‘Duty can also be pleasure, Lady Alyssa...’

When politician Benedict Tawny set out to save Lady Alyssa from a nefarious plot, he never expected to find himself trapped in a compromising situation with the alluring lady! Now duty demands he propose...and claim her as his bride!

Tainted by his illegitimacy, Ben knows he can’t give Alyssa the life of luxury she deserves. But if he can convince her to succumb to the undeniable heat between them, their convenient marriage might just lead to the love of a lifetime!

Hadley’s Hellions

Four friends united by power, privilege and the daring pursuit of passion!

From being disreputable rogues at Oxford to becoming masters of the political game, Giles Hadley, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar and Benedict Tawny live by their own set of unconventional rules.

But as the struggle for power heats up so too do the lives of these daring friends. They face unexpected challenges to their long-held beliefs and rigid self-control when they meet four gorgeous independent women with defiant streaks of their own…

Read Giles Hadley’s story in

Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

Read David Tanner Smith’s story in

Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Already available

Read Benedict Tawny’s story in

Convenient Proposal to the Lady

Available now!

And watch for the final Hadley’s Hellions story, coming soon!

Author Note

For modern women it’s almost impossible to imagine the limited choices faced by women of the past. A well-born girl was expected to marry, ladies did not work and, like gentlemen, couldn’t indulge in anything as vulgar as earning money. So what do you do if producing art is what you were born for? Lady Alyssa struggles to fit into a world that neither interests her nor appreciates her talent. It will take an uncommon man to see the brilliance in this rough-hewn gem…

It’s also hard for our modern world, with its acceptance of out-of-wedlock births, to imagine the life-long stigma carried by a Regency-era individual born outside of marriage. Though well-born bastards, if recognised by their noble fathers, often did lead prosperous lives, they must always have felt a hunger to understand why, and a struggle to believe themselves equal to their peers.

Although Ben Tawny knows what he’s worked to achieve makes him exceptional, there are always mockers around to remind him that he wasn’t born a gentleman. When a quest to save a girl from his mother’s fate lands him in a marriage of convenience he must face all those demons—including a strong aversion to falling in love.

I hope you will enjoy Ben and Alyssa’s journey to love and fulfilment.

Convenient Proposal to the Lady

Julia Justiss

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JULIA JUSTISS wrote her first ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook, and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college she turned to novels. Her Regency historical romances have won or been placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests visit juliajustiss.com.

Books by Julia Justiss

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Hadley’s Hellions

Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Convenient Proposal to the Lady

The Wellingfords

The Wedding Gamble

The Proper Wife

A Most Unconventional Match

Regency Candlelit Christmas

‘Christmas Wedding Wish’

From Waif to Gentleman’s Wife

Society’s Most Disreputable Gentleman

Ransleigh Rogues

The Rake to Ruin Her

The Rake to Redeem Her

The Rake to Rescue Her

The Rake to Reveal Her

Silk & Scandal

The Smuggler and the Society Bride

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

To the Birding Brothertons of Daingerfield, TX, whose guide to local birds and enthusiasm in sharing their expertise on all things avian are the inspiration for my heroine Alyssa.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The things one does to soothe one’s conscience.

With that rueful thought, Benedict Tawny led his horse stealthily along the grassy verge of the drive curving through a pretty wood to Dornton Manor, early-morning October sunlight just beginning to dapple the few leaves overhead. A gust of wind tugged loose his hat and he jumped to catch it.

If his fellow Hellions could see him now! he thought with a grin, jamming the cap back on his head. Not that he was the delight of his tailor, but in his worn jacket, serviceable breeches and scuffed boots, he hardly looked like a respectable Member of Parliament, one of the leaders of the Reform movement and a rising force in government. Surprising how easily he’d fallen back into the role of intelligence-gatherer he’d performed for the army in India.

All to safeguard the virtue of a female he’d never even met.

But with the Parliamentary session over until Grey could convene a new one later in the year and the other Hellions out of London, he had time on his hands.

He might as well use it to perform a good deed.

A flicker of light in the woods up ahead caught his eye. Through the slender tree trunks, he could just make out the figure of a young female. Shifting his position to get a better view, he saw that she was short, her dark hair thrust up under a sadly out-of-date straw bonnet—and that her entire attention was focused on the sketch pad balanced on her knee.

Though the gown was as outdated as the bonnet, the cut and cloth were of good quality—the garment too unfashionable a cast-off to tempt a lady’s maid and too fine to be passed on to a housemaid—so she must be Quality. And only a lady of quality passionate about her art would be out sketching this early in the morning.

Petite, unfashionable, avid artist—the description fit to perfection the lady he sought. Delighted to have been handed the solution to the problem of how an unrelated male would find a way to speak alone with a gently bred virgin, Ben approached quietly, not wanting to alarm her.

But even as he reached the clearing where she sat on a felled log, she remained so absorbed in her drawing that she didn’t seem to notice him. Finally, clearing his throat loudly, he said, ‘Lady Alyssa Lambornne, I presume?’

Gasping, the maiden nearly dropped her sketchbook and the box containing her pastels did go flying. Ben jumped to nip them up before they fell to the forest floor. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said.

Straightening, he reached out to hand back the box, met the gaze she’d focused on him—and froze. Shock zinged through him, as if he’d walked across the library carpet on a crisp winter day and touched the metal latch.

Her eyes were magnificent—large, fawn-brown, with an intelligence in their golden depths that drew him in and invited him to linger. There was a fierceness and intensity there, too. Not just in her eyes, he thought dazedly, but in the whole set of her body, as if she were poised to flee—or attack.

Indeed, in her drab gown, a wisp of dark hair escaping from under the shabby bonnet, the shawl slipping off her shoulders, she seemed almost...feral, as if she were as untamed as the woodland she sketched.

Something primal and passionate and powerfully female about her called to everything male in him. Desire thickened his tongue, thrummed in his blood, sent arousal rushing to every part of his body.

Drawn to capture those lips, he reached out for her, rattling the pastels in the box he’d been about to return.

That small noise, loud in the stillness, broke the spell. He shook his head, searching for his vanished wits.

Pull yourself together, Tawny. This is not a passionate Diana, ready for a frolic in the woods, but a modest, virginal girl.

No matter what his erratic senses were telling him.

The response that so unsettled him seemed to have suspended time, but it must have lasted only an instant, for Lady Alyssa was still studying him, frowning as she evidently struggled to place him.

It was not a girl who sat before him, but a woman, he realised as he returned her scrutiny, still fighting the lingering effects of that sensual firestorm. Her face a perfect oval, the cheeks and nose dotted with freckles that were probably the bane of a mama trying to make her fashionably pale, she had a pert little nose shadowing full rose-petal lips.

A ‘little dab of a thing’ she might be, being of shorter-than-average height, and her hair was an unremarkable brown, but that was the only part of the description he’d been given that seemed accurate.

Drab...long on the shelf...a spinster past her last prayers? He’d have rather called her a ‘pocket Venus.’ The unfashionable high-waisted gown emphasised an attractively full bosom and the worn fabric clung in all the right places to some very pleasing curves.

And how could any man meet that fiery gaze and not be swamped with the need to possess her?

Anger stirred anew that Denbry would sacrifice this lovely creature to achieve some petty revenge against her brother.

Since the lady had yet to speak—perhaps she was shy—Ben finally mastered himself enough to give her a pleasant smile. ‘It being such a lovely day, I was walking my mount—ʼ he gestured towards his horse ‘—when I saw a female in the woods. Thinking some lady might have got lost, I came to offer assistance. I see now that you were sketching and apologise for interrupting you.’

Leaning over to hand her the box of pastels, he caught a glimpse of the scene on her sketch pad. ‘Your drawing is excellent, by the way,’ he added in surprise, craning his head to study it. Every young woman sketched; this one was actually skilled. ‘How cleverly you’ve caught the form of the bird, as if he were about to take flight.’

‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘But you have the advantage, sir; you know who I am, while I still cannot place you. I am sure we are not acquainted, for had we been introduced, I would certainly have remembered you.’ She scanned him again from head to toe, as if noting every detail. ‘Are you Lord Fulton’s secretary, perhaps?’

She was observant! She’d drawn just the conclusion he’d been aiming for when he donned this disguise: his cultivated tone of voice indicating he wasn’t a farm worker or a labourer; his clothing well made, but too worn and unremarkable to proclaim him the sort of fashionable peer Lady Fulton would have invited to her house party.

‘No.’

‘But not a newly arriving guest, either. You’re not dressed for it, nor do you carry any baggage. How did you know me, then?’

‘I’ve been staying in the village, where the gossip is all about the assembly at Dornton Manor. One of the attendees, Lady Alyssa Lambornne, was described as petite, dark-haired and very fond of sketching.’

Looking wary now, she said, ‘Were you asking about me, particularly, and if so, why? I know we’ve never met!’

‘Let me rectify that. Lady Alyssa, may I present Mr Benedict Tawny, Member of Parliament for Launton.’ He swept her a bow.

Her frown deepened. ‘Excuse me for acting as witless as my father always claims me to be, but I’m afraid your parliamentary status doesn’t enlighten me at all about your purpose for coming here. Are you to consult with Lord Fulton?’

‘No, I’m not acquainted with either Lord or Lady Fulton. I came here to find you, Lady Alyssa, and am delighted to have encountered you where we could have a private chat, without my having to figure out how to steal you away.’

‘You came here to have a private chat with me?’ she echoed. ‘I can’t imagine why! Would you explain, please?’

‘Certainly, and I don’t wonder at your confusion. We have not met before, but I was at Oxford with your brother, Lord Harleton. And I’m afraid I have some rather distressing information to impart to you.’

The woman’s puzzled expression cleared. ‘Now I remember! You were one of the group Harleton called “Hadley’s Hellions”,’ college mates who intended to go into politics and reform government. Although he usually called you the Chil—’ She stopped suddenly, heat suffusing her face. ‘A name I shall not repeat.’

The Chilford Bastard. Ben clenched his teeth against the automatic wave of anger the epithet evoked.

He knew his own experience made him far more sensitive than the rest of society about the disproportionate amount of shame and blame shouldered by a woman caught up in scandal—while the man’s behaviour was passed over. But watching the way his mother, whose only sin had been believing the promise of marriage given her by the man she loved, had been treated after his father’s family brought all their weight to bear to prevent their son wedding a woman they didn’t find suitable, he couldn’t help but be rubbed on the raw by a plan to target an innocent female.

