How To Beguile A Beauty Part 13

Tanner pressed the cool wet cloth to her mouth and told her to hold it there. "That will calm the slight redness I seem to have caused. Yes, Justin's a strange man as well as quick to notice things like a just-kissed mouth. I don't think we want to amuse him any further, do you?"

Lydia pulled the cloth away from her mouth and shook her head. "We most certainly do not. How is it now?"

"Your mouth?" Tanner smiled, and her heart melted. "Eminently kissable, as always. Frankly, I should thank Justin for knocking on the door when he did."

She felt a blush stealing into her cheeks. "Yes, I suppose we should be grateful to him." But I'd rather box his ears.

Tanner put a bent finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. "We have time, Lydia. All the time in the world to be sure. And tomorrow we'll be at Malvern."

Nodding, she stepped back, away from temptation, fighting back the words Fitz thought he had all the time in the world, too.

Tanner leaned in and kissed her cheek, lightly squeezed her upper arms. "I'm now going to do the bravest thing I've ever done. I'm going to turn and leave you here. I'll see you again downstairs."

Once he was gone, she leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. She'd kissed him? She'd really kissed him? He may have talked as if he wanted to kiss her, had even asked if he could kiss her, but it was she who had kissed him. And he'd walked away?

If he got any more honorable she might have to box his ears, too!

After checking her mouth in the mirror, and then resorting to a bit of rice powder from her dressing case to cover a slight redness on her chin that hadn't been there before Tanner had kissed her, Lydia stepped out into the hallway, turning left toward the stairs.

She was greeted at the bottom of those stairs by a tall, well set-up red-haired man wearing a rather flattering black patch over his left eye. "Good evening, miss," he said, bowing politely, if rather nervously. "Would you perchance be either the Lady Lydia, or Miss Harburton?"

She felt a small stab at the revealing lilt in his voice, but only smiled. "I am Lydia Daughtry, yes. And you must be Mr. Flynn?"

"That I am, my lady, standing here and feeling as helpless as the devil in a high wind that I don't recognize a duke when I'm riding next to one. Imagine, having the cheek to just go sticking out my hand to a man I should be bowing to and pulling at my forelock, I suppose. I've been pacing about out here these past five minutes or more, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the courage to either sit myself down with my betters or just to take myself off."

"If His Grace invited you, he meant what he said, Mr. Flynn." Goodness, but he was big. Just like the captain, who could make her feel small and coddled, protected. There was just something comfortable and soothing about the lilt in an Irish voice, the softness in Irish eyes. "Now why don't you please escort me to the dining room, as I've just realized I have no idea where it is."

Flynn inclined his head to her and offered his arm. "It would be my distinct pleasure, Lady Lydia, and my greatest hope that you tell no one I'm hiding behind your skirts."

She laughed at that, and was still smiling when they entered the private dining room at the rear of the inn to see that everyone else was already there.

Tanner and Justin rose to their feet, shook hands with Mr. Flynn, and Tanner introduced him to Jasmine.

"It is an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Harburton," Flynn said, bowing.

Jasmine quite pointedly ignored him. "Tanner? Can we please eat now. I've been patient ever so long. Really, Lydia, I would think you could have been down sooner. In consideration of others."

Lydia felt an unaccustomed urge to box ears this evening, it seemed, because she would like nothing more than to box Jasmine's at the moment. The girl had wandered off twice today, upsetting her cousin, delaying their journey, and now she was complaining about being forced to wait on somebody else?

"You're right, Jasmine," she only said, taking up the chair Mr. Flynn had pulled out for her. "I do apologize for my tardiness. Thank you, Mr. Flynn."

"Always my honor, Lady Lydia, to a.s.sist a beautiful woman," Flynn said, seating himself beside her before unfolding her serviette and handing it to her.

"Jasmine," Tanner prompted. "Lydia has apologized. As should you, frankly."

But, and probably more noticeable for how seldom silence was all that was heard when Jasmine was in a room, the girl did not accept the apology.

Lydia spread her serviette in her lap before looking across the table at the young woman, who was now glaring at her with hatred naked in her lovely green eyes.

