How to Wed a Baron Part 16

"Alina, for the love of G.o.d-"

"No, Justin. Either you find a way to a.s.suage the Inhaber and your Prince Regent and make both of us safe here, or I refuse to be safe and you dead. I won't have it."

"You won't have it?"

For a handsome man, he could look very silly, what with his eyes all wide like that and his neck turning a deep red above his pristine white neckcloth.

Suddenly she felt very brave.

"No, Justin, I won't. You're so intent on how terrible you are, and on being some sort of martyr or atoning for past sins, or whatever you think it is you're doing, and I am thoroughly out of patience with you. So, no, I won't do it. If you're going to save my honor or whatever such ridiculousness you've been spouting, then you'll simply have to find another way. Because I will not marry a dead man!"

Then, because brave wasn't the same as fearless, she stood, turned on her heels and ran out of the conservatory, on the hunt for Nicole and Lydia, who would surely hide her until Justin no longer looked as if he'd explode at any moment.

She certainly hoped those two wonderful women would be able to come up with some sort of miraculous ideas as to what they could all do next, because, after having knocked Justin back on his heels, Alina had completely run out of ideas.

And he still hadn't kissed her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE FOLLOWING EVENING, after a dinner attended only by the three gentlemen, Justin stood at the opened window of his bedchamber as fading sunlight turned the evening to a misty portrait of muted colors and soft outlines, and looked down into the garden three stories below.

Alina was walking there with the marchioness and the d.u.c.h.ess, and the three of them had their heads together like true conspirators. It had been the sound of their conversation wafting up to him that had drawn him, and now he was too fascinated to turn away. They reminded him of three beautiful, perfect flowers, dressed in their gowns of yellow, pale green and softest rose, rivaling any blooms in the gardens.

They'd been constant companions, taking their meals together, shunning male company, and all with the excuse that Alina was not quite well...although, oh no, not ill enough to have the doctor sent for. She'll be fine, they said. We're simply bearing her company.

And Tanner and Lucas seemed to have swallowed this story whole. Either that, or they were better at subterfuge than he'd formerly have given either of them credit for possessing, and were both in whatever plot was going forward up to their starched cravats, and knew more than they were saying.

Had she told the women why she and he were at odds? Had she told them everything?

Of course she had. Who else did she have to talk to, if not Lydia and Nicole? Surely not her companion, she of the "uncontrolled l.u.s.t at the drop of a hat." Look where that particular conversation had led them!

No wonder he was in so much trouble. He was only a man, for all his supposed sophistication and talents. What man had ever outcomplicated a woman?

And no wonder she had refused to come down to dinner last night, and turned away the notes he'd sent to her bedchamber. Headache be d.a.m.ned-she simply was refusing to see him while she and the ladies made their plans.

Plans that had to include his downfall, that was certain. He could only guess at how much he was intended to suffer before that downfall.

He'd told Alina he couldn't marry her-for very reasonable reasons-and she'd fought him. He'd told her they had to marry-again, for exceedingly reasonable reasons-and she'd thrown his offer back in his face.

Now, most probably on the advice of two women he would have otherwise thought of as perfectly intelligent human beings, she wouldn't speak with him at all.

He had become so frustrated with his inability to find a way to circ.u.mvent the ladies and see Alina that he'd actually appealed to Tanner and Lucas for their help.

The next time he considered going to his friends for their advice, he'd have to grab up several bottles of wine, lock himself in a cabinet and drink until he'd overcome the impulse.

"The great Justin Wilde, flummoxed by a slip of a girl?" Tanner had looked at him in feigned astonishment. "The same man who could so coldly and calmly threaten the life of the Prince Regent can't so much as say boo to that sweet girl who my wife tells me is so young and innocent it's nearly painful? It's lowering, Justin, I have to tell you. I've lost all faith in you. But I bow to my wife's wisdom on this. Sorry."

Lucas Paine had been even less help. "Lydia sees young and innocent, but my wife sees independent and determined. As Nicole is more than generously gifted with both attributes herself, I believe I'll take her at her word. My advice? Well, actually, I don't have any. I rather enjoy Nicole the way she is."

Justin took a sip of his wine and looked down into the garden again. Now they were laughing. Laughing! The Inhaber was still out there; Alina knew the man wanted her dead. Justin still couldn't be certain he wouldn't be locked up in chains for having threatened the Prince Regent, or if his pardon had been revoked, three charges of murder were soon to be placed at the feet of this same man who was to become her husband, except that she'd refused him-and she was laughing?