Hence his presence here.

Most women of ruined character had no recourse but the streets, if their families rejected them. His mother had been lucky; though he’d hated his father for years for abandoning her for wealth and a title, the Viscount had made sure they had a place to live and enough to eat. Which hardly compensated for turning his mother into an outcast, and himself into a child who’d grown up taunted by the bully of the moment for being a bastard.

Pulling himself back to the present, he said, ‘Thank you for not repeating the name—though I’m distressed your brother would use such language around his maiden sister.’

‘If you know Harleton at all, you know he does whatever he feels like, whenever he feels like it, without regard for the wishes—or sensibilities—of anyone else.’

‘I’m only too well aware of that,’ he said with a grimace. Though he’d made no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been born out of wedlock, most of his Oxford classmates discreetly avoided the topic. Not so Lord Harleton, who’d never missed an opportunity to point him out as ‘the Chilford Bastard’.

‘So you are not one of his...particular friends?’

‘Far from it. Without wishing to give offence, I must confess that, at Oxford and since, I have avoided your brother whenever possible.’

For some reason, that comment made her laugh. ‘It seems we have at least one thing in common, then. But why have you discovered so much about me and why would you want to speak with me? Has something happened to Harleton?’

‘It does involve your brother, but as far as I know, he is in good health. I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.’

‘If Harleton is involved, I’m sure it is. And probably disreputable, as well.’ Setting down her sketchbook, she patted the log beside her. ‘You’d better explain.’

‘It’s disreputable for certain,’ he said as he seated himself rather further away than she’d indicated. Which was only prudent; their exchange of rational conversation might have muted the sensual attraction that had immobilised him upon first seeing her, but nothing save death could eliminate it entirely.

‘As I said, I’m a Member of Parliament,’ he began. ‘Some fellow members and I often gather at a public house near the Houses of Parliament, the Quill and Gavel. Parliament being currently out of session, I was there alone about a week ago when another former Oxford acquaintance noticed me and pulled me into a group of gentlemen who were proposing a wager. Organised by the Earl of Denbry, who is no admirer of your brother.’

‘Denbry!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, I’ve heard Harleton snarling about him. Apparently they’ve been trying to best each other at various dubious activities since their Oxford days. Was this some challenge, intended to discomfort my brother?’

‘It was. But of a particularly venal sort. Your brother recently ran afoul of Denbry by overbidding him for a team of horses he wanted. And then, even worse, by stealing away the...loyalty and affection of a woman.’

‘That opera dancer?’ At Ben’s raised eyebrows, she said, ‘My brother’s servants love to gossip about his horses, his women and his gambling, and my maid loves to repeat the stories to me. My brother outbid Denbry for her...affections?’

‘Apparently. Which so infuriated Denbry that he designed a revenge he intended Harleton to remember for the rest of his life. Much as I hate to even speak of so despicable a wager to a lady, I felt you must be warned. What Denbry proposed was to have one of his group...seduce and abandon you.’

Her eyes widening in surprise, Lady Alyssa gasped—and then burst out laughing.

‘What a faraddidle! Surely you can’t expect me to believe so preposterous a tale. Was that the wager, to get me to believe your outrageous story, so I would go off into hysterics you could report back to my gloating brother?’

‘I only wish it were. Preposterous it may be, to say nothing of venal and disgusting, but I assure you, Denbry’s plan to seduce you is the absolute truth. The challenge was accepted by this group of men, who all chipped in a stake, the winner to receive it upon the...successful accomplishment of its terms.’

Her mirth fading, she studied him again with that unusual intensity, sending another wave of awareness through him. While he resisted it, she said, ‘Unless you are the most convincing actor in the history of dramatic farce, I’m forced to consider that you might be telling the truth. So there really is a wager? In this game of besting one another, Denbry seeks to trump a stolen mistress with a ruined sister?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Having voiced the despicable proposition, Ben felt sick—and ashamed. Denbry didn’t just give aristocrats a bad name, he tarnished the whole male gender.

‘But how could any of them believe they would be able to accomplish it? I’m not such a nodcock that I’d allow myself to be drawn into a compromising position by some sweet-talking gentleman!’

‘Denbry somehow obtained a list of the country-house parties you were to attend, to which the competitors could wangle invitations. Imagining themselves to be men of great address with ladies, they intended to...persuade you to an elopement, carry you off to some inn, seduce and then abandon you.’

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘If they abandoned me, why couldn’t I just quietly return home, with no one the wiser?’

‘The seducer was to take your gown. If he were nowhere to be found when you were discovered, you’d not be able to accuse him later. Society always believes the worst of the female; you’d make yourself a laughingstock as well as a byword, if you should name him without proof.’

Anticipating her next question, Ben went on, ‘In case you still managed somehow to keep the matter quiet, the perpetrator was to furnish the name of the inn, the landlord, the maidservants, the grooms in the stable, so Denbry might have a scurrilous broadside created, “Foiled Elopement with a Mysterious Gentleman”. The more you attempted to deny it, the more it would be believed. Even if you revealed the seducer’s name to your family, calling him out would only add more credence to the report. You’d be ruined, your family embarrassed, and in the game of chess between them, your brother’s queen taken by Denbry’s higher one.’

Her face going pale during this recital, Lady Alyssa remained silent for some time after he finished, as if contemplating all the sordid details. Until, alarm widening her eyes, she looked back at him.

‘But...you told me you were pulled into the discussion. Not that you merely overheard it. So...you were invited to take part in this?’

As if suddenly recognising that she was alone in the woods with a man who could easily overpower her, she scooted away from him. Thrusting out her sketchbook, she held it up between them, as if that flimsy bit of paper and cardboard could protect her.

Ben rose and stepped back, giving her more space. ‘I assure you, Lady Alyssa, you have nothing to fear from me! Your brother...took such great pleasure in taunting me at Oxford, the other men seemed to think I’d be willing to embrace any scheme, no matter how despicable, to revenge myself upon him. If my character were so deficient that I’d agreed to take part, why would I have come to warn you?’

‘Perhaps you thought it a clever ploy?’ she cried. ‘If you were asked to participate, you must also be considered a “man of great address with the ladies”!’ Perhaps you thought your news would alarm me enough that I would fall fainting into your arms, whereupon you could steal away with me to that nefarious inn.’

‘I would have to believe you dull-witted in truth, to imagine you would faint into the arms of a stranger, rather than run screaming back to Dornton Manor and the protection of your mother,’ he countered. ‘Nor could I carry you off to the inn against your will, if I wanted us to look like two lovebirds eloping, once we got there.’

‘But you would have me believe you were dissipated enough to be present at this conference, but possessed of too tender a conscience to want it to go forward? Or was the reward not high enough to tempt you?’ she added bitterly.

He stiffened at that insult, more stung than he should be at that assessment. Ben might be a self-confessed rake, but he considered himself a principled one. He never seduced a lady who wasn’t willing, always paid his small staff and the merchants he patronised on time and tried as best he could to be a help to his fellow man.

But it wasn’t reasonable to expect her to trust him, an almost total stranger, especially as he’d just identified himself as associating with a group of men who must represent the most idle, spendthrift and useless fribbles the aristocracy had the dubious privilege of counting among its members.

‘Since you know nothing of me or my character, I cannot prevent you from thinking that. I don’t deny I’m claimed to have a certain...reputation with the ladies. But I have never treated any of them with less than courtesy and respect.’

Rather than open himself to more disparagement, he’d convey the rest of the essential information and go. And had to damp down an immediate sense of...disappointment. The unusual Lady Alyssa intrigued him, nor could he remember ever feeling such a powerful initial attraction to any woman.

Both compelling reasons for him to end this little tête-à-tête as quickly as possible.

‘Indulge me for one more minute and I will leave you to your sketching. Let me give you the names of the men currently at Lady Fulton’s party who are participating in this scheme.’

After staring at him, disbelief, wariness and a trace of anger warring in her countenance, she said, ‘I still find it hard to imagine even men as venal as my brother could have come up with such a despicable scheme. But if they have, it’s not logical you would have come to warn me if you were participating in it. And you are right; I know nothing of you save that you belonged to a university group called “the Hellions” and that my brother mocked your heritage. His disdain is hardly a disqualifying factor, since I have very little respect for him or his opinions. Aside from weaving me this fantastical story, you’ve done nothing to warrant my censure. If you are speaking the truth, you’ve gone to a good deal of trouble to warn me. I owe you an apology, and my thanks—though I am still not sure I believe you.’

Her abrupt about-face spoke well for her sense of fairness in admitting that she might have been mistaken. More than that, rather than turning missish and going off in fit of weeping at his alarming news, as he suspected many a maid of her sheltered upbringing would have, this fierce warrior princess looked like she’d prefer to face the offending gentlemen and level a sword or pistol at them.

Even more intrigued by those observations, he nodded. ‘Apology accepted. I know the tale must seem—fantastic.’

‘It does. Though I still find it difficult to believe the wager exists, neither can I explain why you would suddenly appear out of nowhere to convey such a tale.’ She shook her head, looking puzzled again as she apparently tried to sort out all he’d told her. ‘But—you also said you’d spent a few days in the village? Why, if your purpose in coming to Sussex was to warn me about this nefarious plot?’

‘I knew you would be at Dornton Manor, but little else about you. To devise the best way to approach you, I needed to learn more. I also needed to learn who had actually attended the party. While as far as I know, I was the only one to argue against the wager that night, all the participants were rather foxed. Upon sober reflection, others might have decided they wanted no part in it. I didn’t want to present you just a list of those present at the Quill and Gavel, lest I malign some gentleman who later chose to repudiate it.’

‘Oh, no, we certainly wouldn’t want to malign any gentlemen,’ she said acidly. ‘Though I don’t see how lingering in the village helped you. I’m not known there, and while I’m sure there is gossip about the party, how could you be certain who was in attendance, unless you actually came to Dornton?’

‘Ah, but I did.’

She blinked at him. ‘You visited and were not able to see me?’

‘I didn’t call at the front door.’ At her exasperated raise of eyebrows, he chuckled. ‘My time in the army taught me that it’s best not to blunder into enemy territory without first doing a thorough reconnaissance. Nor do you want to ride about in full uniform, rattling your sabre, so that every spy and sharpshooter on the enemy side notices you. No, such a delicate mission required...stealth.’

