To Wed a Wild Lord (16 page)

“I’m not marrying for anyone’s inheritance,” she said irritably.

“Then marry for love.” Pierce’s cool tone belied his sentimental words. “I love you madly, cousin. So I should have as good a chance with you as he does. Or better, unless Sharpe is claiming to love you madly, too.”

She nearly burst into laughter. Pierce so clearly did
not
love her. If she had her head in the clouds, as Pierce claimed, then he had his firmly rooted on earth.

His declaration was having the oddest effect on Gabriel, who looked fit to be tied. How curious. Was he upset because he hated losing his future inheritance? Or because he hated losing
her
? She really needed to know.

Perhaps she should let Pierce continue this little farce. “Do you truly love me, cousin?”

When Pierce’s gaze shot to her with a silent warning in it, she was glad she’d gone with her instincts. “Of course. I appreciate your intelligence and spirit and good heart. Sharpe just wants to get into your bed.”

“And you don’t?” Gabriel shot back.

“So what if I do?” Pierce drawled. “Isn’t that normal for a man in love?”

He practically winced, and she had to stifle a snort. Surely even Gabriel could tell Pierce was lying; he practically choked on the word
love
.

But apparently Gabriel took her cousin’s claim at face value. “You don’t know the meaning of love, Devonmont. I’m well aware of your reputation, even if your cousin is not. You’ve left a string of mistresses behind you longer than my arm. If she marries you she’ll always play second fiddle to your current mistress.”

“Yet you plan to be faithful to her?” Pierce cast Gabriel a withering glance. “Once you get your hands on your grandmother’s money, you’ll be spending every night in the stews.”

“You know nothing about what I mean to do with my grandmother’s money,” Gabriel bit out. “And you know nothing about me.”

Pierce stepped closer. “I know I’m the best man for her.”

“You’re her cousin, for God’s sake!”

“Second cousin. And there’s no legal impediment to cousins marrying, anyway.” He gave Gabriel a searching look. “I notice you haven’t made any claims to loving her yourself.”

A muscle worked in Gabriel’s jaw, which was all the answer either she or Pierce needed. Not that she’d expected Gabriel to say he loved her—he barely knew her. And she didn’t want him to claim a lie. That would prove him to be every bit as mercenary as Pierce seemed to think.

But some tiny part of her was disappointed. Which was utterly ridiculous. She didn’t love him. Why should she want him to love
her
?

Pierce held out his arm. “Come, my dear. Uncle Isaac sent me to fetch you in to dinner.”

As she walked forward, Gabriel growled, “Don’t you dare go off with him!”

She stopped to face him with a frown. “I beg your pardon?” she said in her frostiest voice. “I was unaware you had any right to command me.”

Pierce shook his head. “Not an ounce of gentlemanly civility in him.”

Gabriel glared at Pierce. “Stay out of this!” Then he leveled an angry glance on Virginia. “You and I had an agreement. I won our race, and with it, the right to court you.”

“Yes, but there was nothing in our wager to preclude anyone else courting me. Thank you very much for taking me around the maze, but now that my cousin has declared his intentions, I believe I shall let him take me in to dinner. It seems only fair that I give you both equal time.”

At his look of outrage, she bit back a smile and took Pierce’s arm.

Before they walked off, Pierce said, “You might want to take a few minutes, old boy, to . . . make yourself presentable.” Pierce’s gaze dipped down to Gabriel’s groin, eliciting a curse from Gabriel.

Virginia blushed violently as Pierce added, “If you go in to dinner looking like that, and the general notices, not only will there be no wedding, but it’ll be pistols at dawn. That won’t do you any good.”

They headed off together, leaving Gabriel to stew. “You are very wicked sometimes,” she said as soon as they were out of earshot.

Pierce’s voice was hard. “Did he do anything more than kiss you?”

She swallowed. There were some things a lady definitely kept to herself. “Nothing.” She slanted a glance at him. “You must tell me what you’re up to. Because we both know that you don’t want to marry me, and you certainly don’t ‘love me madly.’ ”

“Not madly perhaps, but I do love you.”

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“I love all my family,” he clarified, a devilish smile curving up his lips.

“So you love me as you do your mother, in other words.”

He shrugged. “It’s better than loving you as I do my dog.”

