Scoundrel of My Heart EPB Page 5

  Obviously displeased with that answer, she furrowed her brow and puckered her mouth. “But you could have had that by merely asking. Why have you never asked?”

  “You always were quite clear regarding your aversion to second sons.” And he’d always taken it personally, although now he understood her reasons. Didn’t mean he liked them, but he understood them.

  “Not an aversion, but it would do me no good to encourage one. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that you were somehow . . . less.”

  “I never took offense.” Lie, but he saw no point in making her feel badly about it, when conditions over which she had no control had been placed on her.

  She scrutinized him with a deliberation he’d never observed in her before, and he feared she was attempting to delve into his soul, wretched and mired as it was.

  “Oh, there you are!” Althea called out as she rounded the curve in the path that allowed for some privacy for lovers who took advantage of the bench.

  While he simply leaned back and crossed his ankles, Kathryn gave a guilty start and jumped to her feet as though being caught so near to him was a sin. Or maybe it was her musings that had bordered on the sinful. Maybe she hadn’t been searching his soul but had been contemplating sending her fingers on a search over his person. “I was working on my letter to Kingsland.”

  “Then, I suspect you could use a bit of a respite. Shall we go for a ride in the park?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “Griff, would you care to join us?” Althea asked. “Your presence would save me having to bother a groom.”

  He shouldn’t. He absolutely should not. He’d already spent too much time in Kathryn’s company. That he’d shared such intimate thoughts and invited her to go on an outing with him was a prelude to disaster. What the devil had he been thinking? He needed to make himself scarce, but the words needed eluded him, and instead he heard himself say, “I believe I shall.”

  Chapter 5

  While their horses plodded along Rotten Row, Kathryn continually stole glances at Griff on the other side of Althea. Propriety dictated his sister serve as a barrier between the two of them, yet Kathryn was disappointed he wasn’t nearer to her, that conversing with him here would not be the intimate encounter it had been in the garden, when for the briefest of moments, she’d thought perhaps he was contemplating kissing her. For the briefest of moments, she’d wanted him to.

  He sat a horse well. Whenever a lady passed by, he tipped his hat while giving her a smile certain to leave her a little unsteady in the saddle. She’d never noticed he had such a charmingly wicked smile that promised fun and adventure. Might all the teasing she’d so abhorred be an innocuous sort of flirting? His nature was not to take anything seriously—or so she’d thought.

  But based on what she’d observed since coming to spend several days with Althea, perhaps all his lightheartedness was merely like ivy that climbed ever higher to hide a wall behind which a person could feel safe.

  In the garden, they’d spoken longer than they ever had before, and she’d enjoyed it. More than that, she’d been a little cross with Althea for interrupting, for bringing a halt to the conversation that had revealed a man who believed a woman should be more than an ornament.

  She had sat there mesmerized as he’d laid out what he wanted in a wife as though he’d given it intense and thorough consideration, when she would have thought that he’d not given it a single minute of deliberation. He cared about a woman’s heart and soul. He wanted her involved in his life, as a part of it. Not on the periphery. Not an afterthought.

  While it was highly unlikely that he was doing so, Griff could have been describing her. She didn’t want to examine why she hoped he had been, why she had thought If only you would gain a title. Why her heart had seemed to shrink and expand at the same time. For the span of their time in the garden she’d felt that he truly saw her. Understood her need not to be overlooked but to be valued not for her physical attributes but for her mind, her heart, her very soul.

  Something inside her had twisted and turned, bunched up and unfurled, until she’d seen him in a very different light. He was far more complicated than she’d ever imagined, and she wanted to unravel the threads in order to more thoroughly examine all the various shades that made him who he was. She was beginning to think bits of silver and gold were woven through the tapestry that comprised Lord Griffith Stanwick.

  “Look steady, Kat,” Althea said. “I do believe that’s the Duke of Kingsland headed our way.”

  She’d been giving so much examination to their time in the garden and watching Griff now that she’d hardly noticed her surroundings, but, yes, indeed that was in fact the duke trotting toward them with such smooth movements that he and the horse seemed as one. Shouldn’t her heart speed up with the prospect of speaking with him? Shouldn’t she care that the man she hoped to marry was approaching? Shouldn’t she want to unravel his tapestry?

  They brought their horses to a halt just before he reached them. His gaze swept over them before landing on Griff. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

  Griff tipped his head slightly. “Your Grace. Allow me the honor of introducing my sister, Lady Althea, and her dear friend, Lady Kathryn Lambert.”

  He removed his silk hat, black as a raven’s wing, from his head. “Ladies. I understand congratulations are in order, Lady Althea. Lord Chadbourne is indeed a fortunate man.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Then he was studying Kathryn, as though she was a puzzle in need of deciphering. “Lady Kathryn, are you spoken for?”

  “That’s a rather impertinent question.”

  “But it gets to the heart of things, does it not?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she detected Griff stiffening, and she wondered exactly how he might have garnered the information about the duke’s preferences in a wife. “I presently have no suitor.”

  He didn’t need to know she’d never had a suitor. Oh, a few gentlemen had flirted now and then, but she’d encouraged none of them because she’d found none to her liking.

