carriage had crashed into the home of a libertine,” Gavin grated, “I wept for her innocence. But I calmed myself with the notion that an earl would never disgrace himself by taking advantage of a girl still in pinafores. You, sir, are no gentleman. I demand pistols.”
“Stop this!” Elinor cried again, doubling her efforts to save Grantham. She didn’t have time to be miffed at her brother’s admission that he still thought her a little girl.
Grantham’s hands fought Gavin’s, but he, too, was unable to budge the much larger man.
“Let him go!” she begged Gavin. “He did no wrong!”
“I told myself that,” Gavin said through clenched teeth, “as I rode hell-for-leather through the night. But I’m no nitwit. The man’s done more than kiss you. I can see it in his lustful,” he leaned forward so that he and Grantham were nose to nose, “beady,” he cinched Grantham’s cravat tighter, “ugly eyes. You blackguard .”
She beat against her brother’s enormous bicep. “Don’t kill him! I’m not in pinafores! We’re to be married .”
Gavin eased his hold enough for Grantham’s heels to touch the floor. The earl sucked in a great wheezing breath. Then he clasped his hands over Gavin’s grip and continued to pry at the strong fingers shunting his windpipe. Her merciless brother didn’t release his cravat. “Over my corpse.”
She laughed self-consciously. “You have no choice. You just said you believe he’s had his way with me.”
“ Don’t say those words.”
She wanted to disappear for her embarrassment, but she daren’t look away. Finally, her brother relented. He flung the wheezing earl away like a bag of refuse and turned to her. “I want to know everything.”
Elinor flinched. No, that wouldn’t do, not at all. She drew a breath and resisted sneaking a peek at Grantham. “Lord Chelford has been unfailingly polite. Why, Aunt Millie and I shared a delightful dinner with him at his table not a few hours since.”
Gavin made a show of searching the room for Aunt Millie. “Is that intended to relieve my mind? Your absentee chaperone?”
“She’s, ah, taking air.” Elinor smiled brightly. He would have arrived just when their aunt was proving to be especially scandalous.
“Why? Is she ill?” He shifted as if to go find her, then stopped as if struck by a thought. “She is ill. Why the devil is she here?”
“Precisely,” Elinor agreed. “She’s overtaxed herself.”
It seemed Gavin accepted this, but then he suddenly jerked in Elinor’s direction and pinned her with a narrowed gaze. “You seem rather fit for a woman who’s convalescing, too.”
She beamed beatifically again. “Oh, but isn’t it wonderful I’m no longer hurt?”
Those narrowed eyes became suspicious slits. “Convenient, is what I’d call it.”
She was rescued by the advent of Aunt Millie herself in the entryway. Elinor, Grantham and Gavin all turned to regard her, an audience she seemed to appreciate. Indeed, Aunt Millie drew her fingertips along the polished wood of the door’s frame, then with practiced languor, sashayed toward Gavin. There was no sign of de Winter, unless one counted the wisps of ginger hair flying free from her coiffure or the uneven seam of her bodice skewed across her décolletage.
She gathered Elinor’s arm in hers and turned their backs to Grantham, as if subtly suggesting family business not be aired before earls. “Elinor, it seems we require a few private words with your brother.”
Gavin gaped at the voluptuous matron with such shock, Elinor almost laughed aloud. So much for her lie; Aunt Millie was clearly as healthy as a woman half her age. Yet Elinor was less concerned by the possibility that he’d call out her blatant falsehood and more relieved that he seemed to be innocent of her mother’s trickery.
Indeed, the longer he stared at their aunt, the surer she felt that he’d had no part in abandoning her to York. Rather, he seemed perfectly
“Stop this!” Elinor cried again, doubling her efforts to save Grantham. She didn’t have time to be miffed at her brother’s admission that he still thought her a little girl.
Grantham’s hands fought Gavin’s, but he, too, was unable to budge the much larger man.
“Let him go!” she begged Gavin. “He did no wrong!”
“I told myself that,” Gavin said through clenched teeth, “as I rode hell-for-leather through the night. But I’m no nitwit. The man’s done more than kiss you. I can see it in his lustful,” he leaned forward so that he and Grantham were nose to nose, “beady,” he cinched Grantham’s cravat tighter, “ugly eyes. You blackguard .”
She beat against her brother’s enormous bicep. “Don’t kill him! I’m not in pinafores! We’re to be married .”
Gavin eased his hold enough for Grantham’s heels to touch the floor. The earl sucked in a great wheezing breath. Then he clasped his hands over Gavin’s grip and continued to pry at the strong fingers shunting his windpipe. Her merciless brother didn’t release his cravat. “Over my corpse.”
She laughed self-consciously. “You have no choice. You just said you believe he’s had his way with me.”
“ Don’t say those words.”
She wanted to disappear for her embarrassment, but she daren’t look away. Finally, her brother relented. He flung the wheezing earl away like a bag of refuse and turned to her. “I want to know everything.”
Elinor flinched. No, that wouldn’t do, not at all. She drew a breath and resisted sneaking a peek at Grantham. “Lord Chelford has been unfailingly polite. Why, Aunt Millie and I shared a delightful dinner with him at his table not a few hours since.”
Gavin made a show of searching the room for Aunt Millie. “Is that intended to relieve my mind? Your absentee chaperone?”
“She’s, ah, taking air.” Elinor smiled brightly. He would have arrived just when their aunt was proving to be especially scandalous.
“Why? Is she ill?” He shifted as if to go find her, then stopped as if struck by a thought. “She is ill. Why the devil is she here?”
“Precisely,” Elinor agreed. “She’s overtaxed herself.”
It seemed Gavin accepted this, but then he suddenly jerked in Elinor’s direction and pinned her with a narrowed gaze. “You seem rather fit for a woman who’s convalescing, too.”
She beamed beatifically again. “Oh, but isn’t it wonderful I’m no longer hurt?”
Those narrowed eyes became suspicious slits. “Convenient, is what I’d call it.”
She was rescued by the advent of Aunt Millie herself in the entryway. Elinor, Grantham and Gavin all turned to regard her, an audience she seemed to appreciate. Indeed, Aunt Millie drew her fingertips along the polished wood of the door’s frame, then with practiced languor, sashayed toward Gavin. There was no sign of de Winter, unless one counted the wisps of ginger hair flying free from her coiffure or the uneven seam of her bodice skewed across her décolletage.
She gathered Elinor’s arm in hers and turned their backs to Grantham, as if subtly suggesting family business not be aired before earls. “Elinor, it seems we require a few private words with your brother.”
Gavin gaped at the voluptuous matron with such shock, Elinor almost laughed aloud. So much for her lie; Aunt Millie was clearly as healthy as a woman half her age. Yet Elinor was less concerned by the possibility that he’d call out her blatant falsehood and more relieved that he seemed to be innocent of her mother’s trickery.
Indeed, the longer he stared at their aunt, the surer she felt that he’d had no part in abandoning her to York. Rather, he seemed perfectly
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