Page 8 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

Finding himself facing what seemed at first like a roomful of women, but all unknown, Gideon breathed a sigh of relief, for it had occurred to him only as he crossed the threshold that he might easily encounter someone he knew.

His home was near enough Tuscombe Park that they must have several local acquaintances in common, and the utter lunacy of what he was doing struck him with incredible force.

A fine soldier you are, he thought sourly.

Just pure dumb luck you didn’t walk straight into an ambush.

His gaze lighted on the most formidable of what proved to be only four females, a square-shaped elderly lady with gray hair pulled ruthlessly into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Not only did she not smile at hearing Penthorpe’s name, but her pale blue eyes narrowed speculatively and the look she gave him was much the same one she might have employed to search out rats in her pantry.

He had difficulty returning that look, and he had the odd notion that, in the brief moment before he shifted his gaze to the next lady, the first had seen straight into his soul.

The plump one hovering over the sofa clasped her hands at her bosom and exclaimed, “Oh, goodness me, a true English hero!”

St. Merryn snapped, “Don’t be a fool, Ethelinda!

Pay her no heed, Penthorpe. My wife,” he added, indicating the thin, mouse-haired lady reclining on the sofa.

“Letty, dear, I present your future son-in-law. Have the goodness not to have a fit of the vapors till he knows you better. I’ve no tolerance for it now. ”

“Or ever,” the old lady said, adding abruptly when Gideon glanced back at her, “You say you are Penthorpe, young man?”

Totally unable to lie in the teeth of that look, he had all he could do to conceal his relief when St. Merryn snapped, “Didn’t I just say so, Ophelia?

Knew the instant I clapped eyes on that red hair of his.

Damned if I don’t think you’re growing deaf in your old age.

That… that female is my wife’s aunt, Lady Ophelia Balterley,” he added for Gideon’s benefit.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Gideon said politely before turning to the lady who had declared him a true English hero, “and yours, ma’am, as well.”

For the first time since his arrival he saw Daintry smile at him.

Though it was only a little smile, he thought it worth waiting for.

She said, “That is Cousin Ethelinda, sir … Miss Ethelinda Davies, that is, who is Mama’s most devoted companion and quite the kindest person in our household.

But I thought you had gone upstairs with the children, Cousin. ”

Blushing deeply, Miss Davies murmured something about having set them to writing letters and then having just popped back downstairs to make certain of dearest Letty’s comfort; whereupon, Gideon, recognizing his cue, made her a profound leg.

When he straightened, he saw to his deep satisfaction that Daintry was regarding him with near approval.

Grinning, he held her gaze, and was rewarded with another hesitant smile in return. Then, visibly gathering herself, she indicated the fourth lady and said, “And that is my sister, sir, Lady Susan Seacourt.”

Recalling in dismay that Penthorpe had described Lady Susan, Gideon saw an apparent abyss about to open before him.

Having counted heavily on the viscount’s assurance that no one in the household knew him, he recollected now that Penthorpe had agreed to his odd betrothal only because he had admired Lady Susan enough to consent to marry her sister, but Lady Susan’s polite look encouraged him.

She clearly did not think him an impostor.

“I believe I was at school with your husband, Lady Susan,” he said calmly.

“He was years ahead of me, however, and probably remembers me only as a repulsive scrub.” He nearly added that Sir Geoffrey had been much better acquainted with his brother but remembered in the nick of time that Penthorpe had no brother.

Susan said quietly, “He will be sorry to have missed meeting you, sir. He and my brother are presently in Brighton—along with everyone else of any importance,” she added with a smile.

“So the beau monde still flocks to the seaside from Prinny’s birthday onward,” Gideon said, returning her smile.

St. Merryn grunted. “You make it sound as if you’ve been away for a decade, lad, but Ollie wrote you’d sold out before Boney got loose and went back just to help hunt the rascal down.”

Gideon said smoothly, “Perfectly true, sir, but though he abdicated in April, I did not get back to England till September, and went straight to Tattersall Greens. I didn’t go to Brighton at all, and since Bonaparte escaped the first of March, before I had got round to stirring a foot from home, I was in London only long enough to sign on to return to the Continent. ”

“Ah, well, that’s all behind you now,” St. Merryn said comfortably.