“Play with words if you must, but at least tell me what your game is.”

He lowered his voice. “Glance behind us.”

She did so, and saw Gabriel coming out of the maze, his hands clenched and his eyes sending daggers into the back of Pierce’s head.

“Is he watching us?” Pierce asked.

“Like a dog watches a bone being stolen from him.”

Pierce shot her a long look. “Or like a man who doesn’t want to lose a chance at a woman he desires?”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” Pierce stared ahead at Halstead Hall. “Any woman will suffice to help Sharpe win his inheritance. He’s irritated right now to have what he sees as an easy conquest taken from him. And if all he cares about is the money, he’ll go on to another woman since there’s competition. He has no time to fight a courtship war.”

“And if he doesn’t go on to another woman?”

“Then he desires you.”

“How is that any better? In neither case does he love me.”

“Come now, cuz, love is a farce for a man like Sharpe. The best you’ll get from him is desire.”

I promise that at least in the bedchamber, I can make you happy . . . People have married for less.

“That’s not good enough for me.”

Pierce cast her a pitying look. “Then you’ll have to look elsewhere for a husband, dear girl. Or settle for the sort of love
I
offer and accept my suit.”

“Your pretend suit, you mean.”

He met her gaze solemnly. “It’s not pretend. If the only way to help you is to marry you, I’m willing to sacrifice myself on the altar of matrimony.”

“Thank you, but I believe I can do without a sacrificial lamb.”

They entered the house in silence, Gabriel stalking after them. As they turned a corner, Pierce glanced back at the still glowering Gabriel. “There’s a remote possibility that Sharpe might make you a good husband, my dear girl. But until I know his true intentions, we should give him some competition. Then, if he persists in his suit toward you, we can reexamine his sincerity.”

She cast him a bemused glance. “Why would you want to help him?”

“I don’t. I want to help
you.
Marriage is the only way to ensure your future.” He searched her face. “And you fancy him, admit it.”

Color rising in her cheeks, she stared down the hall. “I find him arrogant and too sure of himself.”

“Yet you fancy him.”

She gritted her teeth. Pierce might not always know her mind, but sometimes he was right on the mark.

“At the moment,” she muttered, “I fancy the idea of being a governess. If I must deal with possessiveness and obnoxious demands, I’d rather it be from creatures small enough for me to send to their rooms.”

Pierce chuckled. “I should like to see you try sending
Sharpe
to his room.”

I’d only do that if I were going there with him.

Good gracious, where had that thought come from? This was what came of letting a devil like Gabriel kiss her and put his hands on her. It fed the restlessness in her soul and provoked the most unwise thoughts and fantasies.

But perhaps Pierce was right. If she did want to consider Gabriel for a husband—which she wasn’t at all sure of—it wouldn’t hurt to give him some competition. And even if she
didn’t
want to marry him, giving him competition would be a delightful way to torment him. At the moment, she found that vastly appealing.

“What shall we tell Poppy?” she asked.

“The truth. That I’m courting you, too.”

“He won’t believe it.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” His expression turned solemn. “He’ll swallow anything rather than face the possibility of Sharpe taking you away from him after doing the same with Roger.”

He had a point. Poppy would never forgive Gabriel for getting Roger killed. She still wasn’t entirely certain that
she
could. “Pierce, do you know what really happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was Roger drunk the day of the race? And was he the one to make the challenge, or was Sharpe?”

A shuttered look crossed Pierce’s face. “You’ll have to ask Sharpe.”

“Do you think he’d tell me?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

True. But part of her was afraid to learn the truth. Because if Poppy was right about Gabriel even as she’d been letting the scoundrel kiss and caress her . . .

Sweet Lord, she could never bear that.

Chapter Nine

T
hey entered the dining room to find everyone else seated. Pierce led her to her chair, which was next to his.

“Where’s my brother?” Lord Jarret asked as they sat down.

“They got separated, and Virginia was wandering the maze alone,” Pierce lied. “So I used the opportunity to profess my desire to court her as well.”

Audible gasps filled the room.

Virginia darted a glance at her grandfather, who looked stunned. Then he broke into a broad smile. Oh dear. She didn’t want him getting his hopes up.

“This is rather sudden, isn’t it?” Gabriel’s sister Mrs. Masters asked.

