Page 4 of The Bachelor
Major Wolfe lifted a brow. “Of course I do. He needs to know so he can make arrangements to accompany you everywhere.”
She stepped in front of him to block his path. “But you can’t! I don’t want Thorn mucking about in my personal affairs. I had enough of that growing up with him in Berlin.”
In the darkness of the forest, the major’s eyes looked as brown as oak and just as hard. “You cannot expect me to keep silent on this matter.”
“Why not? It’s none of your concern. I’m a grown woman. I can handle the likes of Mr. Malet in good society, where I will never be alone.”
“Never?Even in the Armitage town house? Or going out onto a balcony at a ball for a breath of air? Or—”
“I will be careful everywhere, I assure you. And anyway, there won’t be nearly as many situations in which he could effect a kidnapping without drawing attention to himself.”
And there’d be even less if the major told Thorn about Lionel and her twin decided to dog her heels wherever she went. Then she’d never get to meet with Lionel privately to give him his money.
Nor could she tellThornabout the blackmail. He would either kill Lionel outright and end up in gaol, or challenge Lionel to a duel and end up in gaol. No, Thorn could never know what Lionel was up to.
“Please, Major Wolfe, you must not tell my brother—”
“Your brother may heed your pleas, Lady Gwyn, but I know better than to do so. Either you tell him in my presence, or I will tell him myself. But one way or the other, he is going to hear what Malet attempted. That’s the end of it.”
Good Lord, he was like a dog with a bone. And now, thanks to him, her ability to pay Lionel his money and put an end to this madness had just become ten times harder.
Chapter Two
Joshua couldn’t believe he and Lady Gwyn were having this discussion. Even his sister wouldn’t be so reckless as to court danger in such a way.
But she would keep the news of danger fromyou. And did, too, before Greycourt married her. So perhaps Lady Gwyn and Beatrice have more in common than you think.
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to keep Lady Gwyn’s secrets for her. And he could tell from how she’d reacted to his questions that she definitely had secrets. He recognized fake outrage when he saw it.
The fact that she didn’t want to involve her brother said a great deal, too, probably having something to do with Malet showing up on the estate today. So not telling Thornstock of the encounter truly would be imprudent. What if Malet harmed her because Joshua hadn’t informed her brother of the danger?
No, he wouldn’t take that chance. The sight of Malet manhandling her had nearly stopped his heart. Not because he cared about her. Feeling anything but disinterested concern for the wealthy sister of a duke would be absurd. Even though, according to his sister, Lady Gwyn was thirty, she looked no older than Beatrice. She would have her pick of the men once she reached London. Best to remember that before he let himself slide into anything foolish . . . like desiring her.
He looked over at her and noted that she’d gone a trifle pale, quite a feat for a woman whose skin was already as creamy as alabaster. She probably used some sort of cosmetic, like the ones Beatrice had always been trying, although God only knew what Lady Gwyn used to make her lips that fetching shade of peach and her eyes that provocative shade of green. Emerald green, he would call it, because they glittered like the gemstone itself.
Damn it, he was waxing poetic about her. Best to be careful about that. He might be the grandson of a duke, but his father had been the youngest of three of that duke’s sons, and a wastrel besides. From birth, Joshua had been ineligible for the coddled—and yes, beautiful—daughter of another wealthy duke. He was even more so now that his damaged leg kept him on half-pay, incapable of pursuing his ambition in the Royal Marines.
Besides, if he couldn’t serve his country, he preferred to live as far out of range of so-called “good” society’s frivolous maneuverings as he could manage.
“You’re suddenly very quiet,” he said, unaccountably annoyed by that.
She sniffed. “I don’t see much point in speaking when you refuse to listen.”
“I listen. But that doesn’t mean I will automatically heed your commands. That’s what has you angry—the fact that every other gentleman does your bidding, while I refuse.”
She halted to glare at him. “Thorn doesn’t do my bidding, and neither do my half brothers.”
“The important word being ‘brothers.’ A woman’s brothers always see her more clearly than other gentlemen.”
“Oh? You wouldn’t have thought your sister could become a duchess, yet you were wrong.” When he bristled at that bit of honesty, she added, “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t exactly have Mr. Malet in my thrall there on the bridge.”
“I did notice. Which is why you should take more care with him, before you find yourself dragged into a carriage on its way to Gretna Green.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “So which is it, Major Wolfe? I’m spoiled because all men fall at my feet or I’m in danger because they don’t?”
Damn the woman for pointing out his lack of logic. She muddled his thinking—made it impossible for him to argue rationally with her.
He didn’t want to examine too closely why that was.
