A Lady Never Surrenders Part 15

"A man in love will fight to see that the woman he cares for is given what she deserves, even if he can't have her." Isaac eyed her askance. "Even if some meddler has dictated that marrying her would ruin her future forever."

A chill ran down Hetty's spine. She had not considered her tactic in quite that light.

"Be careful, my dear," Isaac said in a low voice. "You've been dabbling in your grandchildren's lives to such good effect you've forgotten that the heart is beyond your purview."

Was he right?

No. He was ignoring one very important thing. "Suppose he really is in love. What about her? She never has anything good to say about him."

"Yet she blushes whenever he enters a room. And she stares at him a good deal. Or hadn't you noticed that, either?"

"As a matter of fact, I have." Gazing up at him, she softened her tone. "But I do not want her hurt, Isaac. I must be sure she is desired for herself and not her fortune. Her siblings had a chance of not gaining their inheritance unless the others married, so I always knew that their mates loved them, but she..." She shook her head. "I had to find a way to remove her fortune from the equation."

"I still say you're taking a big risk." He glanced beyond her to where Celia was talking to the duke. "Do you really think she'd be better off with Lyons?"

But she doesn't love him ... If you'd just give her a chance- "I do not know," Hetty said with a sigh. "I do not know anything anymore."

"Then you shouldn't meddle. Because there's another outcome you haven't considered. If you try to manipulate matters to your satisfaction, she may balk entirely. Then you'll find yourself in the sticky position of having to choose between disinheriting them all or backing down on your ultimatum. Personally, I think you should have given up that nonsense long ago, but I know only too well how stubborn you can be when you've got the bit between your teeth."

"Oh?" she said archly. "Have I been stubborn with you?"

He gazed down at her. "You haven't agreed to marry me yet."

Her heart flipped over in her chest. It was not the first time he had mentioned marriage, but she had refused to take him seriously.

Until now. It was clear he would not be put off any longer. He looked solemnly in earnest. "Isaac..."

"Are you worried that I am a fortune hunter?"

"Do not be absurd."

"Because I've already told you that I'll sign any marriage settlement you have your solicitor draw up. I don't want your brewery or your vast fortune. I know it's going to your grandchildren. I only want you."

The tender words made her sigh like a foolish girl. "I realize that. But why not merely continue as we have been?"

His voice lowered. "Because I want to make you mine in every way."

A sweet s.h.i.+ver swept along her spine. "We do not need to marry for that."

"So all you want from me is an affair?"

"No! But-"

"I want more than that. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you in my bed. I want the right to be with you whenever I please, night or day." His tone deepened. "I love you, Hetty. And when a man loves a woman, he wants to spend his life with her."

"But at our age, people will say-"

"Our age is an argument for marriage. We might not have much time left. Why not live it to the fullest, together, while we're still in good health? Who cares what people say? Life is too short to let other people dictate one's choices."

She leaned heavily on his arm as they reached the steps leading up to the dais at the front of the ballroom. He did have a point. She had been balking at marrying him because she was sure people would think her a silly old fool.

But then, she had always been out of step with everyone else. Why should this be any different? "I shall think about it," she murmured as they headed to the center of the dais, where the family was gathering.

"I suppose I'll have to settle for that. For now." He cast her a heated glance. "But later this evening, once we have the chance to be alone, I shall try more effective methods to persuade you. Because I'm not giving up on this. I can be as stubborn as you, my dear."

She bit back a smile. Thank G.o.d for that.

Chapter Twelve.

Near midnight, Celia came out of the retiring room, then stopped short. She had the strangest sensation someone was watching her. But a quick glance around showed that no one was there. How odd. A servant must have pa.s.sed by and glanced her way.

Though it was early, the ball was ending, so the staff was already scurrying about, putting things in order as the musicians packed up their instruments. Maria and Annabel had gone to bed at eleven. Virginia and Gran appeared to be headed there now, as Gabe and the general joined the other gentlemen, who seemed to be gravitating toward the card room, even her suitors.

The Plumtrees were here somewhere, but Jarret said they planned on staying at the inn in Ealing. Thank heaven. At least she didn't have to worry about running into Ned in the hall tonight.

She hadn't seen him in years until this summer, when he'd been caught trying to hurt Giles and Minerva. Even then, she hadn't been alone with him, which was why when he'd approached her at the ball, she'd had quite a start.

Fortunately, he hadn't had time to do more than ask her to dance. She'd refused. Then the duke had come along, and she'd told her suitor she needed to speak to Maria about the cake. That had extricated her from Ned. She'd managed to avoid him the rest of the evening, too.

Him and Jackson.

She sighed. She hadn't tried to avoid Jackson, curse him, but he'd clearly tried to avoid her. Indeed, he'd disappeared from the ball after his conversation with John, the one that had followed his worrisome conversation with Gran.

"You look rather anxious," said a voice beside her.

She glanced over to see her sister standing there. Relief coursed through her. It had been a long time since she'd had a good chat with Minerva, and if ever she needed such a thing, it was now. "Are you staying the night?"

With a laugh, Minerva glanced over to where her husband was headed into the card room with Jarret. "It appears so. Why?"

Making a split-second decision, Celia grabbed her sister's arm. "Because I need some sisterly advice."

Minerva smiled broadly. "That I can give. I'll meet you in your room in half an hour. Just let me get out of this gown and into something more comfortable."

