The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(70)

Jared drew the rapier from its scabbard and laid it down on the desk, the hilt towards his father’s hand. ‘You wounded me more than that ever could. Hanging on to hate is not going to heal it. I do not know if I can forget, I have no idea whether anything will ever be easy between us and this is complicating my life almost more than is tolerable, just at the moment. But I am Ravenlaw now and so I suggest we try and make this work.’

The Earl picked up the weapon, flexed his wrist and tried the balance of it. ‘A fine blade.’ He was recovering his composure again, his breathing was slowing. He handed it back to Jared. ‘Just who are you now, Jack?’

‘Jared Hunt the swordmaster hired by the late Viscount Northam. I am hunting his murderer.’



‘For one moment I believe he thought I was there to kill him.’ Jared unbuckled his sword belt, dropped the rapier on the table within reach and collapsed into the biggest, deepest chair the turret hideaway possessed.

‘But that is ghastly.’ Guin took the chair opposite. ‘Does he understand that you forgive him now?’

The look Jared gave her was decidedly jaundiced. ‘Do I, I wonder? I understand him and that’s the next best thing, I suppose. I was always the unsatisfactory son and he was stuck with his heir marrying beneath him, as he thought. He reasoned he couldn’t add scandal to that, conveniently assumed I had run away to join the army and tried not to think too hard about the situation. If my mother had been alive she wouldn’t have let him get away with it, of course, but she had died two years before. Now he has sent to Bow Street and to private investigators in an attempt to track down his lost heir. He has been spared that expense, at least.’

‘He must be devastated by William’s death.’

Jared nodded. ‘But he is keeping it all inside. He was always good at maintaining the fa?ade, his composure. He hasn’t lost that.’

‘Reminds me of someone,’ she murmured. ‘And now that he has you?’

‘Now he wants to give me everything William had – the allowance, the run of the London house, the hunting lodge. Thankfully the law does not permit me to marry my brother’s wife or no doubt he would like me to do that as well in order to tidy up all the loose ends.’

‘Surely not, if she has only borne daughters,’ Guin commented, feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically bitchy.

‘There is that.’ Jared smiled for the first time since he had returned.

‘Is there a Dower House?’

‘No. Widows were always accommodated about the place – it’s ludicrously large and there are suites in the most unlikely corners. Father says she is hinting at him buying her a house near Scarborough, which seems an excellent idea to me.’

‘Provided she does not find herself on trial for conspiracy to murder,’ Guin said tartly. She should be pleased that Jared’s confrontation with his father had not been as dreadful as she had feared, but her nerves were jangling and she was finding it difficult to hold on to any sense of humour. She could just imagine the Earl’s reaction to her as his next daughter-in-law: twice widowed, no family or connections to speak of, no dowry, trailing clouds of scandal – and scandalous prints – behind her.

But it seemed she could not have Jared any other way than by marriage if his determination to do the right and honourable thing persisted and he would not take her as his lover.

‘And what does your father want from you?’

‘For me to cut my hair, stop this nonsense of working for my living, stop associating – ’ There was a breath of a pause ‘– with murderers and come home to live.’

‘He has heard about me, hasn’t he? The London papers reach Yorkshire the next day, I suppose.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. He was as wary as if she was sharpening a long knife in front of him, Guin realised. ‘And he has not disinherited me of all that he might, as I had expected.’

‘So you are a desirable marriage prospect.’

‘Yes.’ Jared’s eyes narrowed.

‘You may relax, my lord.’ His gaze sharpened. It must be the first time anyone had addressed him so. ‘I do not want to marry you, I have not changed my opinion since we discussed this last night.’

‘Why not?’ He leaned forward, wrists on his knees, intent.

‘We desire each other, we have from the beginning. But that is all that it is – and it is no basis for a marriage, especially an unequal one. I would like a nice conventional affaire, you apparently would not.’ She shrugged, sure she was hiding the insecurities – He does not want me any more, he has had what he wants, he has realised what a quagmire I have drawn him into… ‘Besides, if you are going to cut your hair, I may not desire you any more.’

‘More than likely. Good thing that I have no intention of doing so.’

‘You want me to desire you? You will not make love to me but your pride insists that I pant and pine, is that it?’ She bounced out of the chair, propelled by indignation. Men had all the power, all the arrogance, all the insolent nerve in the world, while women –

A pair of hands bracketed her waist. ‘Stop flouncing.’ He moved like a ghost. The ghost of a cat.

‘I am not – What are you doing?’ She did not turn around. Did not move. Through the sensible cotton of her morning dress his hands were warm and sure and felt very permanent, anchoring her there.