Part 5 (1/2)
”Then it would be the first time,” Tanner bit out, giving the man's head a sharp shake before pus.h.i.+ng him back onto the ground.
He turned to Lydia. ”Are you all right?”
”I'm fine.” She searched in her small reticule for her handkerchief and handed it to Tanner. ”You're bleeding. Does it hurt?”
He waved off the small affectation of thin, lace-edged muslin in favor of a large square of white linen he extracted from his own waistcoat pocket. He then pressed it against the slice on his cheek. ”It's only a scratch, Lydia. I'm only sorry you had to witness anything so...”
”Something so very much not of your making? Please, Tanner, don't be stupid.”
He took her hand and led her back up the path, the square of linen held to his cheek. When he removed the handkerchief to turn it over, she could see that the gash was nearly three inches long, curving around his cheekbone, only nearly missing his left eye. But he was right, the wound appeared to be fairly superficial. Well, she didn't see bone, at any rate, and that had to be considered fortunate.
”I don't think I was going to say I was stupid. Although you're correct. I shouldn't have turned my back on the man. That was arrogance, plain and simple. I probably deserved this little scratch.”
”Don't talk, you'll only make it bleed more.” She shouldn't have said he was stupid, of course. She was upset, and the word had somehow simply slipped out. But, truly, men were such...idiots. Women didn't come to blows; women settled their differences without resorting to physical violence. Why, she would never even think to raise her hand to another human being.
They reached the bottom of the steps and she took hold of his forearm. ”I'll go round up Jasmine and Mrs. Shandy, shall I? It would perhaps be best if you were to meet us outside with the coach. There's more than enough talk in the ballroom as it is, without anyone seeing you.”
”Yes, I suppose you're right. And I'll find a servant somewhere who can go scoop up old Molton out there. Lydia?”
She was already halfway up the stairs, holding her gown up slightly so that she wouldn't trip. She half-turned on the stairs to look back at him. ”Hmm?” she said, her mind filled with things that had to be done, things that could not be said, the moment when she'd be alone so that she could sit herself down and have a good, cleansing cry.
”You're very brave.”
”No, Tanner, I'm not,” she told him quite sincerely. ”And truth to tell, I don't care for adventure, not even a little bit.”
He laughed, and then winced as his wound finally seemed to give him pain. ”I'll try to remember that next time I'm with you and someone comes at me with a horsewhip. Sometimes, Lydia, a man is left with no choice.”
”No, I suppose not. But now that I've had a moment to consider the thing, I rather believe you enjoyed pummeling the man. Perhaps you only turned your back on him in order to encourage him to violence.”
Tanner shrugged his shoulders. ”Perhaps you're right.”
She directed a long, level look at him, seeing a side of the man she'd never realized existed. A man who had gone to war, had learned the lesson of kill or be killed. An honorable man, yes, but very much a man. And was there anything more dangerous than an honorable man?
She turned and quickly headed up the stairs.
CHAPTER SIX.
TANNER SAT IN HIS STUDY, several velvet-clad boxes of varying sizes spread out on the desktop in front of him. They were all there, all of the pieces he'd brought to town with him, including the emeralds Jasmine had worn last evening, and which she'd returned, as always, the moment they were in his coach.
She'd said the Malvern jewels made her nervous, and she always seemed happy to be shed of each piece, even as she thanked him for allowing her to wear them.
She had told him her only jewelry was a single strand of pearls that had been her mother's, and they were badly discolored because her father didn't trust any of their servants enough to allow them to wear them while they went about their duties, so that the contact of their skin and the oils on that same skin would keep the l.u.s.ter of the pearls bright.
He rubbed at his head after playing Jasmine's words through his mind. Good Lord, the woman could talk the ears off a donkey. But at least he knew that she owned only a single strand of discolored pearls, and that her father mistrusted his servants. For whatever that information was worth.
Had Jasmine told him all of this before they'd left Malvern hall in hopes that he would do just what he'd done...give her the loan of some of a few minor pieces of the Malvern jewels? Or did she just talk because she delighted in the sound of her own voice?
Either way, the pieces were now here, in London, and Justin had seen the emeralds, all but declared them paste.
Tanner looked down at the signet ring he wore on his right hand, the one his father had worn before him, and his father's father before him. He slipped it off, holding it up in front of him, trying to catch some of the morning sunlight. Fas.h.i.+oned of heavy, dark silver, deeply carved, the ring sported a center stone, a moonstone that was reportedly worth a small fortune. Now he wondered if it was real.
He propped his elbows on the desktop and pressed his chin against his folded hands. The move caused the large white bandage on his cheek to pull at him, so that he sat back once more, gingerly touching his fingertips to his cheek.
The cut wasn't as deep as it had been b.l.o.o.d.y, as Molton was as inept with a horsewhip as he was incapable of holding his drink. Most of the blow had been absorbed by Tanner's shoulder, with only the very tip of the whip finding his cheek. And if he was left with a scar it would be a small price to pay for his arrogance and, as Lydia had put the thing so succinctly, his stupidity.
