The Scandalous Lyon: The Lyon's Den Page 9

  He eased away, breathing hard, his passionate gaze roaming her face. “You must go now.”

  “Yes…I should,” she murmured. A sensible woman would not be here. Her whole body was aroused and filled with curiosity. She refused to consider it. Edging closer, she reached up and coiled her fingers in his hair, drawing his head back down to hers. “But not yet.”

  “You are an innocent,” he warned, his voice deep and husky. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “I’m sick of being told I’m naïve. Being kept in ignorance hinders one.”

  Jason chuckled softly. “Does it?” He pulled back, the stern expression in eyes anchoring her attention. “Not if your wedding night is spent with another man. And that could happen, Beverly, if your grandfather has other plans for you.”

  “So, you didn’t mean it when you asked me to marry you?”

  His expression softened. “Of course. With every fiber of my being, sweetheart. But there’s a very good reason why your grandfather won’t accept me.”

  “I can’t believe that. What reason?”

  As he explained what happened in Oxford, Beverly’s concern and anger on his behalf grew.

  “Charles has gone to Oxford. He hopes something can be done to restore my reputation.” He shrugged. “I fear it’s a waste of time.”

  “But you are innocent, Jason. It won’t matter, for I won’t tell Grandpapa anything about it.”

  “He will have to be told. He’s likely to discover it in any event. An article appeared in the Oxford University and City Herald. Better that he hear it from me.”

  She gazed up at him imploringly. “No! Please don’t tell him. It doesn’t matter a scrap to me.”

  “You are a darling,” he said, warm admiration in his eyes. “I could obtain a special license. We would have to elope to Gretna Green because, at eighteen, you’re underage and cannot marry without parental consent. You’d stay with my mother until we had a home of our own.” He frowned and shook his head. “But runaway marriages are not at all the thing, sweetheart. Your parents still suffer the consequences of the elopement.” He traced the line of her jaw with a gentle finger. “I don’t want that for you. You deserve a wedding performed with propriety, the announcement in the Morning Post, and loved ones there to wish us well.”

  Her grandfather might wield considerable power if he chose, she thought with a tug of panic. Everything was so uncertain. It was fair to assume Jason’s brother would cast them out into the cold. Society would then follow suit. His mother might not be so happy to have a daughter-in-law thrust upon her.

  While she didn’t want a grand wedding, she could not do that to Jason. If what happened tonight was all that ever took place between them, then she would have this memory to cherish.

  “I don’t want to elope,” she insisted. “But I do want to spend these few precious hours with you. I trust you to keep me safe, Jason.”

  She expected him to argue but was gathered into his arms for another demanding kiss. When his lips nudged hers open, and his tongue slid inside to touch hers, a burning tide of desire flooded over her. Barely able to catch her breath, she murmured against his mouth, her lips quivering at the sensual onslaught. Convinced she’d been right not to fight her feelings, she stroked the silky hair at his nape and boldly tangled her tongue with his, tasting ale and sweet wine. She trembled at the electric effect on her nerve endings, for it seemed to emulate the joining of their bodies. Nothing in her wild imaginings of what lovers did together ever came close to this deep yearning in her heart and the insistent pulse between her thighs.

  Jason moaned against her mouth, his hungry kisses, causing her heart to race.

  “You should never trust a man,” he murmured as his hand somehow found its way into her nightgown to cup her breast.

  He toyed with a nipple. The delicious sensation made her shiver. What the future might hold didn’t seem to matter. She wanted this now, as much as he did. When his arousal pressed against her thigh, she yearned to touch him but was suddenly shy. Before she could act upon it, he removed his hand from her breast, straightened her nightgown and rose, taking her hand and pulling her up from the bed.

  “I shall escort you to your chamber, Miss Crabtree,” he said in a strained voice. “And tomorrow, I will ask your grandfather to sanction our marriage, with as clear a conscience as I can manage, while erotic visions of you naked beneath me fill my head.”

  Beverly, hot and frustrated, managed to giggle.

  “Wait here.” Jason opened the door and searched the corridor poorly lit by a wall sconce, the candle guttering. “Right, come on,” he whispered.

