The Princess & the Pea (31 page)

There was no test on earth that Olivia could devise that could verify love, and ultimately that was what she wanted for Jared. But, since that was out of even Olivia's reach, she would have to depend on the next closest attributes: courage and loyalty.

How would Cecily react if, unexpectedly, Jared was the subject of unpleasant gossip? If someone used the river of rumor that raged through London society to reveal his intimate involvement with automobiles? An involvement that went beyond the eminently proper position of patron, or even investor, to the rather gritty title of inventor? Would Cecily stand beside him?

Guilt shivered through Olivia, but she resolutely pushed it away. Certainly Jared had warned her not to interfere again, capping it off with that ridiculous threat about giving up his birthright and moving to America. She did not believe it for a moment. Even if he were serious—she squared her shoulders slightly—no risk was too great to ensure that her son married the proper woman.

Besides, the dear boy had no idea Olivia knew all about his automobiles, and had known nearly from the beginning. There was no possible way suspicion would fall on her. All she needed to do was drop a word here, an innuendo there, and before the evening was more than half through, rumor would roar through the room. She simply had to decide where to start....

"... so I believe he would be an excellent place to start." Millicent nodded toward an unidentified gentleman across the room.

Olivia's gaze flickered over the crowd and settled on Robert. He was the only one worth her interest. But first things first. Who was the biggest gossip in London?

"... beyond that, I have heard his pockets are quite deep and he is obviously ..." Millicent prattled on. apparently unaware of her friend's perusal. Millicent. of course, always knew everything, always had her finger on the pulse of society and was always innocently willing to pass on new information.

"Millicent," Olivia interrupted, "did you ever discover who Quentin's partner is in that absurd horseless carriage of his?"

"No, indeed," Millicent said regretfully, "and I do so wish I knew. Quentin plans to drive in some ridiculous race tomorrow, and I would feel ever so much better knowing who is involved in this with him."

Olivia shook her head slowly in a gesture of unease. "I'm quite afraid I may have the answer."

Olivia hooked her arm in Millicent's and steered her toward a private corner. Millicent's eyes widened with Olivia's every word.

"... and please, do promise you won't say a word about my suspicions. I know Quentin has no concerns about his involvement with this motorcar—"

Millicent sighed. "He is, after all, half American."

"Quite." Olivia nodded. "I fear any knowledge of the Earl of Graystone's activity would be quite scandalous."

"Olivia, you can certainly trust me not to say a word." Millicent said solemnly.

Olivia cast her a grateful smile. "Oh, my dear, I am certain I can trust you implicitly." Olivia bit her lip to keep her smile from blossoming into a satisfied grin.

"I'm confident you'll do exactly what needs to be done."

"And so you see, sir." Jared pulled a deep breath and held it. "I should very much like to marry her." He had no doubt as to Cece's willingness to wed him, but would the father share the opinion of the daughter?

Henry White leaned against the mantel in one of Lady Millicent's parlors, diffidently swirling brandy in his glass. The man seemed somewhat preoccupied, his mind anywhere but here. The moment stretched endlessly.

Jared cleared his throat. "Sir?"

"What is it, my boy?" Henry said absently.

Jared narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He had run into White several times this past week, and always the American had appeared contemplative and very far away. Jared wondered what could be troubling him. Even though he had requested White's presence away from the party, and had spent an interminable amount of time gathering up the courage to do so, this was obviously not the right moment to ask for Cece's hand. No matter: it could wait. Odd; there was more disappointment than relief at the thought.

"Perhaps I could lend my assistance in resolving whatever problem you may have encountered?" Jared asked.

"Problem?" Henry took a deep pull of the liquor and shook his head. "I appreciate the offer." He shrugged. "But I'm afraid this is something I'll have to deal with by myself."

Again White seemed to sink deep into thoughts of his own. Whatever was bothering the man was no doubt quite personal and extremely private. Jared wondered if he should silently take his leave.

