Miss Frazer's Adventure (2 page)

It possessed little to recommend it.

The furnishings were shabby, the air filled with the stench of fried onions, and the sheets far less pristine than even the most tolerant patron would endure. It was also frequented by the sort of smugglers, ruffians, and pirates who were certain to maintain a boisterous mayhem well past decent hours.

Hardly the setting for a blue-blooded Peer of the Realm. But then, Luce was not at all a typical peer.

Taking a deep drink of the cheap red wine, he negligently passed the bottle to his grizzled companion.

“A toast, Foster,” he drawled with a smile that revealed perfect white teeth that gleamed in the muted candlelight. “May your waters always be smooth, your ship steady, and the damnable Frenchies floundering upon the rocks.”

“Hear, hear.” With a flourish, the hardened sailor lifted the bottle and drank deeply of the wine. Once satisfied, he wiped his lips with the sleeve of his jacket and regarded Luce with a pair of shrewd blue eyes. “I must say, you do not appear particularly concerned for a man who has just missed his wedding.”

“What would you have me do?” Luce's lips twisted with wry amusement. “I suppose I could have my spineless maggot of a captain drawn and quartered. It was, after all, because of his fussing and fretting over a few clouds that I was unable to return to Kent at the proper time.”

“A few clouds?” Foster harrumphed in disgust. “ 'Twas a raging storm. Only a madman would have set sail in such weather.”

“Fah. You have become a persnickety old woman since I put you in command of the
Windsong
.”

Foster gave a lift of his shoulder. “She's a beauty of a ship. It would be a shame to have her at the bottom of the Channel.”

“So instead, you have ensured that I am labeled a blackguard and scoundrel,” Luce retorted dryly. “And no doubt condemned me to a tiresome raking over the coals by my prospective father-in-law.”

Foster took another swig of wine before handing the bottle to Luce. “It wasn't my notion to linger in London until last evening. You were the one to insist that we had ample time before the wedding.”

Wedding. His wedding. Taking a deep, rather desperate gulp of the wine, Luce suppressed a small shudder.

It was one thing to vaguely accept the notion that he was in dire need of a wealthy bride. It was quite another to realize he was mere hours from being forever shackled to a near stranger.

Still, what could he do?

After discovering the wretched mess his worthless father had made of the family fortune, he had to do something. And something swiftly. His own modest wealth had been tied up in the fleet of ships he had purchased over the past ten years, and while his enterprising efforts were beginning to show results, he in no way possessed the funds to haul his father's estate out of the mire of debt. And there was not a banker about who was willing to loan the necessary capital upon the risky promise of Luce's shipping profits.

That, of course, was when Sir Frazer had made his timely, or perhaps untimely, appearance.

Luce grimaced as he recalled the coarse, overly brash man who had bluntly offered to marry off his only daughter in exchange for a very large dowry. At first Luce had been horrified. He was no rank fortune hunter who would sell himself to the highest bidder. No matter how tempting that bid might be. Besides which, any daughter of such an uncouth lout was bound to be unbearable.

But then he had actually met Miss Frazer.

It had been a shock to discover that rather than the overblown shrew he had expected, she had proved to be a shy, retiring maiden who had regarded him with a startlingly intelligent gaze. And even more shocking had been the realization that he had felt a pang of sympathy for the poor girl.

It was obvious that she was hounded and browbeaten by her bully of a father. And that she would be made miserable if he chose to walk away and leave her to bear the brunt of Frazer's disappointment.

Suddenly, he began to wonder if wedding Miss Frazer would be such a horrid notion after all. She was clearly the sort of woman who would make a nice, sweet-tempered wife. One who would not be overly demanding nor inclined to complain when he was forced to concentrate upon his business.

And heaven knew that he would be more kind to her than her own father.

Why not? a devilish voice had whispered in the back of his mind. It would surely solve both their troubles.

And so, in a fit of madness, he had requested that she become his wife. He had always been a gambler. And a very successful gambler at that. Surely, choosing a wife was no different from throwing the dice and hoping for the best?

“I thought it best to finish my business before returning to Kent,” he retorted in unconsciously defensive tones. “It would hardly do to abandon my bride mere hours after the wedding. Now, I am free to devote the next few weeks to her pleasure.”

The ruddy, deeply lined countenance held a hint of wry amusement. “Finish your business, eh? And perhaps enjoy a last taste of the lovely Maria?”

Luce smiled ruefully at the thought of the fiery redheaded courtesan who had been his mistress for the past year. The illegitimate daughter of a Spanish aristocrat, she had taken London by storm when she first arrived in England. It had been a shock to all when she had chosen Luce as her protector rather than one of the far more wealthy and powerful gentlemen who vied for her attention.

