Beneath the Major's Scars(52)

‘I?’ He spoke with all the ease and nonchalance he could     muster. ‘Good God, man, what makes you think that? No, I merely want her to be     happy. Go to it, Jasper, and I wish you every success. She is indeed a     diamond.’

‘Thank you, Brother!’ Jasper reached across to slap his     shoulder. ‘Do you know, I think I should put it to the touch today, before I     lose my nerve. Mrs Buckland invited us to take pot luck at any time, did she     not? Very well, then, I’ll ride over there now. Pray make my excuses to     everyone—if I am in luck then I will not be back for dinner.’

Dom found it more and more difficult to maintain his smile. He     managed a nod. ‘Aye, go on then. Take your lovesick sighs to West Barton and     leave me in peace!’



Dominic took out his watch. Nine o’clock and no sign of     Jasper. The faint, barely acknowledged hope that Zelah would refuse him had     finally died. How he had managed to get through dinner without his guests     realising that he was totally preoccupied was a mystery. He remembered nothing     of the meal, prepared by the London chef Sally had sent down to relieve Mrs     Graddon, but as soon as the ladies had withdrawn he excused himself from the     table. It had not taken long for the events of the past two days to become known     to his guests. They were being discussed at Rooks Tower even before Dominic     returned, so his male friends and relatives were happy to send him off,     declaring he must be exhausted after his heroic efforts.

Dominic was tired, but he did not     go to his bedchamber. Instead he had come here, to the tower room, where the     last flare of the setting sun beamed in through the windows and bathed     everything in a rosy-golden light. Now even that was gone, replaced by grey     twilight that robbed even the bed’s garish cover of its colour. It was just as     she had left it, the books and ledgers on the desk beside the inkwell and the     freshly trimmed pens. As orderly and neat as the woman herself. He heard a light     scratching on the door and Graddon entered.

‘I thought you might like some refreshment, sir.’ He brought in     a tray laden with glasses, decanters and water plus a lighted taper.

‘No.’ Dominic stopped him after he had touched the taper to     only two candles. ‘Leave them. And make sure I am not disturbed again!’

His rough tone earned him an affronted look from the butler,     but without a word Graddon left the room, closing the door carefully behind     him.

Impatiently Dominic pushed his fingers through his hair. It was     unreasonable of him to vent his ill humour on a servant, especially one as loyal     as Graddon. He unstoppered the brandy and poured himself a generous measure. He     would have to beg his pardon, of course, but he could do that tomorrow, when     hopefully this black cloud would have lifted from his spirits.

Dominic carried his brandy over to the window, warming the     glass between his hands before tasting it. He could get riotously drunk. That     would bring him some measure of relief, but he would pay for it in the morning,     and so would his guests, if he was surly and uncommunicative. Damn his sense of     duty that obliged him to act the perfect host. He put his arm against the window     and rested his forehead on his sleeve.

It was that same sense of duty that made him hold back from     informing Jasper of Zelah’s past. She had told him in confidence and he thought     it likely that she would tell Jasper, too—he understood his twin well enough to     know that the story of her seduction and the lost baby would elicit nothing but     sympathy, but if she chose not to do so, he would not expose her. And what of     his own connection with Zelah, the kisses, the passion that had threatened to     overwhelm them? Would she tell Jasper of those? He guessed not. She was too     honourable, too generous to want to cause a rift between brothers. And if she     could put those precious moments behind her, then he could too. He would do     nothing to spoil her happiness.

A movement on the drive caught his attention. There were     shadows on the lawn, two riders approaching the house. Even in the dim light     there was no mistaking them. As he watched they looked up at the tower. Dominic     jumped back, cursing. What in hell’s name was Jasper doing, bringing Zelah to     Rooks Tower? It was late—did he mean to make sure of her tonight? Could he not     wait until they had exchanged their vows before he took her to his bed? Dominic     dragged the chair over to the side table and threw himself down, reaching for     the brandy. Let them do what they wished, Zelah Pentewan was no longer any     concern of his.

He leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs,     wondering how soon it would be safe to cross the great hall to his study. He had     no wish to see Zelah. Would Jasper take her into the drawing room where family     and friends would be gathered now, or would he take her straight to his     room?

He shook his head to dispel the unwelcome images that thought     brought forth. He heard a soft knock and turned towards the door, snarling,     ‘Damn you, Graddon, I told you not to come back tonight!’

‘I do not recall you doing so.’ Zelah stepped into the room,     unperturbed by his ill humour. With a smothered oath he jumped to his feet,     sending the chair crashing behind him.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I saw the light and came to find you.’

‘Well, now you have found me you can take yourself off     again!’

‘You are not very polite, sir.’ She came closer, stripping off     her gloves.

‘I don’t feel very polite,’ he retorted. ‘If you want me to     bestow my blessing upon the match, I will do so tomorrow.’

‘If you wish.’ She pointed to the decanters. ‘Is that Madeira?     Perhaps I could have a small glass? I have had quite an exhausting day.’

He scowled, but automatically filled a glass for her. ‘You     should not be here.’

She took the glass from him, her clear eyes upon his face. ‘Why     should I not? I have quite come to look upon this room as my own.’

He concentrated on refilling his own glass and deliberately     avoided looking at her. ‘You will soon have much bigger properties than this at     your disposal.’

‘Ah. You mean when I am Viscountess Markham.’

She moved closer, so near he could have reached out and     embraced her. He had to force himself not to do so.

‘Jasper is very rich, isn’t he?’ she said, sipping at her     Madeira.

‘Exceedingly.’

‘Handsome, too, and charming.’

‘Yes.’ Dominic ground his teeth. Damn him. He took a mouthful     of brandy, impatient for the powerful spirit to begin clouding his brain.

‘I turned him down.’

Dominic choked. Carefully he put down his glass. Zelah put hers     beside it.

‘I am very sorry to hear that,’ he said cautiously.

‘Are you?’

‘Of course. He could give you everything your heart     desires.’

She shook her head. ‘No, that is not possible. You see, I do     not love him.’

‘If you are still pining for Lerryn, then you are a fool,’ he     said bluntly.

She waved her hand impatiently. ‘No, of course I am not. Oh,     Dominic, you are so, so dull-witted tonight!’

‘Well, I, too, have had a difficult day. Give Jasper time to     win your heart. You will come to see that there is not a better man in     England—’

‘That may be true. Jasper is very charming and I was very sorry     to cause him pain, but I am not the woman to make him happy, and he is not the     man for me. He is not you.’ She stepped up to him and raised her hand to caress     his left cheek, her palm cradling the scarred tissue. ‘There is only one man who     has ever held my heart,’ she said softly, her eyes shining into his and filling     his soul with light. ‘Only one man that I could imagine spending the rest of my     life with, and that is you, Dominic.’

There. She had said it.

‘And what of Jasper? How did he take your refusal?’

‘Like the true gentleman he is. I do not think he is truly     heartbroken, but even if that was the case, I could not act differently.’