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Epilogue
Joseph was stunned by the events of the ball. Completely and utterly stunned. Mostly because, despite everything that he thought he should feel about Miss Narayan’s boldness and defiance of her father—and if there were one thing that had been drilled into Joseph until it was written on the fibers of his soul, it was that children should obey their fathers—Joseph felt…proud of Miss Narayan.
“It doesn’t make a lick of sense,” he muttered to himself as he skirted the edge of the ballroom, heading to the refreshment table.
“What doesn’t make a lick of sense?” the sharp, American accent of Miss Garrett sounded right behind Joseph’s shoulder.
Joseph jumped and spun to face Miss Garrett. The blasted woman had been following him since the ball began, likely to wheedle him into a waltz so that she could spin his thoughts around and make his heart pound and his body do things that it absolutely should not do if he wanted to maintain his dignity and piety.
But she was just so beautiful, what with her spun-gold hair, her sweet, round face, and her sweet, round…er, other things that he should not be looking at.
He coughed and forced himself to meet Miss Garrett’s eyes. “It does not make sense that Maharaja Narayan would allow his daughter to go against his wishes to marry my brother,” he told her, though that wasn’t precisely what he’d been thinking. His deep regard for all his brother’s wives when they were exactly the sort of women his own father had warned him about was too much for his brain to reconcile.
“Well, I happen to think the whole thing was terribly romantic,” Miss Garrett said, hooking her arm through his and continuing to walk around the perimeter of the room with him. “Don’t you want that sort of unconventional romance for yourself, Mr. Rathborne-Paxton?” she asked, her eyes shining with mirth as she grinned at him.
“I…er…um….” Joseph’s collar was suddenly too tight—and his trousers too, damn them. He wondered if someone had lit several fires in the room that he couldn’t see as well, because he was immediately too hot for words.
Miss Garrett laughed at his discomfort, although even Joseph had to admit that the sound was full of life and fondness. “Oh, Mr. Rathborne-Paxton,” she said, hugging his arm—hugging it! “You are wonderful. It’s no wonder I’ve decided you are the only man for me.”
“I beg your pardon?” Joseph asked, his voice cracking halfway through.
That only made Miss Garrett laugh harder.
It was a damn shame that laughter was cut short a moment later as, out of seemingly nowhere, Joseph’s other arm was grabbed in a vise-like grip by his father.
“Who is this woman, boy, and why are you making a spectacle of yourself with her?” his father demanded.
Joseph felt as though he were about to come to a messy and untimely end between the proverbial rock and hard place.
Even more so when Miss Garrett pulled herself up to her full height—which wasn’t much, as she was rather petite—and glared at Lord Vegas. “Excuse me,” she said, planting one hand saucily on her hip, “but who are you?”
“I am the Marquess of Vegas, this boy’s father,” Lord Vegas said, as indignant as anyone could be.
“Is that so?” Miss Garrett said, as though neither his title nor his connection to Joseph made a bit of difference to her.
Joseph’s father gaped at her, then turned that startled expression on Joseph. “Is she some sort of object of your affection?” he demanded, incredulous.
“I—” Joseph hated the way he cowered slightly in the face of his father’s wrath, hated the way all his memories of being punished for his transgressions by the man rolled back onto him, making him feel every bit like the boy he’d been accused of being.
“I’m his fiancée,” Miss Garrett growled, narrowing her eyes at Lord Vegas. “Or at least I will be once I convince him to propose to me.”
Joseph gaped at her with a startled expression that was a little too similar to his father’s.
His father recovered first, making a hissing, derisive sound. “You will marry my son over my dead body,” he said.
Neither Joseph nor Miss Garrett had a chance to respond to that. Before either of them could do more than open their mouths, a deep, frighteningly familiar voice muttered, “That could easily be arranged.”
For a moment, Joseph, Miss Garrett, and Lord Vegas froze, listening. Then they all began to search frantically for the person they all knew was behind the muttered threat.
