Sandra Owens Read online

  “What should you have said, my lord?”

  Startled, he looked up to see Marlowe standing in front of his desk. “My pardon, I was thinking aloud about something.” He strode into the room and took a seat behind his desk, indicating to Marlowe he should sit. Opening his desk drawer, he removed the draft and placed it in the middle of his desk.

  “Your name is on it, I have signed it, but the amount is still blank.” Would Marlowe bite?

  “I’m listening, my lord.”

  “Daventry, please. I have a little problem I think you can help me with.”

  “I won’t agree to anything illegal.”

  “I would not ask that of you. For the next month or so, I need you to do your best to divert a certain lady’s attention from me and mine.”

  “If you are referring to Lady Hartwell, I find myself…open-minded.”

  The man was not at all stupid. “I am.”

  Marlowe glanced at the draft. “What are you proposing?”

  Time to set the hook. “One of two things. An additional five thousand pounds added to this draft, or I write it for forty-five thousand pounds.”

  The American did not blink. “I have a grasp on what I’m to do to earn the five thousand pounds. It’s the additional twenty thousand that has me wondering if you English are as peculiar as I’ve heard. I’m almost afraid to ask the reason for your generosity.”

  “It is simple. The five for taking Serena, that would be Lady Hartwell, off my hands, and the extra twenty for allowing me to invest in your company.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I have good instincts and they are telling me Marlowe Shipping is a good investment. You lost approximately ninety thousand pounds worth of goods in the fire and you’re missing one ship. On the other side of the coin, you have four more warehouses, one in Virginia, one in South Carolina and another in Boston. Then there is your second London warehouse, now under heavy guard. One of your ships recently left China filled to the brim with tea, silks, and various other goods, your second ship—”

  Marlowe held up a hand. “I know where my ships are. Hell’s fire, Daventry, you couldn’t have learned all that since I last saw you.”

  “Considering I had never heard of you or seen you before then, I would have to disagree.” Although he had learned to expect it, sometimes Johnston still amazed him. After reading his report on Marlowe Shipping, Michael was determined to invest in the company.

  “That’s all there is to it? I keep Lady Hartwell busy and let you invest in my company?”

  “Yes, that and never tell a soul about Leo’s marker.”

  “I never planned to, but I wasn’t the only man in that game with Brantley.”

  “I can only hope they were too foxed to recall my cousin’s wager.”

  Marlowe held out his hand. “We have an agreement.” After shaking hands, he said, “Am I to assume you will see to my invitations?”

  “You will receive one for each event my lady and I attend.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I am an earl. When you inherit, you will find there are benefits you never considered. Tell me, do you know of the Blue Coat School at Christ Hospital?”

  “Yes, I’ve taken a few of their boys. They do a decent job of teaching mathematics and navigation. Why do you ask?”

  Michael stood. “It came up in a recent conversation. I would have rather it hadn’t.” He saw Marlowe out, and then returned to his desk. Ten minutes after attempting to concentrate on the rents report Johnston had compiled, he tossed it aside.

  All he could think about was how Diana’s eyes had sparkled with excitement when she told him she was going to the boys’ school. With his refusal to consider it, he had stolen that light. Better that than risking her safety, however. She would come around when she realized he was right.

  She needed a purpose? What the hell did she mean by that? She had him, Jamie, and when they married, she would manage his household. He grinned. Why wait? He would tell his mother to subtly turn those responsibilities over to Diana.

  Once she was busy with all he had planned for her, she would forget this foolish idea.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Diana’s first thought when her parents walked into the room was how much her father had aged. Her knees buckled, and she grasped the back of the chair for support. Her mother stopped, stared, and then rushed forward with her arms outstretched. “Daughter, oh, my daughter, it really is you.” Diana was enfolded in her mother’s embrace. She closed her eyes, inhaled the familiar rose scent and tried to hold back her tears. It had been so long, and she had believed this day would never come.

  Opening her eyes, she looked over her mother’s shoulder. Her father stood next to Michael, an uncertain look on his face. He hesitated and then came forward.

  “Papa?”

  He lifted his hand as if to touch her, but dropped it back to his side. “Can you forgive me, Daughter?”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. He wrapped his arms around the two of them and Diana was once again their little girl. She lifted her tearful gaze to Michael. After giving her a slight nod, he slipped out of the room.

  The first few minutes were awkward, their words tentative, but soon her mother’s conversation, always chatty and amusing, eased the tension. Any talk of Leo and the night that changed their lives was avoided, and she was thankful for it. What was there left to say?

  Diana relaxed against the sofa, listening to her mother, but stealing glances at her father. He stared at her as if memorizing her face, as if he feared she might vanish in front of his eyes.

  She had always been his pet, his favorite little girl. She used to tease him, telling him that was easy to say as she was his only little girl. There had been a time when she believed him, but then he had renounced her and later, ignored her letter asking for help.

  “Why didn’t you answer my letter, Papa?”

