Never Trust a Rebel

* * *

The remainder of the evening proved very long and frustrating for Elyse. She kept away from the infuriating Mr Bastion as much as possible, but she could not relax and enjoy herself. She was very conscious of every man who approached her, unable to respond to even the mildest compliment and instead she sought out her female acquaintances, determined that no further accusations of improper conduct should be levelled at her.

For once she was relieved when the guests began to take their leave, but even then her trials were not at an end, for she discovered that Aunt Matthews had invited Mr Bastion to remain behind.

‘I have ordered wine and cakes to be brought to us in the morning room,’ she told Elyse, directing a smile at the gentleman that showed how far she had fallen under his spell. ‘There are papers I need to hand over and I made sure you would like to talk to him about your father.’

‘I should, of course, Aunt, but perhaps it is a little late for Mr Bastion.’

‘I have already assured you I am not in my dotage, Miss Salforde.’ His eyes gleamed with a challenge as he anticipated her next argument. ‘And everyone assures me that you have boundless energy.’

She shot him a smouldering glance but was not yet beaten.

‘I have,’ she responded sweetly, ‘but perhaps my aunt may be fatigued.’

Aunt Matthews laughingly disclaimed.

‘Not a bit of it. Why, it is not much past midnight. Now come along, both of you, let us repair to the morning room and make ourselves comfortable.’

She sailed out of the room and Elyse followed, head held high and ignoring the gentleman who fell into step beside her.

‘I would not advise you to cross swords with me, Miss Salforde,’ he murmured.

She gave a little huff of impatience.

‘I have no wish to do so,’ she hissed at him. ‘But I will not allow you to browbeat me, you...you bully!’

He stopped caught her arm, turning her to face him.

‘I shall do whatever is necessary to look after you as your father would have wanted. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly.’ The harsh look in his face made her quail inwardly, but she kept her chin up and met his eyes with a defiant stare. ‘But that does not mean I have to like you.’

To her consternation his frown disappeared at that and he grinned.

‘I am desolated, of course, but doubtless I will survive.’

She gave a little gasp of indignation. How dare he laugh at her. Pulling her arm free she hurried on to the morning room, determined to be revenged upon the hateful man.

* * *

‘So, Mr Bastion, you were with my brother at the end.’

Drew, Mrs Matthews and her niece were sitting around a small table in the morning room, wine and a selection of delectable little cakes provided by Mrs Matthews’s indefatigable cook set out before them.

Drew sipped his wine, wondering how much to tell them. That he and Harry had been thrown out of Paris, ostensibly for cheating at cards? That might not shock the ladies as much as the real reason, that Harry had been having a liaison with the duc’s mistress. He glanced across the table at Elyse, looking very demure as she nibbled at one of the little cakes. She had probably inherited her beauty from her mother, but she certainly had Harry’s charm of manner. She looked up at him at that moment, peeping at him from beneath her lashes in a way that immediately aroused his interest. He fought it down quickly and frowned. She also appeared to have inherited Harry’s propensity for flirting.

‘You said he died of an injury,’ Mrs Matthews continued, when he tarried too long over his answer. ‘Was he involved in a duel, perhaps?’ She smiled when he looked up, his brows raised in surprise at her question. ‘My brother was a scapegrace, Mr Bastion. An adventurer with an eye for the ladies. He never made any secret of it. Even when Elyse’s mama was alive he could not change his ways and settle down, so you need not think to shock us.’

‘There was a little trouble,’ he confessed. ‘In Paris.’

He paused, remembering how he had half-carried half-dragged Harry to the inn where Harry had told him he knew the landlord’s wife. Drew’s lips tightened. Harry’s trouble was that he knew every man’s wife.

Drew saw that Elyse was watching him, although he acquitted her now of trying to flirt with him. Her gaze was steady, direct. He knew she would not be satisfied unless he gave some explanation of what had happened. But her candid look made him uneasy. He wanted to protect her from the truth.

‘Footpads. Harry was more seriously injured than we thought at first. I summoned a physician but it was no use, he died within hours, but before he did, he drew up certain papers. Including one making me your guardian, Miss Salforde.’

‘Yes, I have been considering that,’ Elyse said. ‘Why should he do such a thing, sir, when my aunt has managed very well on her own for the past dozen years?’

He replied carefully. ‘Your father was very conscious that Mrs Matthews is a widow.’

‘And he thought you a more suitable guardian?’ She raised her brows and he observed the faint look of disbelief before she shifted her gaze to the cakes. ‘I believe you had known my father for some years, Mr Bastion.’

‘That is correct. We had become close friends.’

Her hand hovered over the platter before she selected a tiny iced fancy, saying as she did so, ‘If you were my father’s friend, sir, and you were with him in Paris, it occurs to me that you, too, are an adventurer. And quite possibly a rake,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘I am well aware that my father had that reputation.’

Touché.

‘What I was in the past is irrelevant,’ he told her. ‘As is the future. For now I have a task to perform. Before he died your father was in touch with Viscount Whittlewood concerning your marriage to his younger son, the Honourable William Reverson.’

‘Ah, thank heaven for that,’ exclaimed Mrs Matthews. ‘Elyse and William Reverson have been betrothed now for three years and I was afraid they would never marry.’

‘Quite,’ said Drew. ‘Harry considered the delay had gone on long enough and he was anxious to have the matter settled. He and the viscount came to an agreement, a date was set for the marriage and Miss Salforde will join the viscount’s household a month beforehand, that she may grow accustomed to her new family.’ He glanced at Mrs Matthews. ‘It was also agreed that you, ma’am, should be invited to remain with your niece as chaperon—and honoured guest—until the wedding.’

‘Well, of course,’ said the widow. ‘And that is even more important now, since I am the only relative the poor child has.’

Drew inclined his head at her before turning his attention to Elyse.

‘On his deathbed, your father charged me with the task of delivering you safely into Lord Whittlewood’s care by Michaelmas.’

The cake fell from Elyse’s nerveless fingers.

‘But that is my birthday, and less than a month away.’

‘Yes.’

‘But I shall still be in mourning.’

‘Your father knew that, but it is his express wish that the arrangements stand. The wedding will take place a month later, at the end of October.’

‘I cannot possibly be married so soon.’

From her startled gaze Drew knew that Elyse had not been informed of the forthcoming change in her circumstances. He felt a tiny spurt of irritation. It was just like Harry to want to keep such information to himself until he could return to Scarborough and whisk his daughter off to her new life. He would have considered the speed and surprise of the whole venture exciting. Elyse looked as if she needed more time to grow accustomed to the idea. In contrast to her niece’s shocked countenance, Mrs Matthews was beaming at him.

‘But of course you can, my love. Heavens, you have been waiting long enough. With Lord Whittlewood’s money and influence behind the alliance everything can be arranged in a twinkling.’ She turned her smile upon Drew. ‘That is wonderful news, sir. I know Mr Reverson and my niece are eager for the match, but we did not know a date had been agreed. And, Elyse, just think of it. You will be with Mr Reverson for your birthday on the twenty-ninth of September.’

‘Yes. I shall be one-and-twenty.’