"How much a role does my money play in your interest in my daughter?" White said without warning.

Jared drew a deep breath. He'd expected just such a question from Cece's father. Obviously the man was paying far closer attention than it appeared. Was this ability to concentrate on one topic even while preoccupied with another a clue to the American's business success?

"To be honest, sir, initially it played a rather significant role. But now ..."

"Now?" White raised a stern brow.

Jared shrugged. "Now it no longer matters."

"Why?" White shot the question like an arrow.

"I love her, sir," Jared said simply.

"Would you love her as well without her fortune?"

"Yes," Jared said without pausing so much as a heartbeat.

White's eyes narrowed slightly, his studied gaze intense and deliberate. Jared resisted the urge to loosen the collar around his neck, which seemed somehow tighter than only a moment ago. Abruptly the older man nodded, as if satisfied with what he'd found. Jared released a breath he hadn't realized he'd held.

"Love is a tricky emotion," White said quietly. "And women are dammed unpredictable creatures."

"I seem to have discovered that already, sir." Jared's tone was wry.

White drew a deep pull of the brandy. A droll smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "You appear to know my daughter far better than I expected."

Thoughts of Paris flashed through his mind, followed swiftly by memories of their encounter in the stable. He struggled to suppress a satisfied smile. "I have done my best, sir."

Again, White narrowed eyes that flashed an unspoken threat. "See that you do not grow to know her too well."

He could see by the look in White's eyes that any protestations of innocence would not be believed. He grinned weakly. "No, sir."

White nodded, as if certain his implied warning was understood. "There are some things you should know about my girl. You'd better sit down." White pulled two cigars from his waistcoat and handed one to Jared. who grinned his appreciation. "This might take a while."

He settled into a burgundy brocade wing chair and gestured to the younger man to take the matching chair. Jared sank into the comfortable seat and. for the first time since the two men had entered the room, relaxed. There was nothing like a good cigar and good company to do that for a man.

White struck a match and leaned forward to touch the tip of Jared's cigar, then lit his own. Long seconds passed in the companionable silence of men who shared an appreciation for the finer things in life.

"First of all." White blew a small, wobbly ring of blue-gray smoke. "Cece takes after her father in many respects."

"Really?" Jared blew a ring slightly larger than White's.

"Indeed." White puffed a circle, steadier and larger than the last. "She can be quite stubborn, extremely persistent and determined to have her own way."

"I have noticed those tendencies." Jared said idly.

"She is also impulsive, prone to leaping into matters without any consideration as to the possible consequences of her actions."

Jared gazed smugly at his latest, and most impressive, ring of smoke. "I have noticed that as well."

"Mark my words, Jared. Cece needs a husband with a firm hand." White pointed his cigar sternly at the younger man. "But like any good filly, she's worthless if her spirit is broken. I would not like to see that happen to any daughter of mine."

White puffed a large misty ring, followed quickly by a second that spun lazily through the first. "Do I make myself clear?"

Jared stared at the dissipating haze. White's point went well beyond any spur-of-the-moment smoke-blowing competition. He looked at the man with renewed respect and hoped he would remember this intimidating technique when he someday had daughters of his own.

"Very clear, sir."

"Excellent." White rose to his feet, and Jared followed suit. "I shall settle a considerable sum on Cece when you marry. And I will provide her with funds of her own on an annual basis."

"That's extremely generous, sir." Far better than Jared had hoped for. Cece's money would mean a rebirth of the estate and all that went with it. Even so, now that the deed was nearly done, it was more than a little distasteful. It must be that bloody love business rearing its annoying head again. If he had known how that persistent emotion would complicate everything, he might well have married the first heiress he'd found, even one whose brows met over her nose.

White tossed his half-finished cigar in the fireplace with a look of regret. "What do you plan on doing with that horseless carriage of yours?"

"My horseless carriage?" Jared said cautiously.

White leveled him a sympathetic gaze. "Surely you did not think Cece would keep such a secret?"