He hated war. But, d.a.m.n it all to blazes, war between men was reasonably straightforward, even in his job of spy and a.s.sa.s.sin; both sides had them. War between a man and a woman had no rules, or at least none the men were informed about by the women, who also seemed to possess all the weapons.

Without consciously searching out the memory, he was suddenly reminded of one of his least-favorite schoolboy lessons, his a.s.signed reading of Aristophanes' Lysistrata. But surely the women weren't plotting to withhold their...favors from the men until this small "war" was settled. Were they?

If so, he could probably expect a visit from Tanner and Lucas in his very near and unpleasant future. At least then perhaps they wouldn't be so d.a.m.ned jolly!

Ah, they were moving on, the ladies on the stroll. At least Alina had moved on, rather aimlessly walking ahead of the other two down the path toward the large hedge maze Lucas had told him was more than two hundred years old.

Wait a moment. Did Nicole just take a quick peek up at his open window? Had she seen him standing there, gawking like a fool?

He leaned closer to the sill.

Now she was whispering in Lydia's ear and pulling rather inelegantly on her sister's arm when her sister began to turn her head, probably to also look up at the window.

He could imagine the whispered conversation: He's up there, poor lovesick fool, watching us. Shh, don't let Alina hear us.

He's up where, Nicole? Let me- No! Don't look, don't turn around!

"From this evidence, my lord Wilde," Justin intoned in mock gravity of purpose, "it may be reasonably deduced that you do not remain un.o.bserved." A niggling thought knocked on the back of his mind, one that was calling out helpfully: You've completely lost control of what's left of your wits. You do know that, don't you?

What followed below him was a pantomime wherein Nicole crossed her arms and seemed to s.h.i.+ver in the cool, early evening air, Lydia nodded her head in agreement before taking a few steps toward Alina's departing back and saying a few words, Alina resuming her walk toward the maze, Lydia and Nicole turning to head for the steps to the terrace-obviously to fetch shawls-and Nicole hanging back as her sister mounted the steps, looking up at Justin's window, putting her fists rather belligerently on her hips, tilting her head, and then finally throwing her arms wide as if to say, "Well, what are you waiting for?" before disappearing out of sight.

Justin scribbled a mental note to himself to be extremely nice to Lucas Paine; the man must really have his hands full. Although he'd said he rather liked Nicole the way she was. And Tanner seemed to be more than content with Lydia, which made perfect sense to Justin, as he'd been half in love with the lady herself before it became clear that she had eyes only for his friend.

Now he knew why he had been drawn to Lydia. It was because he would have been half in love with Nicole as well, if he'd met her before now.

Alina was a delicious mix of the two wives of his friends, and possibly with a touch of the gracious and intelligent Charlotte Daughtry thrown in for good measure, for Alina certainly seemed to like managing people, a thought that pleased him even as that small voice knocking on the back of his brain told him that he had only one option open to him now that he fully understood what lay in front of him. Surrender. Complete and total surrender.

His.

"Wigglesworth?" He called out, turning from the window. "Fetch me a blanket."

The valet hurried into the bedchamber from wherever he'd been lurking, awaiting his master's next request, looking splendidly outlandish in his satins and refreshed wig. "A blanket, my lord? Goodness, who opened that window? Have you taken a chill? I have something in my case for that, a mixture one of the Romany ladies was kind enough to press on me for the paltry sum of threepence when I-"

"Never mind, Wigglesworth." Justin cut him off impatiently, striding to the large bed and stripping off the heavy tapestry-like coverlet. He wound it around and around as he walked to the open window. Then he tossed the probably priceless bit of silk down onto the flagstones below.

"My lord! That...that was Flemish, sir, and now most probably ruined.... I think I feel faint."

"Not yet, Wigglesworth," Justin warned him as he dealt with his evening jacket, removing it with some effort as it had been tailored to fit him within an inch, before tossing it in the valet's general direction. "You will oblige me by withholding your apoplexy until after you have found Brutus and told him to station himself at the entrance to the maze, barring the way to anyone who might dare to enter, including the master of this house. Understood?"

"The...the maze, my lord?"

"I believe that's what I directed, yes," Justin said as he stripped off his neckcloth and opened the top b.u.t.ton of his s.h.i.+rt.

"If his lords.h.i.+p is perhaps warm..."

