The Magic of You by Johanna Lindsey
Warren, however, couldn’t have been more pleased with the outcome. He’d deliberately put his mouth in the way of Drew’s fist, and the split lip he’d counted on, and got, would keep him from doing any kissing for the next few days. On the off chance he lost his head again and succumbed to Amy’s so-tempting seductions, the pain from his sore mouth would bring him to his senses.
The exertion had also tamed his temper for the moment, enough that as he settled down next to Drew on the mattress they’d moved out of the wreckage of the bed frame to the floor, he finally recalled that Lady Amy owed him a promise for giving in to her plea not to take on those thieves. Anything he asked for, had been the deal. Somehow she’d made him forget about that afterward, but he wouldn’t forget again. That would be, after all, the end to his problem.
Chapter 19
The business that the Andersons had to attend to the next morning took less time than anticipated, the office Thomas had found yesterday afternoon approved of unanimously by all, the lease agreed upon and signed within the hour. The three-room space needed work, however, but only minor repairs that a carpenter and a painter could accomplish in a matter of days. Clinton and Thomas went off to acquire the furnishings, Boyd to find the laborers.
That left Drew and Warren with time on their hands, and Warren with unwelcome company. He wanted to go by Berkeley Square and have words with Amy, but couldn’t do that with Drew tagging along. He considered picking another fight with his brother just to get rid of him, but now that he had the means to solve his little problem, his mood was too pleasant for him to feign unpleasantness.
Drew, however, saved him from simply suggesting he disappear, which, knowing Drew, would have had the younger man sticking to his heels the rest of the day instead. Drew, apparently, had other plans himself.
“I’m going ’round to a tailor Derek recommended. This fellow can turn out formal togs in a matter of days for the right price.”
“And what do you need with formal wear here in London?” Warren asked.
“Boyd and I have been invited to a ball at the end of the week. Actually, the invitation included us all, but I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“I’m not. And you’ll be sailing by the end of the week,” Warren reminded him.
“What does that matter? I’m still game for a few hours of romancing.”
“Ah, I forgot. You’re famous for kissing and running, so what, indeed, does it matter?”
“A sailor’s bad luck.” Drew grinned unrepentantly. “And you don’t?”
“I don’t make promises to women that I don’t intend to keep.”
“No, they’re too frightened of your damn temper to try and extract any.”
Warren didn’t take the bait, and even put his arm around his brother’s shoulders to confide, “I’ll give you matching shiners if you insist, but I’d just as soon not.”
Drew laughed. “Got it all out of your system last night, eh?”
“For the time being.”
“Glad to hear it, but of course it won’t last. Your mellow moods never do.”
Warren frowned as Drew left him. Was he that hard to get along with? His crew didn’t think so, or he wouldn’t have kept so many regulars for so many years. He did, of course, have a temper, and there were certain things that easily provoked it. Drew’s constant cheer, for one. His younger brother’s carefree nature simply rubbed him wrong, possibly because he could remember a time, so long ago, when he’d been much the same—before Marianne.
He put it from his mind as he headed for Berkeley Square and an end to another, more pressing irritation. His mood was still good, however, and even improved the closer he got. No more days like yesterday. An end to temptation. He could get back to enjoying this visit with his sister. He could concentrate on opening the newest Skylark office for business. He might even consider acquiring a temporary mistress for the duration of his stay.
Maybe he ought to attend that ball with his brothers after all, just to see what the ton had available in the way of easy virtue.
The French ex-pirate, Henri, was the butler for the day, and it took only a few moments after he answered the door for Warren to learn that he’d come at the wrong time. Georgie was napping. So was Jacqueline. And the other three Malorys in residence had gone out.
Warren’s disappointment was crushing, the good mood he’d finally attained shot down to the lowest dregs. He’d been prepared to have an end to frustration, and here he was beset with it again. He could have waited, of course, but his impatience would only make his mood worse, and if Georgie got up, he’d end up taking it out on her. So he left, but how to kill time in a town he didn’t know?
Well, there was one other thing he’d been meaning to do. An hour later, he’d found the sporting hall he was looking for, made arrangements with the owner at considerable cost for personal instruction, and was discovering, rather quickly, that he knew next to nothing about serious fisticuffs. A brawler was what he’d always been and it had served him nicely—until James Malory.
“Not like that, Yank,” the instructor complained. “That’ll knock the average man on his arse, but if you want him to stay down, do it like this.”
Warren didn’t exactly have the temperament for this kind of criticism, but he was going to put up with it if it killed him. The reward would be the ability to smash his brother-in-law in the face and not get demolished for it.
“You’ve got the body to do considerable damage, but you need to use it properly. Keep ’em up, now, and make use of the power behind your right.”
“Well, fancy this,” uttered a voice Warren recognized all too well. “Any particular reason you’ve gone into training, Yank?”
