Three Weeks With Lady X(46)

At least, that would be India's summation.

"I cannot approve of the way Lady Rainsford talks about her own  daughter," Adelaide said to India after everyone else had escaped the  table, leaving the two of them. They had all fled back to the drawing  room except Thorn, who had taken himself off somewhere, and Lala, who  had missed the meal.

Lady Rainsford had made a point of instructing Fleming not to bring her  daughter a plate in her room, saying with a laugh that Lala's hips were  large enough.

"I can't stand her," India said fiercely. "My mother wasn't perfect when  it came to nurturing, Adelaide, but at least she never tried to eat her  young."

"You're exaggerating," Adelaide said. "Somewhat."

"Poor Lala wasn't even in the room to defend herself, and her mother as  good as told us that she was eating them out of house and home!"

"Extremely unkind."

"And she said that Mrs. Peters, who everyone knows is grieving the death  of her little girl, was being maudlin merely because she wears black  and wept on the street."

"That was not compassionate," Adelaide agreed. "I also do not like the way that she looks at you, dear."

"She's decided that I'm a hussy," India said, not caring at all. Lady  Rainsford was right. She'd done naughty things-in a hammock, and in a  gatehouse. But rather than being shamed, she felt proud of herself.

"I shall have to have a word with her," Adelaide said. "She has  single-handedly ruined several reputations, and I'm quite sure she's  noticed that Thorn is in love with you."

"What?"

"Well, he is, darling. As is Lord Brody. Poor Lala doesn't stand a chance, which may be behind her mother's irritation."

"You are entirely mistaken," India told her. "Thorn has every intention of marrying Lala."

"Reluctantly, I have to agree. I had no idea that Lala was in such  desperate straits at home," Adelaide said. "I know Mr. Dautry prides  himself on his lack of gentlemanly characteristics. But in fact, I would  judge him one of the most gentlemanly men I've had the pleasure to  meet."

"I agree."

"Therefore, he will marry Lala, because it is the most honorable thing  to do. And you, my dear, will be very happy with Lord Brody."

India swallowed hard. "Of course."

"I suspect that Lala and Thorn will not be as happy together. Yet I  worry not about them, but about you. This situation is why society puts  strictures on people's behavior."

Her godmother drew India to a halt. Everyone had entered the drawing  room before them, and the corridor was empty. "A woman gives away her  heart along with her virtue," Adelaide said softly. "A man does not.  Society's strictures protect women's hearts as well as their  reputations."

Apparently, India's fluffy, affectionate godmother grasped a good deal  more than she let on. With a kiss Adelaide disappeared into the drawing  room, leaving India staring at the wall.

Surely Adelaide was wrong about Thorn's marriage to Lala. His childhood  had been awful, and he needed sweetness in his life. It wasn't as if  India could give that to him herself. She didn't have a kind, forgiving  nature like Lala's-obviously, since she was still furious at her parents  for their neglect and abandonment.

And yet she wanted Thorn to choose her, rather than Lala. It wasn't just  his body, or the way they made love. It was the brilliant way he  invented things such as the India rubber band, merely because he had  bought an ailing factory and needed to save the jobs of twenty-six men.

It was even the way he had seen who Lala was, when the rest of them-the  whole ton-had ignored her. He'd realized that Lala was bright, and that  she needed rescuing.

India couldn't even put into words the way he was with Rose. It was as  if he'd walked straight into being Rose's father, and the little girl  would never know how lucky she was to have had two fathers who loved  her, protected her, and treasured her.

India almost groaned aloud. Adelaide was right. She had forgotten to guard her heart.

It seemed she'd given it away, without noticing.





Chapter Twenty-seven

That evening at dinner, Vander lavished attention on India, but she  couldn't bring herself to care. She felt listless, as if the world was  hurtling on without her. Probably she'd end up married to Vander. And  Thorn would marry Lala.                       
       
           



       

Obviously, he hadn't spent the afternoon at his factory, not given the  way Lala looked. He must have spent the afternoon with her, and never  mind the fact that she was supposedly confined to her room with a  headache.