"I'm not stripping to the buff, Wigglesworth. I'm merely..." He stopped himself before he said stripping for battle. "Now go, man, do what I've asked. No! Wait! The servant stairs, Wigglesworth. They lead down to the kitchens and the rear of the house, yes? Show me where they're located in this hulking pile of a place, because I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm using the main staircase and giving them all a show as they watch from the main salon, which I'm sure they're all already doing."

"My lord," Wigglesworth lamented, wringing his hands and clearly on the verge of tears. "I am aware, we are all aware, that you have been placed under a considerable strain these past-"

"You have three seconds to do as I'm asking, man, or that wig gets stuffed in the chamber pot. I haven't yet decided if you'll still be wearing it when that happens."

Not quite a full minute later, Justin stepped out of the back door he'd been led to by a clearly terrified kitchen maid. It was short work to locate the coverlet-it was d.a.m.ned large and twice as heavy; he might have chosen better-fold it as best he could and then toss it over his shoulder as he took off for the path leading to the maze.

There would be a moon soon, but for now the night was still caught between dusk and dark, and it was easy for him to navigate the twisting brick path. He hefted the coverlet when it began slipping from his shoulder. It was only moderately cool now, but he was prepared for an evening chill. It wasn't her emerald and ermine-tipped cloak in front of the fireplace at the inn, or the bright skirts and petticoats of her Romany clothes on the bank of the stream, but a priceless Flemish silk coverlet would serve the purpose.

Someday he really ought to try taking Alina to his bed. If, when the mess was finally over, he still possessed one.

He hastened his step.

As he did not encounter Alina along the way, it was obvious to him that he'd been correct in his a.s.sumption-the twins had directed her to enter the maze without them, as they went back to the house for shawls, or lanterns, or both.

Brutus wasn't at the entrance to the hedge maze when Justin reached it, but he knew he could rely on the man to do what he was told. The precisely trimmed ten-foot-high hedge would do the rest.

Justin plunged into the maze with more haste than knowledge of the twists and turns of the thing, and a frustrating five minutes later he knew himself to be hopelessly lost. Thanks to the height of the hedges, he couldn't even see the estate house in order to regain his bearings.

"From Paris to Warsaw in the dead of winter, without a map, and while being pursued by a full French company, and you found your way," he grumbled to himself. "And now, when it's even more important, you let a d.a.m.n fool hedge defeat you?"

"Justin?"

He turned about in a full circle, but he was still alone on the path. "Alina?"

"Justin. It is you. What are you doing out here?"

He turned to his left, sure the voice had come from the other side of the hedge. "Getting myself lost, apparently. Where are you?"

"Lost," she said, her voice sounding small. "I studied the map earlier, and thought I knew the key, but I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I wanted to surprise Lydia and Nicole by making my way to the gazebo in the center of this dratted thing before they returned. Now, again, what are you doing here? I'm not speaking to you, you know."

"On orders from les jumeaux terribles, I imagine. The terrible twins. Although I am, for the moment, in charity with them both. Unless we never find our way out of here, that is, and have to be rescued, which would force me to reconsider my current sympathetic feelings for the women who have told you to avoid me."

"They...they sent you after me? Have you come to apologize?"

"Certainly," he said, trying to peer through the dense hedge, but to no avail. He'd give his best curricle for a sharp sword at the moment. "For trying not to embroil you in my sad and sorry life via matrimony, for pointing out the logic of temporarily aligning you matrimonially with that same complicated-and, as it happens, probably temporary-life, I most humbly apologize. For shunting you from pillar to post these past days, for depriving you of your wardrobe and your caravan, I beg your pardon. Whatever you might wish me to apologize for, consider me figuratively at your feet, begging forgiveness. I will not, however, make the same mistake as I did yesterday. I will not apologize for taking your virginity. I do try not to make the same blunder twice."

He waited, but she didn't answer him.

"Alina? Alina!"

"I...I remembered where I made the incorrect turn," she said from behind him, and he turned about sharply to see her standing only a short ten paces behind him. "You were saying something? I followed the sound of your voice, but I'm afraid I couldn't make out your words."

G.o.d. How beautiful she was.

"It doesn't matter," he told her quietly, careful not to move, because he couldn't know if she'd turn and run off again, like some woodland sprite, leaving him lost again, not in the maze-the devil take the maze-just simply lost. "I was, in my own insufferable and fairly self-serving way, trying to tell you I'm sorry. And I am, Alina. I'm so, so sorry I've hurt you. That was never my intention."

