Chapter Eleven

Y sella slammed her bedroom door and stamped over to her bed. What a horrible pig Kit was being. She flung herself onto the bed and buried her face in her pillows. How could he be so mean? Who did he think he was? Papa?

Her mind went back to the afternoon, and Kit's face when she'd introduced Oliver. His first words had been, as they shook hands, "Ah, I see you are about to leave us. Nice meeting you."

Oliver, ever the gentleman, had been forced to nod his agreement. "I was just admiring your pineapple plants in the Orangery. But you're right, I need to be on my way, or I won't be back in Marlborough before dark."

Kit glanced up at the sky. "I'll wish you on your way then." And he held his arm out for Ysella to take.

She glared at him in frustration, but short of starting an argument, she could think of nothing to do.

"Miss Carlyon," Oliver said, bowing. "It's been a pleasure to renew our acquaintance." And he winked, just for her, as he rose.

Ysella started and glanced at Kit, but as Oliver had his back to her brother, he must have missed the conspiratorial gesture. What did it mean?

"Perhaps," Oliver said, with smooth finesse, as he turned to Kit, "I might call upon your sister again?"

And this was where Kit had turned into Papa. His so far bland expression had creased into a frown that didn't look all that apologetic. "I'm afraid that would be difficult, as the house is not open to receiving guests at this very moment, due to the illness of my wife. Ysella made a mistake in inviting you here today. We are not receiving callers and will not be again for some time to come. My wife needs complete peace and quiet."

Ysella had to interrupt. "But he won't be coming to see Morvoren or you. He'll be coming to see me!"

Kit's jaw hardened, just as Papa's had been wont to do. "That is of no matter, Ysella. It was rash of you to invite a London acquaintance to call on you at this time. Rash and selfish. Mama will be taking you back to London when Morvoren is recovered. You may invite your gentleman callers to Ormonde House, but not here to the Abbey while my wife remains ill. I'm sorry, but my mind is quite made up."

He made a bow to Oliver. "I apologize for having had to put it so bluntly, but my sister is nothing if not impetuous and doesn't give pause to think of others. It is most upsetting to have to receive visitors at this time, when my wife has been so ill. The house is all upside down." He paused and fixed Oliver with his hard gaze, and Ysella's heart sank into her boots. "I am sure you understand, Captain Featherstone." Said in a tone that Oliver could do nothing but agree to.

Kit's gaze returned to Ysella. "And rest assured that when Ysella returns to Town for the remainder of the season, I shall be accompanying her." Had that been a veiled threat? Ysella might not have been of the most astute at reading body language, but even she could read disapproval in every bone of Kit's body, and every word he spoke. The pig.

Oliver bowed a second time, somewhat stiffly, as though he knew he'd been put in his place and it wasn't a place he wished to occupy. "As you wish, my lord. No need to trouble your staff. I'll walk around to the stables myself and fetch my horse. Good afternoon."

He bowed to Ysella as well, his eyes smoldering delightfully. "Good afternoon, Miss Carlyon."

And with that, he departed. Ysella watched him go. At the wrought-iron gate, he turned and looked back at her, touching his fingers to his forehead in a salute. Then he was gone.

Ysella swung around on Kit, her hard-controlled anger rising to the surface. "How could you do that?" she burst out. "He came to see me , not you. And you were so rude to him!"

Kit's brows met in a heavy frown. "Ysella, you should not have invited anyone to pay morning calls while Morvoren is so ill, as you well know. That was unforgiveable of you and showed great selfishness. Am I to assume you issued this invitation whilst still in Town, when you could have had no idea whether my wife would overcome her illness?" He took a breath. "For all you knew, you were inviting some jumped-up little fortune-hunting militia officer to call on a house in mourning." His eyes flashed at her in quite a different way to Oliver's.

Ysella's hackles rose. "I admit I suggested that he might call on me down here," she spat. "But I never for a moment though Morvoren might die. I'm sure if he'd heard Morvoren had died, he wouldn't have come. He's not a thoughtless oaf, you know." She very nearly added "like you" and just managed to stop herself in time. "And besides, it was only yesterday that I invited him to call today. When I knew Morvoren was getting better."

That last bit slipped from between her lips without her thinking. She clapped a hand to her mouth as though to hold her words in. Now she'd let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Bugger it. She nearly said it out loud but managed to stop herself in time. That would not have helped matters.

"You what?" Kit's voice was icy calm. "When, precisely, did you do that?"

In desperation, Ysella sought for some plausible excuse and failed to come up with one. She opened and closed her mouth once or twice, finally pressing her lips together in a thin line of opposition.

"Well?" Kit asked, shifting his position a little and looking more imposing and threatening than ever. "I'm waiting for an explanation." His words hung leaden in the air between them, and Ysella glanced over her shoulder, briefly considering whether flight in tears might be an idea. But he was between her and the house, and how ignominious would it be to be chased after and caught?