A short while later they were snug in Celia's room with a roaring fire, some chocolate to drink, and plenty of blankets to wrap about them as they sat on Celia's bed in the candlelight.

"So tell me, dearest," Minerva said as she lifted the cup of chocolate to her lips. "What is it you need advice about?"

Celia sighed. "My suitors."

"Ah." Minerva sipped some chocolate. "You did seem rather beleaguered by gentlemen this evening. The duke danced with you three times. That's practically a proposal of marriage."

Celia stared into her cup. Should she tell Minerva? Perhaps she should. Her sister had a way of cutting through all the nonsense to get right to the bone of things. "Actually, he's already proposed marriage."

Minerva looked startled. "Why, that's wonderful!" She eyed Celia closely. "Isn't it?"

"I'm not sure."

Her sister's gaze sharpened. "Do you love him?"

"I wish people would stop asking me that," Celia muttered under her breath.

"What people?"

"Gran." She swallowed. "Mr. Pinter."

"Mr. Pinter?" Minerva echoed with decided interest.

"It's not what you think," Celia protested. "I hired him to find out the truth about my suitors, so he wanted to know if I was in love with any of them."

Minerva arched one eyebrow. "And why should he care?"

"That's what I said. And ever since, he's been baiting me in front of them and telling me awful things about them to blacken them in my mind."

"Even Lyons?" Minerva said.

"Well, no. I mean, I'm sure you've heard about the madness in the duke's family, but beyond that, Jackson hasn't found a single thing-"

"Jackson?"

Celia colored. "Mr. Pinter." When Minerva kept staring, she added sullenly, "We've been in each other's pockets because of the investigation. That's all."

"Ah." Minerva sipped more chocolate. "Get back to the part about the duke offering marriage."

"It wouldn't be a love match. His Grace just figures that since I need a husband and he might have trouble finding a wife, what with the madness in his family and all, we could simply ... agree to marry."

"I see. And you approve of that?"

Celia stared sightlessly at the printed bed hangings, with their faded blue and yellow flowers against a light green field. "I don't know. I mean, I like him well enough, I suppose. We've known his family forever. He doesn't seem to care about the scandal in ours, and he's an excellent shot-"

"That would certainly be at the top of my list of requirements for a husband," Minerva broke in, eyes twinkling. "'Must be able to hit a bull's-eye at fifty paces.'"

"Fifty paces! Are you mad? It would have to be a hundred at least."

Her sister burst into laughter. "Forgive me for not knowing what const.i.tutes sufficient marksmans.h.i.+p for your prospective mate." Her gaze grew calculating. "I hear that Jackson is a very good shot. Gabe said he beat everyone today, even you."

"Don't remind me," Celia grumbled.

"Gabe also said he won a kiss from you."

"Yes, and he gave me a peck on the forehead," Celia said, still annoyed by that. "As if I were some ... some little girl."

"Perhaps he was just trying to be polite."

Celia sighed. "Probably."

I didn't kiss you "properly" today because I was afraid if I did I might not stop.

"The thing is..." Celia bit her lower lip and wondered just how much she should reveal to her sister. But she had to discuss this with someone, and she knew she could trust Minerva. Her sister had never betrayed a confidence. "That wasn't the first time Jackson kissed me. Nor the last."

Minerva nearly choked on her chocolate. "Good Lord, Celia, don't say such things when I'm drinking something hot!" Carefully she set her cup on the bedside table. "He kissed you?" She seized Celia's free hand. "More than once?"

Celia nodded.

Her sister cast her eyes heavenward. "And yet you're debating whether to enter into a marriage of convenience with Lyons." Then she looked alarmed. "You did want the man to kiss you, right?"

"Of course I wanted-" She caught herself. "He didn't force me, if that's what you're asking. But neither has Jackson ... I mean, Mr. Pinter ... offered me anything important."

"He hasn't mentioned marriage?"

"No."

Concern crossed Minerva's face. "And love? What of that?"

"That neither." She set her own cup on the table, then dragged a blanket up to her chin. "He's just kissed me. A lot."

Minerva left the bed to pace in front of the fireplace. "With men, that's how it starts sometimes. They desire a woman first. Love comes later."

Unless they were drumming up desire for a woman for some other reason, the way Ned had. "Sometimes all they feel for a woman is desire," Celia pointed out. "Sometimes love never enters into it. Like Papa with his females."

"Mr. Pinter doesn't strike me as that sort."

"Well, he didn't strike me as having an ounce of pa.s.sion until he started kissing me."

Minerva shot her a sly glance. "How is his kissing?"

Heat rose in her cheeks. "It's very ... er ... inspiring." Much better than Ned's, to be sure.

"That's rather important in a husband," Minerva said dryly. "And what of the duke? Has he kissed you?"

"Once. It was ... not so inspiring." She leaned forward. "But he's offering marriage, and Jackson hasn't even hinted at it."

"You shouldn't settle for a marriage of convenience. Especially if you prefer Jackson."

I don't believe in marriages of convenience. Given your family's history, I would think that you wouldn't, either.

Celia balled the blanket into a knot. That was easy for Jackson to say-he didn't have a scheming grandmother breathing down his neck. For that matter, neither did Minerva.

"Gran won't relent," Celia said. "I'd hoped that perhaps if I ... Oh, it doesn't matter. That probably wouldn't have worked anyway."

"What wouldn't have worked?"