‘Stealth?’ she repeated. Her lips twitched, as if she were suppressing a smile. ‘What sort of “stealth”?’

‘I had no possible excuse for calling on you, nor do I move in the social circles that make me the sort of eligible parti Lady Fulton would invite to join her party. But, thanks to the army, I know how to mingle almost invisibly among regular folk. Dornton Manor is the largest estate in the area, which means Dornton Village supplies much of the goods consumed here and most of the labour to staff the house. Some rounds of ale at the local tap house, some conversations with the various merchants who provision Dornton Manor, a mention to one of them that, as a returned soldier currently out of work, I wouldn’t mind earning a few coins, and I had a commission to deliver food supplies. That fine fish you enjoyed last night and the pineapples for the compote for dessert?’ He tapped his chest. ‘Brought here from the village by Ben Tawny. Once at Dornton, it was easy enough, over a mug of ale in the servants’ hall, to learn who was valet to whom, and to flirt with the ladies’ maids and unearth a few details about each of their mistresses. Voilà—your size, colouring and love of sketching.’

‘In other words, you misrepresented yourself to the staff here and lied to the merchant,’ she said, her severe tone at variance with the half-smile curving her lips. ‘You are the most complete hand! How can I believe anything you say?’

‘I didn’t misrepresent!’ he protested. ‘I merely...created an illusion.’

‘You lied.’

He shook his head. ‘Not true! I am a former soldier; I grew up poor enough to always be in favour of earning a few coins and many believe that being a Member of Parliament means I do no work. The staff here may have assumed I was a deliveryman because I brought out supplies, but I never told them I was.’

‘I’m sure neither the merchant nor the staff could have imagined you were a Member of Parliament, seeking personal information about Lady Fulton’s guests!’

He shrugged. ‘If, after I presented “A” and “B”, they erroneously arrived at “C”, that’s not my fault.’

She shook her head. ‘You are a dangerous man.’

He grinned. ‘I certainly hope so. Are you any closer to believing me now?’

‘Yes...no. Oh, I don’t know! Your voice and manner are those of a gentleman, but your stories! If I didn’t recognise your name and your association with Oxford, I would think you a charlatan, travelling the countryside selling shares in bogus canal projects!’

‘The army trained me to gather intelligence; it’s surprisingly easy to get even strangers to talk about themselves, with a show of interest and a little prompting. And I did unearth the information I sought. Won’t you let me convey it to you?’

‘Very well. Although I make no promises about believing it!’

‘Denbry arrives today. Quinlen and Rossiter are already here. Even if you can’t bring yourself to believe the wager, be very careful around them. Watch how they treat you. I think you’ll discover they will be unusually flattering and attentive, quite ignoring the lures cast out by any other females present.’

The mirth fled from her face, replaced by an expression of chagrin.

‘They’ve already begun their campaign to win you over, haven’t they?’ he guessed.

‘Their campaign to sweet-talk me?’ she said, recovering her composure enough to scoff. ‘I still don’t see how they thought they could—’

She broke off abruptly, a flush slowly suffusing her face. ‘Ah, now, the rationale behind the wager makes sense,’ she said. ‘The men believe that, given my advanced age, unmarried state and lack of feminine charms, I would be so thankful for the attentions of an eligible bachelor, and so desperate to attach one, that with a little flattery I’d be willing to do anything they ask?’

While Ben hesitated, loath to confirm that was exactly the description Denbry had given, she nodded. ‘Though it was kind of you to try to spare me that humiliating assessment, I would have understood sooner if you hadn’t.’

‘I couldn’t have said such a thing!’ he replied, touched as he watched her gather up the shreds of her dignity, and angered on her behalf at the insult. ‘For one, I would never tell a lady anything that unchivalrous, and secondly, I’ve seen with my own eyes it isn’t true. You are lovely, quick-witted, independent, and highly talented. If you’ve remained unmarried, it must have been through your own choice.’

Though he meant every word, tears sheened her eyes. ‘I thought it was the other gentlemen who would try to sweet-talk me.’

He shook his head. ‘The honest truth, as I see it. At least I know now that, even without my intervention, you wouldn’t have been easily duped.’

She swiped the tears away with one impatient hand, that small act of bravery touching his heart. ‘Even understanding why they would pick me as the linchpin of the wager, I still have difficulty believing it. And for you to come warn me! I appreciate a sense of honour—but you’ve expended a great deal of effort on behalf of a woman you’ve never met, who has no claim to your protection whatsoever. Why would you care so much?’

‘I know what it is for a woman to be deceived—and to bear the cost of it for the rest of her life.’

Sudden comprehension lit her eyes. ‘The Chilford Bastard,’ she said softly.

‘Exactly,’ he said, struggling to keep the bitterness from his tone.

‘If it’s true, I owe you an even more sincere apology—and my thanks.’

He waved it away. ‘Just remain on your guard and watch the behaviour of the men I’ve mentioned. I doubt any of them would be lack-witted enough to try to make off with you against your will, for seduction would be necessary to ruin you and win the wager, to say nothing that attempted kidnapping carries severe penalties under law.’

‘I will certainly watch all of them.’

Despite that assurance, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of a vague uneasiness. Then he hit upon something that would not only help allay that concern—but would give him an excuse him to see this unusual woman again.

‘Would you meet me here, about this same time tomorrow? If those gentlemen’s behaviour does seem suspiciously beguiling, you’ll know I was telling the truth. I can return to London, then, reassured that you believe me and are forewarned. Could you do that?’

He watched her as she weighed his request, almost visibly ticking off the pros and cons in her head. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed.

‘Good. But when we meet tomorrow, bring your maid, even if Molly can’t abide accompanying you on your sketching excursions, since you either walk too fast, or dawdle for ever. Don’t go wandering by yourself in the gardens, either.’ He grinned at her. ‘You never know what sort of ruffian you might encounter.’

Relieved, and far more eager to see Lady Alyssa again than he should be, Ben handed her back the box of pastels she’d set on the ground, and strode to the lane to reclaim his horse.

He felt her speculative gaze on him as he rode away.

* * *

Lady Alyssa Lambornne certainly wasn’t what he’d expected when conscience had compelled him into this mission, he mused as he directed his horse towards the village. From Denbry’s description, he’d thought she’d be meek and mousy, the sort of shy, self-effacing creature who would never make a good impression on the Marriage Mart. As each year ticked by and she remained unwed, failing to achieve the only respectable occupation most women could hope for, she’d have become ever more anxious, apt to embrace even an unequal match to attain the respectability of marriage.

Instead, he’d found her uncommonly intelligent, self-possessed and confident, with a truly exceptional talent for drawing. As he’d not told her, far from being a mousy, he’d found her alluringly attractive. With a fat dowry and that physical magnetism, how had she managed to remain unmarried?

Perhaps because most men wanted a conventional and biddable wife, and were put off by the untamed aura she radiated?

It certainly appealed to him. He let the image of her play across his mind...soft lips, full breasts and deliciously rounded hips. The alertness in her body and the feral intensity of her gaze hinted of a passionate nature, barely covered by a thin veneer of civility...

Desire fired up again and he fought it. Despite her age and that illusion of restrained passion, Lady Alyssa was undoubtedly an innocent. The voice of self-preservation nattered in his ear, warning that he’d never engaged in the dangerous pastime of beguiling innocents and it was no time to start. That way led to the altar and he was neither interested, yet, in confining his interactions with females to a single specimen, nor had he attained the position he felt a woman he’d admire enough to marry would deserve in a husband.

And if he were truly honest, having witnessed the misery and deprivation a blighted love had caused his mother, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to care that much about anyone.

He should therefore be extremely circumspect in his dealings with Lady Alyssa. Though she herself appeared to have little interest in entangling a suitor, that unusual attitude was almost certainly not shared by her family, who would probably much prefer her to put down her sketch pad and embrace the role of wife and mother. At her age, even the natural son of a viscount, a man who’d not yet achieved a superior position in the world, might be acceptable to them.

He had to laugh. Her family would have to be desperate indeed to consider a bastard son good enough for the daughter of an earl.

But he could risk seeing her one more time, before prudence dictated he distance himself. To make sure she was taking proper steps to protect herself. And, he admitted, for the simple pleasure of talking with this most unusual lady.

Anticipation filling him, he rode back towards the inn on the outskirts of the village where he’d engaged a room. He’d enjoy the fine fare at the Rose and Crown, while away the evening playing cards in the taproom and look forward tomorrow to meeting again the unexpectedly compelling Lady Alyssa Lambornne.

Chapter Two

For a long time after Mr Tawny rode out of sight, Alyssa stared off in his direction, her mind turning over his almost unbelievable story—and marvelling at his potent masculine appeal. The whole episode still seemed incredible, but the evidence he presented was so convincing, she was almost forced to believe him, even if it was dismaying to admit she’d been made the means to exact an unprincipled revenge.

Unless she were to awake and find all of this had been only an incredible dream, there seemed no other explanation but that Mr Tawny was exactly who he said he was and what he’d told her was true. If so, by coming to warn her, he’d committed a selfless act.

Too bad he wasn’t one of the ‘beguiling suitors’. Since she didn’t intend to marry anyway, it might be worth being ‘ruined’ to be seduced by him.

Desire stirred within her at the thought. She hadn’t been so attracted by a man in a very long time. Though she was still a maid, her experience of passion limited, she had no difficulty identifying—and appreciating—the reason for the heat that had flamed through her body when she’d first looked into his eyes.

A reaction that distracted her from observing him with her normal artist’s dispassion while he stood looming over her, his countenance so arresting she couldn’t make herself look away.

She recalled the startled moment when she’d first seen him, his broad shoulders blocking the ray of sunshine piercing the forest canopy, haloing his tall, well-muscled form and gilding the edges of his dark brown hair. Handsome, with a look of command about it, his lean face had a sharp nose, prominent cheekbones and the faint trace of a scar running from the left temple down almost to his jaw. Keen eyes the colour of an emerald illumined by sunlight held her gaze captive; his firm mouth looked made for kissing, that impression reinforced by a voice that was deeply pitched, almost—bedchamber intimate. When he’d held her gaze without flinching—his unexpected appearance and powerful attraction making her forget to drop her eyes modestly, as Mama kept instructing her—she’d felt so strongly drawn to him, she’d almost gone into his arms.

