Kasey Michaels - A Reckless Beauty

“But you said you thought Quatre Bras or Ligny,” Fanny reminded him, and then mentally kicked herself, because she probably should not let him know how closely she listened to him.

“He could, I agree. He could also retreat after showing himself, only so that we likewise show him our strength or, at the moment, with no sign of Blücher’s forces as yet, our lack of it. He could head west and north, hoping to come at Brussels that way.”

“He won’t go east, because that’s where the Russians and Austrians are advancing against him,” Fanny said, as she and Rian had spoken long into the night last night, and Rian had even drawn a small map for her on paper he’d found in the Earl’s miniscule study. Then, remembering how much she wanted to remain in Brussels, near Rian, she quickly added, “But he could go west, as you said, skirt around us. No, I certainly can’t be riding toward Ostend, can I?”

Brede allowed one side of his mouth to rise in a small smile. “I’m not sending you home, Fanny. Not until this is either over or more manageable than it is now, the situation more stable. You were protected enough, in the eyes of society, with Rian in my house with you last night, but now that he’s gone, you’ll stay with my sister. I think that’s penance enough for chasing your brother across the Channel.”

“My sister Morgan says London society ladies are a breed apart. I didn’t know what she meant, until I encountered Lady Whalley,” Fanny said, smiling. “But please don’t worry, I’ll manage. Morgan, however, would probably have tied your sister’s tongue in a knot at the third ‘Oh, my stars’!”

“Your family becomes more and more interesting. I think I’ll enjoy escorting you back to them.”

Fanny kept her smile in place, even as her stomach did a small flip. The Earl of Brede, at Becket Hall? A man who seemed to see everything, spending time with her family? Clearly, when the time came, she needed to disappear, again. He might follow her; he seemed that obstinate. But at least she’d have time to prepare her family, in case Jack just thought of the man as a friend. “How very…delightful, my lord.”

“Valentine,” Brede said, watching Fanny’s tip-tilted green eyes as shadows seemed to come and go in them. “I have, after all, seen you in trousers.”

“I think we can safely forget that memory, thank you,” Fanny told him, wishing he would let go of her arm, finish escorting her to his sister’s residence. He was beginning to make her very nervous. Not just by what he was saying, but by the way he was looking at her. Rian had never looked at her that way, not ever. As if she was somehow…fascinating to him. She rather liked it.

“Agreed. The memory is consigned to the distant past. However, as you have already shown that you forget nothing you’ve heard, let me explain about Lady Richmond’s ball. It’s one of any number of balls, routs, our fellow countrymen are hosting here, as if the world is gathering in Brussels for one large party. Wellington himself hosts at least one a week. I’ve been fortunate enough to escape most of them, but I can’t escape the Duchess of Richmond if I’m in town that night. Barely anyone can. You’ll attend, as well, with Lucille, even if I cannot.”

“Why? The Duchess of Richmond doesn’t even know I’m alive, for pity’s sake.”

“Ah, but she knows Lucille. And, Fanny, where Lucille goes, you go. She’s been warned not to let you out of her sight.”

“That’s insulting,” Fanny told him. “If I give you my word that I won’t go…go chasing after Rian again, will I then be able to remain at your sister’s? I have no desire to spend an evening standing in a corner, watching people laugh and joke when the world could be turned upside down in an instant.”

He felt so damned old. “The world is always poised to go upside down in an instant, Fanny.”

She pulled her arm free, turned away from him. “Now you sound like my papa.”

Brede smiled at her turned back, fought down the urge to reach out, stroke her sun-bright hair and its poor, chopped ends. “That most assuredly wasn’t my intention. In any event, I’ll definitely be elsewhere until at least tomorrow evening, so you don’t have to fear me barging into my sister’s demanding to know your whereabouts.”

Fanny turned quickly, putting her hand on his arm, then just as quickly grabbing it back when she realized what she’d done. “You’re…Where are you going?”

“And that, my dear, is really none of your business, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Fanny agreed, mentally kicking herself for worrying about this arrogant man. She had enough to worry her about Rian, who seemed to have much in common with the Duchess of Richmond and the others, as if Bonaparte marching toward them with unknown thousands of soldiers at his back was just too exciting, too titillatingly delicious for words, and they simply couldn’t miss out on the fun.

Fanny was very far from titillated. Because she’d been having dreams ever since Rian left Becket Hall. Terrible dreams. Dreams of the island on that last day. She’d been young, too young, to remember that day, and yet, in her dreams, she thought she could hear, as well as see it. Hear the screams of agony. See the white sand, the ghastly red blood soaking into it. Terror then, war coming at them now. Was there a connection? What could that connection be?

She could have gone to Odette, asked her why these dreams, these nightmares, were plaguing her. But then Odette would answer her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear that answer.

To Fanny, Rian was the answer. Rian, who had always been her haven of safety. She’d needed to see him, yes. But she’d also fled to him…not that she’d say anything like that to him. He had enough to concern him, what with Bonaparte out there somewhere, planning his attack. But she was frightened about more than Bonaparte. So very frightened…

Brede tipped up her chin with his knuckle, smiling into her eyes. “Such a solemn little face, Fanny. Are you worried about me? How novel. Lucille cares about her quarterly allowance. Of course, Wiggins, bless him, actually seems to have a care or two for my welfare, although he might only worry he won’t again find such a congenial employer.”

“Yes,” Fanny said, banishing her thoughts and forcing some levity into her tone, “I can certainly see that. You are above all things mellow, my lord.”

The corners of Brede’s mouth twitched in amusement. He didn’t understand it. He was feeling younger by the minute, just looking at this girl, just talking to her, teasing with her…having her tease right back at him, just as if she couldn’t care a twig about who he was, about his consequence.

He had so damn much consequence; sometimes it hung around his neck like an anvil.

He really did need Bonaparte gone, and himself back in London, where he didn’t spend the majority of his time dressed in dirty clothes, with danger all around him and only Shadow for company. “As I was attempting to say before your rude interruption—it’s pleasant to believe you might have some small worry for my well-being. Was that what spurred you into asking where I might be going when I leave you?”

What did she feel? Did she feel anything? How could she know? And why would she, for pity’s sake? She’d barely met the man. She loved Rian—she’d always loved Rian, ever since she could remember being alive.

So why was she looking at this man, feeling suddenly hungry to memorize his every feature? Why was he looking at her in an unsettling mix of amusement and something she felt was far more dangerous?

Perhaps it was the danger itself that hurt her heart, perhaps it was the thought of Bonaparte marching toward them all, turning the world upside down? Everything—the flowers, the sun, Brede’s hazel eyes—seemed to be in such sharp relief. Intense. “It’s…That is, I…”