Devil in Spring (The Ravenels, #3)

by Lisa Kleypas

“I’m all tangled up in these dratted—” she hesitated, wondering what to call the elaborate wooden curls and twists carved into the back of the settee. “—swirladingles,” she finished. “Acanthus scrolls,” the man said at the same time. A second passed before he asked blankly, “What did you call them?” “Never mind,” Pandora said with chagrin. “I have a bad habit of making up words, and I’m not supposed to say them in public.” “Why not?” “People might think I’m eccentric.” His quiet laugh awakened a ticklish feeling in her stomach.

Westcliff? Pandora glanced at him with alert interest. She had heard of the Earl of Westcliff, who, after the Duke of Norfolk, held the oldest and most respected peerage title in England. His vast Hampshire estate, Stony Cross Park, was famed for its fishing, hunting, and shooting. Westcliff met her gaze, seeming neither shocked nor condemning.

A touch of amused sympathy warmed the earl’s voice. “My own daughters have assured me—more than once—that any well-meaning girl of high spirits can find herself in hot water now and then.”

She’s my twin, the nicer, prettier one, and you’re the kind of husband she’s been hoping for. If you’ll let me go fetch her, you could compromise her, and then I’ll be off the hook.” Seeing his blank look, she explained, “People certainly wouldn’t expect you to marry both of us.” “I’m afraid I never ruin more than one young woman a night.” His tone was a mockery of politeness. “A man has to draw the line somewhere.”

“You do not want to marry me, my lord. I would be the worst wife imaginable. I’m forgetful and stubborn, and I can never sit still for more than five minutes. I’m always doing things I shouldn’t. I eavesdrop on other people, I shout and run in public, and I’m a clumsy dancer. And I’ve lowered my character with a great deal of unwholesome reading material.” Pausing to draw breath, she noticed that Lord St. Vincent didn’t appear properly impressed by her list of faults. “Also, my legs are skinny. Like a stork’s.” At the indecent mention of body parts, Lord Chaworth gasped audibly, while Lord Westcliff developed a sudden keen interest in the nearby cabbage roses.

The earl glanced back in the direction Lady Pandora had gone. “A wallflower,” he said softly, with a faint, reminiscent smile on his lips.

“I’ve never wanted to marry,” Pandora continued. “Anyone who knows me will tell you that. When I was little, I never liked the stories about princesses waiting to be rescued. I never wished on falling stars, or pulled the petals off daisies while reciting ‘he loves me, he loves me not.’ At my brother’s wedding, they handed out slivers of wedding cake to all the unmarried girls and said if we put it under our pillows, we would dream of our future husbands. I ate my cake instead. Every crumb.

It was a relief to see his father, who’d always been an unfailing source of reassurance and comfort. They clasped hands in a firm shake, and used their free arms to pull close for a moment. Such demonstrations of affection weren’t common among fathers and sons of their rank, but then, they’d never been a conventional family. After a few hearty thumps on the back, Sebastian drew back and glanced over him with the attentive concern that hearkened to Gabriel’s earliest memories. Not missing the traces of weariness on his face, his father lightly tousled his hair the way he had when he was a boy.

Evie had been more than a little embarrassed to find herself with child at her age, especially in the face of her husband’s teasing claims that she was a walking advertisement of his potency. And indeed, there had been a hint of extra swagger in Sebastian’s step all through his wife’s last pregnancy.

“No, I’m asking why you have to marry her.” “Because it’s the honorable thing to do.” Gabriel paused. “Isn’t that what you’d expect?” “By no means. Your mother is the one who expects you to do the honorable thing. I, however, am perfectly happy for you to do the dishonorable thing if you can get away with it.”

“No wonder she’s a wallflower.” Sebastian, who had begun to laugh, seemed struck by that last comment. “Ahhh,” he said softly. “That explains it.” He was silent for a moment, lost in some distant, pleasurable memory. “Dangerous creatures, wallflowers. Approach them with the utmost caution. They sit quietly in corners, appearing abandoned and forlorn, when in truth they’re sirens who lure men to their downfall. You won’t even notice the moment she steals the heart right out of your body—and then it’s hers for good. A wallflower never gives your heart back.”

