She nodded slowly, biting her lip.

  Luc smiled quickly. “We must try not to let their behavior define our future. You are admired by society, Miss Valiant. You don’t always need to fear the comparison to your family. There isn’t one.”

  Grand-mère caught his eye. “You have matured in the last year, chérie,” she noted with approval in her tone.

  Luc smiled into his napkin and set it aside, since no one seemed to be eating anymore. “May I escort you both to the drawing room for tea?”

  “No, I shall retire early tonight.” Grand-mère signaled for a servant. “These old bones of mine ache with the cold. You may escort your bride to the drawing room and see to her amusement in my absence.”

  Luc groaned at the way Yvette stiffened at Grandmother’s suggestion. A more skittish woman he’d never met, but they did need to talk. If only to offer her the reassurance she needed.

  Yvette stood as Luc’s grandmother shuffled from the room, her pace painfully slow.

  Luc shook his head. “Two hundred pounds on an invalid chair she needs to get about, and she still won’t use it in front of visitors,” Luc muttered as her steps faded away.

  “A chair might make her feel her years,” Yvette suggested in a whisper.

  He nodded. “I’m sure you have the right of it. But I don’t like to see her struggle.”

  He turned his gaze on Yvette. She seemed more nervous now they were alone and wouldn’t hold his gaze.

  “Can you convince her not to force us into a marriage?” she whispered.

  “I will,” he promised, raking his hand through his hair. “I apologize for Grand-mère, but she is very set in her ways. She’s worried about me being alone for some time.”

  She finally met his gaze. “I’ve never heard you speak French before.”

  “It offends many in society given the trouble with France, so I try to sound as English as I can, except around her.” He shrugged. “My grandmother raised me. My parents were occupied with their own affairs, much like yours, I have gathered.”

  Yvette nodded and twined her fingers together at her waist. “What happens now?”

  Luc sat back down at the dining table before he answered. “We get your carriage repaired and you on your way home.”

  “What about your grandmother? And my brother, and—”

  Luc held up his hands to silence the panicked outpouring of words. “There’s no sense worrying about all that tonight, Miss Valiant. I’ll speak with her again tomorrow and then we’ll leave for Bath.”

  “Traveling together?” Her eyes widened in shock. “Won’t that create a bigger scandal?”

  “Me, in my carriage, following you in your repaired one,” he explained. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to travel so far alone in inclement weather. What if you became stuck again?”

  She shuddered. “There is that worry, but…haven’t you promised to be with your grandmother for the holiday?”

  “She’ll accept why I must go with you,” he assured her. Grand-mère would not be happy that he had to go, but what could he do. Yvette needed his protection. He tipped his head toward the door. “Don’t let me keep you from your bed. We’ve a long way to go tomorrow to get you safely home to Bath.”

  Startled by his curt dismissal, she curtsied awkwardly. “Yes, well, good night then, Mr. Ayles.”

  He nodded. “Sweet dreams, Miss Valiant.”

  “Yes, and you, too.” She started for the door, but turned back to frown at him before she reached it.

  He grinned widely, causing Yvette to suddenly trip over her own feet.

  He cried out her given name, but she righted herself and scurried away.

  He watched the empty doorway for several seconds, then reached for his wineglass. He’d likely have to wait until next season to prove he was a scoundrel she could trust.

  Chapter 5

  Yvette smoothed her fingers across her brow, determined to rid herself of the stubborn frown line that wouldn’t seem to go away that morning. Giving up, she put her head into her hand and grumbled unhappily—very quietly, so no one passing her door might hear.

  She had misplaced something. It wasn’t something she had ever really liked, but something she had expected to always be around.

  Sometime yesterday, she had lost a scoundrel.

  And it was a worrying thing to discover she might actually miss the disgraceful version of Luc Ayles, too.

  For last night, he’d seemed safe.

  Protective, excellent company at dinner, affectionate toward his tiny French grandmother. He was everything a good man was supposed to be. He was even prepared to escort her home to Bath at the expense of his grandmother’s happiness, too, and that made her uncomfortable.

  And when he’d spoken in French, her knees had become decidedly weak, and Yvette did not swoon over any man’s utterings. She’d known of his heritage, of course, but she’d never heard those sensual tones tumble so effortlessly from his wicked lips.

  She’d been affected in the worst way imaginable, afraid he’d notice her discomfort at any moment.

  It was startling to realize that since the moment he’d rescued her, she’d hung on his every word.

  She went to the window to look at the unceasing white landscape outside. It had continued to snow during the night, and she feared she would be stuck again before half a mile had been traveled. But it was imperative she get away from Luc. She did not trust him, and now she didn’t even know whether to trust herself.

  She let the curtain fall and turned to survey the pretty chamber she’d spent the night in. There were no disgraceful paintings on the walls, and this was no decadent house of sin belonging to a terrible scoundrel.

  The place was very properly run, in fact. The maids were polite, respectful and spoke only French, it seemed. Her own maid had reported the servants’ hall was a very happy place, too. Everyone here admired Luc.

