Read Desire Becomes Her Online
Authors: Shirlee Busbee
Desire Becomes Her (32 page)
Slapping a smile on her face and rousing her failing spirits, Gillian stepped from the coach. Like a soldier girded for battle, she entered Windmere. To her amazement with all the unpleasantness lurking at the back of her mind, Gillian enjoyed the dinner at Windmere and basked in the approval and friendliness being showered upon her. She’d have been an ill-tempered Jade beyond pleasing, she reminded herself, not to have found the evening delightful.
Everything was beautifully prepared, from the white linen expanse of the table, to the exotically scented pink and white lilies and lacy green ferns that graced it. The food was superb, each elegant and delicious dish followed by another more elegant and delicious than the first: Beef à la Royal, buttered lobsters, leg of mutton with cauliflower and spinach, pullets with chestnuts and several side dishes. And the company! These people raising their glasses in toast after toast were aristocrats, the elite of the area, and they had come to honor her and Luc, she thought, flattered and much affected. Something approaching joy bubbled through her, and for just a bit she was able to put away her doubts and forget all the troubles that beset her.
Her eyes bright, a dazzling smile dimpling into view, she pretended that Luc loved her and for a precious few moments convinced herself that their marriage was going to be gloriously happy. Her gaze slid to Luc, and beneath her apricot and champagne silk gown, her heart thumped pleasurably. The candlelight picking out blue glints in his black hair, his teeth flashing in his handsome face when he laughed and wearing a burgundy coat with black lapels, his cravat glistening whitely against the fabric, he looked every maiden’s dream.
It was late in the evening when Lord Joslyn put her hand on his arm and murmured, “Allow me to steal you away for a few minutes and show you my conservatory.” He smiled. “I’m told that it is superb.”
With quaking nerves Gillian allowed Viscount Joslyn to guide her away from the others, knowing it wasn’t to see the justly famous Joslyn conservatory that he’d cut her out from the rest. Strolling through the exotic plants—banana trees, orchids and tropical ferns—Barnaby said, “It’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
Gillian peeped up at him. She was aware that he wasn’t talking about his conservatory, but seeing the kindness in his dark eyes, she muttered, “You must think our marriage is rather sudden.”
“It is, but nothing my brother does surprises me much.” His gaze intent upon her face, he asked bluntly, “Do you love him?”
Caught off guard, the truth popped out before she could stop it. “Yes, I do.”
She could be lying, but Barnaby thought not. He’d sprung the question on her deliberately and the look in her eyes and the huskiness of her voice told him as much as her answer. Gillian Dashwood might come with a questionable past, but the only thing that mattered to Barnaby was whether she loved Luc or not. He’d noted the looks she’d lavished on Luc tonight when she thought no one was looking, and he’d been confident her affections were involved, but he’d wanted to hear her say the words and judge for himself her sincerity.
He eyed her critically, thinking that she was a taking little thing. Luc was certainly smitten. Barnaby had reservations about the suddenness of the marriage and Luc’s choice, but he was going to have to trust Luc’s instincts ... and his own. From all he’d seen and heard, though she came with some baggage, he decided she might do very well for Luc.
Barnaby patted her hand. “Good! Luc deserves to be loved.” He winked at her. “Even if at times he arouses within one the most barbaric and unloving urge to throttle him.” Smiling more warmly at her than he had all evening, he added softly, “Welcome to the family, my dear.”
Chapter 17
U
pon Gillian’s return to High Tower, Silas asked for a private word with her. A spurt of unease darted through her as she followed her uncle into his study and took the chair he indicated. Seated behind his desk, the gentle smile he sent her way banished her unease.
pon Gillian’s return to High Tower, Silas asked for a private word with her. A spurt of unease darted through her as she followed her uncle into his study and took the chair he indicated. Seated behind his desk, the gentle smile he sent her way banished her unease.
“Tomorrow you will marry Luc Joslyn,” he began, “and I admit that it is my dearest wish. I am very fond of both of you, and almost from the moment I met him, I thought that he would make you a good husband.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “You wanted me to marry him?”
“Indeed. I can think of no other man who would suit you as well.”
