Julia London - Regency Vows - A Gentleman 'Til Midnight / The Trouble with Honour / An Improper Arrangement / A Wedding By Dawn / The Devil Takes a Bride / A Promise by Daylight

They didn’t know one bloody thing about it. Someone—Lord Deal—pushed a glass of red wine into her hands. She took a drink and locked eyes with a devil in red and gold embroidery and a jet-black wig. He raked her shamelessly with his gaze.

“Whatever has put that glint in your eye,” Captain Warre whispered, “leave it be.”

“I was merely thinking perhaps I should have brought my cutlass, after all. I have a distinct impression that I’m being looked upon as prey.”

His eyes shot to the dark-haired rotter. “I shall deal with men like Winston, if the need arises. Your job is to appear demure, amiable and harmless.”

“Harmless!”

“Smile,” he ordered under his breath.

She curved her lips.

“We shall do this on my terms or not at all, my dear lady Captain. I’ll not allow your stubbornness to keep me in London a day longer than necessary. In fact, the evening’s tedium is lessening my sense of obligation as we speak.”

A hint of concern in his eyes belied the bite of his words, and it fueled her with a lick of irritation. “Need I remind you that I saved your life?”

“You say that as if you did me a boon.”

He pivoted for more introductions, and more, and more.

“Lady Dunscore!” a Lord Swope exclaimed, letting his eyes rest on Katherine’s bosom. “An utter fascination.”

“Indeed,” declared a Lord Tensy, grinning at Lord Swope’s side. “Almost makes me want to be shipwrecked myself—sorry, Croston. Terrible thing to say. Apologies.” He reached for Katherine’s hand and kissed it. “I am ever at your service, Lady Dunscore. And you have my deepest condolences. Your father was a capital fellow. Great friend.”

“The best,” Lord Swope said, and winked at her. “Never got to bed before four when old Dunscore was around.”

“Lost five hundred quid to him in one night,” Lord Tensy said. “Couldn’t begrudge him a’tall. Not a’tall. Never met a better gamer in all my life.”

Hopeful speculation in their eyes made it clear they wondered whether she would prove equally entertaining.

Lord Deal leaned close and steered her away. “You mustn’t look so grave, my dear. More than a few tight-arses in our company will warm to that stunning smile I saw a moment ago. Ach—here’s someone you may remember.” They joined a trio that included a wrinkled man in a ridiculous bagwig and purple waistcoat and a silver-wigged woman in an equally silver gown embroidered with a geometric pattern. “McCutcheon!” Lord Deal said heartily, addressing the other man in the group. “Excellent to see you as always. And Plumhurst...Lady Plumhurst. A pleasure indeed!”

McCutcheon. Oh, no. Years ago, she’d thought herself over the moon for him

“Unbelievable turn of events!” Lord Plumhurst cried, clasping Captain Warre’s hand. “Simply unbelievable!”

Katherine kept her attention squarely on that bagwig to avoid looking at Lord McCutcheon.

“What a dreadful experience you’ve had, Lord Croston,” the silver Lady Plumhurst said. “It’s a miracle you’re still with us.”

“Not so much a miracle as a very timely rescue,” Captain Warre told them evenly. “May I present to you my savior, Lady Dunscore.”

“Favorable currents were his savior, I’m afraid,” Katherine replied, “I merely pulled him from the water.” Finally there was no avoiding McCutcheon, and she found him regarding her with a mixture of horror and pity. The face that had sent her fifteen-year-old self into raptures seemed pasty and vapid next to Captain Warre.

“Merely!” cried Lord Deal.

“How fortunate that you possessed the necessary resources to help when needed,” McCutcheon said stiffly to Katherine.

Katherine—no longer the blushing debutante—looked him directly in the eye. “I gave the order to lower the nets the moment my crew spotted him floating on a piece of debris against the hull.” Stop looking at me that way, she wanted to snap. “We had him on deck in a matter of minutes. He was soaked through and nearly lifeless—we pulled him from the water just in time.”

“Lucky thing!” Lord Plumhurst declared. “Positively dreadful.”

Katherine nodded gravely. “You can imagine our distress.”

“And my relief when I realized I had run into the Possession,” Captain Warre added with a hint of sarcasm intended for her ears only.

She smiled. “I am only grateful we did not know his identity, or the moments before his rescue was complete would have been all the more tormenting.”

“When I saw her colors, I knew I would be well cared for and that my ordeal was over.” He turned his lying green gaze on her in a false display of the gravest appreciation. “It’s hardly an exaggeration to say that I owe Lady Dunscore my life.”

One might even say it was a boon.

“What an irony, after your attempts in Salé proved so fruitless,” McCutcheon said, turning to Captain Warre.

Salé. Katherine’s attention glanced off McCutcheon, fixed on Captain Warre. A chill ran down her spine.

“Isn’t it?” Captain Warre said mildly.

“The would-be rescuer becomes the rescuee,” Lady Plumhurst said, fanning herself vigorously. “Astounding.”

Rescuer. Captain Warre refused to meet her eyes. But she’d heard all she needed to—she could piece together the rest. Have you spent any time in the Barbary states, Captain? Oh, yes, he’d been there. Once. He’d simply omitted that it had been in an attempt to free her.

Her hands began to tremble. “Irony aside,” she said to McCutcheon, “you can only imagine how grateful I am to have had the opportunity to repay Lord Croston’s earnest efforts.” The full weight of what McCutcheon had just revealed bore down on her. She felt herself shrinking, reeling back to those first terrifying days in the dey’s palace, hoping she would be ransomed but hearing no news. “Although I daresay my attempts required less effort than his, and certainly met with less opposition.”

Lord Deal clapped his hands together. “Oh, but let us not delve into the melancholy past, shall we? What a blessing these two fine young people are both home safe and sound at last. And to think our dear Lady Dunscore was so providently used in such a miraculous rescue... It all smacks strongly of a divine hand, if I may say.”

“Divine indeed.” Captain Warre smiled at the crowd, still avoiding her gaze. “Lady Plumhurst, your daughter was recently married, was she not?”

He had been there. In Salé. And she was bloody well going to find out why he hadn’t told her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dear Sirs,

Observed Lady Dunscore at Lord Deal’s musicale. Confectionery ship on display. Remained on display after Her Ladyship departed. Perhaps too messy a prize.

Yours, etc.,

Croston

“JAMES, YOU’VE BEEN at sea far too long if you think there is anything acceptable about paying a call at this hour, even to your sister.” Honoria stood staunchly in the doorway to her dressing room, but James was in no mood for resistance. “You could at least have waited for me to dress and come downstairs,” she complained.

“I’ve got appointments this afternoon I can’t cancel,” he said, pushing past her.

“So amusing. You’re impossible, James. You’ve always been impossible.” All false outrage in a peacock-blue dressing gown covered in ribbons, she followed him into the room. “You may leave us, Mary,” she said to her lady’s maid. “And have a light breakfast sent up.”

“I can’t stay,” James told her.

“The breakfast is for me.” She went through to her bedchamber, and he followed as far as the open doorway. “I haven’t been out of bed half an hour yet.” Indeed, the bed lay rumpled behind her, and there was a pillow on the floor, and he suddenly wished he had waited for her downstairs. It was likely the same bed she’d shared with Ramsey before he died, and the idea of Ramsey touching his little sister—of anyone touching her, even within the bounds of marriage—was more than he could take on an empty stomach. He retreated to the dressing room.