  Her mother ceased speaking midsentence. Silence as thick as a dense fog filled the room. Diana’s heart pounded with apprehension. She hadn’t meant to ask the question so soon, had intended to ease into it. The last thing she wanted was to lose her parents again, but what if his answer wasn’t one she could forgive?

  “I never received a letter from you, Diana. When did you send it?”

  Profound relief flowed through her. Michael had guessed right. That rat, Mr. Bloodstone, had never sent it. “It is no longer of concern. You’re here now and that is all that matters.” She would not make him feel guilty for something not of his doing.

  Obviously pleased a crisis had been averted, her mother cheerfully picked up where she had left off. “When the doctor came out and told Mr. Branson there were three babies, the poor man swooned, falling face first on the floor and breaking his nose. To this day, our farm manager’s nose is bent.”

  Diana exchanged an amused glance with her father, both long accustomed to Lady Rotharton’s ramblings. Leo had tried to take away everyone dear to her, but in the end, he had not won. She prayed there really was a window in hell and at this very moment, he watched.

  Later that night, Diana sat in her window seat recalling the events of the day. She had never dared to hope she would be reunited with her parents. Michael had given her this gift by taking it upon himself to visit her father and telling him the truth. Under no circumstances would she have found the courage to do so. For that, she could never thank him enough.

  She was still angry with him, however. He had no right to dictate to her. If she wanted to go to the Blue Coat School, she damned well would. Ten times over, she had earned the right to make her own decisions and she would not give that up. Another reason not to marry.

  A knock sounded on the connecting door. What did he want?

  “Yes?”

  “Open, please. I would like to talk to you.”

  “I am not dressed.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  Blasted man. She opened the door.

  He looked
her up and down. “I confess to being disappointed. You are clothed. That discussion is for another day, however.” He held out his hand. “Come sit with me.”

  She clutched her dressing gown together. “It would not be proper.”

  “Who’s to know? Come, there is something we need to discuss.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  She grumbled and ignoring his hand, walked past him and went to a chair before the fire.

  He chuckled. “Are you mumbling about brick walls again?”

  “It is my life’s desire to amuse you, my lord.”

  “Still annoyed with me, are you?”

  Annoyed was too mild a word for how she felt. “If you have something worth hearing, please say it now so I can retire. I’ve had a long day.”

  He went to the side table and picked up two glasses of wine already poured. Taking a seat in the chair next to her, he handed her one. What was he up to?

  “I would have talked to you earlier, but with your parents staying for dinner and then getting Jamie to bed after all the excitement, there was no opportunity.”

  She took a sip of wine, closed her eyes and savored the flavor of berries. Though angry with him over the school issue, she did want to talk to him about the miracle that had occurred today.

  “He loves the idea of having grandparents, but I feel sad for your mother having to pretend she is his aunt. I know it must hurt.”

  “It does, but she understands why it has to be.” He tapped his glass against hers. “To family.” His gaze caught hers, and in his eyes was understanding of what this day had meant to her.

  Family. She had one again. Tears burned her eyes and she turned her face away. A log shifted, sending sparks flying. A comfortable silence fell as they both stared into the fire. Was this how it would have been if they had married? Sitting all cozy in front of a blazing fire while talking of their day, the contented silences, the intimate looks?

  With his foot, he pulled the stool closer and then propped up his feet with his ankles crossed. She had not noticed he wore no shoes, and couldn’t help staring at his feet. They were long, high-arched and elegant. She wondered how they would feel if she ran her fingers over them.

  “I left room for you.”

  She tucked her feet under her chair. “I couldn’t.”

  With a lazy turn of his head, he gazed at her. “Why is that?”

  If she put her feet on the stool, they would want to touch his. “It isn’t proper.”

  He sighed. “You are very worried about being proper tonight. Unless someone is lurking behind the curtains, and I can almost promise you there is not, no one will see.”

  It would do no good to refuse. He would persist until she did, so she put her feet up. His grin was wicked. A thrilling tremor traveled through her. Using his toes, he eased her slippers off. That should not have excited her.

  “Look how dainty your feet are. You make mine look positively enormous.”

  He rubbed the top of his foot under the bottom of hers, sending a tingling sensation up her leg. It would be best if she left right now, but she didn’t. There were so many thoughts of this day she wanted to share with him. She also liked the way he played with her feet.

  “I asked my father why he didn’t respond to my letter. You were right, he never got it. I hope I get the chance someday to tell Mr. Bloodstone what I think of him.”

  “If you wish, I will take you to his house and you can slap a glove in his face.”

  It often amazed her how well he understood. “You can’t know how much I would love to do exactly that. Wouldn’t he be surprised to be called out by a female?”

  “Did he ever touch you inappropriately? If he did, I will put an end to his sorry existence. He implied you were under his protection, but I took one look at him and knew he was a lying pig’s arse, knew you wouldn’t willingly have anything to do with him.”

  “Do pigs lie?”

  “That one does. Are you going to answer my question?”

  She took a healthy swallow of wine. How had they veered onto this subject? She wanted to forget about Mr. Bloodstone and his clammy palms. “He would slide his fingers over my hand when he gave me the coins. I always wore gloves when I had to go to his house. He was starting to get more persistent, and truthfully, I feared the day would come when I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I didn’t know what to do about it because I had to see him to collect my money.”