Joseph spotted him first, standing so close to them it was laughable that they hadn’t noticed him before. He had a way of blending into the other guests, not to mention the background. Miss Garrett and Lord Vegas could only gape at the man, but not Joseph.
“Montrose,” he said, snarling at the man and feelings as though he could tear him apart with her bare hands.
Montrose stepped forward, bowing as though he were the guest of honor and had finally seen fit to make his appearance. “At your service, sir.”
“But…but you’re gone,” Lord Vegas stammered. “You lost all your money and you left.”
“I have lost nothing and gone nowhere,” Montrose said with an imperious air. “I have simply been keeping to the background so that I might observe this pitiful drama playing itself out.” He gestured to where Maharaja Narayan and Raja Raikut were now dancing with some of London’s finest gentlewomen.
Joseph frowned. He didn’t believe a word Montrose said. “We all know your financial situation is precarious,” he said, his mind racing for a way to take advantage of the situation. Unfortunately, he came up blank. “I won’t let you harm my family,” he said. It was the best he could do.
“Poor boy,” Montrose said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “You can do nothing to stop me from doing what I set out to do from the beginning.”
“Now see here—” Lord Vegas began.
Montrose cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I said I would destroy the Rathborne-Paxton family, and I will. I am a man of my word,” he said. “But what is it to you, Lord Vegas? Are you not about to run away to India with your tail between your legs?”
“I…you cannot…I will be a guest of Raja Raikut, a fixture in his palace,” Lord Vegas said, puffing his chest as though it were something to be proud of.
Miss Garrett made a sound, and when Joseph peeked at her, they exchanged looks that said they both knew Lord Vegas was running away. Unfortunately, he was running away and saddling his sons with his problems.
“You won’t win this game, Montrose,” he said, mostly because it was what he figured he ought to say.
Montrose laughed at him as though he knew Joseph was a tiger with no teeth. “Mark my words, boy,” he said in an irritating echo of the way his father had always mistreated him. “I will bring you and your family down so hard—and before Christmas, no less—that you will be grateful to take a job sweeping streets just to have a few coins to buy a meager supper.”
“You think you’re so grand,” Miss Garrett said, shaking her head. “We’ll show you.”
Joseph stared at her. American bravado was one thing, but Miss Garrett had no idea what she was up against.
“Get out of my house, sir,” Lord Vegas ordered Montrose. He then shocked Joseph by going so far as to manhandle the villain, pushing him toward the ballroom door.
Montrose laughed at him. “I’ll go, Lord Vegas. And so will you. And once you’ve abandoned your pups, the hawks will swoop in and devour them.”
Montrose sent one final look to Joseph, then turned and marched out of the room. Lord Vegas followed him, though Joseph rather thought his father would run once he was clear of the ballroom instead of having another confrontation with Montrose.
As soon as they’d turned the corner and disappeared, Joseph let out a heavy breath and brushed a hand over his hair. “I have to consult with my brothers about this,” he said.
Miss Garrett shrugged one shoulder and steered him on toward the refreshment table. “Why bother your brothers with something like this?”
Joseph couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing from her. By all appearances, Miss Garrett was unmoved by Montrose’s evil.
“How can you remain so calm after Montrose has issued threats like that?” he asked.
Miss Garrett laughed derisively—which made a surprisingly pleasing sound to Joseph’s ears. “Honey, trust me. I’m used to range wars in Wyoming. Montrose thinks he’s powerful, but he hasn’t had a taste of Western justice.”
Joseph continued to gape at her, wondering if maybe he, too, should run away. Not because he was frightened of Miss Garrett, but because his body and soul had the sort of reaction to her that he’d always been taught was wrong and beneath him. He wondered what she would look like on her back in his bed.
He shook the thought away and snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t keep silent, though. “What do you think you can do that would prevent Montrose from ruining us all?”
Miss Garrett smiled in a way that both chilled Joseph’s blood and warmed it. “Darling, you just stay with me and I’ll show you exactly what and then some.”
She winked at him and pulled him forward. Joseph could do nothing but go with her. He had a feeling that he was in for a wild ride where Miss Garrett was concerned.
* * *
