Teresa Medeiros (41 page)

Her captive audience burst into applause, making her grandfather beam with pride. Deliberately avoiding Billy’s gaze, Esmerelda took a bow. When the cries of “Bravo!” and “More, more!” showed no signs of diminishing, she started for the grand piano.

Halfway there, she turned back. The applause faded to rapt silence. “Since you’ve been such a gracious audience, I believe I’d like to favor you with a vocal selection.”

Drew winced and Billy’s eyes widened in alarm. Clasping her hands demurely beneath her breasts, Esmerelda drew in a deep breath and began to sing “Dixie.”

Since the first few notes were so shrill as to be unrecognizable,
she made it all the way to the second verse before Virgil broke free of Sam and Enos. This time it took all four of his brothers and Drew to restrain him. Billy clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his roar of outrage.

When Esmerelda finished, her last note hanging in the air like the sound a cat makes when someone steps on its tail, there was only appalled silence and a smattering of strained applause.

Her white-faced grandfather swallowed hard before producing a doting smile. “That was lovely, my dear, but perhaps I should go signal the musicians to begin the dancing.”

His hurried departure started an exodus toward the gilded doors. Leaving Virgil to his brothers, Billy strode toward Esmerelda, looking as mean and dangerous as she’d ever seen him.

Murmuring her apologies, she shoved her way through the crush, desperate to escape him. She glanced over her shoulder to find him closing on her with Drew right at his heels.

She never thought she’d be happy to see the earl of St. Cyr, but his sudden appearance sent her into an ecstasy of relief.

She latched onto his elbow, nearly dislodging the platter of hors d’oeuvres tucked in the crook of his arm. “Why, there you are,
darling,”
she sang out with deliberate malice. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been ignoring you.”

He mumbled something unintelligible, his mouth full.

Still clutching his arm, she swung around to face Billy and Drew. “You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I’ve been remiss. Please allow me to introduce you to the earl of St. Cyr—my fiancé.”

St. Cyr choked on whatever he’d been trying to swallow,
turning scarlet. His violent coughing caused one of the brass buttons on the waistcoat stretched taut over his enormous belly to pop off and bounce across the room.

Billy arched an incredulous eyebrow.
“That
’s the earl of St. Cyr?”

Drew shrugged sheepishly. “I told you he was a man of notorious appetites.”

The musicians in the next room struck up a waltz. Billy grabbed Esmerelda by the hand. “Since Earl here will have the rest of his life to enjoy the pleasure of your company,” he said wryly, “I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow you for one dance.”

“He might not mind, but I do,” Esmerelda retorted, stumbling after him.

Her protests were in vain. Billy had already swept her into the whirling throng of dancers. The music soared in a majestic counterpart to his fleet grace. His hand rested warm and low on her back, urging her nearer to him with each dizzying twirl around the parquet floor. As Esmerelda met his bold gaze, she could almost allow herself to believe that he was her cowboy and she was his lady.

To distract herself from the sheer bliss of being in his arms again, she slanted him a suspicious look. “You dance very well for a bounty hunter, Mr. Darling.”

He smiled down at her, warming her to the tips of her toes. “Every self-respecting Missouri boy knows the Tennessee waltz.”

As if to prove his point, Jasper went gliding by with one of the besotted Belles in his arms.

“We’re beginning to attract notice, you know,” she pointed out, surprised to realize that she no longer cared.

He leaned down and murmured, “Given that you’re a woman of advanced age and limited prospects, they’re probably wondering if I’m going to carry you off and ravish you.”

“Are you?” she dared to ask.

In answer, he waltzed her right out the French windows onto the terrace.

The music faded to a ghostly echo, poignant and sweet. Still holding her in his arms, Billy reached up and untied the ribbons of her mask, exposing her face to the moonlight. Unable to bear his tender scrutiny, Esmerelda turned her back on him.

She chafed her naked arms. The winter chill was a cruel contrast to the cozy heat of Billy’s body.

