A Lady Never Surrenders Part 14

"Even if you trust the fellow, madam, I don't," he snapped. "Look at how your granddaughter stands, as if poised for flight. Look at her face. It's not dislike of his father that plagues her. She looks almost frightened. Or rather, she looks as if she's pretending not to be frightened. And that's not a look I've seen on her before."

"If that is true, the duke will take care of matters," Mrs. Plumtree said smoothly. "He's approaching her now."

Jackson held his breath as Lyons came to Celia's side and Celia visibly relaxed. She said something to the duke, who took her arm and led her away. Only then did Jackson let out his breath. But Ned continued to watch her with palpable tension, and that worried him.

Then Celia glanced over at Jackson, catching sight of him and her grandmother standing together, and the mix of emotions on her face made a new concern take hold of him. What exactly had Mrs. Plumtree told Celia after he'd left the room this afternoon? Whatever it was seemed to have made her cautious around him. G.o.d save him, between that and her odd reaction to Ned, he didn't know what to think.

"You see?" Mrs. Plumtree remarked. "The duke has matters well in hand."

"It appears so," he clipped out. That was all he could manage. He couldn't stand that the duke had been the one to protect her and not him.

"A tactful response," she said, gazing out over the dancing couples. "You will make a very good Chief Magistrate, I think."

Shock swept over him that he fought mightily to disguise. So she knew of that, did she? "I'm only one of several possible candidates, madam. You do me great honor to a.s.sume I'll be chosen."

"Masters tells me that the appointment is all but settled."

"Then Masters knows more than I on the subject."

"And more than my granddaughter as well," she said.

His stomach knotted. d.a.m.n Mrs. Plumtree and her machinations. "But I'm sure you took great pains to inform her of it."

The woman hesitated, then gripped the head of her cane with both hands. "I thought she should have all the facts before she threw herself into a misalliance."

h.e.l.l and blazes. And Mrs. Plumtree had probably implied that a rich wife would advance his career. He could easily guess how Celia would respond to hearing that, especially after he'd fallen on her with all the subtlety of an ox in rut.

His temper swelled. Although he'd suspected that Mrs. Plumtree wouldn't approve of him for her granddaughter, some part of him had thought that his service to the family-and the woman's own humble beginnings-might keep her from behaving predictably. He should have known better.

"No doubt she was grateful for the information." After all, it gave Celia just the excuse she needed to continue in her march to marry a great lord.

"She claimed that there was nothing between you and her."

"She's right." There never had been. He'd been a fool to think there could be.

"I am glad to hear it." Her sidelong glance was filled with calculation. "Because if you play your cards right, you have an even better prospect before you than that of Chief Magistrate."

He froze. "What do you mean?"

"You may not be aware of this, but one of my friends is the Home Secretary, Robert Peel. Your superior."

"I'm well aware who my superior is."

"It seems he wishes to establish a police force," she went on. "He is fairly certain that it will come to pa.s.s eventually. When it does, he will appoint a commissioner to oversee the entire force in London." She cast him a hard stare. "You could be that man."

Jackson fought to hide his surprise. He'd heard rumors of Peel's plans, of course, but hadn't realized that they'd progressed so far. Or that she was privy to them.

Then it dawned on him why she was telling him this. "You mean, I could be that man if I leave your granddaughter alone."

A faint smile touched her lips. "I see that I was right to consider you a very perceptive fellow, Mr. Pinter."

It took all his will to tamp down his anger. He did not like being ordered about by anyone, but especially by a woman who'd let her long acquaintance with the aristocracy convince her that she had the right to run roughshod over whomever she pleased.

"And if I choose to ignore your 'bribe,' madam?" he snapped.

She stiffened, then s.h.i.+fted her gaze to where Celia was dancing again with that b.l.o.o.d.y duke. "I might decide to disinherit my granddaughter."

He gaped at her. "You would cut her off even though she has met your ultimatum?"