“A most tempting notion, you old lecher. However, I offered Maria her congé shortly after I requested that Miss Frazer become my wife. For all my faults, and I will admit they are numerous, I have no desire to follow in my father's less than honorable footsteps. Unless Miss Frazer denies me her bed, I will be faithful to her.”

“Well, well.” Seemingly startled by Luce's admission, Foster raised his brow. “That must have been quite an unpleasant surprise for dear Maria.”

Luce gave a lift of his shoulder. “I will admit that she did not take the announcement with any amount of grace. But, I do not doubt that she had my replacement within her grasp before her pretty tears dried.”

“No doubt.” Foster regarded him for a long moment. “So now you must only hope that Miss Frazer has not decided to cry off.”

“Cry off?” Luce offered a blink of surprise. “Why the devil would she cry off?”

“You did leave her stranded at the altar, Luce.”

“An unavoidable accident.” Luce briefly considered his meek, rather timid fiancée. “No doubt she will be disappointed, but once I explain, all will be well.”

Foster tilted back his head to give a sudden, unexpected laugh at his perfectly logical words.

“Good gads, you surely are not that foolish?”

“What do you mean?”

“There isn't a woman born who wouldn't be infuriated beyond bearing at being jilted. You shall be fortunate if she doesn't shoot you on sight.”

“Ridiculous.” Luce settled himself more comfortably upon the mattress. “I did not jilt her. Besides, Miss Frazer is unlike most maidens. Which is precisely why I agreed to wed her. She is not temperamental, nor inclined to hysterics. Indeed, I doubt she possesses the spirit to even complain of my tardy arrival.”

Foster gave a shake of his head. “I fear you are bound for an unpleasant surprise.”

Luce shrugged, draining the last dregs of the wine before tossing the bottle onto the floor.

“Allow
me
to worry about my fiancée, Foster.” He scrubbed his hands over his countenance, a heavy weariness clutching at his body. For days he had traced his way through the docks of London, ensuring his ships would be suitably filled with cargoes before he returned to Kent. Now he desired nothing more than several hours of uninterrupted sleep. “Perhaps you will forgive me, but I must have some rest before arriving at the church. It would never do for the bridegroom to fall asleep on his wedding night.”

Foster rose to his feet with a loud snort. “If there is a wedding.”

“Oh, there will be a wedding.” Luce smiled with hard determination. “No matter what my feelings of being leg-shackled, I know my duty to my mother and sisters. As well as to my fiancée. If I must be-sacrificed upon the altar, then that is exactly what will happen. Nothing will halt this marriage.”

Kate was quite convinced that it would have been easier to tunnel her way to France than to secretly make her way to London. Her father's rigid supervision made it necessary to call in the assistance of both her devoted maid and Julia, as well as straining every bit of her imagination to ensure that nothing would alert Sir Frazer that anything was amiss.

Still, when Kate had arrived in London, she realized it had been worth every nerve-racking moment. She had no notion that it would prove to be just as exciting as she had always dreamed it would be.

Now, seated upon the bench situated in the tiny garden behind her hotel, she sucked in a deep breath. What could possibly be better? Busy days visiting the various museums and more notable sights, evenings devoted to the theater and intellectual salons.

Kent seemed far away.

Wonderfully, gloriously far away.

In truth, she had experienced more than a few doubts when she packed her bags and climbed into the coach bound for London.

Could her recent humiliation have unsettled her to the point where she was behaving irrationally? Was she risking utter ruin to fulfill a handful of emotional impulses she did not even comprehend?

The answer had come to her the moment she arrived at the modest but tidy hotel.

Mad or not, she felt alive for perhaps the first time in her life.

There were no anxious efforts to please her father. No constant fear her every movement was being observed by her neighbors. No cowering behind the demure manner and retiring deference that was expected of her.

Instead, there was an addictive sense of independence. A sensation she could do anything and everything. And to effectively prove that the old Kate was gone forever, she had deliberately devoted her first days in the city to shopping for a dashing wardrobe that had nothing in common with her aging-spinster image.

A wardrobe that symbolized the daring, joyous woman she intended to become.

“A beautiful day, is it not?”

The husky, deliciously dark male voice brought Kate's head jerking upward. Her heart ricocheted about her chest as her gaze slowly traveled up the lean body attired in black breeches and a precisely cut green coat. She had a stunned impression of elegant muscles and a broad chest before her gaze at last reached the finely handsome features with a pair of raven black eyes.

Heaven have mercy.

He was every fantasy a maiden could harbor. A dream come to life with the features of an angel and the eyes of a devil. She struggled to recall how to breathe.