"I'm no longer hungry. And I think you're horrid, all of you," the girl said, and the gentlemen pushed back their chairs and hurriedly got to their feet as Jasmine, her own serviette pressed to her mouth, raced out of the room, sobbing.

"Volatile little thing, isn't she?" Justin said calmly, seating himself once more and reaching for the domed lid of one of the many silver pieces that adorned the table. "Ah, well, more for the rest of us, as they say. Mr. Flynn, do you perhaps care for some Potage a la Monglas? It's a particular specialty of my man, Wigglesworth."

The look on Mr. Flynn's face was so comical that Lydia had to cough to cover a laugh. "Chicken soup, Mr. Flynn. The baron is only having fun with you."

"The correct term is fowl, Lady Lydia, if you please. White-legged, as Wigglesworth will settle for nothing less. We don't insult such fine birds by calling them mere chickens."

"I stand corrected, although I doubt the fowl, in its current condition, really cares overmuch," Lydia said, as always enjoying the baron's banter. "But I notice you haven't corrected me on the notion that you're having yourself some fun at Mr. Flynn's expense."

The big man visibly relaxed. "Oh, so is that what he's doing? He needn't have bothered. I'm already shocked all hollow by this lovely ma.s.s of silver everywhere. I didn't know any inn could be so fine."

Justin laughed shortly. "And now who is having fun with whom, Mr. Flynn? Tanner, pour the man a gla.s.s of wine. I do believe we're going to pa.s.s a most enjoyable evening. Why, we may all even be able to get a word or two in edgewise."

Lydia was inclined to agree, but couldn't help but worry about Jasmine. "Should I go upstairs to see if I can coax her back to the table? She really should eat something, Tanner."

"No," he said firmly. "If she wants to sulk, let her sulk. I'll have a tray sent up to her room. I don't know what set her off, and I find that I really don't care to know."

"Then perhaps I should join her, and leave you gentlemen to your meal," she said, realizing that she was now the lone woman at table with three gentlemen, and with Mrs. Shandy and Sarah still not arrived at the inn. Drat Jasmine for being so selfis.h.!.+

"Do you really want to join her, Lydia?" Tanner asked her.

"No," she admitted quietly. "I'm afraid I have little patience for sulks."

"Yet such a pretty little thing," Mr. Flynn said, lifting his wine gla.s.s. "To all the pretty ladies, absent or otherwise. Where would we be without them?"

"Out hunting for them?" Justin opined merrily, clinking gla.s.ses with the man.

Lydia smiled, as she knew she should, but then thought again of the look of hatred in Jasmine's eyes. That look had been directed straight at her, certainly not at Mr. Flynn, who she didn't even know. But why? Had she somehow found out that the letter in her reticule was no longer her secret? If so, she really did have to apologize, which would be horribly embarra.s.sing for both of them.

She was saved from making a decision with the arrival of Mrs. Shandy, who bustled into the room with many a head bob and curtsy before taking up a chair in the corner and pulling her knitting from a huge bag she'd carried with her.

"Oh, good. We're all decent now," Justin remarked before personally preparing Jasmine's empty plate for the woman and then placing it on a small table Tanner had drawn up to her chair.

"Oh, Your Grace, but I couldn't," Mrs Shandy said, actually blus.h.i.+ng.

"Nonsense," Tanner said. "Lady Lydia is made that much more comfortable by your presence, and everyone else, I'm a.s.sured, is already being fed in the taproom. You should not have to forgo your dinner. You've been on the road all the day long. Justin, some wine for Mrs. Shandy?"

"Certainly. And shall I cut her meat for her while I'm at it, do you think? Trim away any little bits of fat?"

"This was your idea, you know," Tanner said as Lydia placed Jasmine's knife and fork on the small table, along with handing the thoroughly fl.u.s.tered chaperone a serviette.

"I think you're both very sweet and considerate," Lydia said, returning to her own chair.

"We're adorable, actually. Especially my good friend, Tanner. I, on the other hand, always have ulterior motives."

"Yes, I know," Lydia said quietly, not that the deaf-as-a-post chaperone would hear her at any rate. "You have amorous designs on Mrs. Shandy."