A woman will always surprise you with what she’s capable of. You can spend a lifetime trying to discover what excites and interests her, but you’ll never know it all. There’s always more. Every woman is a mystery, not to be understood but enjoyed.”

“Many people believe marriage will change a man’s temperament. Which is absolute rot, of course. One can’t love a leopard into changing his spots.” Devon paused. “Had Theo lived, he would have made Kathleen’s life hell. I won’t have you at the mercy of an abusive husband.” “But if I don’t marry, the scandal will cause problems for everyone. Especially Cassandra.” “Pandora, sweetheart, do you think any of us could ever be happy if you were mistreated? West or I would end up killing the bastard.”

“Do you know the motto on the Ravenel coat of arms?” “Loyalté nous lie.” “Do you know what it means?” “‘Never make us angry?’” Pandora guessed, and was rewarded by his deep laugh. “Actually, I do know,” she said. “It means ‘loyalty binds us.’” “That’s right,” Devon said. “Whatever happens, we Ravenels will remain loyal to each other. We’ll never sacrifice one for the sake of the rest.”

Fact #13 she wanted to write. Lord St. Vincent walks around with his own personal halo.

And why is she disheveled? Has there been an accident?” “She was assaulted and knocked to the ground,” Lord St. Vincent began to explain. “Surely you don’t know her well enough for that yet.” “By the dog,” Lord St. Vincent clarified acidly. “Shouldn’t you have him trained?” “Ivo is training him,” came his father’s prompt reply. Lord St. Vincent cast a pointed glance toward the distance, where the red-headed boy could be seen chasing after the scampering dog. “It would seem the dog is training Ivo.”

“I’m quite trustworthy. In fact, I’m very nearly an angel. You’ll come to love me in no time.” “Take heed,” Lord St. Vincent advised Pandora sardonically, fastening the loose sides of his vest. “My father is the pied piper of gullible women.” “That’s not true,” the duke said. “The non-gullible ones follow me as well.”

Softly, softly . . . his lips moved over hers in sensuous touches that quieted the usual chaos of her brain. Mesmerized, she answered with hesitant pressure, and he shaped her response, played with her, until she began to dissolve in the slow, endless teasing. There was no interference of thought or time, no past or future. There was only this moment, the two of them standing together in a sun-drenched path of flowering vines and sweet dry grass.

“Pandora, love,” he said, his eyes brilliant with mingled heat and amusement, “you kiss like a pirate.”

Gabriel stopped digging and listened, transported by the wonder and whimsy of Pandora’s imagination. Out of thin air, she created a fantasy world in which animals could talk and anything was possible. He was charmed out of all reason as he watched her, this sandy, disheveled, storytelling mermaid, who seemed already to belong to him and yet wanted nothing to do with him. His heart worked in strange rhythms, as if it were struggling to adjust to a brand new metronome.

The rules of logic by which he’d always lived had somehow been subverted so that marrying Lady Pandora Ravenel was now the only acceptable outcome. He was unprepared for this girl, this feeling, this infuriating uncertainty that he might not end up with the one person he absolutely must be with.

Good God, she really did walk in circles. A pang of tenderness centered in Gabriel’s chest like an ache. He wanted all her circles to lead back to him.

“What do you think, redbird?” It was a pet name that only he and their father used for her.

Pandora is a different kind of girl. Strange and marvelous. I wouldn’t dare predict—” She broke off as she saw him staring at Pandora’s distant form. “Lunkhead, you’re not even listening. You’ve already decided to marry her, and damn the consequences.”

‘Marriage is far too important a matter to be decided with reason.’

The title, the fortune, the estate, the social position . . . to her, they’re all detractions. Somehow I have to convince her to marry me despite those things.” With raw honesty, he added, “And I’m damned if I even know who I am outside of them.” “Oh, my dear . . .” Phoebe said tenderly. “You’re the brother who taught Raphael to sail a skiff, and showed Justin how to tie his shoes. You’re the man who carried Henry down to the trout stream, when he wanted to go fishing one last time.”