A wicked gleam of amusement entered those black eyes, and Kate abruptly realized that she was gaping at him like a landed trout. With a stern effort, she reminded herself that she was the new Kate.

This Kate did not cringe with the fear she was being judged and found wanting. She did not scurry to a distant corner and hope to be overlooked. She did not expect to be regarded with amused disdain.

This Kate could look any gentleman in the eye and not give a bloody damn what he thought.

“Any day that the sun condescends to make an appearance in England is a beautiful day,” she quipped lightly. “Do you not think?”

He gave a smoky laugh. “Somehow it just became more beautiful. May I join you?”

Thoroughly shocked, Kate could think of nothing clever to say. “I . . . if you wish.”

“Oh, I wish.” With graceful ease, the stranger stretched himself onto the bench beside her. Shifting, he settled himself so that he could regard her with open interest. “Allow me to offer my introduction: I am Lord Thorpe. And you?”

Her days in London had prepared her for such a moment. There was not even a hesitation as she readily replied.

“Mrs. Freemont.”

“Mrs.?” His gaze dropped to her bare fingers. “You are wed?”

“A widow.”

“Ah.” His smile deepened. “And recently arrived in London, unless I miss my guess.”

Kate discovered herself regarding him with a hint of unease. Surely she could not be such an awkward country miss that she could be spotted at a hundred paces? Not after all her efforts to appear the sophisticated lady of Town.

“Why do you presume that I would be recently arrived?”

“Because our paths have not yet crossed. I never overlook a beautiful woman.”

Beautiful?

Her?

She briefly wondered if this man might be a bit loony. Or perhaps merely foxed. She had often heard the female servants giggle over the notion that a gentleman would grope and grapple at anything in skirts when he was drinking.

Then she gave an inward shrug. What did it matter?

She was in London.

The sun was shining.

She was wearing a shimmering gown in a bold shade of crimson, with a lovely tailored spencer.

And a gorgeous, delectable rake was regarding her as if she were a tasty morsel rather than something he found stuck to the bottom of his boot.

“I see. Do you make a habit of crossing the paths of beautiful women?”

“But of course.”

“And I presume that you have crossed a great number of paths?” she daringly murmured.

He gave a soft laugh. “A most dangerous question, my lovely Mrs. Freemont. In truth, there have not been near so many as the gossips would have you believe. What pleasure is there in the more mundane beauty? I possess an appreciation for only the most rare and unique treasures.”

Her heart gave a faint flutter. A rake, indeed.

“Very pretty.”

“As are you.” His gaze warmly stroked her features. “Are you a guest of the hotel?”

“For the moment. Are you staying here as well?”

“Unfortunately, no. I possess a town house in Mayfair.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head to one side. “Is this not a private garden for guests of the hotel only?”

The dark eyes gleamed with amusement. “You are not going to call for the authorities, are you?” he protested. “This is one of the loveliest gardens in all of London.”

“Hmm . . .”

“I throw myself on your mercy.”

She pretended to consider his transgression. “I do not know. It is the rules, after all.”

“I detest rules. Besides, I have the perfect solution.”

Feeling a thrill of excitement that she had never experienced before, Kate gave a small smile.

“And what is that?”

He deliberately leaned forward. “You allow me to remain, and I promise to escort you to all the sights and entertainments that London has to offer.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But I have already visited most of the famous sights and attended the theater.”

“Fah. I do not refer to such tedious diversions,” he chided softly. “You must be in the company of a gentleman who has an intimate knowledge of the city to discover the hidden enjoyments.”

Although determined to be reckless and daring, Kate was not stupid. At least not that stupid.

“A most tempting offer, but surely you do not presume that I would allow an unknown gentleman to escort me about London?”

“Perhaps not,” he conceded with a grin. “The obvious solution is for us to become better acquainted. Then when you ride off in my carriage, it will not be with a stranger.”

Kate gave a reluctant laugh at his persistence. She suddenly realized she had never experienced such sensations. Giddy, frightened, and utterly amazed, all rolled into one.

“You must be vastly attached to this garden.”

The dark eyes stroked over her slender form. “I am becoming more attached by the moment.”

A pleasant tingle feathered over her skin at his lingering gaze. This gentleman was making it very easy to pretend she was the sort of beautiful, charming woman who could attract a handsome man's attention.

Scouring her brain for some brilliant retort, Kate was suddenly wrenched from her pleasant haze as a dark shadow fell across the bench.