“But he’s a
gambler!
Just like Charles.”
gambler!
Just like Charles.”
“No, my dear, Luc is many things, but he bears no resemblance to your late and, I must confess, unlamented husband.” Fixing a stern eye on her, he said, “Luc gambles, but he is not a gambler in the truest sense of the word. I’ve watched him over the months and I know the difference. His success is proof of what I say. He does not play foxed, or throw good money after bad—especially when the cards run against him. I
have
seen him put a small fortune on the table over the course of an evening when luck was on his side, but I’ve never seen him wager more than he can afford to lose. You’ll not find
his
vowels scattered all across England.”
have
seen him put a small fortune on the table over the course of an evening when luck was on his side, but I’ve never seen him wager more than he can afford to lose. You’ll not find
his
vowels scattered all across England.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should. Luc may have his faults, but you need never fear that he will place you in the position that Charles did.” His face hardened. “Either leaving you as near to penniless as makes no never mind or expecting you to whore to pay off his debts.” His expression softened. “I don’t bring this up to distress you, my dear, but to make you understand that we are talking about two entirely different men. If I thought for one moment that Luc would use you badly, scandal be damned, I’d do everything in my power to prevent the marriage.”
She stared down at her hands folded in her lap. “Thank you for that,” she murmured, comforted by his words. Perhaps Luc wasn’t like Charles, but Charles’s vowels certainly haunted their prospects for happiness. Meeting her uncle’s eyes, she said, “The vowels ... with Canfield dead, who knows where they may surface.”
He sighed, nodding. “We were foolish to think that the problem had gone away simply by your moving in here. The vowels were still out there and we should have done something to wrest them from Canfield’s hands.”
“Ever since we learned of Canfield’s death, those vowels have been on my mind—I don’t know what to do,” Gillian confessed. “Should I tell Luc? And when? Right before I marry him tomorrow morning? Or right after?” She glanced away. “It is bad enough that I’m marrying him with hardly more than the clothes on my back and under these circumstances, but it seems prodigiously unfair to saddle him with Charles’s debts.”
“Ah, well, that brings me to the reason I wanted to speak with you tonight.” He smiled at her. “You are not going to Luc as poor as you think. I have settled a nice little sum of money on you, and he and I have worked out a satisfactory settlement.” At her raised brow, he added hastily, “Yes, yes, I know that as a widow you have the right to make decisions, but Luc was very fair and generous. No matter what happens, you will never find yourself without money again.”
Gillian stared at her uncle, her ire dying away. How could she be angry with him? He was being kinder and more generous than she deserved. “You are too good to me and ... and I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I cannot let you do it.”
“You can’t stop me, gel. It’s already done.” He wagged a finger at her. “And I’ll hear none of this ‘it’s unfair to my brother and my cousin.’ I’m a wealthy man—wealthier than most people know. I always intended to ensure that you and Sophy, as well as your brother, were well taken care of. Of course, Stanley was always in line to inherit High Tower and I’ll not deny that I had my doubts about the boy, but these past weeks have made me see that he’s got a good head on his shoulders—when he uses it.” He scratched his chin. “His inheritance of High Tower will hopefully be awhile yet, but there’s no reason that I can’t give the three of you an independence now.” When Gillian opened her lips to protest, he glared at her. “It’s my money and I’ll spend it as I see fit. Better all of you have some enjoyment of my money while I’m alive to see it than wait until I’m cold in the ground.” Working himself up into a fine temper, he growled, “And you’re a damned ungrateful little wretch if you dare throw my money back in my face. Denying an old man his happiness, why it don’t bear thinking about.”
Her heart overflowing with love for him, laughing and crying, Gillian rushed over to fling her arms around Silas’s neck and press a kiss to his wrinkled cheek. “Oh, Uncle Silas! You are the sweetest, most generous man I know. I’ll try not to be an ungrateful little wretch. Thank you.”
Mollified, he patted her arm. “Now that’s better,” he muttered. “And don’t you be fretting and thinking I gave you more than the others. I didn’t. You’ve each gotten an equal amount.” He gave her a sly look. “Of course, I haven’t told them yet. Intend to do that tomorrow afternoon once all the fuss with your wedding and such is behind us, so you keep a closed mouth.”