  Before she knew it, she stood before her bedchamber door. She turned to say goodnight and found him gone. Lifting the latch, she stepped quietly into the dark room.

  Miss George’s snoring greeted her.

  Beverly picked her way carefully to her bed, tightening her lips on a sigh, and climbed beneath cold sheets, the bedwarmer having long lost any warmth. She lay there remembering him, his kisses, his clean, male smell, and the rasp of soft bristles on his jaw beneath her fingers. She would never be able to sleep now. She almost giggled when she considered that he’d banished all other concerns from her head. But they would return full force tomorrow when she must face her grandfather.

  ***

  While a strong, cool breeze, heavy with the tang of damp earth, whipped the trees about and toyed with the ladies’ hats, Jason rode alongside the chaise as the horses drove through the village of Upton Grey.

  Jason had been relieved but deeply regretful that he’d resisted making love to Beverly. He had not allowed himself to forget how innocent she was. He’d give his life to keep her safe. At breakfast, they agreed not to send a note to inform her grandfather of their visit, fearing he might refuse to see them.

  The road continued on into the countryside. They followed a high stone wall for several miles and came to a pair of carved stone pillars and a set of elaborate gates with Deane Abbey emblazoned on them. The carriage passed an empty gatehouse and continued along an arrow-straight gravel drive, tunneled by ancient oaks. The sweep led them through the cropped turf of a fine park, with glimpses of the abbey’s gray, stone walls on a slight rise ahead.

  The garrulous innkeeper at the Fox and Goose had revealed the abbey’s history to Jason when he’d stayed in the taproom after the rest of the guests retired. It had been converted into a home after Henry VIII brought about the Dissolution of the Monasteries and closed down all abbeys, monasteries, and convents.

  Jason rode up alongside the chaise for Beverly’s reaction. Her face was alight with curiosity beneath her green poke bonnet. She tugged nervously at her gloves. He wanted to offer some reassurance but thought better of it. Any displays of his intentions in front of others would have to wait.

  The postboys pulled up the chaise before the mansion, impressive with its twin conical towers soaring into the sky. A short flight of steps led to solid oak doors recessed in a Gothic stone arch, while menacing gargoyles peered from the gutters. Jason thought the building stark. The rows of blank, mullioned windows set in stone embrasures seemed to stare blankly down at them. Shewsbury Park, his family’s ducal seat in Leicestershire, had been rebuilt in the last century. Its towering white columns and pale stone walls were far more welcoming. So was the manor house on his more modest estate in Dorset, which he’d inherited from an aunt. Beverly would like it. He could picture her there.

  When a groom appeared from the direction of the stables, Jason dismounted and, instructing the man to wait, tossed him the reins. He turned to assist the ladies. Beverly paused to gaze up at the house. “It is just as Mama described,” she murmured.

  He was escorting the ladies toward the porch when a man’s chuckle came from around the corner.

  A solidly built gentleman strolled into view dressed in a bronze-colored riding coat, leather breeches, and top boots. An arm was snugly around the trim waist of a much younger lady in a crimson habit.

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nbsp; Standing beside Jason, Beverly gasped.

  The 6th Baron Daintith paused on the gravel drive to observe them. He bent his head and murmured to the woman. She smiled at him and strolled forward, passing them with her head lowered, and ran lightly up the steps to disappear through the doors held open by a liveried footman.

  The baron removed his hat to reveal a thick thatch of white hair and strode over to them, a quizzical light in eyes very much like Beverly’s. “To what do I owe this visit, granddaughter?”

  Beverly hurried forward. “Grandpapa, I am in need of your advice. But please allow me to introduce you to my chaperone, Miss George, and Lord Jason Glazebrook, who kindly escorted us on the journey from London.”

  “Did he indeed?” The baron cast an assessing look at Jason from beneath shaggy eyebrows as he took his hand in a hearty shake. “How do you do, sir.” He turned to welcome Miss George with a nod as she sank into a curtsy. “Let’s get out of this infernal cold wind.” He turned to the groom. “See to that horse and send the chaise back to the inn.”

