Chapter Five
Bane
While in Marplestead,Miss Wintergreen had made her opinion of marriage so clear that word had spread across the parish. On the other hand, Bane had met quite a number of sprigs of nobility—in his home neighborhood and since he and Drake moved to London—who probably had helped her form that opinion.
Marriage! Was he really thinking of such a thing after an acquaintance that comprised the exchange of half a dozen words over the drugged body of his brother?
Probably not. After all, while he might suspect there was more to her than she showed the public, that didn’t necessarily mean he had a chance with her. Even if she was a shipping owner’s daughter venturing into the perilous seas of the upper-class marriage market, that didn’t mean she was so without options she would overlook his scars and his birth.
Or that, on further acquaintance, he would even like her.
Say, rather, he was considering the possibility ofthinkingabout marriage. He should take another look at the lady to see if his attraction warranted any further action. With this in mind, he went to the stables and gave a groom a coin, and the promise of another, to send him a message when the Wintergreen carriage was ready.
That allowed him to be in the hall that led to the stable yard when the Wintergreen ladies came down the stairs, escorted by an older gentleman who had a look of the smaller and younger of the two ladies. Miss Lucilla, that would be. Pretty enough, but not as compelling as the older, more statuesque, lady, who had paused on the stairs and was gazing at him.
Yes, she warranted further action.
Bane, with a deep breath, put his hood back and stood his ground. She might as well know what he looked like before he chanced his arm. The right-hand side of his face was unsightly. The scar from the knife slash ran right up from his chin through his eye to his forehead—the eye was brown on that side, and smaller than the green eye on his unblemished side. His mouth drooped on the damaged side, too, giving him a lop-sided smile. She was not the type to faint at the sight of him, but he braced himself for signs of distaste. Or worse.
“Come along, Olivia,” the father said, his tone impatient.
“Mr. Wintergreen,” said Bane, seizing the moment, “allow me to introduce myself, sir. I had the pleasure of encountering your daughters when they were staying with their aunt, Lady Marple, at her country estate.” He bowed. “Bane Sanderson, sir.”
“Bane?” said Mr. Wintergreen, frowning. “What kind of a name is that?”
Miss Lucilla hissed, “Papa!”
Bane inclined his head. “A cross my father’s sons must bear, sir. He named us after some of the herbs that made his fortune. Hemlock is the eldest, and then Drake and myself—Mandrake and Wolfbane. Our sister’s name is Larkspur.”
A spark of interest diluted that irritation. “Sanderson’s Medicinals,” Mr. Wintergreen concluded.
“Yes, sir. My father’s company, and now my elder brother’s.”
“Three sons, eh? I was not so fortunate. I suppose you are sniffing after my Cilla. I warn you, she wants to marry for love.She does not have to marry at all, if she does not wish to. And she’ll have her choice of young lords, mark you.”
With his eyes on Miss Olivia Wintergreen’s grey ones, Bane replied, “I beg your pardon for contradicting you, sir, but it is your older daughter who has attracted my attention. I believe my brother Drake intends to call on your younger daughter, however.”
Miss Lucilla’s eyes widened, but she smiled. Miss Wintergreen looked startled and then annoyed. She opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say, a nudge from her sister silenced her.
Mr. Wintergreen snorted. “Olivia?” His astonishment was no compliment to his daughter, who glared at him. Mr. Wintergreen ignored her, and when he spoke, his irritation had gone as if it never existed. “Well, I never. I suppose we may expect to see you in London then, young man. Come along, girls. We must not keep the horses waiting.”
“Good day, Mr. Sanderson,” said Miss Lucilla as she passed him.
Miss Wintergreen stopped. “What do you mean by that nonsense?” she demanded.
“Exactly what I said,” Bane replied. “You have caught my notice. I should like to know more.”
Her snort was very similar to her father’s. “I trust you are not claiming to have fallen in love with me over your brother’s…” she trailed off, but her father and sister had passed through the door and no one else was within listening distance.
“Not in love,” he responded. “Not yet, in any case. But I am attracted, admiring, and interested.”
“You must be soft in the head,” she scolded, and then walked past him towards the door without saying farewell.
“I shall see you in London, Miss Wintergreen,” he called after her.
At the door she stopped, turned to look at him, and raised an elegant eyebrow. “So you say,” she replied, and left.
It was a start. And one of the counts against him had not deterred her—she had not flinched at his scars, nor shown any reluctance to look him in the face.