Justin laughed out loud. "Gad, but I could love you, Lady Lydia." He looked down the table at Tanner. "You're the only other person I can think of who'd dare to turn my own words back on me, to make me the b.u.t.t of my own joke. It's very refres.h.i.+ng."

"I can't speak for the lady Lydia," Tanner said over the rim of his wine gla.s.s, "but I know I exist only to amuse you."

"Oh, foul, foul! And I'm not speaking of white-legged chickens. It's time for a change of subject before I feel skewered clear through. Mr. Flynn, if you don't mind me shamelessly using you in order to get my own neck off the chopping block-how did you manage to get that patch? And so as not to stray too far from the subject, it's dashed appealing to the ladies, I'd imagine?"

"It has gotten me more than a few appreciative glances, yes. Something about the wounded hero, I suppose. Is that what it is, Lady Lydia?"

She didn't know what to say, and looked to Tanner helplessly. "I...I would suppose most women would feel sympathy for a man who had been injured in defense of his country."

Mr. Flynn nodded his agreement. "Doesn't seem fair, does it? It's the ones who didn't come home who deserve their sympathy. Poor b.u.g.g.e.rs. Oh, excuse me, Lady Lydia."

She lowered her gaze to her plate, feeling tears stinging at her eyes. It was his voice, the Irish lilt, that's all it was. Bringing the memory too close.

"You've said you've been traveling, Mr. Flynn," Tanner said almost abruptly. "Where all have you been?"

"Please, Your Grace, I haven't been Mr. Flynn for a dozen years. I answer much more readily to captain."

Lydia's head jerked up and she gasped involuntarily. "Captain? And His Grace told me you were in the Fourth Foot? You were at Quatre Bras."

She could feel Tanner's eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. She had to prove to him, and to herself, that she wasn't still mired in her memories of Fitz, yes. But she wouldn't be human if she didn't at least ask. "Tell me, did you happen to have had the acquaintance of Captain Fitzgerald? He...he perished at Quatre Bras."

Captain Flynn smiled. "Fitz? Oh, that I did, my lady. Many a fine time we had before Boney showed up to spoil the fun. Quite the man with the ladies, Fitz was."

"That's a lie," Tanner said in a voice as icy as a January morning, glaring at Flynn. "That's a b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.n lie."

Lydia's heart was pounding so hard in her ears that she could barely hear. Her chest began rising and falling rapidly as she breathed quickly, trying to regain her breath, the breath Captain Flynn's words had taken from her.

The captain looked from Tanner to Lydia, and then s.h.i.+fted to Justin, who was sitting very much at attention now, all traces of the carefree fop gone as if peeled away by Flynn's words.

"Oh, dear me. I do believe you've managed to outlive your welcome, Captain Flynn," the baron said, his voice as soft as the caress of silk.

Captain Flynn slowly pushed back his chair and got to his feet. "I don't understand. But n.o.body calls Benjamin Flynn a liar. There's a lady present, or I'd already have bloodied your nose, Your Grace. But I must insist that you come outside with me."

"Tanner, don't disturb yourself if you please," Justin said, putting down his wine gla.s.s. "I owe you for ridding me of a piece of offal the other evening. I'll be happy to do the same for you. We don't want that cut to open again, now do we?" He got to his feet, his gaze never leaving Flynn's face. "Please allow me the honor of grinding that ugly puss of yours in the dirt."

"Not enough, Justin, d.a.m.n it. He'll apologize."

Tanner was also on his feet. The room was suddenly filled to the brim with anger and men with their hands drawn into fists, ready to wreak havoc on each other. They couldn't seem to wait to have the opportunity to beat each other into pulp.

This is how wars begin, she thought in disgust. And they like it.

"Enough!" she heard herself say as she, too, got to her feet. "n.o.body will be b.l.o.o.d.ying anyone's nose or grinding anyone's face into the dirt. Captain Flynn, you were mistaken in your recollections. Captain Swain Fitzgerald was my betrothed."

Flynn's lone visible eyebrow lifted high on his forehead. "Oh, so that's how the land lies, does it? Swain, you said? I then retract my words, my lady, as surely I was thinking of someone else. I most certainly was mistaken in my memories."

He was saying all the right words, but he didn't sound convincing, or convinced.

