The Clarendon Rose (2 page)

Her thick eyelashes, spiky with moisture, clung wetly to her cheeks, and looking closer, he saw the tracks of tears tracing the contours of her face.
 
Even in sleep, her eyes looked large, with the touch of an exotic tilt.
 
Her delicate features and high cheekbones were offset by sensuously full lips.
 
Freckles seasoned her nose and cheeks like a dusting of pepper—unfashionable, yet oddly piquant.

This, then, must be the hoydenish Miss Merriton—
who is,
he reminded himself wryly,
engaged to Edmund, and therefore strictly off limits to the likes of you.
 

The dim, evening light filtering through the panes of the French windows did not permit him to determine the exact color of the thick, darkly reddish hair that waved back from her forehead and escaped the confines of her unfashionable coiffure in chaotically curling tendrils.
 
Her dress, too, was dark—but then that was hardly surprising, given that the household was in mourning.
 

He clenched his fist as he forced himself to gaze into the fire until he had managed to subdue the visible signs of his lust.
 
Then, frowning as he glanced at her, he cleared his throat loudly.

Tina wasn’t sure what woke her, but when she opened her eyes, she thought at first she was still dreaming, for she looked up to see a shadowed figure standing before her.
 
A fallen angel dressed in nobleman’s clothes.
 
He wore an expression of stern austerity, half his face in shadow, the other half a series of harsh planes, burnished by the glow of the fire.

His vibrant eyes watched her and in her half-awake state, she imagined she could see some kind of dark, self-consuming fire flickering in their depths.
 

Then she blinked again.
 
As the fog of sleep dissipated, she belatedly recognized the traces of a younger person in the broader, more defined features of the man who stood watching her with that imperturbable expression.
 
The new Duke of Clarendon.

“Oh!”
 
Heat rose to Tina’s face as she became aware of her undignified position.
 
She had prepared for his arrival by taming her wild curls into a severe knot and donning one of her best mourning gowns.
 
She had retreated to the library to wait for his summons, but she must have dozed off in the interim.

Tina looked away from his steady scrutiny, her movements clumsy as she struggled to extricate her curled legs from the folds of her skirt.
 
The dark sensuality of the duke’s presence made her jittery.
 

Though she had rather hoped otherwise, her adolescent
tendre
for the dashing heir evidently hadn’t been vanquished by the years and the tales of his wild debaucheries.
 
If anything, things seem to have gotten worse, now that I’m older.

She managed to stand and execute an awkward curtsey, her body still tense with awareness held in check.
 
She kept her eyes averted, not wanting to see his expression.
 
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice choked and her face hot.

“Miss Merriton, I presume?”

“Valentina Merriweather, sir.”

“I see.”
 

Glancing up, she noted he was surveying her appearance, his expression pointedly neutral.
 
“Engaged to my brother, I understand?”

Tina stiffened at the duke’s tone, her chin going up defensively.
 
“I am, Your Grace.”
 

She considered telling him she planned on releasing Edmund from his word, but she discarded the notion a moment later.
 
Edmund deserved the courtesy of hearing about her decision first.
 
She had no intention of violating that courtesy in order to placate this haughty man, who stared down at her as if she were as insignificant and undesirable as a bit of fluff on his impeccable sleeve.

“I see,” he repeated flatly.
 

“I very much doubt it, in fact.”
 
She kept her voice pleasant as she met his gaze head on, provoked by his tone.
 
What right did this stranger have to judge her supposed connection with his brother?
 

“What is it you doubt?”
 
A raised eyebrow accompanied the query.

“That you have seen anything of the situation here, in the course of your eleven-year absence.”
 
She managed a smile, though she couldn’t keep the sharpness out of her voice.
 
“Do you really know anything about the man Edmund has become?
 
He was hardly more than a boy when you left.”

The duke’s expression grew even more forbidding, and a muscle twitched in his jaw as he glared at her.
 
Tina realized she had overstepped her position.
 

I can hardly fault him his displeasure.
 
Not just a dependent to deal with, but an impertinent one to boot.
 
Perhaps I should apologize.
 

But then she remembered the particular blend of longing, concern and pride that would flit across her beloved Uncle Charles’s expression on the few occasions they had discussed his elder son.
 
She raised her head a little higher.
 

I won’t do it.
 
He has behaved shamefully.

She waited to be put in her place.
 

But the duke merely glowered at her.
 
Then, one corner of his mouth rose in what Tina could only describe as a sneer.
 

“A palpable hit, Miss Merriweather.” He inclined his head.
 
“Such incisive honesty is commendable.”

He glanced away from her, directing his attention to the fireplace, his expression distant.
 
She found herself unable to look away from the burnished, male beauty of his face.

Then, he nodded slightly, as if he had reached some sort of decision.
 
He gave her a tight smile.
 
“And so it is that you have the advantage of me.”

“How so, Your Grace?”
 
His smile made her feel short of breath, even though it was hardly more than a cynical twist of his lips.
 

“Please sit,” he said, his tone oddly gentle as he gestured at the chair she had previously occupied.
 
She had little option but to comply.
 
“You are correct in observing that I have little idea of what has gone on here in my absence.
 
Perhaps you would be willing to help in that regard by telling me something of your attachment to my brother—and of his to you?”

Tina swallowed, unsure of what to say.
 
She suspected that the duke was really asking her to defend the impending union—but how could she, when she had every intention of ending it?
 