"I might. If she chooses badly." Color rose in her cheeks. "I never said I would give my money to them if they married. I only said I would not give it to them if they did not."

"And here I thought you were an honorable woman. I guess I'm not so perceptive after all."

She flinched. "The rest of them would get their money. Just not her." She searched his face. "If I thought it best, that is."

A futile anger choked him that he barely understood; he'd known all along that nothing could come of his foolish attraction to Celia.

Still, if she had her inheritance, she might stoop to marry him. At least he wouldn't be forcing her to give up all her creature comforts along with her place in society. Then she might not mind that the high sticklers wouldn't accept her.

But without the money?

He could easily afford a wife, but not one used to living like this. Glancing around at the liveried footmen and the glittering ballroom with its crystal chandeliers filled with beeswax candles, he choked down the bile rising in his throat. He remembered how casually she'd spoken of offering him an expensive bracelet as payment, probably because she knew there was plenty more where that came from.

How could he think for even one moment that she would consider giving all this up for him? If wealth and position didn't matter to her, she wouldn't be seeking a lofty lord for a husband at this very moment.

He forced himself to meet Mrs. Plumtree's questioning glance. "As I said before, there's nothing between me and your granddaughter. She has no interest in being married to a n.o.body's b.a.s.t.a.r.d." And certainly not one whose modest income was nothing to that of a lady of her means. "I'm sure she'll choose a suitor more to your liking in due time."

"You misunderstand me, sir," she said irritably. "I am only trying to protect her."

"By driving her into the arms of the first man of rank who offers for her? Whether or not she loves him or he loves her? Do you think so little of her worth?"

Mrs. Plumtree glowered at him. "You are impertinent, sir."

"I'll be even more impertinent if that's what it takes to keep Lady Celia from making a mistake she may regret the rest of her life." He glanced over to where Basto was now holding her far too close in the waltz. "The viscount there isn't as young as he appears, nor are his finances as healthy as they appear. And the earl has a longtime mistress. Did you know that?"

"How can I trust you to tell the truth about these men?"

"Do you really think you can trust them? Lady Celia's future is tied inextricably to a fortune. That muddies the water with any man."

"Even the duke? I should think he has no need to marry for money or anything else."

Jackson tensed. "That's true. Except for the rumors of madness in his family, he is eminently eligible." And that irritated Jackson beyond all endurance. "But she doesn't love him."

Mrs. Plumtree cast him a searching glance. "How do you know?"

Because she spent the afternoon in my arms, letting me kiss and caress her, eagerly responding to my desire for her. Even hinting that she might feel the same. Until she tossed me from the room in a panic when she realized what I've known all along-that mere mortals like us can never cross the divide.

Still, that didn't mean he had to stand by and watch her suffer in a marriage to the wrong man. "Because Lady Celia told me."

He cursed himself even as he said the words. It was a betrayal-he'd promised to keep their conversations private-but he refused to watch her marry a man she clearly didn't love. That would be as bad as marrying a man like him and losing her fortune.

"She's trying to gain a husband so precipitously only because you're forcing her to," he went on. "If you'd just give her a chance-"

"She has had plenty of chances already."

"Give her another." Remembering Celia's insecurity over being thought a tomboy, he added, "This little experiment is sure to have increased her confidence with men. If you allow her more time, I'm sure she could find a gentleman she could love, who would love her in turn."

"Like you?" Mrs. Plumtree asked.

He gave a caustic laugh. "Your granddaughter isn't fool enough to fall in love with a man of my rank. So you're wasting your bribes and threats on me, madam."

"And what about you? How do you feel about her?"

He'd had enough of this. "I suspect that whatever I say, you'll believe what you wish." He knew better than to reveal how he felt about Celia, especially when he wasn't even sure himself. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I see a servant with whom I need to speak about the investigation into your daughter's and son-in-law's murders."

"Have you heard something?" she asked, a sudden catch in her voice.

"I'm following new leads, that's all."

"Will they require your leaving the house party?"