Fact #34 Kissing is like one of those electrical experiments in which one makes a fascinating new discovery but is fried like a mutton-chop in the process.

Fact #35 No list of ideal feminine qualities has ever included the phrase “you kiss like a pirate.”

“I don’t know why girls keep changing their fashions every few months and making such a fuss about it,” Ivo said. “We men had a meeting a long time ago, and we all decided, ‘It’s trousers.’ And that’s what we’ve worn ever since.”

“Tell me the worst thing about yourself,” she said impulsively. A peculiar expression flashed across his face, uncomfortable and almost . . . ashamed? “I will,” he said quietly. “But I’d rather discuss it later, in private.” A sick weight of dread settled at the bottom of her stomach. Would her worst suspicion about him turn out to be true? “Does it have something to do with . . . women?” Pandora brought herself to ask, her pulse beating a rapid tattoo of alarm in her throat and wrists. He gave her an oblique glance. “Yes.” Oh God, no, no. Too upset to guard her tongue, she burst out, “I knew it. You have the pox.” Gabriel shot her a startled look. The quiver of arrows dropped to the ground with a clatter. “What?” “I knew you’d probably caught it by now,” Pandora said distractedly, as he pulled her around the nearest target and behind one of the earthworks mounds, where they were obscured from the view of the house. “Heaven knows how many kinds. English pox, French pox, Bavarian pox, Turkish—” “Pandora, wait.” He gave her a slight shake to capture her attention, but the words kept tumbling out. “—Spanish pox, German pox, Australian pox—” “I’ve never had the pox,” he interrupted. “Which one?” “All of them.” Her eyes turned huge. “You’ve had all of them?” “No, damn it—”

“Isn’t it obvious that everything about you gives me pleasure?” “Even when I plunder and pillage like a Viking?” she asked darkly. “Pirate. Yes, especially then.” His lips moved softly along the rim of her right ear. “My sweet, there are altogether too many respectable ladies in the world. The supply has far exceeded the demand. But there’s an appalling shortage of attractive pirates, and you do seem to have a gift for plundering and ravishing. I think we’ve found your true calling.”

“Your kiss thrilled me beyond imagining,” he whispered. “Every night for the rest of my life, I’ll dream of the afternoon in the holloway, when I was waylaid by a dark-haired beauty who devastated me with the heat of a thousand troubled stars, and left my soul in cinders. Even when I’m an old man, and my brain has fallen to wrack and ruin, I’ll remember the sweet fire of your lips under mine, and I’ll say to myself, ‘Now, that was a kiss.’”

Fact #64 Never sculpt your food to illustrate a point during small talk. Men don’t like it.

“Being imaginative and playful doesn’t make you any less of an adult,” Gabriel said gently. “It only makes you a more interesting one.”

“You dazzle me, Pandora. Every beautiful, fascinating, kinetic molecule of you. The night we met, I felt you like an electric shock. Something about you calls to the devil in me. I want to take you to bed for days at a time. I want to worship every inch of you while the minutes smolder like moths that dance too close to the flame.

How do you deflate it?” “I usually distract myself by thinking about the latest analysis of foreign securities on the stock exchange. That usually takes care of the problem right away. If that fails, I picture the Queen.” “Really? I wonder what Prince Albert used to think about? It couldn’t have been the Queen—they had nine children together.”

She grasped the sides of the placket and tugged roughly, trying to tear the garment open. It might have worked with an ordinary shirt, but the front of an evening shirt was sewn with an extra thickness of cloth and pressed with a double portion of starch to keep it smooth. Despite Gabriel’s acute arousal, he felt an irresistible laugh swell in his chest as he looked down at her, his small and determined pirate, who was having a moment of unexpected difficulty with bodice-ripping.

There’s very little in life that doesn’t require a compromise of one kind or another. No matter what you choose, it won’t be perfect.” “So much for happy-ever-after,” Pandora said sourly. Kathleen smiled. “But wouldn’t it be dull if ever-after was always happy, with no difficulties or problems to solve? Ever-after is far more interesting than that.”