  The baron led them into a lofty salon, the oak floors covered with Turkey rugs, the walls hung with gilt-framed paintings, and tapestries. The embers of a coal fire glowed in the massive stone fireplace. Lord Daintith added coal from the scuttle and prodded the embers into a blaze with a poker, sending smoke swirling up the chimney. He directed them to the sofas and chairs grouped around the fireplace and ordered the footman to bring the decanter of Madeira and send for the tea tray.

  “Now.” He sat down and crossed muscular legs. “Glazebrook? I knew the old duke. I haven’t met your brother, Charles, but I hear good things about him.” Not waiting for Jason’s response, the baron addressed his granddaughter. “What is it you want from me, Beverly, after all these years?”

  After a quick glance at Jason, she leaned forward. “I should like to speak with you alone, Grandpapa.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “You don’t favor your mother. You are prettier.”

  Beverly frowned and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Jason tamped down a grin. She was inordinately fond of her mother.

  A footman and housemaid carried in the tea trays. The footman poured Madeira into crystal glasses for the men, while the maid unloaded the tea service onto the table before the ladies.

  “You’re putting up at the Fox and Goose?” the baron asked Beverly.

  “Yes, Grandpapa.”

  “What nonsense. You must stay here.” He raised a hand to the footman. “John, have their luggage fetched from the inn.” He settled back in his chair. “I’m looking forward to a decent game of whist. Sick to death of cribbage.”

  Jason wondered if they were to meet the lady the duke would have been playing cribbage with. He rather doubted it. Even a man such as the baron did not introduce his mistress to his granddaughter.

  After tea, the baron signaled to his footman, who stood again at the door. “John, have the tea tray removed. I believe Miss George would enjoy the knot garden, have her escorted there.”

  Miss George must have realized Lord Daintith was too much for her to tackle, and stood, leaving the room with a dignified step.

  Jason had risen to his feet but was impelled to sit again at the baron’s gesture. “I believe you both have something to tell me,” Lord Daintith said.

  “Grandpapa—”

  Beverly was silenced by another of his imperious gestures. “We shall begin with Lord Jason,” he said, “Whom I suspect has an interesting proposal to put to me.”

  Jason had taken the measure of the man at the first sight of him. It appeared he liked to flaunt convention, having installed his mistress here. The knowledge helped Jason decide how to approach him. “I have requested Miss Crabtree’s hand in marriage, Lord Daintith,” he said bluntly. “I realize I must seek her father’s consent, but you shall shortly learn why this is difficult. I would appreciate your support.”

  A spark appeared in Lord Daintith’s eyes. “Would you indeed. And might this be against the duke’s wishes?”

  “As I’ve not yet raised it with him, I cannot say, my lord. However, there are other important matters to be dealt with first.”

  “I am eager to hear of them, sir.”

  “I believe Miss Crabtree wishes to speak to you about a private matter.” Jason rose. “I shall leave you to talk.”

  The baron frowned, leaving Jason with the fear that he intended to oppose their marriage. But he made no protest as Jason exited the room.

  Jason discovered Miss George walking through the great hall with the obvious intention of seeking out Beverly. “I believe I spied what might prove to be a fine old Roman statue in the sunken garden. I’d appreciate your opinion, Miss George. Shall we go and view it?”

  Burying an anxious sigh, he offered her his arm, and after a suspicious glance, she allowed him to lead her toward the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beverly struggled to explain the situation to her grandfather. She didn’t know the finer details of her father’s troubles, only what her mother had told her. And Mama was inclined to shelter her from the worst. She became flustered and exhausted as he continued to interrupt and ask her questions.

  “I’m not sure what you expect me to do for your father,” Grandpapa finally said. “It is up to the courts to decide if he is guilty or innocent.”

  “But it’s hard to fight corruption, Grandpapa,” she said, her voice shaking. “The Parish constable is rumored to be on the payroll of Lord Paine, who may be connected to a smuggling ring.”

  He sat forward, his eyes questioning. “Lord Fulbert Paine?”

  “Yes.”