She took two small steps toward him. "What on earth is that great lump hanging over your shoulder?"

He looked to the coverlet as if he'd forgotten it was there. "This? I think this is called, in the vernacular, a good idea at the time I first had it. Now I feel like an idiot. A presuming idiot at that. In reality, it's...it's, um, the coverlet from my bed. I rolled it up and threw it out the window."

A slow smile began on Alina's face and put an unholy twinkle in her eyes. "You really are the Bad Baron, aren't you? Well, I suppose it is your turn."

"My turn for what?" he asked as she took his hand and led him back the way she'd come. Her hand was so small in his. Amazing how it was large enough to hold all of his heart.

"Your turn to seduce me. You did come out here planning to seduce me, Justin, didn't you?"

"I could lie and say no, but the coverlet rather gives me away, doesn't it? I can remember a time I believed I was successfully subtle in advancing my interests."

She grinned up at him. "I don't believe I knew you then. That must have been a long time ago."

"Touche, kitten. Every time I attempt to tell myself I'm too aged for you, you turn me into the rawest of green youths. May I ask where we're going?"

"To the gazebo, now that I remember the way. Can I a.s.sume we won't be disturbed?"

They turned yet another corner, which was when, in the increasing dark, he finally saw the small square metal marker at the side of the path. The one with an engraved M on top and an arrow pointing forward on its side. He pulled on her hand, halting her as he then looked to his right, toward a second small square metal marker, this one with an H on top and an arrow pointing in the opposite direction on its side.

He remembered the sight below his window. The three women, lingering there, when there were at least several dozen other places they could have stopped to have their conversation. The laughter, sure to rise up to his open window, the only open window out of the half dozen in the chamber, the one Wigglesworth (a man incapable of intrigue; witness his recent incognito-ness) hadn't opened because he was surprised to see that it wasn't shut. The easy way Alina had gone off on her own rather than returning to the house with the other two...connivers.

d.a.m.n. He was being led about like a monkey on a chain.

"Brutus is guarding the entrance by now," he said after a moment during which he mentally kicked himself halfway across the maze. "There is only the one, isn't there?" He gave his head a quick shake. "I'm most probably going to pay dearly for asking this question, kitten, but I'm afraid curiosity has won out. Was Nicole the only one who knew I was standing at my window, watching the three of you?"

"Does it matter?" she asked him, pulling him around one more turn and into a clearing holding an ironwork fantasy of a gazebo at its center.

"Does it matter? It should, at least I think so. But I'm finding it difficult to come up with a good argument, considering I'm where I've been trying to be since you ran off on me yesterday and locked yourself away."

"I allowed myself to be convinced," she told him quietly as they mounted the three shallow steps and entered the gazebo. He dropped the coverlet onto the floor, and drew her down instead on the wide chaise longue that occupied most of the small s.p.a.ce. "But by this afternoon, I began to feel silly. You kept sending me notes I wasn't brave enough to read or else I'd surely lose my resolve, and I was becoming quite sick of my bedchamber, pretty though it is. But Lydia and Nicole insisted that you had to come to me, not I to you. So...so Nicole and I put our heads together and..."

"Not Lydia?" Justin asked, for he knew how proper the lady Lydia could be, bless her.

"She thought truthfulness would be the better route, but when we discussed the thing, and found that the truth was rather convoluted, and would probably only lead to another argument, she added her agreement. I was the only one not sure it would work, that you'd follow me. But I thought you might not be able to help yourself."

While she explained, he'd been pulling the pins from her hair. Now the long dark tresses fell down past her shoulders like some warm, living veil.

"It's that uncontrollable l.u.s.t business again, isn't it? You still half believe in it."

She busied herself unb.u.t.toning his waistcoat and s.h.i.+rt, even as she avoided his gaze. The timid temptress. She made him want her more than he already did, which had seemed impossible only moments earlier.

"I don't...I don't think the failing is strictly a problem for you gentlemen, you know. I did worry, a little, but Nicole and Lydia a.s.sured me that ladies can also...harbor yearnings of that sort. Which...which is a good thing, Justin, because I have been...yearning nearly from the moment you returned me to my caravan." She sighed almost theatrically. "Are you ever going to kiss me?"

He shook his head slightly, even as he reached for the thankfully few b.u.t.tons at the back of her gown and undid them, one by one. "Not yet, kitten, no. I think I want to hear more about this yearning of yours."