  His gaze darted to Griff, then back to her, and she couldn’t help but believe he was assessing both of them, striving to decipher a mystery. “Then I shall be receiving a letter from you, in the near future, sometime before my ball.”

  “To be honest, I haven’t yet decided.”

  “Oh, I think you have.”

  Arrogant cad. “I do hope, Your Grace, that you do not intend to tell your wife what she thinks, what decisions she’s made.”

  “If she is in need of being told, I shall do so. Have you not heard that a husband tells his wife her opinion on matters?”

  Was he jesting? She couldn’t be sure. “Why would you want a woman who is unable to think for herself?”

  “Why would I want one who might prove to be contrary?”

  “For the challenge of it,” Griff interjected.

  The duke’s brow furrowed deeply as he glowered at Griff. “I have enough challenges without adding one more.”

  “But this one would be much more pleasant. You wouldn’t be able to accuse her of being dull. Would you not experience an anticipated excitement in not knowing what she might say next?”

  Was he talking about her? Did he find her challenging? Did he look forward to learning what she might say, do, next? She suddenly felt like her world had gone topsy-turvy. Was he complimenting her?

  “You make an interesting point.” The duke’s attention swung back to her. His focus so intense, it appeared the man did nothing in half measures. “What say you, Lady Kathryn? Would you ensure my days were never dull?”

  “Your days as well as your evenings.”

  Griff’s gelding gave a little start, a snort, a sidestep—and he quickly brought the horse under control. The duke had gone completely still, except for those assessing eyes of his that ran the length of her, as though she’d been hiding in moonlight and had suddenly stepped into the sunlight, giving him a clearer view of her.
/>
  “I’m quite skilled at reading animatedly,” she continued, “in order to bring the story to life. My father always compliments me on my dynamic delivery.”

  “Reading.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, that is to what you were referring.”

  What else? Good Lord. Had he thought she was referring to the bedding? Had Griff as well? Had her words startled him, causing him to unsettle his horse?

  “I can attest to the fact that Lady Kathryn would be a feather in any man’s cap,” Althea said cheerily.

  “Indeed.” The duke never took his gaze from her.

  “Although, I daresay it remains to be seen if the duke will be a feather in any lady’s cap,” Kathryn challenged. “Perhaps, Your Grace, you should have described more about yourself in your announcement so a lady might be assured that she did indeed wish to pen a letter to you.”

  His gaze intensified. “I would not have thought a lady would care for anything other than the title.”

  “I’m certain that assessment would apply to some, but not all.”

  “It doesn’t apply to Lady Kathryn,” Griff said. “She is not so shallow as all that.”

  “Is she not?”

  “No, Your Grace, she is not.” A curtness in his tone had the duke darting a quick glance Griff’s way before settling his gaze back on her.

  “Tell me, Lady Kathryn, do you play chess?”

  “I do, Your Grace. Would you prefer it to my reading aloud in the evening?”

  “That is as yet to be determined. However, I am curious. Which piece do you deem most important?”

  Was this some sort of maneuver to gauge her intelligence? “The queen.”

  “The pawn.”

  “But the queen can move in any direction.”

  “You would argue with me?”

  “If I thought you wrong. But I also give you leave to make your case.”

  “I so appreciate your indulgence.” His tone implied that perhaps he didn’t. “I will give you that the queen is the most powerful, but not the most important. The pawn is key to any good strategy. However, because it is a small piece and there are so many of them, it is often ignored. Much like second sons, I find.”

  “Are you implying that your younger brother is more important than you?”

  “Without doubt. My father would have sacrificed him in a heartbeat to keep me safe. Which made him critical to my well-being. Never overlook the pawn.”

  “Would you sacrifice your brother?”

  “I pray I am never in a position to find out.” He turned his attention to Griff. “I hope to see you at the tables in the near future, my lord. I owe you a drubbing.” He tipped his hat. “Ladies.”

  As he began to ride past her, he stopped. “Lady Kathryn, be certain to put a note in your letter that you were the argumentative wench I met at the park, so I give your words a bit more weight.”

  “I didn’t think you liked argumentative wenches but preferred quiet ones.”

  With a bit of triumph, he looked at Griff as though he now knew for whom he’d made inquiries. “Perhaps you’ll convince me I’ve misjudged what I like.”

  After he’d loped away, was beyond hearing distance, Althea gave a small squeal that unsettled the horses and caused each to sidestep. “I do believe he was flirting with you.”

  “Was he?” She’d found him rather cantankerous. She was also bothered that her excitement at the prospect that he might have been flirting with her paled when compared with Althea’s.

  “Without question. What say you, Griff?”

  “Most assuredly.” He seemed no happier about it than she did.

  “Oh, Kat, I think meeting him today is fortuitous and will give you a leg up in the competition.” Althea reached across and squeezed her hand. “I do believe you are going to find yourself the next Duchess of Kingsland.”

  “I think you give too much credence to a few passing words. Why would he want a woman almost on the shelf rather than a girl who has just entered the ballroom?”

  “He strikes me as someone who would prefer maturity over giddiness.”

