Текст книги "Until You"

Автор книги: Judith McNaught

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

22

Standing on tiptoe, Sherry removed a book on America from one of the bookcases in the library, then she carried it to one of the polished mahogany tables scattered about the room and sat down. Looking for something to jog her memory, she flipped through the pages, searching for information that she might recognize. There were several intricate drawings of harbors teaming with ships and spacious city streets bustling with carriages, but nothing at all that seemed even remotely familiar. Since the heavy tome was arranged in alphabetical order, and since it seemed logical that pictures would jog her memory better than the written word, she went to the beginning of the book and began slowly turning the pages until she came to a drawing. Under "A" she found information on agriculture along with an illustration of verdant wheat fields against a backdrop of gentle hills. She'd started to turn the page when another picture flashed through her mind. Only the fleeting vision of fields that she saw had crops with fat white tufts on the top. The image faded instantly, but it made her hand begin to tremble as she reached for the next page and the next. The illustration of a coal mine triggered nothing, nor did anything else she saw, until she came to a picture of a man with a craggy face, prominent nose, and long, flowing dark hair. "American Indian," the caption above the illustration read, and Sherry felt the blood begin to pound in her temples as she stared hard at that face. A familiar face… or was it? She clenched her eyes closed, trying to focus on the images dancing and fading in her mind. Fields… and wagons… and an old man with a missing tooth. An ugly man who was grinning at her.

"Sherry?"

Sherry stifled a startled yelp as she whirled around in her chair and stared at the handsome man whose voice normally soothed and excited her.

"What's wrong?" Stephen demanded, his voice sharp with alarm as he noted her stricken, white face, and started forward.

"Nothing, my lord-" she lied with a nervous laugh, standing up. "You startled me."

Frowning, Stephen put his hands on her shoulders and scrutinized every feature on her pale face. "Is that all? What were you reading over there?"

"A book on America," she said, reveling in the sensation of his strong hands gripping her shoulders and steadying her. Sometimes, she almost felt as if he truly cared for her. Another vision drifted through her mind, hazier by far than the others… but soothing and, oh, so sweet: Kneeling before her with flowers in his hand, a handsome, dark-haired man who may have been the earl proclaimed, I was nothing until you came into my life… nothing until you gave me your love… nothing until you… until you…

"Should I summon Whitticomb?" Stephen demanded, raising his voice and giving her a slight shake.

His tone snapped her out of her reverie, and she laughed, shaking her head. "No, of course not. I was only remembering something, or perhaps only imagining it happened."

"What was it?" Stephen said, releasing his grip on her shoulders, but holding her pinned with his gaze.

"I'd rather not say," she stated, flushing.

"What was it?" he repeated.

"You would only laugh."

"Try me," he said, his words clipped.

Rolling her eyes in helpless dismay, Sherry stepped back and perched her hip on the library table beside the open book. "I wish you would not insist on this."

"But I do insist," Stephen persisted, refusing to be swayed by the infectious smile trembling on her soft lips. "Perhaps it was a real memory, and not just your imagination."

"You would be the only one to know that," she admitted, becoming very preoccupied with the study of the cuticle on her thumb. Looking sideways at him from beneath her long lashes, she asked, "By any chance, when you asked me to marry you, did you happen to mention that you were nothing at all, until me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Inasmuch as you look revolted by the thought," Sherry said without rancor, "I don't suppose you would have gone down on one knee when you did propose?"

"Hardly," Stephen said dryly, so offended by the image of himself assuming such a foolish position that he'd forgotten he'd never proposed to her at all.

Sherry's disappointment in his answers was offset by his increasing discomfiture at the questions. "What about flowers? Did you happen to offer me a bouquet when you said, 'I was nothing until you gave me your love, Sherry. Nothing at all until you came into my miserable life'?"

Stephen realized she was actually relishing his discomfort, and he chucked her under the chin. "Brat," he said lightly, noting that she seemed never to be intimidated by him. "I merely came to invite you to join me in my study. My family will be gathering there any moment for a 'conference.' "

"What sort of conference?" Sheridan asked, pausing to close the book and return it to the shelf.