“Very sudden,” Gabriel said from the doorway. He sauntered in, his gaze narrowing when he caught sight of her sitting next to Pierce. “Apparently Devonmont isn’t satisfied with gaining Waverly Farm. He wants the lady of Waverly Farm, as well.”

“At least he wants the lady,” Virginia shot back. “You just want to gain your inheritance.”

As he scowled, his siblings let out a collective groan.

“You know about that?” Mrs. Plumtree asked.

“Yes, no thanks to any of you.” She placed her hand on Pierce’s, enjoying how it made Gabriel tense. “Fortunately, my cousin had heard the gossip and was kind enough to inform me on the way here.”

“Kind enough?” Gabriel took his seat across from her, eyes ablaze. “Seems to me that he seized his chance to snatch you away from me.”

Lady Stoneville motioned to the footman to serve the soup, and he began moving about the table.

“We’re so sorry about the misunderstanding concerning Gran’s ultimatum,” Mrs. Masters said, with a hard glance at her brother. “We wanted to tell you, but Gabriel was against it. I think he’s embarrassed. He’s very enamored of you, and he knew you would misunderstand the situation if you heard of it.”

Enamored of her, hah! Gabriel just wanted her in his bed. “So you lied for him.”

“Not quite,” Lord Jarret said. “More like . . . left out some of the truth.”

“Important parts of the truth, wouldn’t you say?” Virginia cast them a withering glance as she picked up her spoon. When they had the good grace to look sheepish, she added, “I find truthfulness in a husband essential.”

“Gabe is generally quite truthful,” Mrs. Masters insisted. “Almost to a fault.”

“Mostly because he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him,” Lady Celia added.

That brought Virginia up short. What had he said when she’d accused him of thinking he was invincible?
Actually, I just don’t care if I am or not.

The vulnerable words brought an ache to her chest before she squelched it. How could she let herself be gulled by him still? He’d pursued her for ends entirely different than what he claimed, and she could not—should not—forgive him for that.

“He can be very stubborn about it, too. Do you remember that incident at Christmas with the tutor?” Mrs. Masters ate a spoonful of soup as she glanced at Lord Jarret. “The stolen plum pudding?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Gabriel muttered as he snapped his napkin out of its fanciful fold and dropped it into his lap.

Lady Celia paled suddenly, which roused Virginia’s interest.

“Gabe was, what? Eight?” Mrs. Masters went on.

“Had to be,” Lord Jarret said. “It was our first Christmas after Mother and Father—” He broke off. “Anyway, Gran’s cook had left our Christmas pudding on the windowsill to cool, and it disappeared.”

“Gabe had a particular fondness for plum pudding,” Mrs. Masters continued, “and everyone knew it. So when it went missing, his tutor, Mr. Virgil, went up to the attic, where Gabe had made himself a sort of secret lair. He found Gabe surrounded by crumbs.”

“But the lad flat out refused to admit that he’d stolen and eaten the pudding,” Lord Jarret said. “He wouldn’t deny it—that would be lying—but he wouldn’t admit it, either. Mr. Virgil demanded that he confess what he’d done, but Gabe continued to refuse to answer him.”

“I hope that tutor had the good sense to take a cane to the boy,” her grandfather said as he dipped into his soup. “Got to be firm with a lad like that.”

Virginia hid a smile. For all his blustering, Poppy had never caned either her or Roger, despite his threats to do so.

“Papa would probably have caned the truth out of Gabe,” Mrs. Masters replied. “But Mr. Virgil was a mild-mannered scholar who merely lectured Gabe on the sin of stealing. He quoted Bible verses. He even brought up the specter of our dead parents, saying that they were looking down from heaven, disappointed in his actions.”

“That only made Gabe dig in his heels,” Lord Jarret said. “He refused to say a word.”

Virginia could well understand that. Her nanny had tried that on her as a girl, and it had always infuriated her. She’d felt that if her parents had wanted her to behave, they shouldn’t have gone away. Death hadn’t been something she really understood. She’d just felt abandoned. No doubt he had, too.

An unwanted sympathy swelled in her. Thoughtfully, she ate her soup. Sometimes she forgot that they had the deaths of their parents in common. He was a little older when his died, but that only made it more awful for him. At least she didn’t really remember hers.