Her Mad Baron (15 page)

She touched his arm. “Surely you won’t be declared incompetent. I can...I can attest to the artificial cause of your affliction, you know I can.”

He twisted his head to look at her. “Miss Cadero. Florrie. The trouble is this could be a true permanent affliction, no matter how it was brought about. By now I should have been weaned from the medicine and my symptoms gone. But...” He shook his head. “If something should happen…” He swallowed and with an effort continued. “If I should actually have lasting damage, I would not want Bessette to have power over me.”

“Do the doctors say such a thing is possible?” she whispered. “That you’ll get worse?”

“They don’t know, simply because they don’t know what sort of drugs were used. The extent of nervous damage.”

“If the worst should befall, you’d want someone to hold power. A wife,” she said, understanding slowly dawning. “And there is no other female you’d trust? Me?” The last word came out as a squeak.

He wore the ghost of a grin. “I won’t require your services to care for a madman. Naturally you’d never actually have to be nursemaid, only make certain Bessette never benefits from my estates or riches. I’m told there is only the smallest possibility I could grow worse, but I realized I must tell you.”

“I don’t believe you’re insane. Though this episode provides some evidence you aren’t entirely sane...” She exhaled impatiently.

“Asking you to marry me?”

“Heavens, yes. That’s what I meant.” She rubbed at her cheeks, wishing he hadn’t told her about the threat hanging over him. Because she might refuse the temptation of his body and his wealth yet she couldn’t, wouldn’t, say no to this appeal. For some reason he trusted her to protect him. “You must be in need of a keeper, Nathaniel. I don’t know why you’d want me. But. All right. Yes.”

His mouth opened then shut again. “You’ll marry me?” There was blank astonishment in his voice.

She nodded. He picked up her hand and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her knuckles.

The carriage halted again. “We’ve arrived,” he said, and opened the door before the groom could jump down. He seemed in a hurry to get her out and gone. Not the manner of a lover.

Grave and formal, he stepped out of the carriage and held out a hand to direct her to the stairs.

They had reached Mr. Morris’s establishment, but they actually stopped past the shop a short distance. Perhaps he hadn’t wished everyone in the shop to know she’d arrived in his company.

“Was that a marriage proposal and acceptance?” she asked in a dazed voice as they stood for a moment on the pavement. “How odd.”

“Yes.”

She took a step away from him, wondering what he’d do if she gathered her skirts and ran off to work without another word. She refused to be a coward, so instead she asked, “When will this happen? I mean if this does happen.”

“It will.”

“When?”

“I should think there is no need to rush the matter. We shall call the banns.”

“How conventional.” She waited for him to smile or laugh, but he didn’t.

“A month, then.” He raised his hat. “I shall call on you tomorrow, shall I?”

“All right. After work.”

“You will have no need to work, Florrie.”

“I don’t want to leave my employer without notice. Mr. Morris has been very kind. I’ll give him a fortnight’s notice. And Mr. Wentworth.” She shook her head.

“Who is Mr. Wentworth?” he asked politely.

“A friend. I warn you I’d insist on having Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth to tea no matter whom I marry,” she began, but noticed he gazed at something over her shoulder and his attention wasn’t on her. She resisted the urge to turn and see what attracted his attention.

He cleared his throat. “Once the banns are posted Sunday, you will become an object of curiosity.”

She understood his discomfort. He wanted Lord Bessette upset, he wanted the ease of keeping the female he lusted after within arm’s reach, he wanted to make certain his uncle could be kept at bay should Nathaniel prove ill, but of course, he didn’t want it known his future wife was in trade. She ignored the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. This was exactly the sort of restriction she most disliked. But she knew how to compromise.

“I’ll work at least for the rest of this week and part of next if he needs me.”

He didn’t protest. “You finish at seven this evening?”

“Yes, but I think it best if I leave the shop alone.”

She wondered if she saw relief on his face.

“Are you happy that I have said yes to your proposal?” she asked then chided herself for asking a useless question. No man would be silly enough to answer with a no, even if “no” was the truth.

He raised his brows as if surprised by the question. “I am relieved to have the matter resolved.”

“So lover-like.” She smiled. “No, I am not complaining, my lord.”

The corner of his mouth crooked up for a second, and he looked her straight in the eye. “Laughing at me then?”

She laid her palm across her chest. “At us both.”

He again took her hand and this time actually kissed it. The heat of his mouth penetrated the thin glove to warm her flesh. Her breath caught, and deep inside her body, pure lust stretched and twisted back to life.

He let her go, then squared his shoulders and stood ramrod straight. “I am glad you have said yes.”

His grim expression and posture reminded her of the Prussian officer who’d come to her father’s house to request a sword and had been refused. A matter of retaining dignity in the face of a blow to the spirit.

Still, she’d had enough of trying to talk him or herself out of marriage.

Now that she’d had ten minutes to get used to the idea, she was finding it frightening, terrifying in fact. But she felt most alive when she was terrified. This was as good as climbing a fifty foot wall.

“I, er, well, thank you for asking.” She turned and hurried toward the shop where Jinx leaned on a broom. He winked when Florrie greeted him.

Nathaniel watched Florrie greet the skinny boy and disappear into the shop by the side door, but he didn’t leave immediately.

He hadn’t wanted to tell her about the peculiar fits, and yet once he started speaking, it’d been remarkably easy to say the words. After all, she’d been the one to see him at nearly his worst. He almost sagged with relief that she was still willing to take him on, despite the lingering threat of the strange affliction.

Ah well. There would be hell to pay now. It would be best if he paid the price alone, without involving her. He’d have to keep his family away from Florrie or risk losing her. And he suddenly understood he didn’t want Florrie to change her mind.