With his handsome face, virile body and shiver-inducing voice, she had no difficulty at all believing he was ‘a man of great address with the ladies’.

Though his sudden appearance had certainly startled her, she’d not felt threatened. Which was a curious response, given the venal character and violent tendencies of the men of her family. She should have felt an immediate wariness; instead, there’d been something about him that drew her. Continued to draw her, even after the shock of her first, intensely physical response faded.

Her usual reaction to the arrival of a visitor was to escape before Mama could call for her, or, if caught, get away as quickly as possible. Ben Tawny had evoked the opposite response; she’d wanted him to linger.

As they talked, that strong initial attraction still humming between them, his appeal expanded to include admiration for a man who would take so much trouble to safeguard a woman he didn’t even know. A man of intelligence and strong principles, who exuded a sense of purpose and a quiet competence.

A self-confidence, too, as if he felt easy in his own skin. He possessed the same sort of calm self-assurance that Will had, she realised, that conclusion followed with the inevitable pang of grief.

No wonder she’d felt so drawn to him.

It occurred to her that, not only had he learned about her, he knew her maid’s name, the fact that Molly didn’t like to accompany her on sketching excursions and why. What a clever intelligence-gatherer he was, indeed!

He ought to appear competent. Only look what he’d discovered about her and the other members of the house party, and in such an unusual manner! She couldn’t think of anyone else who could have managed such a chameleon-like performance.

She could easily believe he’d been an intelligence-gatherer for the army. She knew for certain he’d been to Oxford, joined a group of like-minded reformers who aspired to Parliament and achieved that ambition. What had he done, since joining the Commons? Her family having little interest in politics, she didn’t know much about what went on in government, though even she had heard vague rumblings about a new Reform Act. Were he and his group moving that forward?

Was the man who’d accosted her, in fact, Benedict Tawny? With no acquaintance present to introduce them, she had only his word for it. Though she couldn’t think of a good reason why someone else would pose as the man and come to warn her of a pernicious plot.

Was there any way she could make sure he was who he said he was? Asking Mama if she knew anything about a Mr Benedict Tawny would only result in a grilling about why she’d suddenly developed a most unusual interest in a gentleman to whom she’d never been presented. Besides, Mama knew few politicians, and by his own admission, Mr Tawny didn’t appear at society functions, which would be the only place her mama would encounter him.

Perhaps she could talk to Lord Fulton. Though he was not, to her knowledge, involved in politics, he’d certainly know more about Parliament and the Reform movement than any of the females present.

At the prospect, she felt a rise of eagerness and anticipation.

Mr Tawny was not only the most attractive gentleman she’d met in a very long time, he was the only one who’d aroused her interest and excited her curiosity. Although she was unlikely to ever see him again after tomorrow, she was suddenly very glad she’d agreed to meet him.

In the interim, she’d attempt a little intelligence-gathering of her own.

Anger stirred out of the ashes of humiliation. While she plumbed Lord Fulton about Mr Tawny, she’d also encourage the attentions of Rossiter and Quinlen and try to work out the dimensions of their plot.

Those dissipated, idle men might think to make her the target of their ploy, but she no intention of playing into their hands. In fact, she thought, their intended manipulation calling up her ever-simmering fury and resentment at her father’s strong-armed control over her life, perhaps she could try to turn their stratagems against them. If they counted on her being naïve, persuadable and desperate to capture their interest, she could count on them to be arrogant, sure of their superior cleverness and too unobservant to see anything but what they expected to see.

Despite their ill intentions, she wouldn’t attempt to ruin their lives, even if she could. But she’d have no regrets about exploiting their scheme so they, rather than she, ended up surprised and embarrassed.

The steady burn of anger reinforcing that intent, she gathered up her art supplies and headed back to Dornton.

* * *

Alyssa had hoped to return to the manor and change into more presentable clothing while her mother was at breakfast. Unluckily, as she tiptoed back into their bedchamber, she found Lady Aldermont still at her dressing table.

‘Sorry I slept so late, darling,’ her mother said—before catching a glimpse of her in the dressing table’s mirror. ‘Merciful Heavens, child!’ she said with a gasp. ‘Wherever have you been, wearing that hideous old gown?’

‘Just sketching, Mama. It was still very wet after yesterday’s rain and I didn’t wish to soil any of the lovely dresses you brought for me. None of the guests were up, so I got out and back without being seen.’

‘Sketching, always sketching,’ Lady Aldermont said fretfully. ‘If only you’d paid a fraction as much attention to the things that really matter during your London Seasons, we wouldn’t be reduced to attending this dreary series of house parties in dismally remote locations!’

‘I know you hate being out of London,’ Alyssa said, suppressing a guilty pang at the knowledge that it was the chance to sketch in different areas of England that prompted her to press for attending the ‘dreary series of house parties’.

‘At least in town, there’s visiting and shopping and a variety of company. Here, we are condemned to see the same faces day after day.’

Putting down her supplies, Alyssa walked over to pat her mother’s hand. ‘Has Lady Sutherland been plaguing you?’

‘Insufferable woman!’ Lady Aldermont cried. ‘If she’s not crowing about the brilliant marriage her eldest made, snagging the Duke of Wessex, she’s waxing eloquent about the beauty and accomplishments of Lady Alice. All this said with pitying glances at me.’

Alyssa sighed. ‘I know what a disappointment I’ve been to you, Mama.’

Though that was patently true, her mother seized her hands. ‘Of course you haven’t, my darling! Well, I do wish some gentleman—some eligible gentleman—had caught your eye after your come-out. I still think it most unwise that your Papa refuses you another Season, for I know he wishes you to wed and the selection at these smaller parties is so limited! It just grates on me when I see those empty-headed chits celebrated, when you, who are far more accomplished, are overlooked!’

Little brown wrens are always overlooked when there are beauteous swans about, she thought. Her mama had been one of them, the most beautiful, sought-after and well-dowered maiden of her debut Season, thirty years ago. Alas, though she’d inherited her mama’s short stature, she’d not received the golden hair, the arresting face or the summer-sky-blue eyes that had inspired suitors to write verses in her honour and propose in droves.

‘There’s no accounting for the taste of gentlemen,’ she said, giving her mama a kiss. ‘Why don’t you pick out your favourite of my new gowns for me to wear?’

Mentioning fashion was guaranteed to redirect her mama’s thinking into more cheerful channels. Brightening, Lady Aldermont said, ‘Yes, I will! Several of the gentlemen have been paying you a flattering amount of attention; we must inspire them to continue!’

And it certainly hasn’t been because of my charms, Alyssa thought, frowning as she remembered Tawny’s warning.

‘Surely, my dear, out of all the single men about, you might find one to your liking. Is it so wrong of me to want to see you wed and settled, with a house of your own and children?’

Alyssa noted her mother wasn’t hypocritical enough to add ‘happy’ to that description—her mama’s own marriage having given her little reason to expect wedded bliss for her daughter. ‘You never give up hope, do you, Mama?’

‘It would be so much better, if you could find a kind man you could tolerate as a husband,’ her mother said coaxingly.

‘Better than living under Papa’s thumb,’ she admitted. In the face of her father’s stern, tyrannical rule, her mother had always been too timid to please him, she too rebellious. Or rather, she had tried to please him when she was little, before she realised earning his approval was impossible. Since the incident three years ago, they’d regarded each other with active hostility.

‘But if I married, my new husband would get control over Aunt Augusta’s money, so I still wouldn’t be able to use it for what I want.’

The ability to live independently and pursue her heart’s calling.

‘Yes, but you would have friends and society around you—rather than being alone and isolated in that cottage you talk about! And you know Papa will not let you use the funds for that. Only think of the scandal, an earl’s unmarried daughter living all on her own!’

Alyssa sighed, unable to dispute the truth of that. With her father named a trustee on the fund, unless she married, she’d need his approval to access the money. As of now, she’d not figured out a way to convince him to allow her to set up a separate household, which is why she had not, yet, approached him with her intention to do so.

‘I expect I shall devise some way to bring Papa around. In any event, with luck, he’ll predecease me.’

‘I don’t know,’ her mama said. ‘The Lambornnes are distressingly long-lived.’

Sadly, Alyssa had to admit the truth of that daunting observation. Would there still be time for her to make a life for herself and accomplish the work that drove her, if she truly couldn’t begin until after Papa died?

She must come up with a better alternative than waiting for the Earl of Aldermont to cock up his toes.

First, though, she needed to deal with this despicable wager.

Due to Mr Tawny’s unexpected appearance, she’d not finished her drawing today. Over the summer, she had completed twenty more watercolours and needed only a few more to be able to contact Mr Waterman in London about putting together that colourised book of English birds he’d expressed such enthusiasm about to Will. If she could just get her hands on her money, so she might travel to the more remote regions and finish the final sketches before the deadline he’d given...

With Will gone, she’d need to find someone else to approach the publisher on her behalf, she thought, the familiar, sharp wave of grief sweeping through her.

I will finish the sketches and get them published, as you would have wanted, she silently promised him.

Then Molly was back, fitting her into one of the explosions of lace, ribbons and ruffles her mama so adored. Since, in her opinion, the enormous sleeves and ballooning skirts made her look ridiculous—almost as wide as she was tall, she’d overhead one malicious maiden remarking—it was fortunate she had no desire to attract any of the eligible swains gathered for this party.

Tapes and pins secured, she told her mama, ‘I’m going to stop by the library. I’ll see you in the drawing room.’ Giving her mother a kiss, she hurried out before Lady Aldermont could object.

* * *

Hoping to catch her host before the party gathered in the parlour, Alyssa slipped down the stairs. As she entered the library, the latest London paper caught her eye. Which, quite fortuitously, carried a lengthy story on the progress of the Reform Bill.

Snatching it up, she scanned the article. It seemed the bill, having passed the Commons in late September, was sent on to the Lords. Contrary to the expectations of its supporters and an agitated populace, instead of winning approval in the upper house, the Lords Spiritual—upper clergy who had votes in that hereditary body—summoned enough members to defeat it. The result had been riots in many areas of the country and Lord Grey pressing the King to prorogue Parliament so a new session could be summoned in December.

