Page 24 of Redemption of a Marquess

Gordon drew himself up as if for battle. “I have appealed to Duke Roxburgh to intervene on Miss Matheson’s behalf.”

“I expected nothing less. Pray, sit. I am distressed that you stand while we sit.”

“I am satisfied to stand,” he said. “I demand you return Miss Matheson to Lady Peddington’s school.”

“Return her? You speak as if she is property. You credit me with far too much influence. First, Brummell’s servants are my lackeys, now I own Miss Matheson. I admit that a lady has her pleasant uses, but I am enlightened enough to know that I do not own a single one.” He thought of Jeanine’s desire to marry a wealthy old gentleman with one foot in the grave. That young lady had no intention of ever becoming property.

“You know full well the child has no comprehension of your intentions,” Lord Gordon said. “She sees you only as a generous benefactor.”

Valan smiled. “An intelligent female, to be sure.”

“An innocent in the clutches of a man who charms women for nefarious purposes,” Lord Gordon snapped.

“I am indeed guilty of that. But perhaps not in this case.”

“I am giving you the opportunity to do the right thing before it is too late,” Lord Gordon said.

Valan laughed. “You never cease to amuse. You, of all people, know it is far too late for me to do the right thing.”

“I warn you,” Gordon said through tight lips.

“You are overset, my dear,” Valan said. “A brandy would do you good. Are you sure—”

“Nae, I do not want a damned brandy,” Gordon nearly shouted.

Glances came their way. Gordon sent a withering glare to a man seated at a nearby table, then whirled and stalked from the room.

“I believe you,” Brendan said.

Valan looked at him. “I am gratified to have your trust, but to what do I own such an honor?”

“Your ward--what is her name…Miss Matheson--is safe from your masculine clutches.”

“I have many faults,” Valan said, “but lying is not one of them.”

“You simply say nothing,” Brendon said.

Valan shrugged.

“It’s been twenty years,” Brendon said. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

Valan offered a wistful smile. “Then, Brendan, you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

* * *

Valan entered his library and went straight to the sideboard to pour himself a brandy.

“There you are.”

He glanced right as Miss Matheson hurried into the room with Miss Stone following at a sedate pace.

He replaced the decanter’s top, crossed to his desk, and sat down. “Good afternoon, Miss Matheson. Miss Stone.”

Miss Stone halted before his desk, hands clasped in front of her.

Jeanine sat in the chair opposite his desk, then jumped to her feet. “We need a chair for you, Miss Stone.”

“I am content to stand,” she said.