The Beloved Scoundrel

“He is not here.” He paused as if debating whether to elaborate. “He went to visit Madam Carruthers. She is an old friend.”

He had spent the night in that woman’s bed and was still with her. Something hot and hurtful twisted inside Marianna. It was not anger, she told herself. There was no reason for her to be angry.

Gregor took her hand and led her toward the dining room. “I’m sure he will return shortly.”

Perhaps it was anger, but only for the sake of that poor woman whom Jordan was using to vent his lust.

She would think no more about him. “Why are you up?” she repeated.

“I wished to make sure you were comfortable.”

Warmth flooded her at his kindness. “As comfortable as I could be in this place.”

“I was uncomfortable here, too, when I first came.” Gregor seated her at the long table and then sat down beside her. “There is nothing this grand in Kazan. We live very simply there.” He sighed. “How I miss it.”

“Why did you come here?”

“To take care of Jordan.”

“He hired you to act as guard?”

“No, I was not hired. I just came.” He saw her curious expression and shook his head. “I told you I could not tell you about Kazan. All I can say is that Jordan is part of all of us in Kazan. We do not like to see a part of us rot and become less than it could be. That is why I came to care for him.”

She looked down at her plate. “He seems quite able to care for himself.”

He laughed. “Ah, he did then too. He was only a boy of nineteen but as cynical as a man of thirty. It wasn’t surprising when everyone treated him as if the world and everything in it had been created for his enjoyment. I’ve never seen a lad so spoiled.” He grimaced. “Or so hot-tempered. We had many a match before we came to terms.”

“His terms or your terms?”

“Why, my terms,” he said, surprised. “It could be no other way. He had to be taught discipline, or he would have remained impossible.”

He was still impossible. “It must have been very unpleasant for you. I wonder that you stayed.”

“It was not all bad. Jordan can coax the birds to fly to him when he wishes.”

“And it made up for the bad times?”

He nodded. “When he was himself and not what they made him, he was a boy to warm the heart.” He nodded at the cup in front of her. “I don’t wish you to eat breakfast this morning, but you must have nourishment. Drink. It is chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” She reached for the cup. “I’ve never had it. Papa said it’s wonderful.”

“It’s a beverage made in paradise.”

She sipped it tentatively and then more deeply. “I like it.”

“As do I.” He drained his cup and gestured to the servant to refill it. “I have a taste for anything dark and uncommon.”

“Then it’s no wonder you have a fondness for Jordan,” she said dryly. “For he is both.”

“You’re still angry with him? Actually, for Jordan, he is behaving toward you with singular virtue.” He lifted the chocolate to his lips. “But you must help him.”

“I have no intention of helping him in any way. I’m here to work and care for Alex.”

“That will help. The less he sees of you, the better.” He paused. “And, when he does see you, offer no challenge. Be as eager and childlike as Alex.”

“I cannot pretend to be something I’m not.”

“It would be easier for you if you could.” He sighed resignedly as he saw her expression. “Oh, very well, do what you will. I will try to stand between you.”

“Thank you.” She reached out and patted his big hand. “I need no one to protect me, but it is a kind and generous thought.”

“I like you,” he said simply. “And even if I did not, I would still do it. It is my duty. Such a thing would not be good for Jordan either.” He looked down into the depths of his cup. “I was sent not only to protect his body but his soul.”

“I believe you should concentrate on protecting his body,” she said tartly. “I’ve seen no sign of this elusive soul.”

“I have,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen him weep at the death of a child, and I’ve been with him when he carried a wounded man on his back for twenty miles across the steppes. I’ve seen him writhing with an inner hurt so terrible, he did not say a word for days. He does not show his soul, but it is there.” He smiled. “And we must make sure he does not harm it by actions he cannot forgive himself. Finish your chocolate.”

She obediently drained her cup and set it down.

He reached over and gently wiped her mouth with his napkin. “Paradise leaves an occasional mark upon those who taste its pleasures.” He stood up. “Now we go to the stables.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to my workroom.”

“Not today. Today you and Alex have riding lessons. That’s why I didn’t want you to have a full stomach.”

She frowned. “I’ll do that another day.”

“Today. And tomorrow you have dancing lessons, and the day after you and Alex will have schooling with the vicar.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will. It will keep you out of sight and away from Jordan.”

She glowered at him. “I will not hide from Jordan even to save his precious soul. If you want me out of his sight, let me work.”

“I would never think of depriving you of your work. I have it all planned. After today you will work from dawn until noon. The light should be better in the morning.” He beamed. “That leaves all the afternoon free.”

“I don’t need dancing lessons, and Papa said that the education he gave me was better than most gentlemen received at-”

“Then you will surprise and delight the vicar.” Gregor pushed her toward the door. “But you cannot deny you need to learn to ride.”

“No, but I-” She stopped as she met his gaze. She suddenly realized how he had managed to overcome the wild, decadent hellion who had been young Jordan Draken. Gregor’s expression was kindly but absolutely relentless. She said faintly, “I do need to work.”

“After your lesson.” He added, “And your hot bath. You’re likely to be quite sore at first. Now, we must get you proper riding clothes. Perhaps there is something you can use in the armoire…”

His Grace would like to see you, miss.” Mrs. Jenson shivered in the doorway as a blast of wind poured into the tower room. “He requests your presence in the courtyard.”

Marianna felt her muscles tense, and she looked back at her sketch. “Tell His Grace I’m busy at present.”

Mrs. Jenson was scandalized. “He said at once, miss. He wishes to bid you good-bye before he leaves.”

Her head lifted swiftly. “He’s leaving? Where is he going?”

“To London, I understand.” She shivered again and drew her shawl closer about her. “You should close those shutters. You’ll catch your death in this cold.”

“I like it,” she said abstractedly. He was leaving. She had been scrupulously avoiding Jordan for the last week, and now it would no longer be necessary. She should feel relief, not this strange flatness. “Is Gregor going with him?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Mrs. Jenson added reprovingly, “You’re keeping His Grace waiting.”

And that must never happen, Marianna thought. Mrs. Jenson was completely under Jordan’s spell and thought everything must be exactly as he decreed. She was not alone. Marianna had found that everyone at Cambaron held him in an affection that amounted almost to adulation. It was hard to comprehend considering Gregor’s comments on the duke’s character as a youth.

She put her pen back in the inkwell and stood up. “By all means, we must not cause him to tarry even a minute longer than necessary.”

Mrs. Jenson smiled and started to curtsy. She stopped in midmotion and frowned in distress. “I do beg pardon, miss. You must think me a stupid old woman.”