Malia Martin (12 page)

N
ot wanting to tempt fate by spending another second in Lady Farnsworth’s intimate company, James left Chesley House the moment they returned home from Brighton. He did not even say good-bye to anyone, but grabbed his case and saddled Devil himself as Lady Farnsworth did battle with her butler in the kitchen.

Lady Farnsworth had been in a foul mood their entire ride home, and his head had felt even worse than it had after being drugged. He could remember nothing from the night before except their unfortunate meeting with the vile Viscount Leighton, drinking too much in the public room, and then dropping facefirst onto his bed.

It was early afternoon now as James rode through the steep cobblestoned streets of Gravesly, his uniform smartly pressed and his posture erect. His head throbbed with each echoing step of his horse, and every once in a while he felt his stomach heave, but with a determined effort, James kept himself in the saddle and showed the town of Gravesly the man they should fear.

“Oh, Captain, dear, are you feeling better?” the smallest and oldest woman James had ever seen yelled up to him from the stoop of a seamstress’s shop.

James actually looked behind him, wondering how many captains could possibly be prowling Gravesly’s streets.

“You just stay right there, dearie. I’ve got something for you.” The woman waddled back into her dark shop. James stared after her, then leaned forward in his saddle to peer at the doorway of the woman’s store. There, whittled into the doorframe, was the form of a wolf’s head.

James blinked just as the old woman returned.

She held a jar of some strange substance. “Here you go, luv, this’ll cure what ails you.” She pushed up on her tiptoes and reached toward him, still only coming to Devil’s withers.

James peered about the street, wondering if this could possibly be a trap. No one lurked in any shadows, so he swung his leg carefully over Devil’s rump and slid to the ground.

“Thank you, um …”

“Mrs. Witherspoon, that’s me,” the lady said obviously delighted as she handed over her cure-all. She patted his hand. “We all heard you were feeling a tad under the weather.”

James had bent forward so that he could hear the old woman, when her gnarled fingers grabbed his suddenly. “Goodness, man, you’re still hot to the touch.”

Before James knew what Mrs. Witherspoon was about, the old woman took his face between her hands and pulled his head down. And then she pressed her leathery lips against his forehead and held them there for a full minute.

James wanted desperately to pull from the woman’s embrace and put some distance between himself and this elfin menace, but his manners kept him still beneath her ministrations.

“Ah no, boy, you’ve just the right feel to you,” she said, finally releasing him. “You’ve got warm hands, though.” She wagged a bony finger at him. “’Tis a good sign, I think.” She nodded. “A good sign.” And she hobbled around and went back into her shop.

James straightened, smoothed his white waistcoat, and flicked a piece of lint from his red coat. Then he tucked the foul-looking stuff Mrs. Witherspoon had given him into his saddlebag.

Lovely, he was now a patient to the old and widowed. James frowned as he took Devil’s reins and led him up toward Harker’s Inn.

“Captain!”

“Captain!”

“Captain!” a chorus of little voices showered over him from above.

James squinted up and saw small faces poking out of an upstairs window.

Hands joined the faces, waving. James once again looked around suspiciously, wondering if the sinister Wolf would actually use children to make him look up and then come at him from below.

“We’re sorry you were sick,” a little girl in long dark braids singsonged.

“Really, really sorry,” another child piped up around a thumb that hung at her mouth.

“We want you to have our Sickly-poo,” a boy said, and tossed something from the window.

Alarmed, James watched some dark object come hurtling at him. Instead of catching it, he stepped out of the way, but it just plopped innocently on the ground and rolled over. A much-loved stitched face stared up at him with button eyes. James carefully bent over and plucked the stuffed rabbit off the cobblestones.

“He’ll make you feel so much better, Captain, he’s magic.”

James gazed back up at the angels in the window. “Uh … well, thank you.”

There was a bit of a commotion from above, and the children turned into the room and disappeared. And then an older face appeared. Not old, actually, but adult at least. A woman smiled down at him. “Ah, Captain, I wondered what had the children all excited. So glad to see you up and about.”

“Thank you,” James said lamely.

“I see the children have lent you Sickly-poo.”

James stared down at the pink rabbit still clutched in his hand.

“He’ll do wonders for your constitution, Captain.” The woman winked at him. “He’s magic, you know. You can just return him downstairs when you’re done. I’m Mrs. Sawyer, and my husband is the baker.” She smiled again, pointed toward the shop at eye level to James, then retreated within the upstairs room and drew down the sash.

James glanced at the storefront. Through the paned windows, he could see a man placing loaves of steaming bread on a tray.

The man looked up, caught James’s eye and waved. James waved back.

His superiors in London had warned him that the town of Gravesly probably wouldn’t take kindly to him. Had they been wrong, or was he walking into some sort of trap?

Just as he was about to turn away, James spied the likeness of a wolf carved into the top of the bakery door. He stopped and stared, then peered around the empty street. Obviously he had found the Wolf’s hunting grounds. Now, he just had to find the lair.

James heard banging above him and glanced up to see the three children’s faces mashed against the window. They were waving, so James managed a crooked smile. Then with a heavy sigh, he tucked Sickly-poo into the satchel with the stuff that was probably another dose of poison and started up the road once again.

“Aya, Captain! Heard ya been sick.”

Obviously the entire town knew exactly who he was, why he was there, and that he had been sick after two pints of ale. Wonderful. James stood very straight and gave his best captainly look to the man who now hailed him.

The spindly little man in front of James shook his balding head. “Now that’s just too bad. Your first night in town, and you get sick.” The man smacked his tongue against the only two teeth in his head.

