How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 13

  Covering her chortles with one hand, Francine murmured, “We grew up together.”

  “Excuse me,” Beckwith said. He pressed one hand to his chest, over his heart, in mock injury. “I am Julian’s much older brother. You were bereft of my presence for much of your youth.”

  “Yes,” Francine shot back with a smile. “You left me alone with him, and he used to stomp on my feet when we practiced dance class.”

  He caught her hand, bowing over it. “You should try dancing with me. I’m a much better partner, I assure you.”

  “Is that a boast, Jeremy? I thought you were more modest than that.” By her smile and her tone, she meant no such thing.

  Was Francine flirting with a man? I’d never seen her do that before. Usually, she was as quiet as a mouse. Today, her eyes were brighter than the sun, which was shielded behind the clouds. She bathed in Captain Beckwith’s attention. It boggled the mind. Thankful to be saved the need to contribute to the conversation, I dug into my plate of food, keeping one ear on the lively conversation Francine was keeping up with Beckwith. Now he regaled her with a wicked tale of how he danced with the wife of a French officer and nearly found himself shot because of it. She called him on every outrageous lie.

  Meanwhile, that prickling sensation persisted. I glanced up.

  Warren stared at me. His plate was bare. His body bunched as he crouched to stand. There’s no room for you here.

  At that moment, Lady Dunlop’s nephew stood and offered my sister his hand. “Would you care for a tour of the ruins, Daisy?”

  Daisy? He called her familiarly? Knowing her, she’d insisted. I bit the inside of my cheek. Mama must have taught her—like me—not to give leave to any but the closest acquaintances to refer to her in such a manner.

  She leaped to her feet far too quickly for me to get a word in edgewise. Eagerly slipping her hand into Arthur’s, she towed him away. Finished with their luncheon, other couples around the gathering did the same, as did Captain Beckwith.

  Although Francine had barely touched her food, she said, “I haven’t explored these ruins since I was a child. I might find some new plants I overlooked last time.” She turned to me, but my glare must have made her think twice about asking me to accompany her. Instead, she turned to our friend. “Mary, don’t you want to explore?”

  With a shrug, Mary pushed herself to her feet. “Why not? I don’t have anything better to do.”

  Good. I didn’t feel up to discussing the men at this party anymore. The things Mary had unearthed about most of them were alarming. If she could uncover all those secrets in a night, imagine what they must be keeping closer to the vest!

  Most maddening of all, she hadn’t discovered a single thing about Warren. Apparently, his valet was close-lipped, even during late-night games of five-card loo. I would have liked to know something I could throw in his face. At least then we would be even. After last night, he knew my deepest secret—that I was a wild woman at heart.

  While Mary and Francine meandered off, I nibbled the morsels on my plate. The apple turnover tasted exquisite, tart and crisp. Should I ask for another? The servants boxed away the leftovers and loaded them onto the horse’s backs under Lady Dunlop’s eye.

  Oh well. I returned to my half-eaten plate. I still had plenty.

  A shadow blocked out the meager sun. I glanced up as Warren asked, “Is this seat taken?”

  “Yes,” I said, though it was very clear that it was not. In fact, all of the blankets had been vacated except for the one I sat on. The servants, finished packing up the lunch, moved on to those next.

  Warren sat next to me despite the rebuttal. I sighed. “You don’t take a hint, do you?”

  He rapped on his head with his knuckles. “It’s this thick skull.”

  I bit my lip to hide a chortle. I continued to pick at my food, ignoring him. Despite the lack of riveting conversation, he made himself comfortable, stretching out alongside me and propping himself on one elbow. If he thought I would share some of my lunch, he was wrong. I drew it closer to me, zealously guarding my plate. I didn’t care if it was unladylike to show my appetite.

  He smiled at me, unruffled.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, my voice sharp.

  “I saw a young lady on her own. Such a thing is unheard of.”

  In other words, he was hell-bent on making himself a nuisance. I narrowed my eyes. “Captain Paine is gone. So is your cousin. You have no reason to pay attention to me anymore.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How do you know about my cousin?”