Not until the very end did she find what she sought: a list of the most prominent members of the Reform committee. Which included all four of those Oxford friends she remembered her brother calling ‘Hadley’s Hellions’: Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar—and Benedict Tawny.

She’d just finished the article when her host walked in. ‘Lady Alyssa!’ he cried, halting in surprise on the threshold.

She rose and curtsied. ‘Lord Fulton, I hope you’ll forgive my invading your library.’

‘Of course, my dear. Can I assist you with something?’

‘I was just reading the latest London paper. Have you followed the debate on the Reform Bill? There’s quite a lengthy article.’

He gave her an odd look. ‘That’s not a topic generally of much interest to ladies.’

‘Truly? I found the discussion fascinating! Are you acquainted with any of the movement’s leaders?’ she asked, tapping the list in the paper. ‘I find myself wondering what manner of man would support such a...drastic initiative.’

‘I’ve not been much involved, myself,’ he admitted, gazing down at the names she indicated. ‘Hmm...all four of them outsiders from society, which might explain their radical views.’

‘Outsiders? In what way?’

‘Hadley, the son of the Earl of Telbridge, was estranged from his father for years, after his father divorced his mother, but they’ve recently reconciled. David Tanner Smith...quite the scandal there! A commoner, he recently shocked society by marrying the widowed Duchess of Ashedon, though he is, it must be admitted, a good friend of her family. Lattimar...father is Lord Vraux, although it’s well known that’s not his real father. Five children and probably only the eldest was sired by the baron! Benedict Tawny...not sure I know that name.’

Before she could suppress her disappointment, he said, ‘Now wait, I do remember. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, but his father, Viscount Chilford, later took him up and sponsored him in Parliament.’

‘Does he resemble his father in appearance—is that why the Viscount decided to recognise him?’ she probed.

‘Chilford’s a member of my club. Can’t say as I’ve met the son, but I’ve heard the boy favours him. Tall, dark-haired, green eyes. Quite a magnet for the ladies. A group of rogues, all in all.’ Lord Fulton chuckled. ‘M’wife would blister my ears for repeating such scandalous gossip to an innocent like you!’

‘I’ll not mention we spoke of it!’ Alyssa promised as she tucked away the details.

Tall, dark-haired, green-eyed and a magnet for the ladies?

The description certainly fitted! Desire fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the gaze that had held her spellbound. That final bit of evidence was enough to convince her that the gentleman in the woods had in fact been Benedict Tawny.

Pleased to have elicited so much information, she said, ‘I’ve disturbed your peace long enough. Thank you, Lord Fulton!’

Bidding her host good day, Alyssa walked out to join the rest of the party.

* * *

The scrutiny of both the ladies and gentlemen who turned to inspect her as she entered immediately made her conscious of her new attire. In comparison, the style Alyssa found so unflattering on her short form only emphasised the tall, elegant figure of the waspish Lady Sunderland’s daughter, Lady Alice. With her lovely face, sky-blue eyes and golden curls set under a wide-brimmed hat, she looked like the illustration of perfect maidenly beauty from the latest lady’s fashion magazine.

Which made it all the more suspicious that, rather than lingering with the other men beside the Paragon, as soon as she entered, Quinlen and Rossiter hastened over to her.

‘Lady Alyssa, at last! The party was dreadfully dull until you appeared,’ Quinlen said.

‘And what a lovely gown! You look so...fashionable,’ Rossiter added.

Normally, Alyssa responded to compliments from a gentleman in monosyllables and evaded his company as soon as possible. This time, she fluttered her lashes at Rossiter and tried to manufacture a blush. ‘Oh, do you really think so?’

‘Absolutely! The prettiest lady here,’ Rossiter said.

Since that was patently untrue, Alyssa had to suppress a strong desire to roll her eyes. Instead, she peeped shyly up at him. ‘You are very kind, Mr Rossiter!’

‘Merely truthful, Lady Alyssa. Lady Fulton is about to begin a game of charades in the salon. Won’t you join me?’ He offered his arm.

‘She ought to accompany me,’ Quinlen said. ‘I’m a much cleverer partner.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Alyssa said, putting her hands to her cheeks in mock distress. ‘I shouldn’t wish to slight either of you!’

‘Give an arm to each, then,’ Quinlen said, offering his.

‘I’m really not very good at charades,’ she added, assuming the role of bashful wallflower they expected. ‘You gentlemen would do better partnering another lady.’

‘Nonsense, there’s no one here I would prefer to you,’ Quinlen said.

‘Quite true!’ Rossiter added.

Embarrassed in truth at all the falsehoods being exchanged, she had no trouble summoning a blush. ‘Well, if you are quite sure you want my company...’

As both gentlemen waited expectantly, Alyssa gave a hand to each and allowed them to walk her to the salon. Since they didn’t think her witty enough to add much to the conversation, she was able to get by with murmuring a few ‘yesses’ and ‘nos’ as they entertained her with London gossip.

She made a great show of refusing to participate in the charades, and when finally ‘persuaded’ to play, was so hopeless at giving or interpreting clues that her mother, speechless at the abysmal performance of her normally needle-witted daughter, pulled her aside to ask in an undertone whether she felt quite well.

‘I’m fine, Mama,’ she whispered back. ‘I didn’t wish to outdo the other participants, especially not when Mr Quinlen and Mr Rossiter are showing me such flattering attention. Haven’t you always told me gentlemen don’t truly wish for intelligence in a wife?’

‘Yes, but you’ve never before paid me any heed,’ Lady Aldermont replied.

The game broke up, and with the day turned warm and fair, plans were being made to walk in the garden when Lady Fulton announced a newcomer was joining them. Striding into the parlour came Lord Denbry, greeting his hostess and apologising for making a tardy arrival at her party. As he bent to whisper something in her ear that made her blush, his gaze roved the room—before finding, and resting on, Alyssa.

She didn’t have to feign the heat that touched her cheeks at his blatantly appraising glance. So this was Denbry, her brother’s detested competitor for winning women, games of chance and eager acolytes. Though she’d never met him, she’d heard enough about him from her brother to have been on her guard, even without Mr Tawny’s warning.

Above medium height, dressed in the vanguard of fashion in a coat flared at the shoulder and nipped in at the waist, he looked wealthy, handsome and arrogant. She already knew that he, like her brother, used those good looks to charm hapless women out of their virtue and induce gentlemen to grant him whatever he desired.

And what he currently desired, apparently, was to see her ruined.

If Mr Tawny hadn’t been so persuasive, she’d have found it almost impossible to believe this stranger would casually plan to destroy her. If she could prove to herself that was truly his intent, it might be time he was taught a salutatory lesson.

He wasn’t the only one who could plot.

As she watched covertly, he made a circuit of the room, letting each lady bask in his charming smile and tossing greetings to the competing swains that changed their resentful looks to pleasant, if not entirely friendly, nods.

Not until he’d greeted everyone else did he approach Alyssa.

‘Quinlen, Rossiter, good to see you,’ he said, shaking both gentlemen’s hands. ‘I’ve left the best for last. Won’t one of you introduce me to this ravishing creature?’

A good ploy—if she were a woman whose interest he wanted to pique. A wallflower who’d wistfully watched his progress around the room, knowing she hadn’t the wit or beauty to catch his notice, and therefore shocked and thrilled to have attracted it. That unjustified bit of flattery seemed to reinforce that enticing her was exactly what he intended.

‘Lady Alyssa Lambornne, may I present the Earl of Denbry?’ Rossiter dutifully pronounced.

She dropped a curtsy, ready to resume playing her part. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Lord Denbry,’ she said, trying to imbue her voice with just the right tone of flustered gratification. ‘Although you are far too kind! I know I’m not...ravishing.’

She gazed up at him, aiming for the pleading expression of one who knows better, but hopes to be persuaded anyway that the gentleman finds her attractive.

‘You are to me,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her hand.

Knowing his intentions, at the press of his lips against her fingers she almost jerked away. Catching herself, she uttered instead a little ‘ooh’ of gratification.

If she hadn’t been forewarned, she might have missed the knowing smile that passed between Quinlen and Rossiter.

Were most females so self-deceiving? she wondered with disgust. Or so desperate to marry that they persuaded themselves to believe what common sense argued against?

But she shouldn’t judge her sex too harshly. She had resources to support herself, mitigating the need to wed. How desperate might she be, if the alternative to marriage were destitution, or a life as an unpaid servant, shunted from family member to family member to assist with children, the ill or the elderly?

‘The party is about to walk in the gardens. Won’t you let me escort you?’ Denbry asked, giving Quinlen and Rossiter a little wave of dismissal.

The speed with which they abandoned the field reinforced Tawny’s contention that Denbry was the ringleader of the plot. ‘Well, I don’t know. My brother has told me a lot about you,’ she said, aiming for a tone of both curiosity and reproof.

‘Probably none of it good!’ Denbry said with a groan. ‘As I’m sure you are aware, your brother and I having been friendly competitors for years, so you mustn’t believe everything he says! Please allow me to walk with you, that I might have a chance to defend myself.’

He gazed at her with such a look of warm entreaty, she could understand how females unaware of his true character might find themselves beguiled. ‘I suppose that is only fair.’

Tucking her hand under his, he walked her from the salon towards the garden. ‘Just what has your brother told you about me?’

Another good ploy, Alyssa thought. Find out what you need to explain away. ‘That you’ve often competed in races with horses or curricles and gambled with each other, sometimes for high stakes. And then, there were...’ she dropped her voice, as if embarrassed ʻ...certain, um, ladies...’

‘All true.’ He leaned closer, so that he was almost whispering. ‘Though it was very naughty of your brother to mention the ladies.’

A whiff of sin, designed to titillate, she thought. ‘It does make me wonder what you are doing at this gathering of eligible maidens.’

‘Perhaps your brother has not reached this point yet, but there comes a time when a man grows tired of pursuing idle pleasures. When he begins to long for a more...settled life and one special lady to share it.’

If it were not for the slight smirk at the end of that speech, she could almost be fooled herself by his apparent sincerity.

‘And you have...reached this milestone, Lord Denbry?’

‘I believe I have.’

‘You are anticipating the next Season, then, so you may seek that...special lady.’

‘Not if I am fortunate enough to find her before then.’

‘And how will you know when you have found her?’