“You goin’ on into Harker’s, are you? Well, I’ll take your horse. The name’s Franklin Arthur Telmann Sariston, but you can call me Artie.” He sauntered over and took Devil’s reins. “And this is a right beautiful horse.”

James took his pack from Devil’s back as Artie murmured soothing sounds to the beast.

“If you get to feelin’ ill again, Captain, you just come to ol’ Artie.” Artie started leading the horse away. “I’ve got a special brew, my grandfather’s own recipe, you know, that’ll fix you right up faster than any highfalutin’ sawbones.”

James nearly groaned, but he waved obligingly to Artie and took the steps two at a time to the front door of Harker’s. Just as he was about to go in, though, he noticed something above the door. He hadn’t seen it when he had been there before, but it had been darker then.

With his hand on the door handle, James peered up at the shape whittled into the doorframe. And then he frowned. It was a wolf.

Pru finally found James hunched over the cannon that sat in front of old Gravesly Castle overlooking the bay.

“Haven’t had much use for that old thing,” she said brightly. “The French never invaded.”

“Hmm,” he said darkly.

Prudence waited for the man to make mention of their intimate encounter the night before, but he just stared out to sea.

“Are you going to say anything, Captain, about last night?”

He glanced over at her. “I must apologize, Lady Farnsworth. I promise I do not make a habit of drinking too much, usually.” He shook his head.

Prudence blinked. She had begun to wonder as they rode in silence on the way home if the captain even remembered what had happened between them. Now she was rather sure he could remember nothing. Damn. She would have to start at the beginning again.

“Josh Harker says you have put in at the inn,” she said, deciding to go at this thing straight on.

“I do think it better if I did not reside in your home.”

“And, of course, you are right, Captain.”

He turned slowly to look at her. “You agree with me now?” he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Oh yes. It will be ever so much better to conduct an affair off the premises of my home. No one would ever suspect.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, dear, I have gotten ahead of myself. I tend to do that when I’m nervous.” She smiled. “Truly, I have never done this before, as I’m sure you can probably tell. I must say, though, Captain, that your reputation has preceded you, so I know that you, on the other hand, have a wealth of knowledge and experience.” She was rambling. Pru stopped and took a deep breath. She
was
nervous, and she did so
hate
being nervous.

The captain stood looking at her as if she were a talking dog. Perhaps she should not have been quite so straightforward. Who knew that it would be so difficult to begin a clandestine affair.

Pru smoothed her hands along the front of her gown and decided to try the same tack she had begun with the night before. “Captain,” she said with as much calm and command as she could muster, “I am a widow and thus no untried girl.”

She took a step forward. “I am terribly lonely here in Gravesly since I obviously cannot consort with any of the men in such a small town. But now, especially with you comfortably ensconced at Harker’s, I think it would be quite perfect for us to strike up a … relationship, if you will.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I am, terribly. You cannot deny your attraction, Captain. I mean last night …”

He frowned suddenly. “What happened last night? Did I … ?”

She bit her lip. “Well, last night perhaps you didn’t realize it was me, but you did kiss me.”

The captain furrowed his fingers through his hair. “I thought last night was a dream.”

“Last night was lovely,” Prudence said, taking another step forward. “Really, lovely. And I want desperately to continue with what we started.”

Prudence placed her gloved hand upon James’s broad chest. She could feel his heart thumping away beneath her fingers.

James closed his eyes on a groan.

Letting instinct guide her, Pru smoothed her palm up and around James’s neck, twining her fingers in the hair at his nape. And then she exerted a bit of pressure on the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. She tilted her head and stood on tiptoe as he leaned forward.

“I think there is so much you could teach me, James,” she whispered.

James stiffened and opened his eyes. They were dark like a windswept sea.

“I do not wish to offend,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper as he reached up and took her hand from his neck. “But I must decline your very generous offer.” He bowed smartly over her hand and kissed the air above her glove.

Pru frowned, very much vexed that she was not going to receive the kiss she had just anticipated. “But why?”

James let go of her hand and stood straight. “Are you to have a temper then,
Lady
Farnsworth?”

His tone held none of the respect he had shown to her thus far, and his gaze was altogether frosty.

Pru took a step backward. “No, actually,” she answered. “I have never had a temper in my life, and shan’t begin now.”

“Good, because there most definitely will be no dalliance happening between the two of us, Lady Farnsworth. I am here on extremely important business, and I will not allow my attention to be diverted.”

Prudence frowned, it was as if the man had read her mind. “Surely, Captain, a man of your prowess would not have trouble keeping your mind on your job when the time called for it.”

“No, I will not have trouble at all, my lady. And now, I shall bid you
adieu
.” James bowed stiffly, his eyes a flinty gray, and turned away from her smartly.

“Well, I bungled
that
,” Pru whispered to the captain’s wide, retreating back.

“Is there something wrong with me, Leslie?”

Leslie took a sip of tea, and said, “Of course not, dear, you are lovely and full of wit.”

“But the Rogue of England will not even lay a hand on me.” Pru huffed a great sigh and let her posture slump. “Who would have known that it would be so hard to get a man to have an affair? Surely, with all the dire warnings that my mother used to lecture me with, I thought most men were itching to jump into bed with any woman who would look at them.”

Leslie giggled, and the sound made Pru smile.

“Perhaps he isn’t the scoundrel his reputation has made him out to be?” Leslie ventured.

“But what of the stories of all the women he has bedded … ?” Pru stopped for a moment as her throat felt rather tight suddenly.