"A conference about you, actually-about the best way to 'launch' you into Society," Stephen replied distractedly, watching her lean up on tiptoe, and trying not to concentrate on how utterly fetching she looked in a deceptively simple peach gown with a high mandarin collar and tightly fitted bodice that cleverly called attention to every inviting curve she had without displaying so much as a glimpse of skin.

After a full night's sleep, he'd awakened feeling more optimistic about Sherry's plight than he had since she collapsed at his feet on the dock. With the aid of his family, who'd volunteered their cooperation and assistance, the idea of finding a suitable husband for her during the Season seemed not only an ideal solution, but an achievable one. In fact, he was so enthusiastic about it, that he'd sent notes to them early this morning, asking each of them to bring two lists: one of eligible men, and another itemizing those things that would also have to be handled in order to launch her properly.

Now that he had a specific goal, Stephen saw no reason not to pursue it with the same single-minded efficiency and determination that he used to achieve his other business successes. Like his brother and a very few other noblemen, he preferred to handle most of his own business and financial affairs, and he had a well-deserved reputation for doing so with brilliance and daring. In contrast to many of his peers who were sinking further and further into debt because they regarded any business dealings as the province of the "merchant class," and therefore beneath them, Stephen was steadily increasing his already vast holdings. He did it because it was sensible, but mostly, he did it because he thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of testing his judgment and timing; he liked the exhilaration that came with successfully acquiring and disposing of assets.

He intended to handle Sherry Lancaster as if she were any other very desirable "asset" he possessed and of which he intended to dispose. The fact that Sherry was a woman, not a rare artifact or a warehouse full of precious spices, had no bearing on his thinking or his strategy, except that he intended to ensure that her purchaser was worthy and responsible. The only remaining difficulty was to enlist her cooperation in being "disposed of."

He'd considered that delicate problem earlier, while he bathed. By the time Damson removed a jacket of biscuit superfine from one of the wardrobes and held it up for Stephen's approval, he'd arrived at the best, and only, solution. Rather than add yet another lie to the ones Sherry had already been told, Stephen was going to tell her a partial truth. But not until after he'd met with his family.

Sherry put away the remaining books she'd intended to look through, as well as the quill and paper she'd removed from a desk drawer. Then she turned and he offered his arm to her. The gesture was so gallant and the smile in his eyes so warm that she felt a helpless burst of joy and pride. Clad in a light tan coat, his long legs encased in coffee brown trousers and shiny brown top boots, Stephen Westmoreland was the stuff that dreams were made of… tall, broad-shouldered, and breathtakingly handsome.

As they started down the staircase, she stole another glance at his chiselled profile, marvelling at the strength and pride carved into every feature on that starkly beautiful, tanned face. With that lazy, intimate smile of his and those deep blue, penetrating eyes-why, he must have been making female hearts flutter all over Europe for years! No doubt he'd kissed a great many of those females too, for he certainly knew how to do it, and he didn't seem the least hesitant about it when he chose to kiss her. Thousands of women all over Europe had probably found him as completely irresistible as she did, and yet, for some incomprehensible reason, he'd chosen her above them. That seemed so unlikely, so inconceivable, that it made her uneasy. Rather than surrender to doubt and uncertainty, Sherry returned to the lighthearted conversation they'd had in the library.

As they neared the open doors of his study, she gave him a jaunty, teasing smile. "Since I can't remember your proposal, you might at least have pretendedthat you made me a proper one-on bended knee. Considering my weakened condition, that would have been the more chivalrous thing to do."

"I am a very unchivalrous man," Stephen replied with an impenitent grin.

"Then I hope I at least had the good sense to make you wait a very long time before I accepted your ungallant offer," she retorted severely, stopping in the doorway. She hesitated and then with a helpless laugh at her inability to remember, she said, " DidI make you wait, my lord?"

Helplessly enthralled by this new, teasingly flirtatious side of her, Stephen automatically matched her mood. "Certainly not, Miss Lancaster. In fact, you flung yourself at my feet and wept with gratitude at the offer of my splendid self."