Wiping away her tears, she smiled at him. “It will be our secret.”
“Good. You run off to bed now and don’t worry about those blasted vowels. If Luc has to buy them up—it’ll be my money that does so. You’ll have no reason to feel guilty or beholden to him over it.”
Gillian didn’t think it would be as simple or as easy as Silas made it sound, but her heart and her step were lighter as she sped up the stairs to her room.
As Gillian headed for her room at High Tower, at The Ram’s Head, a man was sneaking into Canfield’s rooms. He’d hoped to make this search the previous night while the inhabitants at the tavern were excited and agitated about the news of Canfield’s death, but an opportunity had not presented itself. He’d fretted all day, afraid someone else would be ahead of him in searching Canfield’s things, but Nolles had indicated that Constable Ragland had locked the door and pocketed the keys pending the inquest and the arrival of the family. It had been good news, but he could wait no longer. Making an excuse, he’d slipped away from his friends and disappeared upstairs. As Nolles had said, the door was locked, but he made short work of it and, opening the door, slipped into the room.
Shutting the door behind him, he lit a small candle. He worried that the light could be seen beneath the door, but he’d have to risk it—and hope he’d hear the approach of anyone in time to snuff the candle. One ear cocked for the sound of someone coming up the stairs, he searched through the dead man’s belongings. He found little that did him any good until he discovered, hidden behind the lining of a traveling valise, Charles Dashwood’s vowels.
Frowning, in the faint light of the candle, he pawed through them, his brain seeking a way to turn these old vowels to his advantage. The bargain made by Charles with Winthrop might not have been common knowledge, but there were a few people who’d been aware of what had been planned the night Charles died. A sneer curved his lips, his teeth gleaming like a wolf’s in the candlelight. Charles had made a fatal mistake in thinking he’d be able to bleed him for more money and had died because he’d been a greedy bastard. As for Winthrop, his lordship had been a lecherous, old fool. A woman instead of money? Faugh!
But it wasn’t the money the vowels represented that interested him. It was how he could use them... .
On a bright and cool Saturday morning in November, Luc Joslyn took Gillian Dashwood as his wife. Everyone agreed that the bride looked lovely in a narrow gown of pale green embroidered muslin and the groom was most handsome garbed in a long-tailed dark blue coat and gray pantaloons. As planned, after the ceremony performed by Vicar Smythe, the entire wedding party removed to High Tower for a celebration breakfast.
The attendees of the dinner the previous night at Windmere were present, in addition to several other notables from the neighborhood. Mrs. Featherstone and three of her daughters fluttered about, Lord Broadfoot’s two sons, Miles and Harlan, and the family’s two eldest daughters had joined their parents for today’s festivities, and Mr. and Mrs. Simon Fulton, wealthy neighbors of Silas’s, and their son were amongst the first to offer congratulations. Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Dodd with their two strapping sons, as well as the widower, Lord Blackmore, whose lands bordered Silas on the east, helped swell the ranks of the guests. There were others to be sure, prompted as much by curiosity as goodwill, that helped fill the grand salon at High Tower to nearly overflowing.
Watching the chattering, smiling crowd, Silas felt a surge of gratification. There had been some fear that Canfield’s death would cast a pall over the entire wedding, but Canfield was known only by reputation by most in the neighborhood and few were touched by his death. There was the occasional murmur about what a tragedy the young man’s death had been, but for today it was shrugged aside and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
His gaze moving from one person to another, Silas was aware that there were those who came only to gather gossip, but all in all he was pleased. He and the Joslyn family had done what they could to dilute the worst of the scandal broth at the sudden and unexpected wedding, and he was satisfied that, except for a few high sticklers, Luc and Gillian would be readily accepted into the ranks of the gentry. He smiled. It helped, he admitted, that Luc’s brother was Viscount Joslyn. Few would dare insult the half brother, legitimate or not, of the wealthiest and most powerful man in the neighborhood. Watching Cornelia Townsend holding court in one corner of the grand salon, his smile became a grin. Or offend Cornelia.