‘One just...knows.’ He tipped her chin up with one finger. ‘Do you not believe so, my lovely Lady Alyssa?’ he murmured, gazing into her eyes.

How much ardent entreaty he put into those words, Alyssa thought, gazing back with what she hoped looked like surprise, gratification and attraction. He really was quite good at this—the blackguard.

Giving an uncertain laugh, she looked away. ‘But you hardly know me, Lord Denbry.’

‘But I’ve heard much about you. Your loveliness. Your purity. Your tender regard for your family.’

‘I would hope all unmarried ladies possess such qualities,’ Alyssa countered. Take that, for presenting me with such a list of bland generalities.

A hint of annoyance briefly crossed his countenance. ‘Not to the extent you do, dear Lady Alyssa,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But I see you are not yet convinced of my regard—or how serious I am about turning my life in a new direction. Won’t you get to know me better before you decide?’

She gazed back up, trying for a worshipful look. ‘I should like to...get to know you better.’

He pressed another kiss upon her captive hand. Alyssa had to work hard to suppress the strong desire to knee him in the groin. Instead, after suffering him to fondle her hand for several minutes, she pulled away, as if reluctantly. ‘Oh, Lord Denbry, you mustn’t!’

‘You are right, Lady Alyssa. I must control myself—no matter how difficult you make that.’

‘We should go back to the house now,’ she announced, but with a regretful glance at his lips that said the virtuous maiden was sorely tempted to be less virtuous.

Smiling with satisfaction, he leaned down as if to steal a kiss—before straightening again. ‘You tempting creature! Yes, we must return before I forget myself and do something...scandalous. But promise you will let me escort you to dinner, and partner with me for cards afterward.’

She gazed up worshipfully. ‘If you truly wish it?’

‘With all my heart.’

Do you even have one? she wondered as she let him lead her back into the house.

* * *

She left him then, pleading the need to change for dinner. She found her mother already in their chamber, her maid helping her into her evening attire.

Once Molly had done the same for her, Lady Aldermont dismissed them both before turning to her. ‘May I have a moment, my dear?’

‘Of course. What is it, Mama?’

‘I appreciate you making an effort to be agreeable to the gentleman. But Denbry...’ Her mother’s voice trailed off. ‘I’ve...overheard some things about him from your brother and I don’t believe he’s at all the sort of suitor you wish to encourage. I was quite shocked to see him at this gathering—not that Lady Fulton invited him, for he comes from an excellent family, is quite wealthy and will inherit the marquisate one day. Shocked that, with his...proclivities, he bothered to attend.’

It wouldn’t be prudent to confide to her mama any of what Mr Tawny had revealed. A shocked and outraged Lady Aldermont would demand that their hostess be told, so she might send the offending gentlemen away before they could carry out their nefarious plan.

That would put her mama and their hostess in an awkward position—and let Denbry get away without receiving the lesson she had in mind. She was now almost as determined to deliver that as she was to foil his revenge.

‘I know Harleton doesn’t like him,’ Alyssa said.

‘I’ve heard he’s a gambler and a womaniser.’

‘So I accused him of being. He admitted to it, but said he was ready to change—for the right lady.’

Lady Aldermont shook her head. ‘Men don’t truly change, my darling. I want you to marry to improve your situation—not become mired for life in a union that would exchange the tyranny of your brother and father for a man who is no better.’

‘I have no intention of doing that, either,’ she said emphatically.

‘As long as you are on your guard against him. There’s no man more charming than a selfish rake intent on getting what he wants. I should know.’

Was that how her father had persuaded her mother into marriage? Alyssa had often wondered what had led her sweet-tempered, if shallow, mother to accept the hand of her selfish, arrogant, iron-fisted father.

Yet another reason to avoid wedlock, for how could a girl possessed of a handsome dowry trust any man not to be deceitful about his reasons for wanting to marry her?

Benedict Tawny’s face flashed into mind. Perhaps there was one man who seemed to truly care about a woman’s welfare.

‘Don’t worry, Mama. I know what sort of man Denbry is.’

‘Very well, my dear. But do be careful.’

‘Oh, I intend to be.’ Careful...and cunning. Tossing the spangled shawl around her shoulders, she followed her mother out.

Chapter Three

Early the next morning, Ben waited in the woods where he had discovered Lady Alyssa the previous day. As he paced, he had to admit feeling an anticipation a good deal stronger than it ought to be.

All he expected to gain from this meeting was a confirmation that Quinlen, Rossiter and Denbry were in fact trying to attach her, as he predicted. Once assured that she would not be taken in by them, he could return to London and begin preparing for the final battle for the Reform Bill.

Still, he had found Lady Alyssa uncommonly interesting, unusual as it was for him to be drawn to a female he wasn’t trying to persuade into his bed. Which, unfortunately, was not possible in this case, despite the promise of passion in that lush body and those mesmerising eyes.

Ah, what delights he could teach her!

Too bad those delights came with wedding lines attached. While acknowledging that, he could still look forward to conversing with a lady whose personality was as intriguing as her physical charms.

What, besides the physical, was it that had so impressed him? he asked himself again.

The independence and sense of purpose that led her to tramp the countryside unescorted to pursue her sketching was part of it. And the fact that, unlike most unmarried females, she seemed driven by something other than a pressing need to find a husband. Or at least, to capture the attention of any gentleman she encountered.

Now that he considered it, he realised she’d made no attempt to attract him at all. A novel experience for a man who normally had all manner of lures cast his way. If he’d not been so distracted by her sketching and pressed to inform her about her threatening situation, he might have felt downright insulted by her apparent lack of interest.

Also exceptional was her ability to discuss in a calm, rational manner a disturbing situation that would have reduced most females to tears. Since when had he met a female who employed logic in evaluating a situation? Or who, in distressing circumstances, retained enough presence of mind to admit her conclusions might be in error?

In short, she acted with a deliberate, almost...masculine sense of intelligence and self-control. Though, he thought, recalling her lush form, there was nothing at all mannish about her.

Unique and impressive indeed!

He’d like to ask her what she intended to do with those excellent sketches. Ladies did not produce items for sale, but he could try persuading her into gifting him one. He’d give it pride of place on his library wall—a memento of a most unusual lady.

Then he spied her hurrying across the meadow—and felt again that rise of anticipation.

Spotting him, she made her way over, sketchbook and pastel box in hand. There was not, he noted with a frown, any maid trailing in her wake.

‘Sorry to be late, Mr Tawny,’ she said as she reached the shelter of the trees. ‘I almost couldn’t get away.’

He gave her a severe look. ‘Where is Molly?’

‘Just gone down for breakfast. I couldn’t be cruel enough to drag her away from that, especially since, as you’ve discovered, she hates accompanying me to sketch. Besides, I was coming to meet you, so I knew I’d be in no danger.’

‘You might meet someone else coming or going. I trust you now believe there might be danger in that?’

Her expression turned exasperated. ‘It was just as you predicted. Not only did Quinlen and Rossiter continue their attentions, Lord Denbry made straight for me when he arrived, despite the fact that there were several more beautiful ladies in the room. Just in case any of the three had suddenly developed some malady affecting their vision, I conducted myself through charades and the evening activities as the most shy, backward ingénue on the face of the planet! In spite of that, their attentions continued unabated.’ She paused, chuckling. ‘They must have been praying for the evening to end. I know I was; trying to act like a bashful ninny is far more exhausting than I anticipated.’

‘Did none of the other guests notice the marked change in your behaviour?’

‘Since I generally participate as little as possible in these gatherings, they don’t know how I normally behave. Though initially, my mother was alarmed! But after I assured her I was only trying to follow her advice, deferring to the gentlemen, she couldn’t really protest the behaviour,’ she ended with another chuckle.

How those gold-flecked eyes mesmerised when she was amused, Ben thought, once again fighting the urge to take her in his arms. ‘A case of being careful what you wish for.’

‘Perhaps.’ Her amusement fading, she said, ‘In particular, I watched Denbry, for the others deferred to him. I even told him at the outset that I had not received a good account of his character from my brother.’

Surprised that she would almost...bait the man, Ben said, ‘To which he replied?’

‘He protested that, as he and my brother had always been rivals, Harleton was unlikely to give him the best report. Then added a great deal of claptrap about how he’d outgrown his misspent youth and now was ready to settle down—with the right lady, of course. That bit of rubbish accompanied by ardent looks and much flattery.’ She twisted her lip in disgust. ‘A great rake, suddenly reforming his womanising ways? Are there truly any females who would believe such nonsense?’

‘That the love of one special lady might convince a man to change his character? It is a romantic notion, you must allow. It would depend, I think, on how persuasive the gentleman was.’

‘And how naïve and sheltered—or desperate, the female?’ she said, her bitter tone making him wonder about her own experiences. Had some rake led her on, then betrayed her, when she was young and naïve?

‘So you do believe now that they are trying to entice you.’

A flush heated her face. ‘Humiliating as it is to acknowledge, I’m forced to admit it must be true.’

Angered again on her behalf, he said, ‘Fortunately, they have no idea they are dealing with a lady far different than the slighting description they received. Now that you know what they are about, you can simply ignore them.’

Her expression hardened, something—indignation?—sparking in her eyes. ‘Yes, they are dealing with a female far different than what they expected—not that my performance last night gave any indication of it. But I don’t intend to ignore them; I intend to continue giving Denbry all the encouragement he needs to believe his scheme will succeed.’

‘You’re going to encourage him?’ Ben asked, frowning. ‘Why in the world would you do that?’

‘What if I had been the sort of anxious, desperate-to-marry female they envisioned? Why should Lord Denbry be able to target the virtue of some innocent maid, callously ruin her life—and walk away, completely untouched? Knowing what he intended, I can’t just...let him go and do nothing!’

Beguiling as it was to fantasise about a warrior princess, it was disturbing in the extreme to consider she might actually act like one. Alarmed, Ben said, ‘I strongly advise you to do just that! Were he to discover that you’d been playing him for a fool, he’d be furious. You know what sort of man he is! Regrettable it might be, and certainly unfair, but gentlemen hold most of the cards in this game; there are any number of retaliatory actions he could take to besmirch your character. All he need do upon his return to London is put it about—very discreetly, of course—that you’d allowed him to take liberties with your person as you walked alone in the garden and your reputation would be in shreds. It wouldn’t be as dramatic as the ruination he planned—but it would limit your ability to secure a suitable marriage almost as effectively.’