"Of all the arrogant, dishonest-" she said on a choked, horrified laugh. "I did no such thing!" Looking for some sort of confirmation, Sherry glanced at Colfax who was standing at attention holding one of the study doors open, while trying to look as if he weren't hearing-and enjoying-their banter. Her fiance looked so supremely self-satisfied, his expression so bland and complacent, that Sherry had the awful feeling he was telling the truth. "I didn't actually do that-" she said weakly, "did I?"

Stephen's shoulders lurched with suppressed mirth at the appalled expression on her upturned face, then he shook his head and put her out of her misery. "No," he said, unaware that he was flirting with her in an open doorway and looking happier than he had in years, in view of his mesmerized servants and his fascinated family and friends, who'd arrived while he was with Sherry in the library. "After you greet everyone, I'm sending you for a ride in the park, so that you can take in the sights and get some fresh air while we discuss arrangements-" He broke off as some slight movement from inside the study attracted his attention, and he turned fully around, somewhat surprised to find Sherry and himself the focus of a roomful of people who oddly hadn't made a single sound to alert him they were present.

Blaming their lack of conversation on awkwardness about their forthcoming topic, Stephen led her into the study and waited while Sherry greeted everyone with the same warm, unaffected cordiality that she seemed to feel for everyone from the servants to her physician. Anxious to get down to the purpose for the meeting, he interrupted Hugh Whitticomb, who was embarking on an enthusiastic recounting of Sherry's recuperative powers and bravery, and said, "Since you're all present, why don't you begin discussing the various ways to ease Sherry's way into Society while I walk her out to the carriage." To Sherry, he added, "I'll wait while you find a light wrap, then we'll go to the carriage and discuss your itinerary with my coachman."

Sherry felt his hand under her elbow, firmly drawing her away from people she would very much have liked to spend more time with, but she did as he asked and bade them good-bye.

Behind them, Dr. Whitticomb signalled Colfax to close the doors, then he looked round at Stephen's family, noting their distracted, thoughtful expressions. The scene he had witnessed a few moments ago as Stephen and Charise Lancaster stood just outside the doors had only confirmed what he already believed, and he was almost certain that the others in the room had noted the same delightful alteration in Stephen that he had.

He hesitated, vacillated, then made his decision, and cautiously endeavored to see if their thoughts truly marched with his. Keeping his voice casual, he glanced at the dowager duchess. "Lovely girl, isn't she?"

"Lovely," Stephen's mother agreed unhesitatingly. "Stephen seems very protective of her, I noticed. I haven't seen him treat any female quite that way before." Her smile turned wistful. "She seems to like him very well too. I cannot help wishing he weren't so set on finding a husband for her. Perhaps with time, he might have-"

"My thoughts, exactly," Hugh said, and so emphatically that she gave him an odd, startled look. Satisfied that he had her unwitting support, Hugh turned to Stephen's sister-in-law. "What do you think, Your Grace?" Whitney Westmoreland smiled at him-a slow, knowing smile that warmed his heart and promised her full cooperation. "I find her completely delightful, and I think Stephen does too, though I doubt he'd want to admit it."

Restraining the absurd urge to wink at her, Hugh looked to Nicholas DuVille. Until that moment, Hugh had been the only outsider whom the Westmoreland family had regarded as a confidant. DuVille was not a family member or even a close family friend. He had in fact been Clayton's rival for Whitney's hand, and although Whitney regarded him as a dear and close friend, Hugh doubted that Clayton harbored quite the same fondness for him. Hugh wasn't certain why DuVille had been invited to attend what was an intensely private family discussion.

"Charming," the Frenchman said with a tranquil smile. "And unique, I suspect. Based on what I have witnessed, I cannot believe Stephen is immune to her attractions."

Satisfied that he'd gathered all the support he could have hoped, Hugh looked at Clayton Westmoreland, the one member of the group who he knew could, and would, put a stop to any sort of intervention if he didn't agree. "Your grace?" he invited.

