The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

He quickly shook his head. “No—it never was that, has never been quite like that. As I explained to your cousins, while Lavinia would be happy to see me dead, she’s never shown any inclination to act to make that happen. It’s more that she’d expected Rand to inherit, for her son to become Viscount Sidwell, as I was, and later step into my father’s shoes as Marquess of Raventhorne, and my continued existence means something she’d assumed would ultimately come her way out of marrying my father isn’t being delivered. In a convoluted way, she views my not dying as something akin to a breach of promise.”

“Ah.” Mary nodded. “I see.” Then she frowned. “What about Randolph? How does he feel about your continued health?”

Ryder smiled. “Rand has absolutely no aspirations to be marquess. Oh, he would step up if he had to, but he has no ambition to take on the responsibility—as you might have noticed from his congratulations yesterday.”

She nodded. “I would have sworn he was sincere—I would have been surprised if you’d told me he had eyes on the title.”

“He doesn’t, and Kit is even less enthralled by the prospect. As for Godfrey, I doubt it’s ever occurred to him to imagine himself the marquess—and he’d be horrified if he did.” Ryder paused, then went on, “But, of course, the four of them are very aware of Lavinia’s . . . shall we say continuing frustration with me, with my being alive. And, naturally enough, as they and I are close, and they’re devoted to me—as you correctly divined yesterday—it leaves them feeling exceedingly awkward when Lavinia and I are forced to interact. When she and I are in the same room, in the others’ presence, for any length of time.”

“I can’t imagine you ever being

so gauche as to insult your stepmother. Not even in private.”

“You’re correct—I don’t. Oh, I might think the words, but as a general rule I treat her with the chilliest civility—I’ve learned from long experience that that serves best. And although she is occasionally indiscreet, even, if we’re alone, insulting, Lavinia has a very fine notion of her position as marchioness, and as her standing derives from the title I hold, she’s not going to do anything to diminish the Marquess of Raventhorne in society’s eyes.”

Mary nodded, appreciating the point. “So she’s caught in a cleft stick of sorts and can’t curse you in a ballroom.”

“Or over a dinner table, but in order to spare both our nerves, I try to avoid her. Given our respective circles, that’s usually easy enough.”

“I can’t see why she’s still so frustrated.” Mary studied him; regardless of his injury, he exuded palpable physical strength, and with his color back to normal the last thing he appeared was weak. “It must have become apparent long ago that, whatever ailed you as a child, you’ve grown out of it. No one would imagine you’re likely to readily succumb now.”

Ryder pulled a face. “Well, yes and no. My sickliness had receded by the time I reached ten, enough for me to go to Eton. But my exploits there, and later at Oxford, and even when I first came on the town would have encouraged Lavinia to believe she would hear of my death any day. I’m quite sure she, as well as my father, were told that by various masters and others over those years.”

He glanced at Mary. “I was wild to a fault—a hellion, a hell-raiser. Having been told for so long that I couldn’t expect to live, that I wouldn’t see my majority, I . . . grasped every second of life I could. I wrung from every second all the life I could. From childhood scrapes, the inevitable falls, and consequent injuries, to schoolboy fights and pranks of all the most dangerous kinds, to horse racing, phaeton racing, hunting—in all truth there was every reason for Lavinia to believe that where illness hadn’t done the deed, I, myself, would accomplish it.”

He paused, then smiled faintly and went on, “Actually, it was Sanderson, when he returned from his medical training in Edinburgh, who finally convinced me that the only way I wouldn’t die of old age was if some self-inflicted injury did for me first.”

“Remind me to thank the good doctor when next I see him.”

“Indeed. However, as had happened through my earlier years, whenever I grew out of one area of danger, another always seemed to loom, at least in Lavinia’s eyes.” Ryder met Mary’s gaze. “She’s told me, more than once, that she fully expects to hear of my death at the hands of some cuckolded husband.”

Coolly sober, Mary arched her brows. “As very nearly occurred.”

“True. If she only knew . . . but, even then, you turned up to save me.”

Mary met his eyes, held his gaze for an instant, then in a tone of discovery stated, “That’s why you’ve kept the attack so secret.”

Trapped in her eyes, he hesitated for too long for an effective denial. He shrugged. “There’s no reason to encourage her to believe she has cause to resent you.”

“Because I helped you cheat death?”

“Because you helped me avoid the one thing that would have delivered to her her ultimate desire—seeing Rand in my shoes. That’s what her focus is—it’s purely incidental that I have to die for it to happen.”

After a moment, Mary said, “Your poor brother must feel . . . quite set upon.”

“Sometimes, yes. He bears with it—she is his mother, after all. He knows I know and understand his feelings, and the others do, too, but it is, indeed, hardest on him. I, at least, can avoid her—he can’t.”

“Is that—her antipathy to you—why she doesn’t live here?”

Ryder hesitated, then admitted, “I bought her the other house . . . not just because of that.” After a moment, he went on, “At Raventhorne, she lives in the Dower House, with her own staff. Here in town, she lives in a house in Chapel Street, again with her own staff—for the same reason. After my father’s death, she . . . I suppose you might say tried to usurp me. Tried to take over the Abbey, and also this house—both are kept fully staffed. When the staff at the Abbey, and later here, too, refused to accept her orders on matters that properly needed my consent, she attempted to dismiss them.” He met Mary’s gaze. “These are all people from families that have served the Cavanaughs for generations. In the end, Lavinia became so heedlessly disruptive, I had to banish her from the house. All my houses, actually.”

Mary reviewed all he’d told her—and why he had; protectiveness was, indeed, one of his major motivating forces. She glanced at the clock—and was shocked to see the time. “Heavens!” She grabbed her reticule. “I really must go—I’m due at a luncheon at my aunt Celia’s.”

Ryder rose to his feet as she stood.

Turning to the door, she started tugging on her gloves. “Is there anything else I should know about your stepmother and your relationship with her, or with your half siblings?”

Falling in beside her, he went to shake his head, then stopped. “Perhaps one other thing.”