Page 59 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

W ITH TEARS IN HER eyes, Daintry watched Seacourt take Susan away, and knew the tears had nothing to do with the sting in her cheek.

Daintry had bounced up at once after Seacourt had struck her and she had seen Deverill knock him down, and this time her emotions were unmixed.

She felt only elation at seeing the bully brought to his knees, but what occurred afterward left her mind reeling, and when she saw Charles and Davina slip out behind Susan and Geoffrey, she got up at once to follow.

Deverill barred her way. “Don’t move so quickly,” he said. “That was quite a blow you took.”

“But Aunt Ophelia can stop Geoffrey!”

“You would never get to her in time,” he said patiently, “and you cannot go out there just now. Andy, go and fetch her a cup of punch, and get one for yourself.” He smiled wryly. “Something tells me you did not drink the one I gave you earlier. What the devil became of it?”

Penthorpe was still staring at the door through which the others had gone, and Daintry saw that his hands were clenched into fists.

When Deverill spoke his name a second time, he turned toward him, visibly collecting himself.

Relaxing his hands, he said impatiently, “The punch? Oh, I gave it to Lady Ophelia. She was feeling the heat and said if I did not want it, she would be glad of it. I didn’t, you know.

Just took it because you were so dashed insistent. ”

“Good God,” Deverill said, grimacing ruefully.

“What is it?” Daintry asked.

He did not answer at once, and Penthorpe said, “I’ll get that punch straightaway. Dreadful thing to have done to you, my dear. The man deserves to be flogged.”

Deverill said suddenly, “Take your time, Andy.”

“What’s that?” Penthorpe paused, and she saw them exchange a look before he shrugged and said, “I’ll see what’s o’clock.”

Staring after him in bewilderment, she said, “Well, of all the odd things! Do you know, Deverill, I think he has already forgotten he was to fetch me some punch.”

“Sit down,” he said. “I have something to tell you.”

“Why did you look so startled when he said he had given his punch to Aunt Ophelia?” she demanded.

The rueful look appeared again. “I had hoped to prevent just such a scene as the one that erupted here. He and Seacourt were clearly bound to collide, but I thought perhaps, if Andy got too sleepy …” He patted his waistcoat suggestively.

Understanding dawned quickly. “The powders? Deverill, don’t tell me you mixed your powders into the punch and Penthorpe gave it to Aunt Ophelia!

Merciful heavens, we must go and find her at once.

” She turned toward the door, but once more, before she had taken two steps, he caught her and pulled her back; and, once again she found herself much too close to him for comfort.

“You cannot go out there yet,” he said gently. “The mark on your cheek is too pronounced not to draw comment.” He touched it, and his hand felt cool but his eyes gleamed with sudden hot anger, and he said, “I did not hit him nearly hard enough.”

She said mildly, “I’m glad you knocked him down, sir. He deserved it. Indeed I should have liked to do it myself.”

“The last time I did it, you were angry.”

“Only because you did not give me time to deal with him on my own terms. This was different.”

He stroked her sore cheek again, and she looked up at him, aware of his nearness and remembering the last time he had kissed her.

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he remembered it, too.

He seemed to hesitate, but she waited, breathless, as nerve ends throughout her body came alive and her willpower evaporated.

He bent nearer, and his lips touched hers, lightly, then again, harder, and then she was in his arms, and his kisses became more possessive.

His hands moved over her back, caressing her.

One moved to her waist, pulling her hard against him, and then slid up her side and around to her breast just as his tongue began to tease her lips, to part them, begging entry.

A sudden, quite unexpected wave of memory and fear swept over her, and involuntarily, she started and pulled away.

He let her go at once, looking both surprised and apologetic. “Did I hurt you? I forgot that you might have been bruised when you fell onto that sofa.”

“No, I am not hurt. It’s nothing, really.” She could not meet his gaze, certain he would see the lie in her eyes.

His hands were on her shoulders now, and she trembled, unable to stop the horrid reaction, which she knew perfectly well had nothing to do with anything that had just happened and everything to do with what had happened to her at Seacourt Head.