  It was a home any woman would be proud to come to upon her marriage.

  She would be proud to live here, but perhaps not with his disapproving grandmother, who insisted they must marry. The old woman had been frosty when they’d met and had lulled her with good company at dinner. But then she’d spoiled her good feeling by reminding her that she and Luc must marry.

  Luc had been adamant they not wed, which was both comforting and extremely lowering. He could certainly do worse than become her husband.

  Yvette threw herself into a chair close to the fire.

  Yesterday, last night, she had feared to be seduced. Or to have fended off a pair of scoundrel’s hands by the time she reached the safety of her bedchamber. She had assumed, given all the occasions that Luc Ayles had stared at her with the gaze of a hungry scoundrel, that he had been interested in seducing her. It was decidedly uncomfortable to wake at dawn and feel depressed that he hadn’t even tried to find an excuse to seek her out during the night.

  Why didn’t he at least try

  She was an attractive, well-formed lady. Any man should itch to get his hands on her person. She’d enough proof that she appealed to scoundrels, given the number of times she’d avoided them at the house party they’d both left early.

  She’d have thought Luc would have stayed longer at the party. He’d no shortage of admirers there.

  She glanced toward the locked doorway and then shook her head. “He should want me.”

  She snatched up her thickest shawl, then threw on her warmest coat, too. Preparing for their next encounter. The scoundrel was sure to reappear soon, and she’d be at ease again, knowing how to respond.

  She marched to the door, determined to put herself in his path deliberately and prove him unchanged, but then froze with her hand outstretched.

  “What am I doing? This is not who I am.”

  She did not give scoundrels a second chance. She took a step back, then another. Did she really want to give Luc Ayles a second chance?

  Her pulse sped up a bit as an answer became clear. “Heaven help me, but I do,” she whispered. “At least he should try to steal a kiss from me one more time.”

  And there was nothing more shocking to her than the knowledge that she wanted him to try. Was she losing her mind?

  She had been good for so long, repressing any and all reckless impulses for fun or misbehavior so she could make a good match. And now, after putting herself in harm’s way, being rescued by a scoundrel, and not being even considered for seduction, she was incensed Luc Ayles didn’t live up to her expectations.

  “And his grandmother expects us to marry to avoid a scandal,” she complained to herself. “There is no scandal!”

  Yvette dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was working herself up into a state over nothing. She ought to be happy he was minding his manners.

  She marched back to the door and threw it open. The hall was empty, but a door along the hall stood open when it had been closed the night before. She became curious and headed toward it.

  She tiptoed to the door and risked a peek inside.

  Luc Ayles stood at the windows, coatless, his hands on his lean hips. She had never seen him so casually attired, but then again, she’d never peeked into a scoundrel’s bedchamber before. But it was as ordinary as hers at home. Quite mundane, really. There was a wide curtained bed, standing looking glass, and trinkets on the mantle.

  Her eyes returned to his bed. It was even made up neatly already.

  “More snow,” he muttered. “Devil take it!”

  He sounded so angry about the snow that Yvette leaned against the doorframe and sighed her frustration, too. “It’s been snowing since I woke at dawn.”

  He pivoted slowly, eyes wide, to see her standing at his door. “But you are ready to leave?”

  She nodded to him. “Were your men able to repair the carriage?”

  “They’ve not returned to tell me so yet. I can’t imagine they’ll be much longer. We should be underway inside an hour after that.”

  Ayles suddenly noticed he wasn’t properly dressed yet, and he hurried to scoop up his coat and toss it on his rather impressive frame.

  How odd that she’d never noticed his physical appeal before, but now, she could almost look her fill without feeling embarrassment.

  His expressive eyes met hers suddenly and made her knees tremble again as his long legs carried him to stop right in front of her. He was perhaps the best looking of all scoundrels haunting London’s finest homes, and Yvette was all alone with him on his lovely estate.

  Almost alone. There was still his grandmother to contend with.

  And servants who always gossiped.

  And because of her annoyance over her brother’s tardiness yesterday morning, she’d put her freedom in jeopardy. They might end up married to each other still.

  How stupid she was to have engineered a situation that compromised herself. Unwittingly trapping Luc into a situation where honor demanded they wed.

  Many women in want of a husband would have rejoiced upon hearing her predicament.

  Yvette might have cried about it yesterday.

  But not today. Being forced to marry Luc did not seem all that bad this morning. But it was not that good, either. She didn’t know very much about him, really.

  She wet her lips, and a sense of purpose filled her. If they had to wed, well, something had to be done about that scoundrel side of him. “Well, perhaps they’ll return during breakfast.”

  He looked away to the window. “I hope so. Don’t let me keep you.”

  She was crushed by his dismissal. “Have you already eaten?”

  “No.”

  She smiled tightly. “Then we can eat together.”

  Yvette held onto her smile as he stepped closer. He was so overwhelming, especially when he was towering over her like this. Yet he inched past her, making sure not to touch any part of his body to hers.