‘Perhaps—but don’t I invite that sort of retaliation, regardless of what I do next?’ she argued back. ‘If I were suddenly to shun him, he would be forced to admit he’d miscalculated my character—or his own attractiveness to females. Either result would show him up in front of his friends, who have all witnessed the marked attention he paid me. Wouldn’t that outcome be just as likely to spur him to some retaliation?’

Swallowing the oath that observation prompted, Ben paused, irritated that he’d hadn’t foreseen that possibility himself. She truly was needle-witted! Much as he’d like to dismiss her concern, the damnable fact was, she was right.

Before he could devise a safer way to counter that threat, she said, ‘Since there’s a good chance he’s going to make a run at ruining me in any event, instead of retreating in submissive, helpless fashion, why shouldn’t I at least take advantage of the opportunity to administer a lesson of my own?’

‘Administer a lesson?’ Ben echoed, truly aghast now. ‘Dam—Heaven forfend! What crack-brained notion have you taken into your head?’

‘Well, I would very much like to shoot him—if I were a man and he had impugned my honour, I’d be able call him out, wouldn’t I? I am an excellent shot, by the way. But since, regrettably, he’d only laugh at a challenge issued by a female, I shall have to take a different path. I intend to seem to go along with his plan, letting him “entice” me to the point of an elopement. I shall insist I dare not leave Dornton Manor with him, but will slip away after dark and meet him instead at some inn. I’ll beg him to hire the horses and a coach for a dash to the border—or wherever it is he plans to carry me off—and wait for me there. Only instead of a silly, eager female running into his arms, he’ll receive a message, reproving him for his dishonourable intentions and expressing the hope that he will not, in future, try to lead some other unfortunate young woman to her ruin.’

‘Don’t do it,’ Ben said flatly.

‘Why not? How does it put me in any more danger than I stand in now? I’ve already walked in the garden with him, alone, so he’d easily be able to return to London and impugn my reputation in the manner you described. No matter how angry he might be, he wouldn’t go as far as to try to make off with me by force—there’s that law against kidnapping you mentioned. Nor would he try to physically assault me—there are statutes against that, too. He may be venal, but I do not think he is stupid.’

Though Ben wasn’t as confident as she seemed about that, to his relief, a better solution came to mind. ‘No, confide in your mother instead. Have her invent some sudden illness and carry you back home. There’d be no insult, no blame. If he were to believe his design had been succeeding and someone who suspected the truth spoiled the plan, he would hold your mother at fault. There’s nothing he could do to injure her.’

‘Maybe. But there’s still the possibility someone could titter behind his back that my mama thought him so deficient in character, she felt compelled to remove her innocent daughter from his presence. He’d still be free to make allegations about my virtue—and get away with it.’

Looking furious, she stamped her foot. ‘When I think of that smug, conceited face, I’d like to plant him a facer! It’s not as if I want to pay him back in a manner as damaging as what he intended for me. But how can I slink away and do...nothing?’

She gazed up at him, her outrage so justifiable, he couldn’t help but sympathise. Even so, it would still be most ill advised for her to try to retaliate. Warrior princess or not, she was still a female living in a society entirely unforgiving of any woman whose behaviour violated its rules. Somehow, he needed to convince her of that.

‘He’s despicable, I agree. But in the case of something as precious as your reputation, discretion would be the better part of valour.’

‘Would you just meekly walk away and do nothing? If he’d tried to impugn your honour and ruin your good name?’

She had him there. ‘It’s not the same,’ he protested. ‘I’m a man and there’s only so much he could—’

‘Why is it, just because I’m female, I’m supposed to let this...this reprobate threaten me and look the other way?’

‘You know why!’ he shot back in exasperation. ‘Don’t engage him in a battle it would be far too easy for him to win and you to lose! Once destroyed, your reputation is gone for ever.’

‘You’ll say I’m naïve, or I haven’t considered the matter rationally, but I assure you, I don’t care if my reputation is ruined. It might even be helpful. I can afford to engage in a battle most females, whose futures do depend upon possessing a spotless character, could not.’

He stared at her, perplexed. Had she really been so traumatised by some previous heartbreak that she was reckless enough to throw away her future? ‘No woman—or man, for that matter—can do without a reputation. What do you possibly hope to achieve without it? Surely, in spite of whatever—unhappy experience you may have had earlier, you can’t be that opposed to eventually marrying.’

‘No, I’m not—or I wasn’t—opposed to marriage.’ She looked up, sighing, and for an instant he caught a glimpse in her eyes of an anguish so great, he felt the shock of its reverberation like a blow to his chest.

Then, the fire seeming to leave her, she said quietly, ‘I suppose I shall have to explain, lest you lapse into superior masculine manner and think me mentally deficient, like all of my sex. Very well.’

With a distracted air, she paced deeper into the woods, motioning him to follow. ‘I’ve always had a passion for sketching,’ she said as they walked, ‘and during my second Season, one swain who became aware of that obsession brought me to see one of the folios of Mr Audubon’s Birds of America, for which his cousin, the Duke of Northumberland, was a subscriber. How transported I was by the marvellous detail, the wonderful colours! I began a conversation about them with the Duke’s secretary, William McCalister, which led to my meeting Will again later and showing him some of my own watercolours. He thought them excellent and that, with the great success of Mr Aubudon’s engravings, some publisher might be interested in bringing out a similar work for British birds, as Mr Bewick’s otherwise very comprehensive guide is illustrated only by black-and-white woodcuts. With my permission, he approached a publisher, who was not only interested, he wrote out a contract on the spot, giving the artist—he had no idea it was a female, of course—until the end of this winter to finish the drawings.’

By this time, they’d reached the clearing. Absently, she took a seat on the log, Ben sitting beside her. ‘Harleton learned of my meetings with Will and reported them to my father, who forbade me to see him again; the son of a younger son of minor gentry wasn’t a fitting companion for an earl’s daughter. Yet, how could I help loving Will? The only person I’d ever met who not only showed an interest in my drawing, but understood how much it means to me and encouraged me to use my talents for something more useful than decorating china plates. When I continued to sneak out to see him, fearing I might make a misalliance that would embarrass the family, my father arranged to have him offered a position with a colonial official in Barbados. A clever man, my father—seeing this as a way to earn the wealth and advancement that would make him “worthy” of me, Will accepted the position. My father locked me in my room until Will’s ship sailed for the Indies, to make sure I could not elope with him. Six months after his arrival, Will contracted some tropic disease, and died.’

Ben had never been in love, fully and completely. But he knew how much his mother had dared in order to be with the man she’d loved and he knew how much the support and friendship of the Hellions had meant to him at Oxford, an outcast with aspirations no one else understood. To have all that wrapped up in one person and lose it... ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured.

‘No man of good birth would allow his wife to work as an artist, for payment. Nor could I tolerate being a useless society wife. I have money enough that I don’t need to marry to be able to set up an establishment of my own. Except that,’ she added with another sigh, ‘despite being of age, I cannot access the funds from my great-aunt’s trust without my father’s approval. Which he is unlikely to give, an earl’s daughter living on her own being almost as scandalous as her running away to marry a nobody. But if I were ruined, with no hope of marriage, an embarrassment for him to have under his roof, he might wash his hands of me and let me live the life I want. The sooner, the better, since if I do not submit the portfolio by the end of the year, I will likely lose the opportunity to publish altogether. If confronting Denbry risks ruination, I’m ready. And if I’m right and implementing my plan only delivers a smack to the nose of his disreputable intentions, at least I’ll have been able to strike a small blow for a woman’s right to respect. One most females couldn’t risk delivering.’

Ben stared at her, his mind in turmoil. She was of age and entitled to decide on her own actions. He was barely more than a stranger, with no connection of blood or friendship that gave him the right to dictate her behaviour. But every instinct argued against allowing her to launch a plan that, to his mind, had so many chances of ending badly.

‘I don’t have any standing to keep you from attempting this. I even concede that ruination might—might—prove useful, if the scenario played out as you envision it. But my time in the army taught me that if you’re heading into an ambush, you should always plan several alterative counter-strikes to every conceivable attack your enemy might deliver. Never walk into a fight with only one defence in mind.’

‘What other outcome could there be, besides a chastened—or at least stymied—gentleman, or the ruin of my reputation?’

‘I don’t know. But I don’t like being boxed into a corner.’

‘Mr Tawny, I appreciate your taking the time and trouble to warn me about Lord Denbry’s scheme. You could have had no idea, before meeting me, how unlikely I was to be taken in by it and can justly commend yourself for preventing what could have been some poor female’s ruination. But having delivered that warning, you really bear no further responsibility for what happens next.’

He studied her for a moment. ‘You’re going to do this anyway, regardless of my advice.’

‘I really think I must. I’d feel such a...coward, backing down now.’

‘Prudence is not the same as cowardice. Do you really think showing up Denbry will teach him a lesson?’

‘Probably not,’ she conceded. ‘But I will feel better, having made the attempt. As I’m sure you do, having put forth the effort to stop his scheme.’

‘I’ve not really stopped it, if you allow it to continue.’

‘Surely whether or not it continues is now my decision. Or do you, like my father and brother, feel that because I’m a female, I am not fit to choose my own future?’

‘If you were a friend and a man, I would still advise you to avoid a confrontation. Please, Lady Alyssa! I can understand why, after your father stole from you the life and the love you wanted, you would resist a man’s guidance. But don’t let your anger over that previous injury propel you into a situation that could end up much worse.’

He watched her, hoping his appeal would persuade. He had to find some way to put a stop to this before her plan progressed any further. Even if it meant doing what he’d hoped to avoid—confronting Denbry himself.

‘Will you promise me not to intervene?’ she asked. ‘That’s what you’re considering now, isn’t it? Riding up to Dornton Manor, seeking out Lord Denbry and telling him you’ve warned me of his intentions, so he might as well take himself off?’

Sometimes she was too needle-witted. ‘Would that be so bad? He’d be furious, of course, but hardly surprised; I told him the night he proposed the wager that I found the scheme disgraceful. He’d get over his anger—and if he didn’t, there’s not much he could do to injure me. Having me intervene would preserve all your alternatives. You could still argue your father into releasing your great-aunt’s funds. But, if you were not living in exiled disgrace, you would safeguard your opportunities to meet, and marry, a respectable gentleman. Like your Will.’