“It is all very well for a young man to serve when his country has need of him, but when it don’t, he’s better off putting his house in order and setting up his nursery.

I daresay my Charles would have liked nothing better than to purchase a pair of colors and follow the Duke, but what with his being my only son, and heir to the earldom, it wasn’t to be thought of. ”

Without thinking, Gideon said, “Lucky for us, Lord Uxbridge didn’t let that stop him, sir.

Even after he inherited the earldom three years ago, he remained in the thick of things, and if it hadn’t been for losing his leg at Waterloo, I daresay he’d be in service yet.

To be sure, he was not the only son, but both of his brothers also serve in the Army. ”

“A gallant hero, Uxbridge,” St. Merryn said, taking no umbrage, “though we must call him Anglesey now that he’s been made a marquess for all his heroic deeds.”

Lady Ophelia said dryly, “He might be a gallant hero, but that won’t get him inside most London drawing-rooms, St. Merryn, not after the shameful way he treated his first wife—an earl’s daughter, I remind you—and not when he seduced his second while she was still married to Wellington’s poor brother.

Any man responsible for two divorces has much to answer for in this life.

And as for his brothers,” she added, looking straight at Gideon, “Sir Arthur Paget, at least, is just such another, stealing Lord Boringdon’s wife and creating yet one more scandalous divorce. ”

Lady St. Merryn said sharply, “Do not mention that word. My nerves simply won’t stand it, for I cannot imagine how anyone can bear to be part of such a scandal.

Moreover, you cannot blame Uxbridge, or whatever we must call him now, when it was his own wife who brought suit against him, which I am persuaded was a most unnatural thing for any female to have done and could only have been accomplished in such a backward place as Scotland. ”

Gideon, to whom Uxbridge’s faults were as well known as his virtues, waited expectantly to see how Lady Ophelia would reply, but Lady Daintry forestalled her.

She had been staring at her sputtering father and said now with the same air of surprise as if neither her aunt nor her mother had spoken, “Surely Charles will be as surprised as I am to learn he has any desire to go to war, Papa. I have always thought him the most devout coward.”

“Hold your tongue, girl. How dare you say so! Charles is a bruising rider to the hounds and a first-rate shot to boot. He’d have made an excellent cavalry officer.”

Gideon did not know Charles Tarrant, but he rather thought he had more faith in Lady Daintry’s description of him than the earl’s.

Realizing that she had purposely drawn St. Merryn’s fire, he waited with interest to hear what she would say next; but Lady St. Merryn, diverted from the scandal of divorce, sighed loudly and said, “I am persuaded you must want to send me to an early grave, sir, for you know perfectly well my nerves would never have stood for my darling Charles to have been wrenched from my side. Why, I grow quite faint at the thought.”

“Well, you needn’t do any such thing,” the earl retorted, scowling at her. “He didn’t go, did he? I only said he might have done well as a soldier. Who’s to say but what he might not have ended up on Lord Hill’s staff, or Stuart’s?”

“Now that,” Daintry said, cocking her head a little to one side, “is entirely within the realm of possibility, for I have heard it said repeatedly that those gentlemen are best known for their noble connections, their gallantry with the fair sex, and for a certain amount of skill at the gaming tables.”

“They are skilled on the hunting field as well,” Gideon said with a chuckle before he could stop himself.

Then, seeing the look of outrage that leapt to St. Merryn’s face, he added quickly, “But there are any number of good men on Hill’s staff, certainly.

The Duke mentioned several in his dispatches. ”

His first observation had earned him a look of amused appreciation from Lady Daintry.

Ignoring the rider, she said with the same thoughtful air as before, “Charles does like to hunt, but he would not have liked being anywhere near the field at Waterloo. As to the rest, Davina complains frequently about his expertise with the opposite sex—she is his wife, you see,” she added for Gideon’s benefit, “and a fair hand at flirting, herself, so she ought to know—and she certainly complains about the time he spends at the gaming tables, but I should think Hill and Stuart would prefer their staff members to display at least some small sense of responsibility to their duties, and that Charles would fail utterly to do.”

“Damn it, Daintry,” St. Merryn growled, “I told you to hold your tongue. See what I mean, Penthorpe? I wish you well with the chit, that I do. If you take my advice, you’ll begin with a sound beating—on your wedding night—to teach her who’s master.”