The duke gave him a steady look, and said one word, very clearly and very distinctly: "No."

"No?"

"Whatever you're thinking, forget it. Stephen will not welcome our interference in his personal life." Oblivious to his wife's swift intake of breath as she started to argue, he said, "Furthermore, the entire situation he is in with Miss Lancaster is already impossibly complicated and fraught with deceit."

"But you dolike her, don't you?" Whitney put in a little desperately.

"Based on what little I know of her," Clayton emphasized, "I like her very well. However, I am also thinking of her best interests. It would be wise if we all remember that when she recovers her memory and realizes that Stephen was responsible for her fiance's death, and that he has been lying to her about everything since then, she is not going to like him nearly so well. In fact, she is unlikely to think very well of any of us, when that day arises."

"It's likely she will be embarrassed and angry when she first realizes she'd never set eyes on Stephen until last week," Dr. Whitticomb conceded. "However, even before she was out of danger, she showed great concern for Stephen. Kept asking me not to let him worry, and so forth. I think that shows a remarkable understanding-the sort that could enable her to see very quickly why we all had to lie to her."

"As I said before," Clayton said firmly, "Stephen will not welcome our interference in his personal life. If anyone in the family feels the need to try to dissuade him from finding her a husband or to influence him in her favor in any way, then it should be done openly. Today. After that, the matter should be left to Stephen and Miss Lancaster and fate."

Surprised when there was no objection from his wife, Clayton turned to tease her about her uncharacteristic acquiescence, but she was frowning at DuVille, who, in turn, seemed to be vastly amused about something. He was wondering about that silent exchange when Stephen strode swiftly into the study.

23

"Sherry is safely out of hearing and out of the house," Stephen announced as he carefully closed the study doors behind him. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but you were all more prompt than I anticipated." Walking over to his desk, he sat down behind it, passed a cursory glance over his accomplices, who were seated in a semicircle in front of the desk, and went directly to the point.

"Rather than getting mired down in the minor complications and details of sending Sherry out into Society," he said in a cordial, but businesslike tone, "let's go directly to the subject of prospective husbands. Did you bring your lists of acquaintances who might serve the purpose?"

A rustling followed as the women searched their reticules and Whitticomb reached into his pocket to extract the lists they had prepared that morning at his instruction. His mother leaned forward and handed her folded sheet of writing paper to him, but she pointed out a major encumbrance. "Without a dowry, Miss Lancaster is at a terrible disadvantage, no matter how desirable she might be. If her father isn't the man of means that you suspect-"

"I'll provide a generous dowry," Stephen said as he unfolded the notepaper. He glanced at the first few names on the list, and his reaction veered from horror to hilarity. "Lord Gilbert Reeves?" he repeated, looking at her. "Sir Frances Barker? Sir John Teasdale? Mother, Reeves and Barker must be fifty years older than Sherry. And Teasdale's grandson was at university with me. These men are ancient."

"Well, I'mancient!" she protested defensively. "You said we were to list any unmarried acquaintances for whom we could personally vouch, and that's what I did."

"I see your point," Stephen said, struggling to keep his face straight. "While I look over the other lists, perhaps you could concentrate on some younger men of good reputation with whom you are not quiteso personally acquainted?" When she nodded agreeably, Stephen turned to his sister-in-law and smiled as he reached for her list.

His smile faded, however, as he looked down the long list of names.

"John Marchmann?" he said with a frown. "Marchmann is a compulsive sportsman. If Sherry was ever going to see him, she'd have to slog down every stream in Scotland and England and spend the rest of her life in the hunting field."

Whitney managed a look of innocent confusion. "He is exceedingly handsome, however, and he is also very amusing."

"Marchmann?" Stephen repeated incredulously. "He's terrified of women! The man still blushes in the company of a pretty girl, and he's nearly forty!"

"Nevertheless, he is very kind and very nice."

Stephen nodded absently, looked at the next name, and then at her. "The Marquis deSalle won't do at all. He's a habitual womanizer, not to mention a complete hedonist."