  But he also preferred a woman who spoke his mind and not her own. Could she hold her tongue?

  When they set their horses back into motion, Griff skirted around Althea until he was riding beside Kathryn. “Were you intentionally trying to ruin your chances with him?”

  He sounded truly cross, as though she’d personally attacked him, more like the Griff before their conversation in the garden than the one during. “Why should you care?”

  “Because I went to a great deal of inconvenience for you. His opinion of me is on the line.”

  “Did you tell him you were making inquiries on my behalf?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t even tell him I would be advising anyone on what to write him. I made it sound as though I was merely curious about his methods. But it appears he might have guessed. He had that arrogance about him, so cocksure that he’d figured it out.”

  “I noticed that. And you’re correct. I owe you. I should have been more receptive to his overtures, but should I not be who I am?”

  “You can show him who you are after you wed.”

  She laughed. “That is guaranteed to create misery for both the duke and me. We may never have a grand love, but we can at least have an honest relationship. I cannot go into a marriage with anything less.”

  “Sometimes sacrifices must be made in order to gain what we want.”

  What knew he of sacrifices? If she joined him tonight, perhaps she’d ask. While she was leaning very much toward meeting him after everyone retired, she hadn’t made a definite decision. It required she place an awful lot of faith and trust in him.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Althea asked.

  “Just discussing her impression of the duke,” Griff offered.

  “I thought he seemed rather nice,” Althea said. “What was your impression of him, Kat?”

  She released a sigh. “A bit disappointed that he didn’t remember meeting me.”

  “You’ve met him before?” Griff asked, sounding none too pleased with the information.

  She glanced over at him. “Two years ago, at a ball. He even danced with me.”

  “You must be mistaken. He can’t have forgotten you if he danced with you.”

  “Would you never forget me if you danced with me?”

  “I suppose I’m going to find out,” he grumbled, his tone reflecting a bit of resignation.

  What if she never forgot what it was like to dance with him?

  Chapter 6

  Standing at the bottom of the steps, Griff leaned against the stone base that supported the statue of a wolf with its head thrown back, its mouth opened slightly as though howling at the moon or some transgression or unfairness. He’d certainly felt like howling earlier in the park when Kathryn had been her usual quarrelsome self. If the duke wanted a quiet wife, he certainly didn’t want one who responded with such tartness and self-assurance, as though her opinion carried as much weight as his. Even if it did, even if she’d made some valid points. Even if he’d wanted to applaud her, had taken a bit of pride in her not cowering before a man of such rank and prestige.

  But she was going to ruin her chances of landing the duke if she wasn’t careful. He wanted her to win this blasted contest. He wanted her to come with him tonight, even as he knew she probably wouldn’t join him. She hadn’t said with words she would, hadn’t given the impression with actions she would, so he was probably out here, headed for disappointment.

  He should be on his way. Change the plans he’d arranged earlier because he’d thought she might join him. She was no doubt at this very moment tucked up tightly in bed, dreaming of the duke slipping a hand beneath the hem of her nightdress and taking his fingers on a journey over the silken skin of her thigh.

  That she had met the duke before, that Kingsland had seemingly failed to recognize her or remember he’d encountered her previously, was beyond reasoning. How could
any man, once he’d been introduced to her—nay, an introduction wasn’t necessary: to catch sight of her would be enough—forget she existed in his world? But to have held her in his arms, to have circled her over the dance floor? It was beyond the pale to even consider that he’d not remembered her. The unusual coppery tint of her hair, the fire in her eyes, her sharp tongue. To have her attention for the length of a dance, to have basked in her presence, and then not to store the memory away—when Griff had so many memories of her that he’d never forget. None of them truly his, certainly not granted to him on purpose. The sight of her skipping through a flower-filled field with Althea. Sitting on a blanket enjoying a picnic with his sister, laughing so loudly that the birds in the boughs above had taken flight. Ascending or descending stairs at a ball. Waltzing with one lord after another.

  Furrowing her brow at him. Glaring at him. Fighting not to laugh at something he said. Those were his favorite, when he’d almost broken through the cool façade that characterized so many of their encounters.

  He’d never even thought about those memories before he’d heard her say she was setting her cap for a duke. Now it seemed the remembrances were inside a zoetrope, going around and around in his mind, in a blur of actions, and he couldn’t seem to make them stop.

  What was he doing waiting here? He knew everyone was abed. He’d stayed in the library reading Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea until they were. That she wasn’t already out here was an indication that she wasn’t going to come. Why should she? He’d told her what to write in her letter to the duke. She’d become reacquainted with Kingsland that afternoon. No way in hell would he forget her this time. She had a decisive edge over the other ladies that would see her in good stead.

  The rambling he’d done in the garden that afternoon was an embarrassment. He’d never given any thought to what he wanted in a wife, never intended to marry, so why had he given the impression that he had, that he would? Why of a sudden was he finding her company so damned enjoyable?

  Obviously, she didn’t feel the same. He needed to stop mooning about. Altering his plans was easy enough. He could head to the gaming hell. The carriage was there in the drive waiting for him to climb aboard. The horses were snorting, ready to be off.