Never Trust a Rebel. Sarah Mallory

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СКАЧАТЬ twelve years ago she had only seen Papa occasionally and for very brief periods. He would arrive, boisterous, laughing and bringing with him extravagant presents for them both, then he would disappear again for months, even years. He had become a distant figure, larger than life yet not quite real. That is why it felt so uncomfortable to be in deep mourning for a father she barely knew.

      But that did not mean she would forgive this man for upbraiding her in such a brutish manner. A tiny prickle of conscience whispered that she might have deserved his reprimand but she was not accustomed to criticism. Mama had always spoiled her, and Aunt Matthews was of such a complaisant nature that she never made any effort to check her. It was the same with the gentlemen of her acquaintance. As soon as she had left the schoolroom she had been aware of their admiration. Why, even her aunt’s elderly gentlemen friends gazed upon her with approval.

      Elyse glanced up at her escort as they stepped back into the light of the drawing room. As a friend of Papa’s she had assumed he would be of a similar age and she was surprised to discover that he was much younger—some years less than thirty, she guessed. As if aware of her scrutiny Bastion glanced down at her and she discovered he was also extremely handsome. Something, a flash, a bolt of attraction shot between them and she quickly averted her gaze, frightened by the sudden inexplicable feeling that came over her, as if she had always known this man. It could not be. She had never seen him before, although now his image was burned into her memory.

      His face was lean, with straight dark brows above a pair of searching blue eyes. A coat of dark blue velvet embroidered with silver was moulded to his large frame and threw into sharp relief the snowy lace ruffles at his throat and wrists. His clothes were undoubtedly fashionable and had a distinctly French air. Despite the fact that he wore his own light brown hair unpowdered and caught back with a simple black ribbon she thought him very elegant, much more stylish than any other gentlemen present tonight.

      Indignation welled up within Elyse. It would not do to let him know what she thought of him, especially when he so patently disapproved of her. But surely his disapproval would not last for long? He would come round when he knew her better. After all, she had not yet met a man who was impervious to her charms. She took another glance at the unyielding figure of her escort and a tiny doubt shook her. It was true she had never been short of admirers, but she had never before set out to attract a man. She shook her head at her foolishness. She was not trying to attract him, merely to make him like her. She buried her indignation and tried for a friendly tone.

      ‘Are you truly my guardian, Mr Bastion?’

      ‘I am. Your father left you to my charge. I have the papers with me, proving my identity, if you would like to see them.’

      ‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to question you, but when we read your letter—I expected someone older.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘Why, you cannot be much older than I am.’

      ‘I am six-and-twenty, and old enough not to be bamboozled by your tricks and stratagems, madam.’

      The glint in his blue eyes made the blush deepen in her cheeks. Had he guessed her thoughts? She was tempted to protest, but in truth she had been trying to charm him and decided it would be wiser to remain silent until she had the measure of Mr Andrew Bastion.

      He took her back to her aunt, who greeted them with unruffled cheerfulness.

      ‘So you found her, Mr Bastion. Was she on the terrace, as we thought?’

      ‘I was, Aunt Matthews.’ Elyse answered quickly, to prevent her companion from doing so. ‘I had stepped out for a breath of air and Mr Scorton was so ungentlemanly as to forget himself.’ She could not resist a flicker of a glance at the man beside her. He should not be allowed to think she had been indulging in a light flirtation. ‘He made me an offer of marriage.’

      ‘Did he my dear? How tiresome for you.’

      Knowing her aunt’s complaisant nature, Elyse was in no way disconcerted by her lack of concern, but Mr Bastion was much less sanguine.

      ‘You appear singularly unsurprised, madam.’

      Mrs Matthews opened her eyes at him.

      ‘You are wrong, sir. I am very surprised, for everyone here knows Elyse is promised to Viscount Whittlewood’s son. However, I must take you to task, Elyse. It is all very well for you to be friendly with the gentlemen here. After all, you have known them for years, but as for going out on to the terrace alone with one of them, that was not at all wise, my love.’

      Elyse bit her lip. It did not need her aunt’s gentle reproof to tell her that. She could only be grateful that Mr Bastion did not disclose just how unwise she had been. Yet his silence on the subject only increased her irritation, since she was now doubly beholden to him. When another guest claimed her aunt’s attention Elyse turned to Mr Bastion and began to offer him an apology. He cut her short.

      ‘Save your words, Miss Salforde. You will not turn me up sweet.’

      ‘I was not attempting to—’

      ‘It is my opinion that you have been grievously indulged,’ he continued as if she had not spoken. ‘No wonder your father asked me to take you in hand.’

      She drew herself up, an angry retort rising to her lips but before she could utter it he had pulled her hand on to his arm.

      ‘Let us move away a little, Miss Salforde, where we may talk undisturbed.’

      ‘I have no wish to talk to you.’

      ‘I do not doubt that, but I am your guardian and I think I need to make a few things clear.’ He led her to the far side of the refreshment table, which was currently deserted. ‘You have been petted and spoiled and come to think of yourself as a diamond of the highest order.’

      She gave a gasp of indignation.

      ‘I think no such thing.’

      ‘But you do think yourself up to every rig and row, and able to wrap any man round your little finger, is that not so?’ She blushed a fiery red and he nodded with satisfaction. ‘Let us get one thing straight at the outset, Miss Salforde. I am no callow youth to be dazzled by your smile, nor am I ancient enough to dote on you.’

      She pulled her arm free and turned to glare up at him.

      ‘You are insulting, sir.’

      He leaned a little closer. She saw again that disturbing glint in his eye, but this time it held her attention. She could not look away.

      ‘I am merely making sure we understand one another,’ he told her. ‘Your father appointed me to look after you, and not before time, from what I have witnessed tonight.’

      He was towering over her and she had the strangest impression that she was enveloped in his shadow. His blue eyes bored into her as if he could see into her very soul. Her spine tingled, she felt threatened, imperilled, yet this man was her guardian, sent by Papa to protect her.

      She blurted out, ‘I think you are far more dangerous than any of the gentlemen here tonight.’

      The harsh look vanished and the corners of his mouth lifted.

      ‘You may well be right, Miss Salforde, so you would be wise to tread carefully.’ He gave a little bow, turned on his heel and left her to stare at his retreating form.

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