Right now Lala was sitting at the dining table, rosy and glowing . . .  Did she really think that they wouldn't notice the love bite on her  neck? Lala had tucked a fichu into the bodice of her gown, but India  wasn't stupid. She could recognize a woman who had spent the afternoon  kissing.

Or more.

The worst was that India felt like such a light-skirt, as Adelaide would  call it. A slut, to use a baser term. Thorn had spent the afternoon  seducing another woman, and she still wanted him.

Luckily, this evening he wasn't seated beside her; he was at the head of  the table, and she was quite a bit farther down. So far away that she  dared to look at him under her lashes.

She kept meeting his eyes, which was embarrassing. But every time, a  stab of lust would go through her and she would shift in her chair, her  legs restless. Mortifyingly, he caught her doing it. He knew what she  was feeling.

Once he actually laughed aloud after their eyes met, which made her mind reel.

Men were incredible. How could he look at her in that way, after  spending the afternoon with Lala? You only had to look at her to know  that she was in a happy daze, that she felt loved and appreciated.

India narrowed her eyes at him and then looked to her right, at Vander.

"Are you sparring with Thorn?" Vander asked.

"Absolutely not," India said, taking a swallow of wine. "Though if I  could, I would spar with him for having disappeared for hours. It's  hardly the conduct of a good host."

Vander's eyes rested thoughtfully on Lala, and India's stomach pitched.  Of course everyone guessed where their host had been, or at least, what  he had been doing.

"I believe we may be thinking the same thing," she said, summoning a smile.

"And that would be?"

"I expect Thorn has asked Lala to be his wife," she breathed. "Just look  at her." Lala was absentmindedly lining up her silverware, a little  smile playing around her mouth.

"I'm not convinced," Vander said, his eyes going to Thorn.

"She has a mark on her neck."

Vander looked back at India, one side of his mouth quirked up, and she  felt herself blushing. She probably shouldn't even know about love  bites. "She does look happy," he agreed.

Lord Brody was handsome. And he wasn't baseborn either, though she  didn't give a damn about that. Still, other people did. If her parents  were still alive, and if they had cared about such things, they would  have preferred she marry Vander.

He even smelled good, like wind with a touch of rain, probably because he spent most of his time on a horse.

She made up her mind. She would not humiliate herself by making calf's  eyes at a man who was marrying another woman. Vander was handsome and  strong and perfect. She smiled at him. The big smile, the one that Thorn  hated.

Vander didn't hate it. He smiled back, and his eyes crinkled at the  corners in an entirely attractive way. India reached out blindly, picked  up her wineglass again, and began to ask Vander about his stables.

She did not look again at the end of the table. She kept her shoulder  turned, as a matter of fact. She held on to her dignity with all the  strength she had, and she lavished smiles on Vander.

He was her future, and Lala was Thorn's future, and that was that.

When Eleanor rose, all the ladies rose with her, and the room hummed  with quiet chatter and the swish of gowns brushing the marble floor.  "The ladies will join me for tea in the small drawing room," Eleanor  said.

India had designed it for precisely this purpose. It was a beautiful,  feminine space, with clusters of settees and even a game table in the  event that someone wanted to play piquet.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Eleanor said cheerfully, taking Adelaide's  arm and ignoring the way Lady Rainsford was hovering, indicating that  she would like to stroll beside the duchess.

India stopped to have a chat with Fleming, who revealed that there  hadn't been quite enough soup spoons, and that the second downstairs  maid had tripped on the back stairs and sprained her ankle.

"She's a bit clumsy."

"She'll improve," India said.

Thorn appeared at Fleming's shoulder and said, "What in the hell are the two of you discussing?"

Just like that, India's heart sped up and began beating loudly in her  ears. He was cross again, but that wasn't what made her pulse race; it  was the pure maleness that blazed out of him, even standing as he was in  the shadowy corridor, half hidden by his butler.