Perhaps the truth might be best. Small lies weren't too bad, she reasoned, as Oliver had told one himself, but if she told a big lie now, Kit would know, and it would be far too big for him to forgive. She had to bear in mind that as her legal guardian, he could prevent her from returning to Town when Morvoren was better, and even confine her in her room—behind a locked door—if he had a mind to.

"I, er, I went for a ride yesterday morning. But only after I heard Morvoren's fever had broken." The words tumbled over one another in her haste to get them out before he could interrupt her. "I was so pleased for her and you that I felt a gallop in the fresh air was what I needed. And I've not ridden all the while I've been in London. I didn't intend to meet up with Oliver, I promise you. It was such a surprise when I found him riding through the village."

Kit heaved an angry sigh. "No doubt already on his way here to see you."

Had he been? It hadn't occurred to Ysella to wonder what he was doing out there on their estate so far from his accommodation in Marlborough. Had he been hoping to either call upon them that day, or to see Ysella out riding? Well, if it had been the latter, he'd had his wish. "I'm sure it was just by chance," she said, holding Kit's gaze.

He laughed. Not at all a nice laugh. "Well, you needn't think you're seeing him here again, because you're not. And there are a lot of reasons for that. Firstly, and most importantly, I don't want any visitations at all from eager young beaux while my wife is ill. As I explained to that young man, she needs total peace, and she doesn't need you unburdening yourself to her about your woes. So don't bother to tell her about this conversation." He paused, his hand reaching out to take hers. "And secondly, I happen to know Featherstone is a friend of Fitz's. Well, for me if not for you, that's no recommendation at all. If he's a friend of Fitz's, then he's no friend of mine."

"Is there a thirdly in your ridiculous list?" Ysella snapped, tugging to free herself from his hold.

Kit nodded. "Thirdly, the man is in the militia, not even the regular army off fighting Boney on the continent. He has no money of his own and he's a fortune hunter, Ysella, and he must be well aware you have a very attractive fortune ready for the picking."

She tugged her hand harder. "Oliver is not like that!"

" Oliver ?" Kit's eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. "You're on first name terms with him already?"

"So what?" Ysella retorted. "You called Morvoren by her first name before you were married—before you were even engaged."

"And we are married now."

"So?" She couldn't think of a better retort, conscious of the fact that she sounded increasingly like a thwarted, angry child. Possibly even a spoilt angry child.

"You seem to have rapidly developed an uncalled-for familiarity with this fortune hunter."

"He's not a fortune hunter. And if we're familiar with one another, it's because we love each other. And we want to be married." She nearly added "so there" but just managed to stop herself in time. And anyway, that last bit wasn't entirely true as he certainly hadn't asked her yet, nor even mentioned the idea. But he would, of that she was sure.

"You what ?" Kit's voice, that had been sinking lower and lower, perhaps because he feared some of the servants might be around, suddenly rose. "And when was I, your guardian, to be informed of this?" Still with her hand gripped in his, he gave her whole arm a shake. "Good heavens, Ysella, you've been out scarcely two months and are one of the most eligible girls of the season, with your fortune. And you've set your heart on a nobody in a fancy uniform?"

"You're hurting me."

He released her hand. "Tell me it's not true."

"I won't," Ysella returned. "Because it is. And you can't stop me."

Kit balled his fists. "I think you'll find that I can, until you reach twenty-one, which is not for another two years. And even then, I can make it very difficult for you to marry some nobody."

"Oliver is not a nobody, and you are such a snob!" Ysella shouted, forgetful of decorum now. "I hate you, Kit. I hate you. You married someone who was a nobody and so did Papa. So why can't I?"

Kit seemed to lose the last vestiges of his own self-control. Good. "Because neither of us married a cad! Featherstone is a friend of Fitz's and that means he's a rake and a cad, as are all Fitz's friends. He doesn't love you, Ysella; he loves your income."

"Oh, you're such a pig !" Resorting to calling him names might not have been such a good idea.

"And you are such a child!"

Ysella stamped her foot. Damn and blast it. Now she was showing him he was right. "Oh, go away!" She spun on her heel and bolted for one of the doors into the house, half expecting him to come running after her. However, no running footsteps sounded on the gravel apart from her own. She flung the door open wide, and galloped for the stairs up to her bedroom.

Which was why she was now lying on her bed crying into her pillow. Kit was so unbearably mean. He didn't want her ever to be happy. He only didn't like Oliver because Oliver knew Fitz. And why didn't he like Fitz? They were cousins, after all. And Fitz was always charm personified. Although, it had been one of the revenue men Fitz had been in charge of down in Cornwall who had shot Kit. Maybe that was it. Maybe Kit couldn't forgive Fitz for having been shot.

Only that wasn't true, was it? Because Kit had never liked Fitz. Oh, why were men so unfathomable? Thank goodness Oliver wasn't like that at all. He wore his heart on his sleeve. He'd said he loved her in the Orangery, taken her in his arms, pulled her close and kissed her again just like he'd done yesterday. Only this time it had been better, because they hadn't been on fidgety horses. He'd drawn her close enough that she could feel his heart beating against hers, he'd put his hands in her hair, pressed her face closer to his as his tongue explored her mouth. And she'd touched her tongue to his, too, felt them entwine, wrestle, unite. It had been glorious. And her body had reacted in ways she'd never expected, with shivers of delight running up and down it the more he kissed her.