He dropped his coat over her shoulders, but did her the courtesy of not touching her. “I forgave you for spilling my champagne,” he said lightly. “Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me for the things I said?”

She drifted toward the terrace wall, hoping the shadows would hide the crimson staining her cheeks. “It wasn’t what you said that I can’t forgive. It’s what you did.” She softened her voice until it was barely a whisper. “Or didn’t do.”

“You’re still mad because I turned down your grandpa’s offer to marry you, aren’t you?”

She whirled around, allowing all the bitterness she’d hoarded since they’d parted to spill into her voice. “Why should you have married me when you made sure there would be no need of it? And I was too stupid to realize what you were doing. God, how pathetic you must have found me!”

Billy shook his head. “I never thought you were stupid. Or pathetic. I thought you were innocent.”

“So innocent I couldn’t tell when a man was trifling with my affections. So innocent I believed you when you said you loved me and wanted to marry me. So innocent I didn’t realize there were ways a man could enjoy a woman’s
company
without risking his freedom.”

“Is that what you believe?” he asked hoarsely. “That I didn’t get you with child that night because I intended all along to abandon you the next morning?”

“Since that’s exactly what you did, what else am I to believe?”

Billy paced the length of the terrace before jerking off his mask and running a hand through his hair. When he swung around, his face was an agonized mirror of her own. “I knew I could make you want me, honey. But I wasn’t sure I could make you love me. You might have wanted to spend the night with a Darling, but spending your life with one was another proposition altogether.” He spread his arms, his rumpled hair and desperate expression only making his immaculate clothes look more striking. “I can dress up in fancy clothes and talk like a gentleman, but that still doesn’t make me one.”

He moved toward her, shaking his head in helpless wonder. “And look at you, Duchess—a lady to the bone—so fine and sweet it takes my breath away.” He reached down and gently cupped her belly in his palm, his expression both fierce and tender. “Nothing would make me prouder than to watch that beautiful body of yours swell with my child.”

Billy’s frank confession and intimate touch thawed the icy lump in Esmerelda’s throat. A single tear went tumbling from her lashes, then another.

Without bothering to brush them away, she stroked his jaw with her fingertips. “You forgot to take one thing into account, Mr. Darling.” At his questioning glance, she whispered, “I already loved you.”

Her mouth melted against his in a seeking caress. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her clear off her feet, squeezing her as if he would never let her go.

“I never wanted a gentleman,” she murmured, kissing his throat, his cheek, his lips. “I wanted a man. I wanted you.”

This time when Billy took her by the hand and led her deeper into the garden, Esmerelda followed without protest. They ducked into the first gazebo they found.

“Oh, excuse me,” Billy muttered, rapidly backing up.

Esmerelda peeped around his shoulder only to find another couple locked in a torrid kiss. Moonlight spilled through the latticed walls, frosting their hair with silver.

“Aunt Anne!” she breathed, both scandalized and delighted.

Her aunt immediately gave Andrew McGuire’s broad shoulders a halfhearted shove. “Unhand me, you knave! How dare you take such liberties!”

Billy chuckled. “Don’t let us disturb you, Drew. I believe the lady’s about to give you a tongue-lashing you’ll never forget.”

He beat a hasty retreat with Esmerelda trotting along behind him, still gaping over her shoulder. He didn’t pause again until a dead branch cracked behind them.

A troubled expression crossed his face.

“What is it?” Esmerelda whispered, edging nearer to him. “Is someone following us?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think so. It’s just a feeling I’ve had more than once lately.”

Shaking it off, he cupped her waist in his hands and set her atop a low stone wall opposite a towering evergreen hedge. The hedge provided privacy, while the wall provided the perfect excuse for Esmerelda to wrap both her arms and her legs around him.

He began to bunch up her skirt, determination glinting in his eyes.

“Why, Mr. Darling, whatever are you doing?”

“I’m going to get you with child. Then I’ll demand that your grandfather make you do right by me.”