"Perhaps," Whitney graciously conceded, "but he does have charm, wealth, and an excellent address."

"Crowley and Wiltshire are both too immature and hot-tempered for her," he said, studying the two names. "Crowley isn't too bright, but his friend Wiltshire is a complete bacon-brain. They dueled a few years ago and Crowley shot himself in the foot." Oblivious to her startled giggle, he added disgustedly, "A year later they decided to settle another argument on the field of honor, and Wiltshire shot a tree." Bending a reproving look on his laughing sister-in-law, he added, "It wasn't funny. The ball from Crowley's pistol ricocheted off the tree and hit Jason Fielding, who'd raced out there to try to stop them. If it hadn't wounded Jason in the right arm, Crowley probably wouldn't have walked away in one piece. If Sherry married either one of them, they'd manage to make her a widow by their own hand, mark my word."

He looked at the next two names and then scowled at her. "Warren is a mincing fop! Serangley is a dead bore. I can't believe you think these men are eligible suitors for anyone, let alone an intelligent, sensible young woman."

For the next ten minutes, Stephen dismissed every name on the list for a variety of reasons that seemed very sound to him, but he began to have the annoying feeling that the group gathered around the desk was finding his rejection of suitor after suitor amusing.

The last name on Whitney's list made his brows snap together and his smile vanish. "Roddy Carstairs!" he exclaimed in disgust. "I wouldn't let Sherry near that overdressed, egotistical, razor-tongued little gossip for anything. He's never married because he's never found a woman who he thinks is worthy of him."

"Roddy is not little," Whitney pointed out firmly, "though I'll grant he's not precisely tall, but he is a particular friend of mine." Biting her lip to hide her smile, she added, "You are being excessively particular, Stephen."

"I'm being practical!"

Discarding that list, he reached for Hugh Whitticomb's, glanced at it, frowned, and tossed it aside. "Apparently you and my mother have a great many friends in common." With an irritated sigh he got up and walked restlessly around to the front of his desk. He perched his hip on the edge of it, crossed his arms over his chest, and regarded his brother with frustration and hope. "I see you haven't brought a list, but you must know someone who'd be right for her."

"As a matter of fact," his brother replied in a voice tinged with ironic amusement, "I've been thinking that over as I listened to you eliminate the other candidates."

"And?"

"And I realized I do know someone. He doesn't meet allof your lofty criteria, but I'm no longer in any doubt he's the right man for her."

"Thank God! Who is he?"

"You."

The word hung on the air while Stephen bit back a strange and irrational bitterness. "I am nota candidate!" he said frigidly.

"Excellent-" Nicholas DuVille's amused exclamation drew everyone's instant attention as he removed a sheet of writing paper bearing his family crest from his pocket. "In that case I did not waste my time in making out my own list. I assumed," he added as Stephen slowly unfolded his arms and reached for the paper, "that since I was invited here today, I was also to bring a list?"

"It's good of you to have gone to the trouble," Stephen said, wondering why he'd let his brother's absurd jealousy of DuVille color his own impression of the man. Nicholas DuVille was not only a handsome, educated, well-bred man, he was witty and he was damned nice. Stephen opened the list and looked at the single name scrawled across it, then he lifted his head and regarded DuVille with narrowed eyes. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"I hadn't expected you to find the notion laughable," he countered smoothly.

Unable to believe he was serious, Stephen studied him in cool silence, noticing for the first time that there was an infuriating arrogance about the man, his smile, and even the way he was sitting in the chair, his driving gloves dangling idly from one hand. Realizing that no one else understood what he was talking about, Stephen managed to clarify the matter and still challenge DuVille's integrity. "You seriously want to be considered as a suitor for Charise Lancaster?"

"Why not?" Nicki countered, visibly enjoying the other man's discomfiture. "I am not too old, too short, nor have I ever shot myself in the foot. I dislike fishing, I haven't an excessive attachment to the hunt, and though I do have some vices, no one has ever accused me of being overdressed, razor-tongued, or a gossip."