  His foot stilled. “I am going to kill him.”

  “No, you are not.” Although it pleased her to know he would if she asked. “I won’t ever have to deal with him again and good riddance, I say.” She shifted toward him. “Thank you for going to see my father. You should have told me first, but perhaps it’s best you didn’t as I likely would have tried to stop you.”

  “I knew you would which is why I didn’t tell you. Also, because I wasn’t sure how he would react. I didn’t want to get your hopes up and have you disappointed if I wasn’t successful.”

  The firelight played across his face, one she was beginning to adore. Again. He was more beautiful than he had been when they first fell in love. She liked the little lines at the corners of his eyes. They added character to what would otherwise have been a too perfect face.

  He moved his foot to her ankle and then over her leg. “What are you thinking when you look at me like that?”

  That you are beautiful. That I wish Leo hadn’t carved me up like a side of beef. “I was comparing how you look now to when I first met you.”

  “Were you? And what is the verdict? Am I aging well?”

  “I will admit I like the way you look now better. There is more character to your face. You are no longer just a pretty boy.”

  He grinned at that. “I’m glad I didn’t know you thought me a pretty boy. I would have grown a beard down to my chest and hair out my ears, pasted on bushy eyebrows and talked like this.” He deepened his voice. “I would have turned to pirating and pillaging and you no longer would have thought me a boy. You would have looked at me with dreamy eyes and sighed at how manly I was.”

  She clasped her hands over her heart. “Oh, I am sure I would have swooned at the mere sight of you. Just the thought of the hair growing out of your ears makes me weak in the knees.”

  “Here?” His toes caressed her knee.

  “Yes, just there.” She should stop him. Would if he went any higher to where Leo had had too much fun with his knife. For the moment, however, she closed her eyes and let herself pretend she could still incite desire in a man. In Michael.

  “Myana?”

  “Hmm?” His whispered voice and the pet name seduced her as finely as the soft slide of his foot over her leg. If he asked her to come to bed with him, she would. One last time, one more memory to store in her heart.

  “Marry me, Myana. Give us back the life we were meant to have.”

  She jerked her foot away. “Don’t ask me that.”

  “The asking was done eleven years ago, and you said yes. Now all that remains is to do the deed.”

  “Do the deed? How romantic, but the answer is no.”

  His gaze turned on her, hot and searing. “I will give you romance every day of our life together. I will be faithful to you until the end of our time together, and I will protect you with my last breath. Every day, I will show you how much I desire you. Hell, five times a day if that is what it takes to prove it.”

  In all of that, love was not once mentioned. If he had, she might be tempted. Yet, it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to say the words if she couldn’t return them. It would have been beyond her ability to feel anything a month ago, but she wasn’t so sure now. Her heart was healing, and much of the reason for it was him.

  However, there was still the matter of being ruled by a man again, even Michael. He would make decisions for her when he thought he knew best. His refusal to consider her visit to the Blue Coat School had proven that. She fully planned to go with Fanny no matter
what he thought of the idea. When he found out, how would he react?

  “I would give my entire fortune to know what you are thinking.”

  She tucked her feet under her, making sure her dressing gown covered her legs. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something. Was that it? If so, you have my answer, and I will return to my room.”

  He rubbed his fingers across his forehead and then combed them through his air in a clear sign of irritation. “No, it is not. What I wanted to discuss was the Marcus-Holmes ball tomorrow night. It will be your reintroduction into the ton.”

  “No. It is too soon. I’m not ready.”

  “You can do it.” He stood and moved to the stool to sit in front of her. “Listen. I have it all arranged. You are going to make a grand entrance without making an entrance at all. You will not walk down the stairs and have to hear the room grow quiet, will not have to see them whispering behind their hands. Everyone will be staring at you, but not in the way you fear.”

  “I have no notion what you mean.”

  “Then let me explain.”

  ****

  Saturday morning, the housekeeper asked to see her. Diana couldn’t imagine why.

  “It is the menus, my lady. Lady Daventry always reviews them when she is here, but she has a small headache and wants to rest up for tonight’s ball. She said she was sure you wouldn’t mind doing it for her.”

  “Of course, I will be happy to.” Diana hoped Lady Suzanne was feeling better by this evening. Michael’s plan depended on everyone being at the ball, including his mother. God, just thinking of his scheme had her quaking down to her toes. How he had convinced her to go along, she still didn’t understand. She must be the one who was mad.

  “Now for the accounts,” Mrs. Randolph said when they finished the menus. She handed Diana the ledger.

  “Are you certain Lady Daventry wants me to review these?”

  “Oh, yes, my lady. She said so herself.”

  Diana thought it a little strange this could not wait for Lady Suzanne to feel better, but she shrugged and opened the book. This was something she’d trained for all her young life, but had never been allowed to put her skills to use during her marriage. She asked the housekeeper a few questions, but everything seemed to be in good order. Closing the book, she glanced at the clock, surprised an hour had passed.