  I nibbled on a slice of pear before I answered. “I heard it from Francine, who heard it from Mary.”

  “And this is a credible source?”

  “Even you should know that Mary is great friends with the servants. People talk.”

  I helped myself to another morsel on my plate, this time to the cheese. His eyes followed my progress, fixing on my mouth.

  “You’re not getting any of my lunch,” I told him.

  He grinned. “I didn’t ask.”

  I refused to decipher that expression, so I returned to our previous topic of conversation. “Do give my best to Miss Johnstone, when you see her.”

  With puzzlement written over his face, Warren levered himself into a sitting position. “Why?”

  “Why?” I scowled. “Because she’s a lovely young woman, and she doesn’t deserve to be crossed in love any more than I do.”

  “Oh?” Warren leaned closer. I moved my plate out of reach, setting it down on my opposite side.

  “How do you know that her suit with Paine ended poorly?”

  I rolled my eyes. “If he proposed, she wouldn’t have felt it necessary to flee the party to preserve face, now would she?”

  “She wouldn’t have any need to stay, either,” he pointed out. “Perhaps they eloped to Gretna Green.”

  “On his schedule?” I shook my head. “The only word to come out of his mouth throughout his entire stay was ‘duty.’ He wouldn’t prolong his departure for the continent.”

  “He might, for love. Wouldn’t you?”

  Warren’s gaze bored into me, as if he knew my secret. I would do anything for love, give up anything. Despite the turbulence beating just below my breast, I mustered a glib tone.

  “I’m not a man, or a soldier. I’m different.”

  At my glare, he grinned. The bounder.

  I added, “And you don’t believe in love.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I do believe in the magic two people can make with each other.”

  I shivered at his low, intimate tone. His blue eyes darkened, reflecting the sky that had swiftly clouded over throughout the meal.

  I drew back. Blindly reaching for my plate, I resumed eating. Precious little food graced the dish. What would I use as a buffer to ward him away then? Although several couples meandered on this side of the ruins, Mary and Francine were not among them.

  “Young love,” Lady Dunlop mused, her voice wistful and almost forlorn.

  I jumped. I hadn’t noticed her approach. When she lowered onto the blanket, I shifted closer to Warren to make room. She snatched my plate off the ground and handed it to a servant, who carried it away. I hadn’t finished with that…

  Reaching forward, she clasped my hand in her left, and Warren’s hand in her right. She beamed at us. Her eyes were watery. “Hold onto love while you have it,” she said. “It’s much too precious to let slip away, even for a few days.”

  Had she loved her husband so much? Rumor had it she hadn’t remarried, even under the threat of being ejected from her manor by the heir, her husband’s distant cousin. That hadn’t happened, but neither had she married in the decade since. For all that she promoted love, she apparently didn’t believe in it for herself.

  I removed my hand from hers with a wan smile. “We’re not in love,” I told her.

  Her tears dried. She narrowed her eyes at me. “No? Then why are you two sitting here alone while the others explor
e?”

  “Perhaps we don’t care to explore,” I answered.

  At the same time, Warren boomed, “I was merely seeing to Miss Wellesley’s welfare.”

  Lady Dunlop pressed a hand to her chest. “Her welfare? Dear me, Miss Wellesley, are you ill? I’ll send for a physician.”

  “No,” I protested. “I’m in the pink of health, I assure you.”

  Drawing out his words, Warren said, “I don’t know.”

  I glowered at him. He wasn’t helping. He smirked at me. Devious git.

  “You took an awfully long time to arrive here. A woman in the pink of health would have crossed the distance more easily.”

  I’d only taken so long because of Francine’s preclusion to stop and examine plants. As he well knew, considering that he had accompanied us for a short portion of that trip.

  “I’m in perfect health,” I said, jumping to my feet. “In fact, I believe I will explore the ruins.”

  Lady Dunlop didn’t look convinced. She narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze over me. She tapped a finger against her pursed mouth.