"Yes, you were mistaken. Tanner? Please?"

"Just get out, Flynn," Tanner said wearily. "But you'll have to understand that it would be better if you were to find yourself another inn for the night. And have yourself a pleasant trip tomorrow, to anywhere else besides Malvern. You'll have to search for truth elsewhere."

"I entirely agree. Now shoo," Justin said, sharply snapping his serviette in the air before sitting down once more, spreading the white linen on his lap, signaling his dismissal of the Irishman and any threat.

Flynn quit the room without another word, so that they were left just the three of them (Mrs. Shandy couldn't really be counted, as she'd fallen asleep in her chair), with two obviously vacant chairs making them a very odd arrangement for dinner.

"Ah, that's eminently better. Tanner, you really must stop inviting all and sundry to break bread with us. You never know the sort of riff-raff that can masquerade as gentlemen, although I will say his jacket was rather fine. Now, who's for some beautifully carved beef, hmm?"

The tension in the room somehow gone with Flynn's exit, Lydia sat down again all at once, unable to remain standing on legs suddenly too weak to support her.

"He was mistaken," she said after a moment.

"I was with Fitz from the time we got to Brussels until the end. Yes, Lydia, Flynn was mistaken. I swear it to you."

She wasn't the hysterical sort. Her outburst had shaken her, but she had to believe what she had to believe. She simply had to! Her bottom lip trembled, so that she quickly caught it between her teeth, and didn't speak again until she felt more in control of herself. "Thank you, Tanner. Justin? If I might have a slice of that beef, please. It does smell delicious."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

TANNER SAT IN A CORNER of the taproom that was dark save for the glow of the fire that was needed thanks to the thickness of the inn walls and the pervading damp of this year without a summer. He had an untouched snifter of French brandy dangling forgotten in his right hand, delivered courtesy of Wigglesworth, a burned-out cheroot in his left. He sat with his weight on his lower spine, his booted legs stuck out in front of him so that he could watch the firelight dance on the polished toes.

"Ah, the Duke of Malvern At Leisure," Justin said, subsiding into the facing chair that flanked the fireplace. "Or should I amend that? The Duke of Malvern On The Sulk. Lydia doesn't like sulking. Do try to do more of it, you'll increase my chances with the fair lady."

"Go away, Justin."

"Go away, go away. You keep saying that. A lesser man would be insulted. But I would then go away, if it were in my nature. Alas, it is not. So. Tell me. Was her sainted Fitz true to her, or was that one-eyed b.a.s.t.a.r.d right?"

Tanner shook his head. Something had been bothering him all evening, and he thought he'd finally figured out what that something was. "It's more than that. I don't think our Captain Benjamin Flynn is who he says he is. Granted, that he had suffered a grievous wound in the battle may have influenced my decision to invite him to join us for supper. But, truthfully, the moment he said he was at Quatre Bras I began to wonder. I dismissed my misgivings, probably because I thought-well, never mind what I thought. My motive isn't flattering to me."

"You wanted to see how Lydia reacted to meeting an Irishman who'd been at Quatre Bras with this Fitz of yours-hers and yours. It's understandable."

"Is it?"

"For a man in love? I imagine the impulse was impossible to resist. Still feeling a dead man's hand on your shoulder, aren't you?"

"At times, yes. Less and less. What man gives his woman to another man, Justin? Even dying-who would be that unselfish?"

"A very good man, I'd say. I'm sorry I never knew him; it was my loss. But we both know that, at the end of the day, it will be Lydia who decides. Not you, for whatever solid and upstanding reasons you might put forth to try to confuse the issue, and not Fitz, for all his dying pleas. She'll either love you for you, or she won't. Like you, she's too honorable to do anything else. You're quite the pair."

Tanner lifted his chin from his chest and looked at Justin quizzically. "When did you get so smart?"

"I've always been smart. It's just that n.o.body expects it of me, so that I seem doubly intelligent when I deign to say something even remotely profound."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say you were being profound just now." He s.h.i.+fted in his chair, looked at his right hand as if surprised to see the snifter. "Wasn't she magnificent this evening? Asking you prettily for a slice of beef, acting as if Flynn's words hadn't just knocked her legs out from under her?"