Warren turned to face James Malory and his brother Anthony, who had come up to the ring, the last two people he cared to see just then. “One,” he said with clear meaning.
James grinned. “D’you hear that, Tony? I do believe the chap is still after my blood.”
“Well, he’s come to the right place to figure out how to go about it, hasn’t he?” Anthony replied. To Warren, he said, “Did you know Knighton trained us both? ’Course, that was quite a few years back and we’ve learned a thing or two since then. Perhaps I’ll give you some instruction myself.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Sir Anthony. I don’t need that kind of help.”
Anthony merely laughed as he turned to his brother and said cryptically, “He doesn’t understand. Why don’t you explain it to him while I go and collect my bet from Horace Billings over there.”
“What’d you wager on this time?” James asked.
“Can’t you guess?”
“The sex of my daughter?”
“Her name, old man.” Anthony laughed. “I do know you so well.”
James smiled fondly after his brother before he returned his attention to Warren. “You ought to take him up on his offer. He’s the only man I know who has a chance of beating me, though it’s a slim chance. And despite what you’re thinking, he’ll teach you proper just to see me knocked down. He’s like that, you know.”
Warren had witnessed these two brothers interact enough to realize that James was likely right. He wished he and his own brothers could manage that kind of ribbing without coming to blows.
“I’ll consider it,” he replied curtly.
“Excellent. Now, I’d offer the benefit of my own expertise, to keep things sporting, mind, but your sister would probably accuse me of seeking revenge or some such silly thing, since I wouldn’t be nearly as gentle with you as Tony will. By the by, that’s a splendid cracked lip you’ve got there. Anyone I know?”
“So you can congratulate him?” Warren said testily. James just smiled, so he added, “Sorry to disappoint you, Malory, but it was no more than Drew and I having trouble sharing the same bed.”
“A pity.” James sighed. “The thought of you making new enemies while you’re in town would do wonders for my disposition, it truly would.”
That infernal blond brow cocked. “If? Oh, you will, Yank. You bloody well can’t help it, you’re such a powder keg. You really ought to toughen up that American hide of yours. It pricks much too easily.”
The fact that Warren hadn’t exploded yet—though he was damn close to it—led him to remark with a degree of smugness, “Notice I’m improving.”
“So you are,” James had to agree. “Commendable, truly—but then, I’m in a splendid mood, having hired a nurse for Jack this morning.”
In other words, James wasn’t even trying to be provoking, but Warren didn’t see it that way, and he gritted his teeth over that name. “That reminds me. Georgie suggested I ask you why you named your daughter Jack.”
“Because I knew how much it would irritate you, dear boy. Why else?”
Warren managed to hold onto his temper—barely—to point out in a reasonable tone, “That kind of perverseness isn’t normal, you know.”
James laughed at that. “You expect me to be normal? God forbid.”
“All right, this isn’t the first time you’ve gone out of your way to be irritating, Malory. Care to tell me why you do it?”
James shrugged. “It’s a longtime habit I can’t seem to break.”
“Have you tried?”
James grinned now. “No.”
“Habits have their beginnings,” Warren said. “What started yours?”
“A good question, so put yourself in my place. What would you do if not a bloody thing in life held interest for you, if there was no challenge left in chasing a pretty skirt, and if even the prospect of a bloodletting duel had become positively boring?”
“So you insult people just to see if they’ll erupt into violence?”
“No, to see what bloody asses they can make of themselves. You do very well, by the way.”
Warren gave up. Talking to James Malory took every ounce of patience and self-control he possessed, and he didn’t have an abundance of either to begin with. It must have shown in his expression, because James added, “Sure you don’t want to have a go at me now?”
“No.”
“You will be sure to tell me when you change your mind, won’t you?”
“You may depend upon it.”
James laughed in hearty approval. “Sometimes you’re as amusing as that bounder Eden. Not often, but you do have your moments.”
Chapter 20
With Henri storing Mrs. Hillary’s trunks in the attic—the newly hired nurse had only just settled into her room next to the nursery—Amy once again opened the door for the arrival of all five Anderson brothers. This time they were expected. Georgina had invited her brothers to dinner and intended to share it with them in the formal dining room. There’d been a bit of a row with James over that decision, since he’d insisted she wasn’t ready to leave her room yet, but they had compromised by having him carry her downstairs.
Amy was prepared this time, composed, and thrilled to see that Warren hadn’t refused the invitation just to avoid her. That had been a definite possibility, and one she’d have felt terrible about. But apparently he was going to pretend that yesterday hadn’t happened by ignoring her. She wondered how long he’d be able to manage that, because she certainly wasn’t going to ignore him.
Drew took her attention off Warren for the moment, however, as the others filed past, heading toward the parlor. He captured her hand and quite charmingly bent over it to brush the back of her knuckles with his lips. It wasn’t until he straightened up that she noticed his black eye. Having also noted the scab on Warren’s lip, she didn’t find it too difficult to figure out what had happened.