Tanner smiled at the memory of Lydia's civilized outrage, that had almost immediately turned to a cool efficiency that had gotten them all out of the ballroom and into the coach with no one the wiser. What had happened after that, with Molton, he had no idea, nor did he find himself able to care. If the man had any sense at all he would have taken Tanner's advice.
After all, it was either lie, or tell the truth. And as the truth would make the man look an utter a.s.s, Tanner felt fairly confident Justin would never hear what had actually happened out there in the gardens. But, being Justin, and far from a stupid man, he'd put the pieces together soon enough once he saw Tanner's bandage.
Which was why Tanner had spent the majority of the night cudgeling his brain for a way to keep Justin from the shops, the clubs, and any chance he might hear about Molton's injury. He'd sent a note round to Grosvenor Square at first light. Rafe's answer, and agreement, had arrived an hour ago, giving his permission to take Lydia to Malvern Hall for a welcome week's respite from the Season.
”Come,” Tanner said, hearing the sharp, distinctive triple knock on the door that signaled the arrival of Thomas Harburton. He left the velvet boxes where they lay.
He watched as his cousin and estate manager entered the study, his gait hampered by the limp that had resulted from a tumble from a horse three decades earlier. The fall, and the limp, had come to Thomas courtesy of the late duke, who had recklessly crossed his path in pursuit of a fox during one of the famous Malvern hunting parties. That's when the late duke had taken him on as estate manager, to a.s.suage his guilt.
But even guilt would not have held Thomas in the position. Tanner's father must have trusted the man.
Now Tanner looked at him. And wondered.
”I received your note, Your Grace,” Thomas said, wincing slightly as he lowered his considerable bulk into one of the pair of chairs facing the desk, the ring of keys he always wore at his waist jingling almost merrily. ”I've set Jasmine's woman to packing, and we'll be ready to leave tomorrow. I'll be on my way yet today, to prepare Malvern for your welcome. I'm sorry to hear of your accident. I can see why you wouldn't wish to be seen in public with that bandage.” He narrowed his watery blue eyes and tipped his head as he looked at the large white square stuck to Tanner's face. ”I thought people wore those cages on their faces when they fenced. And little b.a.l.l.s stuck to the tips of the swords?”
”It was an impromptu match, and I may have been a little deeper in my cups than I'd imagined,” Tanner lied easily, and then turned to another subject. ”I don't wish to leave the Malvern jewelry in town while I'm gone. Is this the lot of it, Thomas?”
The estate manager leaned forward on the chair and began picking up the cases, opening them one after the other, before sitting back with another grunt. ”Six pieces, yes. Jasmine won't hear of keeping any of them with us. Makes her nervous, you know. Pity to uproot the child from all the gaiety, don't you think? But not a problem, not at all. I mean, you'll only be gone the week. Unless you're planning on a more intimate atmosphere?”
Tanner ignored the man's not-well-veiled suggestion. ”You know, on second thought, perhaps I should take this opportunity to have these pieces at least taken to my jeweler's. For cleaning, you understand, and to be sure none of the stones are loose.”
”I can arrange that for you, Your Grace,” Harburton said, not so much as a blink betraying any nervousness in the man.
So Tanner pushed a little harder.
”Thank you, Thomas. But I'd much prefer to do it myself. And, as I recall, Jasmine's birthday is next month. Perhaps I'll see some little bauble that might serve as a present.”
Harburton merely shrugged, as if he didn't much care either way who delivered the jewelry to Bond Street. ”One and twenty she'll be,” he said, a whiff of righteous indignation entering his tone. ”Could have given you a pair of heirs by now. Your father made it very clear, Your Grace, what his wishes were in the matter.”
”Thomas-”
”Such a pretty girl, if a little silly, but getting long in the tooth, you know. And n.o.body else daring to come near her, thanks to everyone thinking you'll be declaring yourself any day now. Putting those jewels around her neck is as good as a notice in the Times, that's what I say.”
”Yes, Thomas, I know what you say, have said quite repeatedly,” Tanner said. ”Now, if you'll excuse me...”
The estate manager got to his feet, pressing his hands hard against the arms of the chair and wincing as he stood. ”Dog in the manger, that's what they call it, you know. Won't have her, won't let anyone else have her. Your can turn me off, Your Grace, your own cousin who stood at your father's side, Lord rest his soul, for more years than I can count. Stood as well as I could, that is, with this messed-up hip I got no thanks to him. He wanted you with my Jasmine, to atone for his guilt, as I see it. d.a.m.n near his last words. He owed me, Your Grace, and he knew it. And so do you.”
Tanner looked up at the man, his expression blank. ”Are you quite through, Thomas?”
Harburton's face split in a wide smile. ”Now, now, you know how I can be when my hip is paining me. d.a.m.ned weather, more often raining than not. Don't you pay me any mind, Your Grace. Just a loving papa, worrying over his one lone chick. You want to take my Jasmine home, then that's where we'll be going. Do you both good, spending time together.”