Picking it up gingerly, she saw that it was one of the decorative felt leaves from her missing Berlin wool slipper. It had been carefully snipped off. My lady, Your slipper is being held for ransom. If you ever want to see it again, come alone to the formal drawing room. For every hour you delay, an additional embellishment will be removed. —St. Vincent

Fuming, she looked at Phoebe and spread her palms upward, as if to ask what could be done with such an impossible human being. Phoebe gave her a commiserating glance. “We have two perfectly nice parents,” she said. “I have no idea how he turned out this way.”

In that moment, Pandora realized it would kill her not to have him. She might actually expire of heartbreak. She was becoming someone new, with him—they were becoming something together—and nothing was going to turn out the way she’d expected. Kathleen had been right—whatever she chose, it wouldn’t be perfect. She would have to lose something. But no matter what else she gave up, this man was the thing she couldn’t lose.

If only she could stop the terrible-wonderful feelings that flooded her. Hot. Cold. Happy. Afraid. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening to her. Gabriel was murmuring, pouring delicious words into her ear. “You’re so beautiful . . . so precious to me. I’m not asking for a surrender, I’m offering you one. I’ll do anything. It has to be you, Pandora . . . only you . . . for the rest of my life. Marry me . . . say you’ll marry me . . .”

Taking Pandora lightly by the shoulders, the duke smiled and bent to press a warm kiss to her forehead. “What a welcome addition you are to the family, Pandora. Be forewarned—from now on, the duchess and I will consider you as one of our own children, and spoil you accordingly.”

It was the duchess, her blue eyes radiant with kindness and a hint of concern, as if she understood how frightening it was to have made the most important decision of her life based on a few days’ acquaintance. But there was no way this woman would understand what it was like to face the prospect of marrying a virtual stranger.

They had installed modern plumbing only two years ago. Before then, they had used chamber pots and outdoor privies, leading Pandora to tell Gabriel with mock gravity, “I’m barely housebroken.”

“Her manner with you is too familiar. I’ve half a mind to dismiss her.” “Ida is the Genghis Khan of lady’s maids,” Pandora conceded, “but she’s very good at reminding me about things I tend to forget, and finding things I’ve lost.” Her voice echoed slightly as she went into the marble-tiled bathroom. “Also, she told me I was a donkey-headed halfwit if I didn’t marry you.” “We’ll keep her,” he said decisively.

“When I inherited the title, I wasn’t at all prepared to take responsibility for three innocent girls and an ill-tempered widow. They were always heading in different directions, acting on impulse, and landing themselves in trouble. I thought I’d never be able to control them. But then one day I realized something.” “What was it?” “That I’ll never be able to control them. They are who they are. All I can do is love them, and try my damnedest to keep them safe, even knowing it won’t always be possible.” Devon sounded wry. “Having a family has made me a happy man. It’s also robbed me of all peace of mind, probably forever. But on the whole . . . not a bad bargain.”

“I’ve given her another dose of morphine, not only for the pain but also to ease the nausea from the chloroform. Therefore, don’t be alarmed by anything she says. She probably won’t pay close attention to you, and she may jump to a different topic in the middle of a sentence, or say something confusing.” “So far you’ve described an average conversation with Pandora.”

when her cousin West came to sit by her bedside, having traveled by train from Hampshire. She had been delighted to see him and spent ten minutes trying to convince him that the lyrics to the song “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” included the phrases “gently down the string” and “life’s a butter dream.”

Evie waited until he’d calmed himself before saying quietly, “You remember when I told you about the time your f-father was badly injured because of me.” “That wasn’t because of you,” Sebastian said irritably from the bedside. “Evie, have you harbored that absurd idea for all these years?” “It’s the most terrible feeling in the world,” Evie murmured to Gabriel. “But it’s not your fault, and trying to make it so won’t help either of you. Dearest boy, are you listening to me?” Keeping his face pressed against her hair, Gabriel shook his head. “Pandora won’t blame you for what happened,” Evie told him, “any more than your father blamed me.” “Neither of you are to blame for anything,” his father said, “except for annoying me with this nonsense.