  My strained smile started to pull at my cheeks. An ache developed. I tried to hide it.

  Lady Dunlop said, “Lord Hartfell, perhaps you ought to accompany her to ensure she doesn’t swoon off one of the battlements.”

  “I’ve never swooned in my life,” I said between clenched teeth.

  Unfortunately, Warren was only too eager to comply. When he unfolded his big body, straightening to his full height, he loomed over me. I hated having to crane my neck to look him in the eye. He offered me his arm.

  Lady Dunlop’s beady gaze burned me, assessing. A knowing look overcame her features. I gulped. Had she heard about my encounter with Warren at the stables? She couldn’t possibly. Mary would have told me if one of the servants had seen us…wouldn’t she have? I shied away from the hostess. Even a stroll with Warren was preferable to learning what plan Lady Dunlop concocted beneath an expression like that. With luck, she would soon forget that Warren and I had ever met.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Ruins” was an apt name for the precarious pile of stone poised atop the hill. At one time, they might have been considered a castle. But any moat had long since overgrown. The walls crumbled. They circled the pointed tower in the middle, which had lost half its height judging by the jagged edges and gaping top. The door at the bottom had long since rotted off, leaving another gaping hole. I wouldn’t trust the stairs, personally, but more than one couple ducked into the massive edifice.

  Others strolled along the remnants of the walls. Although time had torn down the wall entirely in places, in two spots it still rose to its full height far above my head. The moment the wall camouflaged our forms, I yanked my hand from Warren’s sleeve.

  “Thank you,” I told him, not meaning a word. “But I’m quite capable of escorting myself from here on in.”

  “What if you swoon?” Warren asked with a grin.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes. “I haven’t in the past twenty-one years. I doubt I’ll start now.”

  I struck a brisk pace for the far side of the ruins. Away from Warren’s irksome presence and Lady Dunlop’s shrewd gaze. Somewhere in the vicinity, a bit of moss or weed had caught Francine’s attention. By now, Mary would welcome the extra company.

  Even if I dragged a big, hulking shadow behind me.

  The ground rumbled with his loping steps. When I cast a surreptitious glance to my rear, Warren’s eyebrows knit in a determined look. Why did he insist on plaguing me? His duty to his cousin was complete. I could no longer interfere with her happiness.

  “Oh, Rose!”

  Thank goodness. Daisy stood with Lady Dunlop’s nephew at the foot of the stairs leading up to the nearest battlement. She pumped her arm wildly, nearly walloping the poor man in the face. He took a wary step back. Switching directions, I doubled my pace, eager to join my sister. Anything to avoid time alone with Warren. Even without looking at him, his presence prickled along the back of my neck as we walked.

  I reached Daisy with a smile and clasped her outstretched hand.

  “Rose,” she said, “have you been properly introduced to Arthur?”

  Don’t call him by his given name in public. I forced a smile, but didn’t correct her in present company. “I have not.”

  Daisy made the introductions, and the young man bowed over my hand. He, at the very least, had some manners.

  With a thin, narrow face and thick eyebrows set low over his eyes, he in no way resembled his aunt. His hair was dark, the inky locks curling around his nape, forehead, and ears before narrowing into fashionable sideburns. The rest of his face was smooth.

  Unlike Warren’s, which had a rough, savage look to it even after he’d shaved. Assuming he had done so this morning. I didn’t intend to touch his face to confirm the notion.

  Arthur stood with an easy stance, his shoulders thrown back, as he greeted Warren. In comparison, his shoulders seemed as narrow as a tree. The billowing white shirt he wore tucked into his buckskin breeches contrasted sharply with his sun-kissed skin. He had the look of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors.

  The perfect company for Daisy. The only time she settled was when she was out of doors, going for a walk. In other words, exhausting herself. I pitied the man, a bit. Judging by his demeanor, he curbed his exuberant impulses. Daisy would wear him out within the week.

  She said, “We’re about to climb up to the battlements. Why don’t you join us?”

  “The battlements?” Warren said. The color drained from his face. “Why ever would you do that?”