He’d wait until the afternoon to pay his call.

When he returned home, Nathaniel found his secretary at work in the library.

“I’m getting married,” Nathaniel announced.

Burny looked at him, expectantly, a half-grin on his face as if waiting for the funny part of the joke. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you, my lord?”

“No.” He adjusted his cuffs and walked to his desk

“Lord Felston. You’re actually getting married? To whom? I had no idea you were courting a female.” Burny gave an uncertain laugh. “No, no. This is wrong of you to jest about such a matter.”

“No, I’m not. You’ve never met her.” Nathaniel thought for a moment. “No one I know has, come to think of it.”

Burny goggled at him, perhaps waiting for more information, but Nathaniel wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss the matter.

“But who is she?” Burny said at last.

“A, um, woman I met up north,” Nathaniel said. He started going through the piles of papers sorting the articles, looking for information from Runcle about the search for Grub.

“Is that all you’ll say?” Burny grew indignant.

“I think so. For now.”

Burny turned back to his work with injured silence.

But Nathaniel definitely didn’t want to talk about it until he grew used to the idea.

He expected he’d feel a weight pulling him down when he thought of his upcoming nuptials. Instead, he smiled each time he did, even when he recalled how he’d met his bride-to-be.

And even the incident that pushed him to the proposal made him want to grin.

Duncan Cadero had been the deciding factor, of course.

That morning when Nathaniel had walked into the room where Cadero waited for him, the bespectacled young blighter had started in at once with veiled, polite hints that others might wish to know of Lord Felston’s imprisonment and that the baron had somehow managed to compromise Florrie. Nathaniel’s first instinct was to throw the man out.

Instead he’d retorted with a version of the truth. “Yes, you’re correct. I did encounter your sister in Derbyshire. As you are well aware, she broke into my house. An illegal entry.”

“She-she said that?” Duncan went pale and goggle-eyed behind the glasses. In that instant, Nathaniel’s spirits lifted because he knew Florrie hadn’t lied. Her brother had only guessed that Nathaniel and she had met. She hadn’t told Duncan a thing.

Nathaniel could have left it there.

It would have been easy to get rid of Duncan Cadero by issuing his own polite veiled threat—a lie of course—to have Florrie arrested for burglary should Cadero decide to pursue the matter.

But at the moment he understood what Duncan was aiming for. He also understood he wanted Florrie, so he didn’t toss out Cadero after all.

At the time, he had a revelation. Florrie would be even better than an arrangement with Mrs. MacDonald. Physical needs taken care of and a comfortable fit with the mind.

She would be grateful for a release from the long hours of work in someone else’s shop, and any female would appreciate his wealth. Surely she wouldn’t expect more.

He’d do her a favor. An independent spirit like hers would never be happy serving the public. And if she still wanted more? He’d hand her a rope and allow her to secretly climb a wall. Any wall she wanted.

He let Florrie’s brother sputter and backtrack. Nathaniel didn’t even object or contradict Duncan’s assertions that all those veiled hints he’d made only minutes earlier were nothing like threats.

At last Duncan pulled off his glasses and polished them. “You’re saying that you want to employ her, my lord. As a thief?”

In less than five minutes, Cadero had regained his cheeky edge. The man didn’t appear to be entirely stupid. He was simply the sort who plowed ahead, ignoring the difficulties reality presented to him. No wonder poor Florrie wore an exasperated look when she talked about her brother.

Surprisingly the thought of being related to Duncan didn’t dismay Nathaniel. The same couldn’t be said when he thought of his own family’s response to the news of his engagement. He could stand his mother’s kicking, but he wanted to be careful for Florrie’s sake. His fiancée could scramble up the sides of buildings and knock a man out cold with a stick of wood, but she’d be eaten alive by his family unless he took steps first.

He informed Burny he was off and went in search of his mother.

Lady Margaret was entertaining guests when he arrived. A harpist had been planted in the corner, and a new stone fountain tinkled near a small display of artwork, Lady Margaret’s own. No doubt they were the reason for the gathering. Nathaniel stopped to admire the perfectly rendered trompe l’oeil paintings depicting feathers and fruit inside shadow boxes. A camera could not do better.

Lady Margaret, wearing black silk as usual, allowed him to kiss the air above her knuckles. Her hair was pinned in a severe style that best showed her high cheekbones. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Felston,” she greeted him. In a lower voice she added, “I am somewhat displeased, however. You make an uneven number for luncheon.”

“May I speak to you in private? I promise to only take a few minutes of your time.”

She raised a thin eyebrow. “Very well. I’ll spare three minutes from my guests.” Not five. Too long to be closeted alone with any man, even her son.

He led her into her breakfast room and, as he closed the door behind him, announced, “I’ve come to tell you that I am going to marry a woman named Felicity Cadero.”

She went absolutely still. “No. I have never heard the name. Who is this female?”

“A young woman I have known a couple of months.” Not exactly a lie.

“Who are her parents?”

“I can’t recall her mother’s first name or lineage, but her father was a gentleman. They are both dead.” He didn’t mention Martin’s name. His mother might remember rumors about the eccentric sword-making gentleman.

“I don’t know this name, Cadero. Foreign, isn’t it? Don’t be ridiculous. You cannot marry an unknown foreigner.”

“She is English, but if she were a Hottentot, I would still marry her.” Probably a bad idea to rile Lady Margaret, but Nathaniel must make it clear there was no room for discussion.

Her mouth went tight, a display of absolute fury. In a low, even voice she said, “Felston, you have an obligation to marry well. You must consider your position, your breeding.”