‘That’s a generous offer. But you can’t be eager to insert yourself into this tawdry affair, else you would have confronted Denbry at once, rather than warning me.’

‘I hadn’t intended to confront him,’ Ben admitted. ‘But I’m certainly prepared to do so, if that will prevent him causing you harm.’

‘But this is personal now—don’t you see? Not just a threat to some poor nameless female, he has threatened me. I want to see it through myself—not hand it over to a male champion. Will you give me your promise not to interfere?’

Ben hesitated, trying to think of a pledge that he could, in good conscience, manage to keep. ‘How about this?’ he said, improvising as he went along. ‘I promise not to come to Dornton Manor and confront Denbry, if you promise to meet me here each morning and report your progress. In the interim, I’ll remain in the village, where I can keep an eye on the posting inns, in case...further assistance should be needed.’

While she paused, considering his suggestion, he ran the plan through his head again. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was the best guarantee of safety he could come up with on the spur of the moment. Denbry would have to hire a carriage; he wouldn’t risk trying to abduct an unwilling female on horseback, her struggles clearly visible for any passer-by to notice. If Lady Alyssa insisted in holding her ground, there was nothing he could do to minimise the risk that the Earl might later try to spread rumours about her, but he could at least make sure the man couldn’t make off with her.

‘Do you really feel so strongly that, despite having delivered your warning, you cannot just return to London?’

‘Not now—when it’s the warning I gave which has prompted you to take further action. Not until Denbry, Rossiter and Quinlen leave and the danger of any confrontation is over. It’s hard enough to accept that I can’t do anything more to prevent them whispering about you later.’

She sighed. ‘You really do have the deepest sense of responsibility I’ve ever encountered in a man.’

‘From what you’ve told me of the men of your family, that wouldn’t be difficult.’

‘Very well. Though I hate to further delay your return to London, I agree to meet you here each morning—as long as you promise not to come to Dornton Manor. I don’t believe it will take much longer for Denbry to suggest an elopement. First, because spending time in my company must be wearisome for him, and second, because he can’t be sure my brother won’t unexpectedly show up and he knows Harleton would never believe he harbours “honourable intentions” towards me. Speaking of being found out, how have you managed to lurk about Dornton Village? Hasn’t the merchant who engaged you begun to wonder why a poor, unemployed former soldier remains in town, freely spending his blunt at an inn?’

‘I told him there was a possibility of getting some work at Dornton later—which is true!’ he added, holding up a hand to forestall her protest. ‘I didn’t specify when such employment might become available. Sooner or later, a large country house like Dornton will find itself in need of another gardener or groom or footman. And I’ve funded my food and lodging by engaging the locals in a few rounds of cards every evening. One couldn’t leave the army in India without becoming an expert at every known game of chance.’

She shook her head at him. ‘You are the most complete hand! I only hope you didn’t fleece the poor villagers out of too much blunt.’

‘Just enough to pay my shot,’ Ben assured her with a grin.

She glanced up, studying the slant of sunlight through the trees. ‘It’s getting late. I must go.’

They both stood and he bowed to her. ‘I cannot wish you good luck with your plan, Lady Alyssa, but I do wish it swiftly completed.’

‘Fair enough.’ She offered her hand and, bemused at that conspiratorial touch, he shook it. A startlingly intense sensual connection rocketed from her fingers to his, firing the smoking attraction between them back to flame.

For a moment, they stood that hand-clasp apart, gazes riveting, the desire he recognised in her eyes making it even more difficult for Ben to fight off the urgent need to kiss her.

Before he lost the battle, she dropped her gaze and pulled her hand free. ‘No one has ever volunteered to be my champion,’ she said, her voice gruff. ‘I’m very touched by your offer—even though I can’t accept it. Until tomorrow, Mr Tawny.’

‘Until tomorrow, Lady Alyssa.’

Absently rubbing his fingers, where her touch still seemed to tingle on his skin, he watched her walk away, battling the urge to follow and intervene, despite her express wish. He hated having his hands tied, even though he’d devised a plan that stood a reasonable chance of protecting her.

Concentrating on how best to guarantee her safety might help him fight off the desire that simple handshake had just fired in him. He should also remind himself that a gently bred virgin was off limits, no matter that it seemed she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Although he disagreed with almost every other particular, he thought she was correct in assuming Denbry would push to complete his plan in the shortest possible time. He certainly hoped so.

Then he could get himself back to his work in London and bury any lingering regret at bidding farewell to the dangerously alluring Lady Alyssa Lambornne.

Chapter Four

Three days later, Alyssa walked in the early morning sunlight towards the clearing where, as promised, she’d been meeting Mr Tawny. She’d begun looking forward to those encounters far more than she should—the novelty of conversing with an intelligent man who listened to her opinions and observations as she reported on the progress of Denbry’s wooing; the delight of making him laugh as she described the timid, yet increasingly adoring behaviour that must be exasperating the Earl almost beyond bearing.

And then there was that sensual awareness in his eyes as he watched her; the zing of attraction that made her pulses leap when she saw him and kept her awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Be possessed by him.

In turning her back on marriage, she was likely shutting away passion as well—before she’d ever had a chance to fully taste its pleasures. Pleasures that what he’d admitted about himself, and what she sensed every time she was near him, said he’d be able to deliver in full measure.

Sadly, their meetings would end before she had a chance to decide if it was worth the risk of pursuing that attraction. Yesterday, Lord Denbry had finally revealed his plan for the elopement he’d several times hinted at and last night was to have been the rendezvous.

With a smile, she wondered how he had reacted when, instead of her ardent self, he received at the inn the note she’d had delivered.

She doubted he’d return today to confront her—what could he possibly say, in front of her mother and the assembled guests? And she’d certainly not agree to any more cosy walks alone in the garden! Most likely, after cursing her soundly, he’d availed himself of the horses and carriage and set off—wherever it was dissolute young men like him set off to assuage their frustrations.

Intent on watching the drive for signs of Mr Tawny, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until a branch snapped close by. Alarmed, she whirled around—but it was only Mr Rossiter, who’d ceased approaching her, once his charismatic friend had begun monopolising her time—though his hopeful gaze still followed her.

Relieved that she wasn’t facing a potentially nasty interview with a furious Lord Denbry, she said, ‘Mr Rossiter! What brings you out so early?’

‘You do,’ he replied, giving her a shy smile. If she hadn’t known he’d been involved in the wager, she might almost have been charmed by it. ‘Your maid, Molly, told me you liked to come out early to sketch.’

‘I don’t wish to be uncivil, but she should also have told you I prefer to sketch alone.’

‘Oh, sorry—I didn’t intend to bother you. I—I guess Denbry did enough of that. Quite a joke you played on him.’

‘He told you about it?’ she asked, surprised that the Earl had confessed his come-uppance to anyone.

‘Yes. He was furious when he arrived back last night, but after telling Quinlen and me about it, realised that remaining so could only make him look ridiculous. We had a great good laugh. You needn’t worry that he intends to confront you; he decided it would be better to pen you a note of apology and take himself off quietly.’

The gaze he fixed on her seemed so open and genuine. But she mustn’t forget he was one of Denbry’s friends. She would be foolish to relax her guard.

She’d feel a lot better if she could induce him to return to the house before Mr Tawny arrived. This would probably be her last meeting with that fascinating gentleman; she didn’t want an uninvited intruder watching, imposing restraints over what should be their private victory celebration.

Then a far more unpleasant realisation struck her. At present, Denbry had no reason not to believe she’d foiled the elopement all on her own. But if Rossiter were still lingering when Mr Tawny arrived, he would almost certainly conclude that Tawny had warned her about the plot—and inform Denbry. Which might well cause Tawny problems with the disgruntled conspirators.

She didn’t want to repay his generosity by making him some rather nasty enemies.

‘I hope, now he’s gone, I might claim more of your time?’ Rossiter was saying, giving her that tentative smile. ‘I would like to get to know you better.’

‘That’s kind of you—but later, please? This morning light will be gone soon. Again, at the risk of seeming impolite, I work better alone.’

‘Of course. Before I go, won’t you have some of this?’ From a bag slung over his shoulder, he produced a jar. ‘The morning being chilly, I got the kitchen to make up some coffee for us. Surely you can spare the time to have a cup.’

‘Very well.’ Eager to get rid of him, she waited impatiently as he poured out some coffee, then drank hers quickly down, despite it being cloyingly sweet. ‘Very warming, thank you,’ she said, offering back the cup.

‘Another one?’

‘No, that was quite enough. I’m anxious to begin,’ she reminded pointedly.

‘I’ll just gather these up and be on my way, then. Until later, Lady Alyssa.’

Quickly she handed over the cup, gathered her supplies and made a show of walking from the glen, intending to return once Rossiter was out of sight.

As she stepped down the pathway, she stumbled over the uneven ground and had more difficulty than she should righting herself. Her hands felt unusually warm, her tongue thick, her head woozy.

And then Rossiter was behind her. ‘Is something amiss, Lady Alyssa?’

‘I—I feel suddenly so...strange.’

‘Let me help you,’ he said and reached out to steady her.

An instant later, he pulled her into his arms and slapped a rag over her nose and mouth. For a moment, she flailed against him, but her arms and legs seemed clumsy, unable to obey her commands. And then her head started to whirl and dizziness claimed her.

A few moments later, Alyssa’s vision cleared, but the weakness in her limbs continued, while her tongue seemed too thick for speech. With the rag wrapped around her mouth and nose, she had to take quick, shallow breaths to keep the blackness from overwhelming her again.

Her feeble efforts at resistance did not prevent Rossiter from carrying her down the lane, where around the next bend a coach waited. So it was to be forced elopement after all, she thought, still too weak for the ripple of anger running through her to give her the strength to prevent it.

Rest now and marshal your resources for later. She sank back limply against the seat, pretending to faint again. She was too angry to bandy words with Rossiter and, knowing how carefully schemed this was, there was little chance she’d be able to talk him out of it anyway.

* * *

She dozed off in truth, not waking until the jolting coach halted. They must have reached the inn, she thought muzzily. Now would be the time to make her escape. But a tentative moving of her limbs showed her she was still too impaired to fight off her abductor.

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