  “To see the view, of course.” Daisy didn’t seem the least put out by Warren’s cautioning tone. I wondered if she even noticed. Not likely.

  “We’re on a hill,” Warren said. He ran his finger along the back collar of his shirt. “You can see the view just fine.”

  “It will be even more spectacular from the top,” Daisy said. She turned toward the battlements, but called over her shoulder. “Rose, are you coming?”

  Judging by Warren’s wary expression, the last place he intended to venture was atop the battlements. That put it at the top of the list of places I wished to occupy. “I’d love to,” I said to my sister, drawing out the words as I glanced at Warren’s face.

  He scowled.

  I swallowed a triumphant smile. My hunch was right; he didn’t intend to go up.

  Arthur gallantly offered his arm to Daisy to escort her up the wide steps. She took it, hiding a giggle behind her hand. I followed after them.

  “Wait.” Warren grappled for my arm.

  Did he intend to escort me up, after all? Blast. It had been the perfect plan.

  His grip was tight. Too tight. He didn’t seem to notice how fiercely he squeezed me.

  “You’re hurting me,” I said, trying to tug myself away.

  He let go so abruptly I nearly toppled backward. I caught my balance just in time.

  “Forgive me,” he said, his voice curt. “But you don’t intend to venture up there, do you?”

  “It is perfectly safe,” I lied. As dubious as the passage looked, plenty of other couples traversed it without question. I pointed to the steps. “More than one couple has gone up. They’re safe.”

  He craned his neck to peer at the top of the wall, but his cheeks blanched. Much paler, and he might shed his skin and turn into a ghost.

  A sly smile on my lips, I leaned closer to him. “You aren’t afraid, are you?”

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “But you should have a care. Like Lady Dunlop said, if you swoon from the battlements…”

  “I won’t.”

  Turning away from him, I marched to the steps. I mounted halfway before he unfroze from his spot. Heavy footsteps thumped on the stairs behind me. Pausing on the step, I turned to him.

  “You don’t have to accompany me.”

  He leaned against the wall heavily as he sidled along each step, his right side ope
n to the air. The steps were wide and sturdy. Enough for two people to walk abreast, even someone as large as Warren. Judging from his demeanor, he didn’t trust them to hold his weight.

  As he took another step, testing the next stair, he said, “I couldn’t possibly leave you alone.”

  I braced my hands on my hips. “Why not?”

  He shook his head. His lips were pressed together. Either he was unable, or unwilling to answer. His pallor was so stark, his blond hair looked dark in contrast.

  He reached within two steps of me. Without looking, I took another step higher. “I’m perfectly safe on my own.”

  “You are not,” he gritted out.

  “If that’s true, your presence here will not keep me from falling through the battlements. If anything, the added weight will give greater strain.”

  That gave him pause. I turned to continue my ascent, hoping he would take the hint and return to the decrepit courtyard below.

  “Watch your step,” he said. His voice was strained. I turned, but I was in no danger. I mounted the middle of the steps.

  From the tight expression on his face, I might as well have been dangling in midair. He reached for me, but I stepped away—closer to the open air at the side of the steps.

  The side of my foot kissed the open air, but I wasn’t worried. I had my footing.

  Horror etched across Warren’s face. He dove for me. His hand latched onto my upper arm. The momentum shoved me off balance. For a prolonged, horrifying moment, I feared I’d plummet to my death.

  Then Warren hauled me against his chest. He turned, pressing me into the cool stone wall of the ruins. The stone smelled earthy, like moss or mold, with the slightest tang underneath like copper. I struggled, but Warren held me tight to him, his shoulders hunched around me like a shield.

  He trembled. I ceased fighting his hold.

  Tentatively, I snaked my hand around his back to pat his shoulders. “I’m fine.” No thanks to you. I wouldn’t have lost my footing in the first place if he hadn’t grabbed for me.

  He said nothing. I contorted to glimpse his face, but he buried it in the crook of my neck. His hot breath chased shivers over my skin. I tugged at him, but he wouldn’t budge.