Deverill’s hands tightened, and he said, “You’re shaking. What is it? Did I frighten you?”

She couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

Even if she could somehow bring herself to put into words what Geoffrey had done, she had seen how angry Deverill could get, and if he were furious with Geoffrey, it would only make matters worse for everyone than they were already.

So, instead, she said quietly, “I am pledged to Viscount Penthorpe, sir. This is very wrong. We must not.”

He was silent, and she forced herself to meet his gaze.

He did not look convinced, but after a moment, still holding her, he said gently, “I think your sister-in-law was right. The time has come for us to speak what is in our minds. Penthorpe, in case you have not yet noticed the fact, my pet, is more interested in your sister, Susan, than he is in you.”

She smiled a little sadly. “I am not a fool, Deverill. Did you expect me to be shocked or distressed? In point of fact, however, it changes nothing. I only wish it were possible for Penthorpe to steal Susan from Geoffrey and run away with her, so that she would be safe. Perhaps if he were cut from the same bolt of cloth as Lord Anglesey, he would try, but it would do no good, for Susan would not go with him if he did.”

“I was not suggesting any such thing, you know. Your sister would be far wiser simply to sort things out with her husband.”

“Don’t be nonsensical,” she retorted, annoyed. “The man is brutal, hard-hearted, and malicious. Why, I fear for her very life after what happened here tonight.”

“You need not, I think,” he said, his tone still gentle.

“Just remember that to get out of the house he had to pass through that crowd out there, which is no mean feat, and then wait for his carriage. If my experience is any guide, people will stop them and chatter at them, and it will take time just to say their good-byes, especially since they will be forced to maintain an appearance of normalcy. Even without Lady Ophelia to intercede in person, the smallest respite ought to give him time to recall her will and the ease with which she can alter it.”

“Well, I hope you are right, but I still think Susan would be safer to run away with Penthorpe. She would never leave Melissa, though.” She brightened as another thought struck her. “Perhaps Penthorpe would take Melissa as well.”

“He could not,” Deverill said. “Even if your sister were to follow the lead of the Duchess of Argyll and secure a divorce in Scotland, no court in either country would award her custody of Seacourt’s daughter. She would be forced to give her back.”

“Then she would never go,” Daintry said.

“You know,” he said quietly, his hands still warm on her shoulders, “none of this has much to do with the point at hand.”

“Certainly it does. Penthorpe is going to marry me, caring more about my sister than he does for me. I should say that has a great deal to do with the point at hand.”

“Not when the point at hand, my pet, is us.”

“I am betrothed to Penthorpe, Deverill. He is certainly too much of a gentleman to cry off, and my father is determined to hold me to my word of honor. Would you have me disobey him?”

“No, of course not, but I think if you and Penthorpe talk to him, a way might be found for one of you at least to be happy.”

She stiffened. “Let me see if I understand you, Deverill. You want me and Penthorpe to tell my father that we agree mutually that we shall not suit. You do not mention which of us is to bring up the subject first, or how, but to do so would be pretty much the same as crying off in fact. But once I am free of Penthorpe, I am to cast myself into your arms. Is that it?”

His lips twitched. “I do not know that I would put it in such blatant terms as that, certainly, but if you were free of Penthorpe and could see your way clear—”

“You forget that my father would not under any circumstances permit me to marry a Deverill, sir.”

He grimaced. “I confess, I did forget about that; however, since he did not precisely throw me out of here tonight, per—”

“Perhaps it will just chance to fall out the way you want it to, is that it? Well, since we are being frank with each other, sir, let me tell you that I do not think I would marry you even in such a case as that. You need not look at me as if you mean to show me otherwise, either,” she added, stepping hastily away from him.

“You seem to think that all you need do is sit back calmly and wait for fortune to smile upon you. I suppose, in school you were taught simply to do as you were told, or perhaps it comes of being a second son for all those years and knowing you need never take responsibility for anything, but—”

“Just a minute,” he interjected. “I have never shirked a responsibility in my life. I was, if you will recall, a brigade major serving under Wellington at Waterloo, with a good number of men dependent upon me to lead them. If that is not responsibility, I should like to know what is.”