Biting back a delighted grin, she said, “Surely even a scoundrel like you wouldn’t sink so low!”

“I’m a Darling, Miss Fine. I’ll sink as low as I have to.”

With that wicked promise, he slid his hands beneath her skirt, cupped her rump through her thin silk drawers, and dragged her against him for a hot, delicious mingling of tongues.

They were still locked in that rather compromising embrace when her grandfather came charging through the hedge, clutching Samuel Darling by his one good ear.

Esmerelda sprang off the wall, but Billy kept his arms curved protectively around her as they turned to face her grandfather together.

The duke’s cane was nowhere in sight. Two winded footmen came stumbling through the hedge after him. Their eyes bulged as they saw their master’s beloved granddaughter in a stranger’s arms. “Turn around,” the duke barked.

Sam tried to oblige him, but only succeeded in nearly twisting off his ear. “Not you! Them!”

The footmen did an abrupt about-face, the old-fashioned periwigs the duke insisted they wear quivering in alarm.

“You’re dismissed,” he commanded.

As they ducked back through the hedge, exchanging a relieved glance, Anne came racing down the path. Her
chignon was hanging half over her eyes, and the hooks of her bodice looked curiously off-kilter.

She skidded to an abrupt halt on the gravel path. “For heaven’s sake, Reginald, what was all that commotion about?”

The duke gave Sam a spiteful shake before freeing his ear. “I saw this ruffian sneaking out the dining room window, so I lit out in pursuit. I caught him with
this.”
He wrested the grubby sack from Sam’s hand and turned it upside down.

A shimmering stream of silverware, jewelry, and candlesticks came spilling out on the grass.

“Why, Samuel Darling,” Esmerelda exclaimed, “what would your ma say?”

Sam hung his head in shame.

“The other young scamp got away,” her grandfather informed them.

“Enos,” she whispered. Billy nodded, rolling his eyes.

He stood tall and straight in the moonlight, unmasked and exposed to her grandfather’s chilly regard.

“So we meet again, Mr. Darling. I suppose it wasn’t enough for you to rob my granddaughter of her precious virtue. You had to bring your kinfolk all the way to England to rob my home as well.”

“It was never my intention to rob your granddaughter of anything. I loved her then and I love her now.”

The duke snorted. “You loved her so well that you used her, then cast her aside like some worn-out pair of boots.”

“I let her go because I thought it would be best for her, but I won’t make the same mistake again. I may not be the sort of man you would have chosen for your granddaughter, but I can promise you that no man will ever love her
like I do. I intend to have her, sir. With or without your blessing.”

Esmerelda’s heart swelled with pride. The duke went purple and began to sputter.

Billy took her by the shoulders, gazing tenderly down into her face. “I’m going to go now, sweetheart, because I don’t want your grandfather to have a stroke. Tomorrow is my last night in London. If you still want to be my wife, you know where to find me.”

He kissed her then, a kiss that was brief and hard and sweet. As he strode away down the path, Sam trailed after him, massaging his ear.

Although her grandfather hadn’t even been out of breath when he’d come charging through that hedge, he sagged against the stone wall as if barely able to stand.

Esmerelda reached for his shoulder. “Grandpapa, please …”

He shrugged off her touch, refusing to look at her. “Leave me, you faithless child. You’re no different from your mother.”

Esmerelda stood there for a long time until Anne gently put her arm around her shoulders and led her away.

Esmerelda walked the long, lonely corridors of Wyndham Manor for the last time. She’d left her lavish carriage dresses and traveling gowns hanging in her armoire, choosing instead the simple walking suit she’d been wearing on the day she climbed down from that stagecoach in Calamity.

She carried only her old battered trunk and her mother’s violin case. She regretted leaving the Stradivarius behind, not because of its worth, but because of the look on her grandfather’s face when he had toasted her for
bringing music back into his home and heart. She hated the thought of it sitting silent and forlorn in the abandoned music room.