“Does it hurt?” she asked sympathetically.
“Horribly.” Drew grinned at her to belie that statement. “But you could kiss it to make it better.”
She grinned impishly back at him. “I could give you one to match it.”
“Now, where have I already heard that?”
The look he cast at Warren said exactly where, but Warren wasn’t the least bit amused. Before they came to blows again, however, Amy remarked, “I hope you’ve come up with a reasonable excuse for your sister. This isn’t a good time for her to be worrying over her brothers.”
“Never fear, sweetheart. Georgie’s quite used to our scrapes and bruises. She probably won’t even notice. But just in case.” He turned back to Warren, who hadn’t followed his other siblings into the parlor yet. “What say we fell down the same set of stairs?”
“Put the blame where it’s due, Drew. Georgie expects no better of me.”
“Well, I’m all for that, especially since all I did was make an innocent remark—what the devil did I remark to set you off last night?”
“I don’t remember,” Warren lied.
“Well, there you go, we were both drunk. She’ll understand that perfectly, but better I tell her. You’ll just get all defensive and put a pall on the evening.”
Drew left to do that, and Amy was amazed to find herself alone with Warren for the moment. She could have sworn he would have taken pains to avoid that, but, in fact, he made no immediate move to follow Drew.
She looked at him expectantly, but when he said nothing, she opted for a little teasing. “Shame on you,” she chided mildly. “Did you have to take it out on him last night?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You would have much preferred to throttle me than your brother.”
“As I recall,” he said tersely, “switching you was what I had in mind.”
“Rubbish.” She grinned up at him, no longer intimidated by that particular threat. “Making love to me is what you really wanted and almost did. Care to chase me again to see what happens?”
His face darkened, a clear indication that the conversation wasn’t going as he would like. He corrected it quite bluntly. “I came by earlier today to remind you of the promise you made me.”
She frowned, momentarily at a loss. “What promise?”
“That you would do anything I asked. I’m asking you to leave me alone.”
Her mind went into a frantic whirl. She’d actually forgotten, and so hadn’t come up with a means to get out of the bargain she’d struck with him. She’s made that promise to keep him from harm. It was really too bad of him to use it against her now. Yet she’d known that that was just what this stubborn man would do.
She finally locked on an answer, though it wasn’t the least bit sporting of her to use it. She consoled herself that it was no more sporting of him to hold her to a promise made in a moment of panic and for his benefit.
“You’ve already made your request,” she told him.
“The hell I did.”
“You did. You asked me to draw up my hood last night, right after you put your weapons away. And I did.”
“Amy—”
“Well, you did.”
“Witch. You know very well—”
“Don’t be angry, Warren. How can I help you down the path to happiness if you make me give up trying?”
He said nothing to that. He was too furious to say anything.
Amy groaned as he walked away from her. She’d just lost valuable headway. In his mind, she’d lied, she couldn’t be trusted, she’d reinforced his opinion of all women. Drat it, could this courtship get any harder?
The evening went surprisingly well despite Warren’s brooding silence. James took one look at him and decided he’d get no satisfaction out of provoking him any more today, so he left him alone. Georgina frowned at him occasionally, determined to have another private talk with him, but not tonight.
Amy was hard pressed to be cheerful herself after what she’d done. And she couldn’t think of any way to make it up to Warren, other than to do as he’d asked, which she wasn’t about to do. She had too much optimism to give up on him, and the wager she had going with Jeremy added to her confidence. But things certainly didn’t look very
Conrad Sharpe had arrived that afternoon from the country, and he and Jeremy, with a few dry remarks from James, kept the conversation with the four other Anderson brothers quite lively. The new Skylark office was also discussed. Amy hadn’t heard about it previously, but to her amazement, she learned that Warren would be staying in London longer than she’d thought, to manage the new office until a replacement could be sent over from America. She was thrilled, the pressure to accomplish a miracle in so short a time alleviated—until Georgina pointed out, quite logically, that although Skylark was an American company, the London office would benefit by an English manager, who could more easily deal with his own countrymen.
Warren apparently didn’t like the idea, but Clinton said he would consider it, and Thomas actually agreed with his sister. But no matter how they decided in the end. Warren still wouldn’t be leaving with his brothers, which was a definite plus for Amy. Whether it was a week or two months, she needed all the extra time she could get.
“By the by, Amy”—James suddenly drew her into the conversation—“I saw your father today and he mentioned that he and your mother will be hieing off to Bath to enjoy the waters in a few days, then up to Cumberland. Eddie boy has a mine there he wants to inspect before investing in it.”
This was a subject Amy was familiar with. “Yes, he likes to meet the owners and managers personally, since his first impressions are always accurate and determine which investment he’ll go with and recommend.”
“So I’m learning,” James replied. “But they’ll be gone for several weeks, m’dear. You’re welcome to stay with us until they return, of course, or they’ll delay leaving if you’d like to go along.”