomb contradicted smoothly. "If she had, she wouldn't have been standing down here in a lavender peignoir the night I came by to visit her."
"Stephen!" his mother exclaimed.
"She was fully covered," he said with a dismissive shrug. "And it was all she had to wear."
Nicki DuVille joined the debate. "She cannot stay here unchaperoned.
I
won't permit it."
"
You
have nothing to say about it," Stephen countered.
"I think I do. I will not have the character of my future wife besmirched. I, too, have a family who must accept her."
Leaning back in his chair, Stephen steepled his hands and regarded him with unconcealed dislike for several moments before he remarked in a voice as cold as his gaze, "I do not recall hearing you actually offer for her, DuVille."
Nicki lifted a challenging brow. "Would you like to hear me do so now?"
"I told you that I want her to have a choice of suitors," he said in an ominous voice. Stephen wondered how his brother could countenance such an arrogant bastard within a mile of his wife. "At this time, you are nothing but a possible contender for her hand. If you wish to retain that status for another sixty seconds, I suggest—"
"I could stay here with Miss Lancaster," the dowager interjected desperately.
The two men reluctantly ended their visual duel and looked to Hugh Whitticomb for a decision. Instead of immediately replying, Hugh began polishing his other lens while he considered the dampening effect the dowager's presence was likely to have on a budding romance. A regal, imposing woman even late in her fifth decade, she was much too keen to permit the sort of cozy atmosphere Hugh wanted to see preserved between Stephen and Sherry Lancaster. Moreover, she would be bound to intimidate Sherry, no matter how she tried to do the opposite. Rapidly considering the most persuasive argument against her solution, he said, "In the interest of your own health, Your Grace, I do not think you ought to tax yourself with the responsibilities of a constant chaperone. I would not want to see a recurrence of last year's problem."
"But you said it wasn't serious, Hugh," she protested.
"I'd like to keep it that way."
"He's right, Mother." Feeling that he'd already overburdened his family with his own problems, Stephen seconded the motion and added, "We need to find someone who can stay with her at all times, a chaperone of unimpeachable character and reputation who could also serve as a ladies' companion."
"There's Lucinda Throckmorton-Jones," the dowager duchess said after a moment's thought. "No one would dare to question the acceptability and character of any young lady in her charge."
"Good God, no!" Hugh exclaimed, so forcefully that everyone gaped at him. "That hatchet-faced dragon may be the duenna of choice among some of our best families, but she'd drive Miss Lancaster back to her sickbed! The woman actually refused to budge from my elbow when I put salve on a burned thumb belonging to one of her charges. Acted like she suspected I might want to seduce the silly chit."
"Well, then who do
you
suggest?" Stephen snapped, losing all patience with the balky, unhelpful physician.
"Leave that matter to me," Hugh amazed him by saying. "I may know just the lady, if her health is adequate to the task. She's quite lonely, and feeling rather useless these days."
The dowager duchess regarded him with interest. "Whom do you mean?"
Rather than risk having the astute lady immediately veto his choice, Hugh decided to take matters into his own hands and then present them with a fait accompli. "Let me give it further thought, before I narrow the choice down to one. I may bring her by tomorrow. Another night under Stephen's roof cannot do Sherry any more harm than has already been done."
They broke off as Colfax knocked on the door and said that Miss Lancaster was just returning in the carriage.
"I think that covers everything." Stephen stood up, concluding the meeting.
"Everything, but two small details," Clayton pointed out. "How do you intend to gain your fiancé's cooperation in your scheme to find her another husband without crushing her or humiliating her? And what do you intend to do when she tells someone she is betrothed to you? They'll laugh her out of London."
Stephen opened his mouth to point out yet again that he was
not
her fiancé, and then gave up. "I'll handle that tonight or tomorrow," he said instead.
"Be tactful," Hugh warned. "Do not upset her."
Whitney stood up, pulling on her gloves. "I think I'd better pay a personal call on Madame LaSalle at once. Persuading her to drop everything and go to work on a complete wardrobe now, when the Season is about to go into full swing, will require a miracle."
"It will require a great deal of Stephen's gold, not a miracle," her husband said with a chuckle. "I'll drop you at LaSalle's shop on my way to White's."
"White's is in the opposite direction, Claymore," Nicki pointed out. "If you would allow me to escort your wife to the modiste, perhaps along the way she could suggest the best way for me to gain Miss Lancaster's confidence."
With no feasible reason to object, Clayton nodded curtly, and DuVille offered his arm to Whitney, who paused to press a kiss on Clayton's cheek. As the foursome departed, both brothers watched DuVille's retreating back with matching scowls.
"How often," Stephen asked cynically, "have you wanted to knock DuVille's teeth down his throat?"
"Not as often as I suspect you are going to," Clayton said dryly.
"What do you think, Nicki?" Whitney asked after glancing behind her to make certain Stephen's butler was closing the door and not eavesdropping in the doorway.
He shot her a sideways smile as he signalled for his carriage. "I think that, at this moment, your husband and your brother-in-law are longing for any excuse to draw my blood."
Whitney smothered a laugh as a footman rushed forward to let down the steps, and she climbed into the carriage. "I think Stephen is the more eager."
"An alarming thought," he said, chuckling, "since he has the hotter temper and the reputation as a crack shot."
She sobered. "Nicki, my husband was very specific in there about our not interfering. I thought you understood the warning I was trying to give you to forget all about volunteering yourself as Miss Lancaster's suitor. You will have to excuse yourself from the contest at the first opportunity. Clayton rarely forbids me anything, and I will not defy him when he does."
"You are not defying him,
chérie
. I am. Furthermore, he said only that the 'family' could not interfere. I am not part of your family, to my everlasting regret."
He grinned to take the solemnity out of it, and Whitney knew he was merely flirting. "Nicki—"
"Yes, my love?"
"Do not call me that."
"Yes, Your Grace?" he teased.
"Do you remember how painfully naive and gauche I was when you decided to help 'launch' me into Society by attending my debut and paying me particular attention?"