Though he detected nothing in her voice beyond curiosity, she must be itching to have him out of the way. He hated to fall in with her wishes, but ...

He glanced over to where Celia stood with the duke and her brothers, telling some story that had Lyons laughing uproariously, and the ache in his chest grew almost unbearable.

"Yes," he heard himself say. "If John has the information I've been waiting for, I'd like to go tomorrow morning. I should be back by evening."

She looked from him to Celia, and a thoughtful expression crossed her face. "I shall make sure that Oliver is informed of the reason for your absence."

"Thank you." With a curt bow, he headed for John.

He'd done everything he could to dissuade Celia from making a bad match. Perhaps his words would bear fruit if he wasn't here to provoke her. Or perhaps Mrs. Plumtree would come to her senses.

Whatever the case, he couldn't endure watching how matters played out. Better that he get away where he could think. Where he could breathe. Where he wouldn't make a fool of himself over a woman he had no business desiring.

Before she made a fool out of him.

HETTY WATCHED Mr. Pinter walk off and wondered if perhaps she had gone too far. The way he had looked at Celia ...

"There you are," said a voice close by.

She turned to see General Isaac Waverly approaching.

The faint flutter in her chest at the sight of him, looking so das.h.i.+ng in evening attire, made her smile ruefully. Who would ever have guessed that after all these years a man would come along who could make her heart race and her blood run quick? She had thought herself too old for such things.

Apparently she was wrong.

Isaac cast her a knowing grin as he approached. "I've been charged with telling you that it's nearly time to bring out the cake." He offered her his arm. "Maria wants to have the family all together for it."

s.h.i.+fting her cane to her other hand, she took his arm with a smile. "Lead on, kind sir."

As they skirted the room, he nodded to where Mr. Pinter was now deep in conversation with John. "What's that all about?"

"I am not sure," she said, "but I believe that Mr. Pinter is going off tomorrow for a bit. He told me it had to do with a lead he has in Lewis's and Pru's murders, but he would not say exactly what."

Some sound nearby made her turn her head. But there was no one near them, no one standing in the open door to the card room, which they were pa.s.sing. So why did she feel as if she were being watched?

She shook off the thought. All this talk of murder had her jumpy.

"Pinter is leaving for the day?" Isaac commented. "That's a pity."

"Why?"

"Haven't you noticed how he looks at Celia sometimes? I think he might have set his sights on her."

"I thought so, too. Until just now."

"Just now?"

"He did not react exactly as I expected when I-" Oh, dear, perhaps she should not mention that. Isaac might not approve.

"Hetty?" Isaac prodded. "What mischief have you been up to now? You weren't warning him off, were you?"

The disapproval in his tone made her bristle. "And what if I was? The man is the love child of a light-heeled wench and G.o.d knows whom."

Isaac's jaw tautened. "I didn't know you were such a sn.o.b."

"I am not," she protested. "But given his circ.u.mstances, I want to be sure he is interested in Celia for something other than her fortune. I watched my daughter marry a man whom she thought loved her, only to discover that he was merely a more skillful fortune hunter than most. I do not want to make that mistake again."

He sighed. "All right. I suppose I understand your caution. But Pinter? I've never seen a less likely fortune hunter. He talks about people of rank with nothing but contempt."

"And does that not worry you? She is one of those people, after all."

"What it tells me is that he doesn't think much of marrying for rank or fortune."

She gripped his arm. "I suppose. And I must admit that when I hinted I could disinherit her if she married too low-"

"Hetty!"

"I would not do it, mind you. But he does not know that. It is a good way to be sure how he feels about her."

"You're playing with fire," he gritted out. "And what did he say to it?"

"He told me she would never marry anyone as low as him, then tried to convince me to rescind my ultimatum for her so she could marry a man she loved. And that was after I made it clear that it could not be him. He was very eloquent on the subject of what she deserved. Accused me of not knowing her worth, the impertinent devil."

"Good man, our Pinter," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" she said, bristling.