Beneath the Major's Scars(41)

‘Zelah.’ Timothy Lerryn was beside her. ‘You need not look     daggers at me,’ he muttered savagely. ‘I have already been warned not to     importune you.’

‘Then there is no reason why we should not be civil to one     another.’

‘Will you dance with me?’

‘Thank you, I would rather not.’

His face darkened. They were surrounded by people and she did     not wish to quarrel openly with him. She said pointedly, ‘My sister tells me     your wife is expecting a happy event soon. That must be cause for     celebration.’

‘Yes. Thank you. It will be our third child.’ His smile     remained, but there was a spiteful note in his voice as he added, ‘My wife     breeds like a sow. We expect no still births in our     family.’

Zelah’s hands went immediately to her stomach, as if to protect     herself from the cruel blow. Feeling sick and disgusted, she turned away,     grateful to hear her brother-in-law’s cheerful voice close at hand.

‘There you are, my dear. Maria is not yet downstairs so I shall     carry you off to dance in her stead.’

‘I’ll dance with you, Reginald, with pleasure!’ Zelah accepted     with alacrity and went off, determined to forget Timothy Lerryn.



Despite his duties as host, Dominic found his eyes drawn     constantly to Zelah. He watched her dance with her brother-in-law, then Colonel     Deakin led her out, and finally Jasper.

Dominic watched his brother taking Zelah down the dance. How     had he ever thought her an insignificant little thing? She was the most elegant     woman in the room. Her only ornament was the string of fine pearls around her     neck, but she outshone the other ladies with their flashing jewels. He was     standing beside Lady Andrews, who saw his concentrated gaze and gave a little     chuckle.

‘Lord Markham appears quite taken with young Miss Pentewan. I     am not well acquainted with her, but she seems a pleasant, well-mannered gel.’     There was a pause. ‘She is employed here, I understand, as your archivist?’

‘That is correct, ma’am.’

‘How unusual. And, may I say, very daring.’

‘Oh?’ He frowned. ‘How is that? Why do you call it daring?’

Lady Andrews fluttered her fan nervously. ‘Oh well, perhaps I     am old-fashioned,’ she tittered. ‘Sir Arthur says he sees no objection, but to     have an unmarried lady employed in a bachelor’s establishment...’

‘I have several housemaids working here. They are unmarried—do     you consider them at risk, too?’ he countered bluntly.

‘Oh, no, no, Major, of course not—’ She broke off, flustered,     then gathered herself and came back to say brightly, ‘And you have your sister     staying here, so there can be no objection, can there?’

Dominic forced himself to smile before he moved away. He had     known from the outset there would be gossip, but he had ignored the voice of     caution and hired the girl, wanting only to help her. He had thought only the     meanest of tabbies would consider there was anything improper in the situation.     After all, she did not live at Rooks Tower and he had a house full of female     servants, so there should be no question of impropriety. Yet if he was honest     with himself, Dominic knew that he had failed to keep a proper distance between     himself and his employee. By God, if anyone found out he had kissed her! He knew     his world, it fed upon sordid intrigue and gossip—that was the reason he had     refused to give her a reference: the more glowing his recommendation, the     greater the belief that she was his mistress.

Dominic nodded to one acquaintance, threw a brief word to     another, but continued to move through the crowd, his thoughts distracted. Hell     and damnation, he had no wish to ruin the chit. The work in the library was all     but complete now. He would end her employment before Sally left Rooks Tower.





Chapter Thirteen

Dancing with Lord Markham set the seal on Zelah’s success at the     ball. After that there was no shortage of young gentlemen begging for the     pleasure of leading her out. She whirled from one partner to the next in a heady     round of gaiety, but her enjoyment was cut short when she left the floor at the     end of one dance to find her way blocked by Timothy Lerryn. He bowed elegantly     and held out his hand.

‘Dance with me once,’ he coaxed her. ‘For old time’s sake.’

There was no escape. The matrons on the nearby benches were all     smiling and nodding encouragement, pleased to see the young people so enjoying     themselves.

She could declare that she would dance no more that evening,     but Dominic had not yet asked her to dance, and she desperately hoped he would     do so before the end of the ball. Putting up her chin, she gave Timothy a     challenging look. ‘One dance,’ she told him. ‘No more.’

Triumph gleamed in his eyes as he led her back to the floor.     While they waited for the other couples to take their place in the set he leaned     towards her.

‘Have I told you how well you are looking tonight, my dear?     Quite beautiful.’

She ignored his compliment and returned only short answers to     his remarks as they went down the dance, impatient for the ordeal to end. But     even when she made him a final curtsy he took her hand and placed it on his     arm.

‘You sister and her husband are over there, I shall escort you     to them.’

Zelah merely inclined her head, keeping as much distance as she     could between them. A moment later he spoke again.

‘By heaven.’ He raised his quizzing glass. ‘Who is that fellow     in the lime-green coat, talking to Buckland?’

Zelah shifted her gaze. Reginald was standing beside Maria’s     chair, looking very much like a terrier guarding a bone.

‘That is Sir Oswald Evanshaw.’

Even as they watched, Maria rose from her chair and Reginald     swept her off towards the door.

‘Well, well, they have cut him dead!’ He stopped. ‘No point in     taking you over there now, your sister and brother have gone off to the supper     room, I suppose. So what do you say to one more dance?’

‘No.’ She tried to pull her hand free. ‘Release me, if you     please.’

‘If you will not dance, then I shall escort you in to     supper.’

She could smell the brandy on his breath as he leaned closer.     She tugged again at her hand. ‘Let me go,’ she hissed. ‘You have been     warned.’

He leered at her, a reckless look in his eyes. ‘Coale can do     nothing to me if you come with me willingly.’

‘But the lady does not want your company.’ With relief she     heard Dominic’s voice behind her. ‘I suggest you leave now, Mr Lerryn.’

Dominic spoke very softly, but there was no mistaking the     menace in his tone.

Lerryn glared at him for a moment, his jaw working, then he     flung himself away, shouldering his way through the crowd.

Zelah closed her eyes and released a long, grateful sigh.     ‘Thank you.’ She put out her hand and he took it in a warm, reassuring grip.

‘I did not expect him to stay so long. His attachment to you     must be stronger than you thought.’

She shuddered. ‘His attachment is nothing more than pique, the     desire to have the unobtainable.’

‘We are all guilty of that,’ muttered Dominic. He pulled her     hand on to his sleeve. ‘Come. Let us go to supper. My sister is waiting for you     there.’



Timothy Lerryn lounged out of the salon. Damn the chit,     who was she to set herself up against him? He would show her! He had half a mind     to tell her story now, to anyone who would listen. But his brain was not so     befuddled that he had forgotten Major Coale’s quiet threats when he had arrived.     They had been issued in a cold, matter-of-fact tone that was much more effective     than any blustering arguments and he did not doubt that if word of Zelah’s past     got out the major would indeed hunt him down and ruin him. Well, the slut was     not worth the risk. Seething with frustration he set off across the great     hall.

He had almost reached the door when a flash of bright green     caught his eye and another idea came into his sly brain. He stopped, stepping     back and across to put himself in the way of his quarry.