A shiver of premonition raced through her, even as she told herself that she was being ridiculous. There was nothing to fear. It was no doubt a passing servant. Or another guest who was drawn to the beautiful garden just as she had been.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she lifted her head. For a moment, the bright afternoon sunlight blinded her and all she could make out was a shadowed figure of a man. Then her breath caught in disbelief.

No. It could not be.

Lord Calfield. Here. In London. In her private, wonderful garden.

Just like the deceitful, slimy snake in the Garden of Eden.

A swift, undeniable fury swept through her as her gaze clashed with the startling blue eyes.

Attired in buff breeches and blue coat, he appeared as frightening as a Nordic god. Proud, determined, and fiercely ruthless beneath his smooth charm. Not a rake, but a conqueror who would sweep all from his path with an iron will.

Offering a hard smile, he thrust a hand through the hair that shimmered like golden silk beneath the sunlight.

“Well, my dear Kate, I do hope you are pleased with yourself. You have led me upon quite a merry chase.”

“You,” she breathed in low tones.

He arched an arrogant brow. “Yes. Surely you are not surprised to see me?”

“Surprised” was not the word she would use, Kate seethed. Angry, horrified, and even outright livid would be closer to the emotions boiling through her.

“How did you find me?” she demanded without preamble, although it was a ridiculous question. This gentleman possessed the sort of cunning intelligence that could have tracked her to a cave in the netherworld.

He gave a shrug. “I will admit that it was not an easy task. You covered your tracks unexpectedly well. Thankfully, you were recognized at the Posting Inn and I was able to follow you to London. Of course, I was then forced to search through every lodging house and hotel until I managed to locate you. A tedious task, and one, I must warn you, that has left me in a rather foul mood.”

No doubt, if Kate possessed a lick of sense, she would be terrified of his smoldering impatience. He was large and dangerous and obviously ready to throttle her.

Her good sense, however, had thankfully been left in Kent, and rather than fearing her fiancé, she battled the urge to box his ears.

He was going to ruin everything.

“I must say, my lord, that I am all amazement.” She flashed a defiant smile. “You made it painfully obvious in Kent that you would go to great lengths to avoid my companionship. Even to the point of humiliating me before the entire county. Why ever would you make such a belated effort now?”

He stiffened at her cold rebuff, clearly startled that the timid mouse would dare to do anything but whimper for forgiveness beneath his displeasure.

“You are mistaken, Kate. I did not intentionally avoid your companionship. My delay was unavoidable.”

Ah. So he had come to regret tossing away his lovely fortune. And now he thought he had only to snap his fingers to have her eagerly scurrying to be his unfortunate but necessary burden of wealth.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He folded his arms over his chest as he peered down the length of his arrogant nose. “I had every intention of fulfilling my duty. As you would have discovered if you had not so foolishly chosen to disappear rather than await my explanation.”

“Oh yes, I am quite certain you have any number of excuses at your fingertips, my lord. Unfortunately, I no longer care to hear them.”

“No longer care to hear them?” His brow furrowed. “What the devil does that mean?”

Her features unconsciously hardened. “The past is behind me. I intend to concentrate only on the present. A present that was quite delightful until you made an appearance.”

A silence descended as he regarded her with those astonishingly beautiful blue eyes. Kate could almost feel him weighing and calculating his response.

She had caught him off guard with her unexpected resistance. And perhaps forced him to alter his angry response to her impertinent flight from Kent. Now he carefully brooded upon how best to put her back beneath his heel.

“It appears that you are not inclined to be reasonable at the moment. Understandable, I suppose. You feel that I have treated you ill and are determined to punish me for my unwitting sins.”

Her gaze narrowed in anger. Blast his arrogance. He thought that she was simply indulging in a fit of pique at being jilted. And that given a few charming apologies, she would readily forgive his betrayal. He had no notion of the depth of her frustration.

“If it pleases you to believe so.”

His lips curved in a dangerous smile. “What would please me is if you would pack your bags and return to Kent.”

Her chin tilted. “No. I intend to remain in London and fully enjoy my visit.”

“Is that so . . .
Mrs. Freemont
?”

There was no mistaking the deliberate emphasis on her false name. Kate swallowed heavily. Bloody hell. He was warning her that he very firmly held the whip in his hand.

Her hands unconsciously curled into fists in her lap. “What do you want from me, my lord?”

He paused as his gaze deliberately trailed over her slender form. “I believe you know very well what I want. We have unfinished business in Kent.”

Kate discovered the oddest shiver trickle down her spine at his intense survey. Almost as if she found his lingering gaze a source of forbidden excitement. Then, with stern determination, she forced herself to recall the painful humiliation he had delivered mere weeks ago.

“It is too late, Lord Calfield. I have decided that our . . . business is not what I desire after all.”