Jared groaned to himself "Actually, sir, yes I did."

"Not when it comes to her father." A touch of triumph colored his smile. "Although she did tell me not to reveal your activity to anyone else. Some nonsense about society here not understanding—"

"Yes, sir," Jared interrupted. "I believe I've heard it all before."

White laughed. "No doubt you have, especially if I know my daughter." He paused and eyed Jared speculatively. "I find motorcars extremely interesting. If some of the kinks can be worked out. I suspect they will be the vehicles we shall all ride into the twentieth century."

"My thoughts exactly," Jared nodded eagerly.

"I should like to see this machine of yours."

"It would be my pleasure, sir."

"Perhaps ..." a gleam twinkled in White's eye, and Jared noted how familiar that expression appeared."... you would even permit me to ..."

Jared's stomach sank.

"... oh, say..."

At once he realized why he recognized that look of White's.

"... drive the automobile?"

White grinned. "I detest liars, especially good ones." He turned to go and reached for the door handle.

"Sir ..." Jared blurted impatiently.

White raised a quizzical brow. "Yes?"

"You still have not answered my question."

"Your question?" White's brow creased with puzzlement, then smoothed. "Of course. Completely slipped my mind. Yes, yes, you can marry her, if she'll have you." White's gaze flicked over him in an assessing manner. "But I must admit you're much more acceptable than I ever expected from Cece. She's made a good choice."

The compliment was tossed out in an ofthand manner, but White's words warmed Jared. He already had a great deal of respect for this self-made man. and knowing White considered him at least satisfactory for his daughter touched him in a way he never would have expected.

"Thank you, sir," Jared said sincerely.

White nodded shortly and pulled open the door. "It's high time we made our presence known at this fiasco."

"Fiasco?" Jared suppressed a grin.

White rolled his eyes heavenward. "Did I say fiasco? Slip of the tongue." He leveled Jared a sidelong glance. "Remember that phrase, my boy, 'slip of the tongue.' It's saved my life with my wife more than once. It's convenient, easy to remember and almost impossible to argue with."

Jared's grin broke free." 'Slip of the tongue.' yes. sir. I'll try to."

The men strode side by side down a long corridor, through a door and into a second-story foyer. To one side, a double stairway swept down to the first floor.

On the other, a tall, wide arched entry framed the ballroom. White surveyed the room and his expression froze. Jared followed his gaze to where it rested on Quentin's father. Sir Robert appeared in idle conversation with a small gathering of gentlemen.

Was this what had the American so preoccupied? Lady Millicent had mentioned a long-ago relationship between Phoebe White and Robert Bainbridge, but surely the past had no bearing on the events of today. White's dark eyes narrowed, his face set as if carved in steel itself, and Jared pitied any man on the receiving end of that expression.

"Jared ..." White's intense gaze never left his quarry.

"Yes, sir?"

"I told you I detest liars, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir."

"I also despise thieves and cheats."

"Yes, sir."

"And I protect what is mine."

"I can certainly understand that, sir."

"See that you do, my boy." White nodded sharply. "See that you do." White turned to leave, then turned back.

"By the way,
Cece
told me about your motorcar, but I've no doubt she kept your secret when it comes to anyone else. She has a highly developed sense of loyalty."

Jared grinned. "I am counting on that."

White shrugged. "Apparently others do not have the same qualities."

A sinking sensation settled in the pit of Jared's stomach. "What do you mean?"

White shook his head wryly. "I mean, I have heard about your automobile for the past hour, right here. Rumors, some quite unpleasant, have been flying all evening."

Jared groaned. "Bloody hell."

White quirked a brow, his manner mild. "I don't understand you British at all. Why, in my country—"

"I know, sir, I know." Jared pulled a deep breath and gritted his teeth. The rest of this evening would not be at all pleasant. "And believe me, right now I would just as soon rather be in your country.

"I'd rather be anywhere but here."