  She found his restraint impossible. What would it take for the scoundrel to come back?

  He stopped in the hall and raked his hand through his hair. “I’ll go ask if the men are back.”

  “Let’s go together,” she said, marching toward him so he couldn’t escape.

  It was hard not to notice he stumbled back a step as she advanced. Was he afraid to be near her because he might have to marry her? She smiled at that. Never had she thought she’d have any power over a scoundrel, and certainly not him.

  He had tortured her all season, loitered in her shadow many a night. She’d give him some of his own back and more, she decided.

  At the top of the stairs, she made the mistake of looking down at the steep pitch and suddenly felt dizzy. She blindly extended her hand to Luc.

  His fingers captured hers firmly, and he placed her hand on his sleeve and held it there under his warm palm. “Steady. You won’t really fall and we’re not that high up.”

  She looked up at him slowly…and blushed that he must already know her secret embarrassment. She’d suffered bouts of dreadful dizziness all her life, though she’d tried to hide it from everyone, including her brother. She felt foolish and self-conscious about her bouts of wobbles. Such an affliction often endangered her poise in society.

  But somehow, he knew.

  She grimaced. “It matters not if the height is one yard or three floors.”

  “Then hold on to me and the rail until the sensation passes,” he murmured.

  They descended the stairs together and at the bottom, she breathed a sigh of relief that the horrid descent was over. “How long have you known?”

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever not known.” He frowned. “You always hold tight to any banister or to your brother’s arm if he’s around. You never stand close to an edge of a balcony, and most women lean forward at the theater to wave at friends in nearby boxes. But you never do.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” Yvette whispered.

  “Why would I do that?”

  She glanced up at him. “It’s a malady that I’m ashamed of.”

  He frowned at her. “There is no need to feel ashamed. Lady Crawley faints at the sight of blood and Lady Nells swoons at the sight of the ocean. Even in paintings.”

  She removed her hand from his arm. He was making fun of her by making up stories about other well-poised women. “You once carried Lady Nells from a ballroom,” she complained.

  “Yes, our host had hung a new painting and after one glance at it, Nelly fainted, luckily into my arms. Poor thing needed a sherry or two to revive her spirits but couldn’t bear to return to the ballroom to view the painting again. I saw her safely home.”

  “Yes, I heard of that, too,” she said slowly, remembering the unsavory gossip after that night. It had been all anyone had talked about for months, entirely salacious, though others thought it wildly romantic, too.

  Luc winced.

  She shook her head. She shouldn’t bring up his behavior, but… “I also heard there was a romantic entanglement between you both.”

  Luc looked away. “There was. But no more.”

  And now he was a scoundrel again. Lady Nells had a husband, and children, too.

  She walked away from him. Scoundrels, by definition, were not good men. She ought not be surprised to hear the gossip confirmed by his own lips, not that she liked either version.

  “I promised you a breakfast before we go,” Luc muttered.

  Yvette started for the dining room. “Yes.”

  “We eat in the morning room,” he called to her. “It’s warmer there.”

  She spun about and followed him.

  But to her chagrin, her gaze drifted from his head to his feet and back up again. He was wicked to have turned her head. It was too bad he was a scoundrel to the bone.

  They entered the morning room together and found his grandmother at the table already, sipping tea.

  “I will serve myself,” she murmured quickly, keen for the distraction of a simple everyday task to restore order to her thoughts.

  Luc went to his grandmother. “Grand-mère, Yvette and I will leave soon.”

  The older woman glared at Luc and turned a spiteful gaze on Yvette. “Why come, if only you will go?”

  “Now don’t be churlish, ma petite. I promise to return as soon as I see Yvette safely home to Bath. When I return, I’ll spend another month with you to make up for leaving you today.”

  “It will be a cold Christmas this year,” the old lady complained

  Yvette wanted to sink through the floor. The old woman shouldn’t be without her family at Christmas.

  Yvette would be alone for much of Christmas this year, too. Her papa was dead, her mother was still on the continent with her lover no doubt, and her brother would likely make some excuse to leave early or not come at all after all this. She slid into a chair, keeping her gaze on her plate, listening as Luc pleaded with the old lady to understand. He spoke softly in French, and with each word and phrase of endearment, she felt worse.

  He was leaving because of her.

  As she looked around the chamber, she realized the lack of holiday decoration seemed to encompass the whole house. There was no Christmas cheer anywhere in the drawing room or dining room, either, last night, now she thought about it. Had the old lady been waiting for Luc to come to make Christmas and the holiday special?

  A tap came at the door and a servant of some kind appeared, cap in hand. “Begging your pardon for the interruption, sir, but you wanted to know about the condition of the road. It’s bad. I wouldn’t recommend travel in this weather if you can help it.”

  “What of the carriage and the repair being done?”

  “No sign of their return yet. I’m on my way there now to find out what’s keeping them. But I thought you should know about the condition of the roads immediately.”

  She couldn’t miss the soft curse that fell from Luc’s lips before he dismissed the coachman, imploring him to prepare his carriage still.

 

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