  Her grandfather rose to his feet and proceeded to stalk around the room. It occurred to her that he was seldom still as he swiveled and came back to stand before her chair. “It just so happens that I’ve had dealings with Paine. I’ll advise my legal firm, Minshall, Deaks, and Moffatt, to look into the matter,” he said. “I’ll send a letter on the mail coach tomorrow.”

  She dragged in a deep breath, sagging with relief. How tense she’d been. “I am very grateful, Grandpapa.”

  He sat down again and crossed one leg over the other, tapping a boot with his fingers. “Don’t think this means I’ll take your mother back into the fold.”

  “I understand, Grandpapa.” Although she wanted to persuade him for her mother’s sake, she feared he might change his mind about helping them. She studied her hands in her lap, but when she glanced up again, she found him watching her with a wry smile.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You think me unfair, don’t you, lass?”

  “Mama’s life has not been easy. She was younger than I am when she and my father married. When young and in love, one does not foresee the awful consequences an elopement might cause.” How true, that was. If Jason had asked her to elope, she would have gone with him without looking back. “Mama would never have wished an estrangement from you. I suppose she expected you to forgive her.”

  His beetling brows lowered into a scowl. “Are you judging me, girl?”

  “Mama dearly loves my father,” Beverly said carefully. “He is a good man.”

  “He well might be, but Crabtree is an idiot to get himself caught up in this nefarious business. A smart fellow would have dealt with it before it came to this.”

  “Hard for an honest man, certainly.” Beverly raised her chin. “But villains have been working against him.”

  He nodded approvingly. “You have gumption. More than your mother ever had.”

  “Mama has gumption,” she said, unable to remain silent. “She must have to defy you as she did, Grandpapa.”

  He nodded approvingly. “You love your mother”

  When she caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes, she realized that he, too, had been greatly hurt by this. She wanted to reach out to him, but he was a proud man and would most likely reject it or see it as a means to persuade him. “Perhaps it is time to forgive them,” she suggested tentatively.

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nbsp; Grandpapa rose without comment and went to tug the bell pull. When his footman entered, he issued a string of orders, requesting fresh vellum, pens, ink, and wax await him in the library. “Send for the housekeeper,” he ordered the footman. “And find Glazebrook. Bring him to the library.” His sober, brown gaze rested on Beverly. “My housekeeper will escort you and your chaperone to your chambers. Mrs. Kelly will supply you with anything you need. I shall see you at dinner.”

  Beverly tamped down the fear at what might take place between Grandpapa and Jason. So much hinged upon it. “Thank you, Grandpapa.” On tiptoes, she rested a hand on his broad shoulder and kissed his cheek, breathing in the aromatic smells of tobacco, soap, and leather. “I am glad I came, and not just because you will help us. I’ve wanted to know you for a long time.”

  He raised his eyebrows again. “Have I said I would help you and the young man?”

  She shook her head. “No…not precisely.”

  “You are both young. Wiser, surely, to see how things stand in another year or two.”

  She stared at him in horror. “Oh no! Lord Jason is the only man I wish to marry. And he feels the same about me. You and Grandmama didn’t know each other before you married, did you?” From her infancy, her mother had told her all the family stories, how fond her parents were of each other, and how her mother’s death had changed him. Her reminiscences always brought tears to Beverly’s eyes.

  An arm on the mantle, Grandpapa stared into the crackling orange embers, an emotional expression softening his face. “Our marriage was arranged. Love didn’t enter into what was seen as a business arrangement. A satisfactory joining of two great families. I was fortunate. Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.” His gray-haired head bowed over the fire as he picked up the poker. He gave the fire a vicious stab, sending sparks flying up the chimney. “Catherine died too young.” After a moment’s silence, he turned to study her. “She would have loved you, Beverly.”

  “I would have loved her, Grandpapa. Mama has told me so much about her.” Her shy smile implored him. “You knew from the first, didn’t you, that your union was right? As I do. You can do so much to help us. Please, Grandpapa. Lord Jason is of age and doesn’t require his brother’s permission to marry, but it would be unendurable if the duke turned against us. A letter from you, urging him to support our marriage, would smooth our way. It would mean so much to Jason.”