“Well, Your Grace…”
 

He grimaced as she hesitated over how to continue.

“All these ‘Your Graces’…”
 
He shook his head.
 
“Tell me, Miss Merriweather, how did you address my father?”

“From the time of my arrival, he asked that I call him Uncle Charles, because my mother was…”

“Yes,” he agreed when she trailed off.
 
“The sister to my father’s first wife.
 
You may feel free to speak it.
 
I do not have my mother’s sensitivity to the past.”

“Evidently not, Your Grace.”

“Which brings me back to my point quite neatly.”
 
He settled in a chair opposite hers.
 
“The ‘Your Graces’ get rather cumbersome, and I still have some difficulty in accustoming myself to the title.
 
If we’re to be family, I’d prefer you dispense with the formalities and call me Clarendon.”

“Clarendon?”
 
Tina felt a strange flutter at the thought of using such intimate address with this disturbing man.
 

He nodded, his expression grave.
 
“And no more ‘Your Graces’ if you please.
 
Now, pray continue your account.
 
I apologize for my interruption.”
 

She looked down at her hands, only now realizing how tightly her fingers were interlaced.
 
Forcing them to relax, she drew in a deep breath and summoned a smile for the duke.
 

“Edmund and I have been very close from the time I moved here,” she said, trying to keep to the truth without revealing anything that might lead to further questioning.
 
“But, it is only recently that he came to regard me in the light of a potential spouse.
 
I, in turn, have loved him very deeply for many years.”
 

As the brother I never had,
she amended silently, trying not to wince openly at her prevarications.

Like smoke, the silence drifted between them for a few moments, before dissipating when he cleared his throat.
 
“I see.
 
So the match has been undertaken out of deep, mutual regard?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands once again.
 
“That is my understanding, sir,” she replied, unable to make herself call him Clarendon.

“And my brother is currently away on an errand, is he?”

A fool’s errand.
 
But aloud, she said:
 
“Yes, sir.
 
I’m not certain when he will return.
 
His mother seemed to feel it important that he set out immediately.”
 
So I would have no further opportunity to work my evil wiles upon her poor, hapless son.

“So I understand.”
 
He spoke so dryly that she looked up in surprise.
 
His mouth had lifted in another of those cynical smiles, and again, she found it extraordinarily difficult to look away from him.
 
He ran a hand through his dark hair and expelled a deep sigh.
 
“Excellent.
 
Well, I thank you for your candor, Miss Merriweather.
 
I shall take my leave for the moment, and look forward to furthering our acquaintance over dinner.”

She managed to refrain from grimacing at the news that he would be expecting her to join him for the evening meal.
 
Instead, she nodded, rising when she saw him stand.
 
She curtseyed as he walked by, keeping her eyes downcast so she would not embarrass herself by following his movements with her voracious gaze.

He had just reached the door when she heard him pause.
 
She glanced up.
 
He had turned back to face her, a frown creasing his brow.

“Actually, I do have one further question for you, Miss Merriweather.”

More about her supposed betrothal to Edmund, no doubt.
 
Perhaps he hoped to catch her off guard and thereby elicit some sort of incriminating confession.
 
She schooled her features to politeness before meeting his gaze.
 
“Yes, sir?”

“Over the last few days, sorting through the affairs of the holdings, I couldn’t help but notice that someone had taken over the administration of the estates during my father’s illness.
 
Yet, I could find no record of a new estate manager being added to the payroll.”

Tina felt her stomach tighten as she did her best to appear casual.
 
He had to find out at some point, of course.
 
She just hadn’t expected the question to come up so soon.
 
“Oh?”
 

“Who is it that took over—do you know?
 
I should like to go over a number of points with him in further detail.”

Tina closed her eyes briefly, tempted to try putting the duke off until she had more time to think about what she would say.
 
But then, taking a deep breath, she decided that the sooner he discovered the truth, the easier it would be for everyone.
 
“I can tell you, sir.”

“And?”

She raised her chin.
 
“I have been taking care of all the affairs of the estate since Uncle Charles fell ill.”

“I see.”
 
He nodded slowly, his expression distant, the beginnings of a frown creasing his forehead.
 
When he saw her watching, he smiled, but the wry humor in his expression seemed forced.
 

She swallowed, suddenly anxious to justify her actions.
 
“I had been involved with them even before.
 
Often as not, I used to make the rounds with Uncle Charles when I was growing up—I enjoyed the company and I think he did, too, what with Edmund so determined to be the younger son and you—“ Tina cut herself off and cleared her throat.
 

“At any rate, from that, my interest in the administrative aspects of the holdings began to develop.
 
I think Uncle Charles was happy to find
some
one who cared about such things.
 
He was most amenable to showing me how he kept the books, decided on the allocation of funds and so on.
 
When he fell ill, the doctor suggested he not exert himself overmuch, but without the assurance that someone was tending to the affairs of the estate, he would certainly have tried to continue his duties.”

She knew she was rattling on, but in the face of his neutral expression—as if he had forgotten to be amused—she felt all the more determined to justify herself.
 
His hands had curled into fists, and she could practically feel the tension in him.
 

No doubt, she reflected bitterly, it was galling to learn that a mere woman, the daughter of disgraced parents and indeed, the very fortune-hunting hussy who had lured his brother into a betrothal, had also presumed to take over the lofty responsibilities normally reserved for the Duke of Clarendon.