Lord Burke stood up. “Yes, Grayson. Victims. You are a shallow fellow not worthy of her. You ought to leave her alone.”
“I will not,” Giles said stubbornly.
“Why not? What can it mean to you? Really, Grayson, think of someone other than yourself for once in your life.”
Lord Burke turned on his heel and strode out the door, slamming it behind him.
Giles stood in the middle of the floor, shocked at the dressing-down he’d just received. Among his friends, Burke had always been a bit of a scruples magistrate, reminding them all when they went too far. Dalton once called him old aunt Bess after being scolded about something or other.
But never had Burke been so…insulting.
Burke was wrong though, was he not? After all, he only…what did he do exactly? Giles could not deny that this year’s flirtation was different from season’s past. There was no battle of witty phrases or batting eyelashes or a scheming mama dropping leaden hints. And, he could not ignore that he’d read a pile of papers from the Royal Society, sent letters all over Europe, and spied on Sir John’s house. Those things were rather beyond what he’d ever done for any lady in the past. In truth, he’d never done anything for a lady beyond flattering words and unsigned posies.
He slowly sat down. Burke said Miss Dell was a good sort of girl. That was not even close to what she was. She was a marvelous sort of girl.
Burke was right on one point, though. She was adifferentsort of girl. She had not the wiles and tricks of his other flirtations. Those ladies had been as armored as himself and could handily come out of battle unscathed. Miss Dell was a different sort.
He ought to let her go.
Giles slowly sank down into the chair so recently vacated by his friend. A truth that had lingered in his mind, just below his conscious thoughts, began to make its way forward.
As the fog fell away from that truth, he felt a near overwhelming tension. It was very like the few moments before a battle began, those moments when all life teetered on the balance and nobody breathed.
The outer shell of his heart, that shell he had so relied on always, began to crack and crumble. He felt it almost collapsing into itself and despair rushed over him.
He was in love with Miss Dell.
Not the other loves he’d so fleetingly enjoyed across the years. Not the surface gayness that held no personal danger. This was a deeper more permanent thing. It felt as if it lived at the core of him. Almost as if it had always been there, waiting to be revealed. It was as Shakespeare and Byron described it. It was as Miss Austen had portrayed. An everlasting thing that could not be denied or forgotten. It was awful and wonderful.
And, in that moment, he knew just as clear that she’d never have him. He was not good enough for Katherine Dell. Not even close.
Despite all his planning and efforts, the worst had befallen him. He had put himself in a lady’s power. Valmont had been defeated by his own machinations.
“What am I to do?” he whispered. As he whispered it, he knew what he must do. He must leave her alone. He must stop dancing and dining with her. He must allow her the time and opportunity to meet with some fellow more worthy than himself.
As he ruminated about fellows more worthy, Sir John came into his mind like an unwelcome houseguest. Giles was certain the fellow was a villain, just as he himself was a villain, though in a different manner. If he would protect Miss Dell from himself, he would protect her from Sir John as well. She fancied she liked Sir John, he thought. Or she admired him. He would not allow the weasel Sir John to take advantage of that fact.
At this moment, he would very much like to ride his horse out of town and closet himself at some friend’s house in the country. He must stay where he was, though. He must stay until Sir John’s connection to Veritas was revealed.
The best he could do for Miss Dell was protect her fromallthe villains in her orbit.
Giles heard the door swing open behind him. He turned and found Lady Blakeley poking her head in.
“Come Lord Grayson, my musicians are ready to start.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kitty had beenused to Lord Grayson’s banter during a dance, and now found he had none. It was a strange circumstance, as she had never observed the lord so subdued.
Despite the idea that she should have been relieved, she found herself rather disturbed by it.
What had happened? It was almost as if he did not admire her as he had done only a quarter hour before. She did not like the clenching of her heart upon considering it. She ought to be grateful, but she did not feel grateful at all.
She was very much of a mind to cheer him up. To bring him back to what he always was.
“Lord Grayson,” she said, as they passed round one another, “I do not believe Lady Blakeley has named you vain. I suspect her note was of another flavor altogether.”
“Perhaps it was, Miss Dell,” Lord Grayson said, “but some things may be better hidden from view.”