She stopped crying. That was better. She needed to think only of the nice things in her life. And Oliver was one of them. Kit was not going to keep them apart. What did she care if Oliver needed her inheritance for them to live on? That didn't matter. What mattered was that they should be together. She rolled onto her back, put her hands behind her head, and descended into deep thought.

*

From the summerhouse, Sam had watched the altercation between Ysella and her brother with interest, and deep sympathy for Ysella. His heart was torn. A part of him wanted her to be happy, but another part of him wanted things to stay the same. For her to continue living here at Ormonde so he could continue admiring and loving her from afar. After all, he was just a lowly land agent, son of a land agent and grandson of a tenant farmer. He could never have her.

When Ysella flounced off into the house, leaving Kit staring after her, Sam deemed it time to emerge from the summerhouse. Time was getting on, and it might be wise to go home to Mrs. Higgins and leave Ormonde and all its troubles until tomorrow.

He was not to get away so easily. Kit hailed him, and the two young men met in the center of the garden where a small fountain played and goldfish darted between the lilies.

"Can you dine with us tonight?" Kit asked.

Sam bit his lip, his escape to peace and quiet gone, and not at all sure he wanted to be witness to another show of Ysella's temper and Kit's ire. "I'll have to send a message to Mrs. Higgins if I do."

"That's done then," Kit said. "I'll have Bannerman send the kitchen boy down there. I need your company tonight. The company of a sensible man. I've had enough of women, and in particular, flighty girls."

He set off inside, but by a different door to the one Ysella had taken, and Sam followed him in, uneasy and a little unhappy at having to stay and see Ysella again. If only he could take her in his arms and soothe her troubles away for her, but that was never going to happen.

He needn't have worried. Ysella did not appear for dinner, but sent a message down with Martha to say she had a megrim and would stay in her room. The dowager was eating with Morvoren upstairs, so in the end, only Kit and Sam sat down in the dining room at the long table. Sam's place had been set to the right of the head of the table, where Kit sat, so they could converse without having to raise their voices.

After the first course of soup, a side of beef was served, and it was only while they were eating it that Kit broached the subject of Ysella. "If you were in charge of a chit like her," he said, pushing his beef around his plate in a desultory fashion, "would you allow her to marry whom she chose?"

Sam's face flamed as it always did when Ysella was mentioned. As the table was lit only by candles down the center, hopefully Kit wouldn't notice. "I don't know," he said, with diffidence. "I've never been in that position." Nor was he likely to be.

Should he be honest and say no, he would fight Ysella every step of the way to prevent her from throwing herself away on a cad like Featherstone? Maybe not. Kit had to make his own mind up.

Kit sighed. "I could be wrong, I suppose, and he might truly love her. But he's a friend of Fitz's and all those rumors are attached to him, so what am I to think? I suppose even a cad can fall in love in the end. One thing I do know, though, is that Fitz won't have been able to resist telling Featherstone she has a sizeable dowry just to spite me. Everything he's ever done has been to cause me trouble."

Sam kept silent, not quite so sure that Fitz cared that much about Kit to try to do him harm. Apart, of course, from the time Kit had ended up shot. But that hadn't been by Fitz's own hand, and indeed, Fitz didn't know what had happened to this day.

"She was always a trouble even to Papa, and he died when she was only thirteen," Kit said, setting down his fork. "And ever since I've been her guardian, things have gone from bad to worse. Look at her schooling. She was expelled , Sam. A thing I only ever thought happened to the worst of boys. And her escapades in my old clothes, dressed up as a boy. Her forcing Morvoren to teach her to ride astride—in boys' clothes. The time she took a rowing boat out on the lake and it sank and she had to wade neck deep to the side. She would have drowned had it been any deeper. When she fell out of that tree and broke her arm." He sighed again. "I sometimes think she'd have been better off born as a boy."

Sam smiled at the thought, very glad she was a girl. "I don't think that would have made her happy. I think she's happy as a girl but wants the freedom of being able to do the things we boys—men—can do."

Kit laughed, with a hint of bitterness. "I've a baby upstairs in the nursery, and yet I have a child of nineteen I'm also responsible for. Not something I asked for. I suppose I should be glad some numskull has been unwise enough to want to take her on and should let her go. But I can't help but think she won't be happy, and he's only after her for her money. His reputation goes before him."

Sam set down his own fork, his appetite, which had not been large, gone. "For what it's worth, Kit, I think you're right and doing the right thing. She needs a dependable earl or even a baronet, perhaps an upright member of the clergy, to tame her wild ways."

But did she? In his dreams he knew that if he were lucky enough to have her, he would allow her to keep her wild, and undeniably attractive, ways. They were part of her charm, and he loved her for them. But did Oliver? Did Oliver love her at all or was he just after her money as Kit suspected?