The morning sped by for Gillian, and all too soon, for her peace of mind, she was bundled into Luc’s carriage and with well wishes ringing in her ears, she and Luc were on their way to Ramstone. She was glad to escape from the strain of constantly smiling and trying to look as if she didn’t have a care in the world when she was filled with apprehension and uncertainty, but leaving ... She swallowed. Leaving High Tower meant she was alone with Luc for the first time since Sophy had discovered them in bed together in her bedroom.
From under her lashes, she studied him, this man she had just married, as he sprawled on the burgundy mohair cushions across from her. His eyes were downcast, as if he was contemplating the floor, and her gaze traveled over the sweep of black hair across his brow, the shadows beneath the elegantly sculpted bones of his cheeks, the hard jaw, and lingered on the soft, sensual curve of his full bottom lip. Heat blossomed low in her body and her nipples swelled as she remembered the feel of that warm mouth on hers, on her breasts, her body... .
Appalled at her wanton thoughts, she tore her gaze away and stared unseeing out at the passing countryside for several minutes. The erotic images faded and with them her body’s uninhibited response, but just as she congratulated herself on her control, her eyes strayed again to him. He looked so comfortable, so at ease sitting there, damn him! His broad shoulders encased in the dark blue jacket rested lightly against the back of the coach seat, and his long legs were stretched out in the space between them, the gray pantaloons clinging to muscular thighs and calves. With every bounce and lurch of the carriage as it bumped over the rough country road, his body swayed easily, bonelessly. Clearly, he had not a care in the world.
It was unfair, she thought resentfully, that he was as relaxed as a big tomcat dozing in the sun while she was as tense as a vixen chased to earth by a pack of hounds. Of course,
he
hadn’t just been torn from his home. His life wasn’t now in the hands of a stranger. A stranger, she reflected, who would come to her bed tonight and do with her as he willed. A flush stained her cheeks when she admitted with a tiny thrill of anticipation that welcoming Luc to her bed wasn’t going to be a chore. Feeling the budding warmth and dampness between her legs, she forced herself to look out the window of the coach again.
he
hadn’t just been torn from his home. His life wasn’t now in the hands of a stranger. A stranger, she reflected, who would come to her bed tonight and do with her as he willed. A flush stained her cheeks when she admitted with a tiny thrill of anticipation that welcoming Luc to her bed wasn’t going to be a chore. Feeling the budding warmth and dampness between her legs, she forced herself to look out the window of the coach again.
I’m married to a man I love, but one who doesn’t love me, she brooded. I don’t want to love him, and I can see nothing but misery being married to a man who doesn’t love me. She suppressed a sigh. Perhaps it wouldn’t be terrible, and it was certainly better than finding herself shackled to a man who revolted her—someone like Canfield or Stanton. She shuddered. Oh yes, marriage to Luc would not be a chore at all when compared to some other men she could name. Her practical side took over. My husband may not love me, but I’ll take my pleasure where I can, she told herself firmly, in my home and in the life I’ll make for myself. I’ll still have dear Uncle Silas, Sophy and Stanley nearby. And if my uncle is right, even if Luc is a gambler, my life won’t be like it was with Charles. I will
make
myself happy even if I have to do it all by myself.
make
myself happy even if I have to do it all by myself.
Luc wasn’t as relaxed as he looked, and Gillian would have been surprised to learn that only by concentrating fiercely on the floor of the carriage was he able to keep his hands off of her. At the first sight of her coming down the aisle this morning, Luc had felt as if the world had tilted, and feelings, emotions he’d never experienced before ripped through him. She looked so perfect, so lovely in her pale green gown that he wondered that he hadn’t realized before that he was in love with her. He loved women, but he was
in
love with Gillian. His mouth went dry at the knowledge that somehow, inexplicably this sprite with the cloud of dark hair and golden-brown eyes held his heart, his happiness in her slim, soft hands.
in
love with Gillian. His mouth went dry at the knowledge that somehow, inexplicably this sprite with the cloud of dark hair and golden-brown eyes held his heart, his happiness in her slim, soft hands.
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