Susan Paul - Beguiled

“Remarkable,” Graydon agreed. “You said that she is not entirely deaf? I had not realized she was deaf at all, for she seemed to hear perfectly during our time at Almack’s, also this morning in the park.”

“She hears well enough, save for in her left ear, which was affected during her youthful fever and has since only been partly useful. Her right ear seems to have escaped damage. Her lungs were also scarred, although to a lesser degree. She’s taken ill several times with an inflammation, and nearly died of it twice. I advise you, however, to avoid the topic of health altogether whenever you’re in Lily’s hearing. Unlike a good many other females who rely upon their wilting frailties to produce conversation that never fails to bore one and all, if Lily ever thought you considered her of delicate health, she would most likely break your nose to prove the matter to you otherwise.”

Graydon could barely suppress the smile Cardemore’s words wrought. The notion of the sweet creature who had so utterly charmed him only a few hours ago launching a fist at his nose was laughable.

“You’re taking Lily and Isabel driving?” Cardemore asked. “They’ll be rather more awed by the experience than other ladies of your acquaintance. Thus far, London seems to have made a grand impression upon them. It’s understandable, of course, being their first visit to Town. They’ll need close watching, however. I shouldn’t like either of them to seriously misstep.”

At that, Graydon did raise an eyebrow. “Am I to understand that I now have the care of both Lady Lillian and Lady Isabel? Who will there be next? A male second cousin from Brighton who fancies a tour of London’s most notorious hellholes? How far— exactly —must I go to repay my debts?”

For the first time that Graydon had ever seen, the warmth of sincere amusement touched Cardemore’s features. “If any such person existed,” he said, “I believe I could despoil him better than you, and certainly much more quickly. As to Isabel, I believe I made myself clear when we first spoke on the matter that I expect you to make both her and Lily’s way clear into fashionable society. As far as Isabel is concerned, that is all I require. Although I do have a bit of advice to pass on to your friend Daltry, who seems to have elicited Isabel’s particular dislike. He’d do best to go lightly with a female like that. She’s much more dangerous than she looks, and as you’ve seen for yourself, she looks deadly.”

“I believe it’s too late for warnings, my lord,” Graydon said. “I should like to leave you one of my own, however.”

“Would you?” Cardemore sounded mildly interested.

“I’ll tell you this only once. I am not a frippery young lord, and it is to your own folly that you mistake me for one. I’ll do what I must to smooth Lady Lillian’s and Lady Isabel’s way into society, and I shall make certain, as best I can, that your sister enjoys her visit to London, but I will not do so under threat by either yourself or your minions. You will leave me in peace to fulfill my word of honor. If you cannot, then you may burn St. Cathyrs to the ground now and we’ll have no more to do with each other.”

“Well said,” Cardemore returned without a pause. “A better speech than even Wellington can lay claim to, I imagine. I am not, however, as you might realize, a man who much admires speeches. Prove yourself, and I will do what you ask. As to being followed, I’ve already given you my word.”

“Then we have an understanding,” Graydon stated with a nod. “I’ll bid you good-day, my lord.”

After the door closed and he was alone, Cardemore spent a full silent minute shuffling through his papers again before shoving his work aside and saying, “Come out, Porter.”

A closet door opened on the other side of the room and the man who had served as Graydon’s shadow walked out.

“Ah ooh thatithfied, mah ord?” he said.

Cardemore rose from his chair. “Don’t speak, Porter. It’s painful to hear. And sit down before you fall.” He moved to the room’s lone window, pushing the drapes aside just enough to keep an eye on the street below. “Am I satisfied? Aye, I am. Very satisfied, indeed. He’s better than I could have hoped for. Perhaps not the man I would have chosen for a brother-in-law, but he’ll be a good husband to Lily or live to regret it.” A thin smile played on his lips. “Somehow, I doubt it will ever come to that.”

He turned to his minion, who sat nursing his aching head in both hands.

“I want you to proceed as planned with the kidnapping. Lily’s comfort is to be of utmost importance. I won’t have her harmed in any way. You can do as you please with Graydon, so long as he isn’t permanently injured. And make certain everyone involved understands that the blame is to be laid at Saxby’s door. I don’t want Graydon or Lily ever discovering who’s truly behind their brief imprisonment. Certainly not until they’re married. There are to be no slips. No mistakes. Do you understand, Porter?”

“Ess, mah ord,” Porter replied obediently.

“Make certain of it. If anything should go wrong, you’ll have more to worry about than a broken jaw. Much more.”

At night for the past three years, just before she fell asleep, Lily had lain quietly in her bed and let herself dream of all the exciting things that a young lady having her first season in London might experience. Being driven through a London park at the fashionable hour of five o’clock in the company of a handsome gentleman had been among her favorites, but Lily had been realistic enough never to let herself believe that the event would actually happen. The closest she would get, she had told herself with all practicality, would be in coercing her brother to take her out one afternoon. But Aaron disdained fashion almost more than he did the ton, and, although he would dutifully perform the task, Lily had too often envisioned the constant scowl he would wear, and the dark comments he would make, and had given up on the idea long before she and Isabel had ever even set foot in London.

But God must have heard her prayers, for here she was, not only rolling through Hyde Park in the most elegant barouche imaginable, but escorted by a gentleman whose handsomeness far exceeded even her most willfully exaggerated dreams.

She glanced down at the simple day dress she wore and felt foolishly plain. The dark rose gown, with its lighter-colored pelisse and satin trimmings of cream and pink, had been the height of fashion in the country. But here in London it was at least two years behind, no matter what Aunt Margaret said about it looking perfectly lovely. Lord Graydon had been effusive in his compliments, of course, but that was to be expected. A man of his good manners wouldn’t speak the truth about such matters, even though he himself was dressed to perfection. Aaron would call him a dandy, or a frippery young lordling, or, worse, a man who let himself be managed by his valet, but Lily knew what the rest of fashionable society must think: that the Earl of Graydon was clearly a pink of the pink. A man who dressed with impeccable taste, wearing clothing cut of the finest quality.

He was sitting beside her in the elegant barouche, looking inhumanly perfect in buff-colored pantaloons and a dark blue coat. He appeared very relaxed, almost indolent in his posture, tapping his long fingers in a rhythmic motion over the top of his walking cane and grinning like a boy across the carriage at Isabel, who was entertaining him with humorous stories of all the scrapes the two of them had gotten into at Cardemore Hall. Lily found it hard to believe that he found such tales so interesting, but it must have been so, for his delight and laughter seemed genuine. He glanced at her, as if feeling her gaze upon him, and his smile softened from amusement to gentle interest.