… But egotistical, they have! Stephen thought with another flash of hostility. And jaded. In his mind, he saw the suave Frenchman locked in a passionate embrace with Sherry, her hair spilling over his arm like satin fire, and his hostility escalated to outrage. All her warmth and innocence, that rebellious, jaunty spirit of hers, her courage and thoughtfulness would belong to DuVille, who would…

Marry her.

Stephen's inexplicable wrath abruptly gave way to common sense and the realization that fate had just delivered the ideal solution to his problems. DuVille was perfect. He was, in fact, regarded as a tremendous matrimonial prize amongst the ton.

"Am I to take your silence for assent?" DuVille inquired, looking as if he knew perfectly well that Stephen couldn't have any objection to his suit.

Recovering his manners, if not his cordial attitude toward the other man, Stephen nodded and said with scrupulous civility, "Certainly. You have my blessings as her…" He had started to say guardian and broke off because he was not her legal guardian.

"As her unwilling fiance?" Nicki suggested. "Who wishes to be relieved of the obligation to marry her himself so that he can continue as a bachelor without the tiresome burden of a guilty conscience over her unmarried state?"

Whitney saw Stephen's jaw tighten, and she recognized the ominous glitter in those narrowed blue eyes. In a mood like this one, she knew Stephen could and would flay Nicki alive, regardless of the fact that he was her friend or a guest in his home. Her fear was confirmed as Stephen recrossed his arms and subjected Nicki to a contemptuous, raking stare that slid slowly down his entire length. She opened her mouth, waiting to see if Stephen might somehow rise to Nicki's bait by saying he would marry Sherry himself. Instead, Stephen announced in an insulting drawl, "I think we ought to discuss your qualifications or lack thereof a little further, DuVille. In rejecting one of the other contenders, I believe the word 'lecher' was mentioned-"

"No, it was not!" Whitney burst out so desperately that Stephen looked at her, and while he'd momentarily lost some of his momentum, she said fiercely, "Stephen, pleasedo not take your frustration out on Nicki. He wants to help." She glanced swiftly at Nicki, who had gone perfectly still from the moment Stephen launched his tirade and who looked more like he was contemplating murder than marriage. Her exasperating husband was sitting there looking as if he was enjoyingboth men's predicament, but he responded to her silent appeal and intervened. "Really, Stephen, this is no way to treat your prospective son-in-law," he said dryly, using humor to dispel the tension.

"My what?" Stephen demanded with disgust.

Clayton replied with a mocking grin, "Since you not only promised to provide a dowry, but a 'generous' one, I'd say that puts you in the role of father. Now, since DuVille has merely offered himself as a possible suitor, not a husband, my advice is to wait to antagonize him until afterthe nuptials."

The absurdity of that scenario was not lost on either of the combatants, who visibly relaxed, but Whitney scarcely breathed until Stephen finally held out his hand to Nicki in a gesture of conciliation. "Welcome to the family," he said ironically.

"Thank you," Nicki said, leaning forward and accepting the handshake. "How large a dowry should I expect?" he joked.

"Now that we've overcome that hurdle," Stephen said, walking back around his desk and sitting down, "let's get down to the problems we're likely to face when we introduce Sherry to Society."

Whitney surprised him with an instant objection. "There's no need to do that. Nicki has already offered himself as a prospective suitor."

Stephen flicked a quelling glance at her as he withdrew a sheet of writing paper from his desk. "I would like Sherry to have more than one suitor from which to choose, which means she will have to be out in Society. I'd also like her to have her affections set on someone by the time her memory returns, if at all possible. That will help diminish whatever grief she may feel when she learns of Burleton's death."

DuVille's objection was next. "That is hoping for too much in too short a time."

Stephen overruled that with a shake of his head. "Not in this case. She scarcely knew Burleton. He could not have become the entire center of her universe during the short time he was with her in America."

No one could argue the logic of that, but from there on, everything concerning Sherry's actual introduction to Society went up for endless debate. Stephen listened in growing frustration as everyone suggested various pitfalls and problems, from the possible to the absurd, that might be encountered if Sherry were introduced to the ton during the Season.