The Dangerous Mr. Ryder

Leave England? Leave the estate that he had inherited from his maternal grandfather? Leave the rolling countryside, the broad river valleys, the green hills for a foreign country where he had no role except to please the first lady? He wanted sons who would be Englishmen, he realised, not exiles in another country where their half-brother had a status wildly different from their own.

Damn it! She should have guessed all that, she should never have asked him. He was an English gentleman, not some foreign gigolo—

‘So you are skulking in here.’ Hell and damnation, it was his interfering sister. Jack glared at Bel and she whipped off her mask and glared back. ‘My goodness, that is going to mark,’ she observed, apparently with some satisfaction, walking up to touch her fingertips to his cheek.

‘Thank you, I do not need a second opinion on that,’ he said tightly. ‘I collect I have you to blame for this idiotic situation.’

‘I suggested the ball and this room,’ Bel said, sitting with some grace on the rumpled chaise. ‘You are entirely to blame for the situation being idiotic.’

‘You consider that I should have accepted her Serene Highness’s flattering offer, do you?’ He had never felt so out of charity with his sister.

‘As you love her, I would have thought that was a logical thing to do.’

‘Who told you I love her?’ He saw the trap the moment he put his foot into it. Bel looked smug. ‘I just did, didn’t I?’

‘I had guessed, that was why I wanted to help you both. Has it not occurred to you, numbskull, that she loves you, too? Or are both of you so determined this is all just about sex—’ Bel went scarlet, but pushed on ‘—that you cannot see what is in front of your faces? Do you really think a woman like that is going to do something as difficult as asking a man to marry her if she did not love him?’

‘She does?’ Jack discovered his legs were feeling decidedly odd. The only place to sit was beside his sister, so he sat on the end of the chaise next to her and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Damn this thing.’ He yanked off the mask and threw it on the floor. Bel just looked at him.

Eva loved him? He loved her, so it was not impossible, just something he had never dared to contemplate. She had wanted his lovemaking, his company, his friendship—was that not all she had wanted? Now his mind brought back the image of her face as she turned to him, her hand on the key of that door. What had she said, her lips moving, but no sound reaching him above the swell of the music?

He had learned to lip read as a useful espionage skill, but it needed a lot of concentration. This was Eva: she deserved that concentration. He closed his eyes, searched for the picture of her moving lips, his own moving as he tried out the words. How can I forget? I love you.

‘Why did she not say so?’ His sister, a woman, might be able to explain this mystery.

‘Because she is shy, because she was afraid you would reject her, because she rather thought her idiot lover might have some inkling without having to be hit over the head with it,’ his loving sister snapped.

‘Oh.’

‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ Bel demanded after they had sat in silence for minutes.

Jack sat staring at the crumpled scrap of black fabric at his feet. ‘Nothing.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘What! Jack, you love her—now you know she loves you and you still say you will do nothing?”

‘Bel, she is a Grand Duchess, for goodness’ sake. I am a younger son.’

‘Of a duke,’ she retorted. ‘Your breeding as a scion of one of England’s oldest houses is as good as anyone’s in this country. You know what you are, Sebastian John Ryder Ravenhurst? You are a snob.’

‘A what?’ Jack twisted round on the chaise to stare at her.

‘A snob,’ Bel repeated. ‘An inverted snob. You refuse to justify your own position, to stand up for who and what you are because she has that title. One she married, not one she inherited, mind you. One of these days you could be a duke—your son certainly will be.’

‘Bel!’ She had truly shocked him now.

‘You think I do not understand about our brother and his situation? If he is happy, I am certainly not going to judge him. And you are an English gentleman; the Mauborgians should be grateful to have you as their Grand Duke’s stepfather.’

‘Mauborgeois,’ Jack corrected absently.

‘So, what are you going to do now?’ Bel demanded again, ignoring his interjection.

‘Nothing,’ he repeated.

‘Nothing.’ His sister sprang up and regarded him, hands on hips. ‘Nothing. Because your pride will not accept you having to stand one step behind your wife on state occasions. Because you will not compromise on how you live your life. Because people might talk. I could box your ears, Sebastian Ravenhurst, but a better woman got in first.’

The door slammed behind Bel. Jack stayed where he was, staring at the painted panels, trying to make some sense of his feelings. His head ached, his face ached, his heart…ached was an altogether inadequate word for how that felt. With a groan he flung himself back full length on the chaise cushions and found his nostrils full of the scent of Eva.