Potent Charms (4 page)

Finally, he broke the silence. "It's time to return."

She found herself oddly disappointed when he stepped
back. Once the ability to move returned, Phoebe silently
followed the duke, admiring the play of his leg muscles beneath his well-tailored pants, the grace with which he
walked.

They halted beneath a large elm. Bright lights shone
through the windows, casting shadows about the garden.
The stone steps leading to the red brick mansion beckoned
as if commanding her to return and do her duty.

Pulling a cigar from his coat pocket, Lord Badrick
struck a match and lit the tip. He leaned insolently against
the trunk of the tree. "If anyone asks, claim you came outside to enjoy a bit of air. All will be well."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'll be along shortly. It's best for you not to be seen
with me. Trust me on this. Go."

Her shoulders heaved and her mind whirled with possibilities. Lord Badrick claimed to be unattached. He was
handsome and charming and aside from the mysterious
comments about his character, he appealed to her as no
other man had. Her breath exhaled in a rush. "I imagine
you'll find this atrociously bold, but I ride in Hyde Park
every morning about seven. In case you're ever out that
early."

"I'll keep that in mind." He lifted her hand to his lips and
placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist. "Good-bye,
Phoebe Rafferty. Good luck with the hunt."

It was a wonderful turn of phrase, and it gave Phoebe
hope. She was the huntress like the mythical Diana, a
female warrior who controlled her destiny with dignity and
pride. Her small steps toward the house, although labored,
were resolute. Another notion, though whimsical, gathered
clarity in her mind.

Fantasy or fact, she needed to find a husband. And
quickly. So far, during her first week in England, she had
met a bushel of men, none of whom were even remotely
attractive to her.

The idea swarming in her mind seemed unreasonable,
irrational and foolish. Yet, as far as she was concerned, her
predicament was all those things, too. Deciding she had
nothing more to lose, she skipped back to the duke's side
and grinned. "Perhaps, Lord Badrick, I'll hunt you."

Dumbfounded, Stephen could have sworn the chit giggled
as she fled. She skipped across the lawn, and up the steps
to the top where she stopped, turned and dropped in a perfect curtsy.

He swore. How had he become a candidate for marriage? He wanted a mistress, not a blasted wife. After
killing two wives, he had no intention of entering the state
of matrimony ever again. The Badrick line as well as its
infamous curse would die with him.

He flicked his cigar to the ground and crushed it with the
heel of his boot. Deciding he had best discover more about
Miss Phoebe Rafferty, he marched at a clipped pace toward
the house in search of Winston. The man was a diplomat
and Stephen's closest friend; he would have some information.

He found his friend leaning against a pillar in the corner,
the man's broad shoulders nearly as wide as the marble. He
wore a look of contained annoyance.

Circling from the back, Stephen leaned over Winston's
shoulder and said, "You look ghastly. I warned you love
and marriage led to misery."

The scowl on Winston's face deepened. "Humph. I'll be
far happier once Wyman makes his toast to our continued
happiness. Then I can drag Elizabeth home. Where the
devil have you been?"

"Around and about." Like the matching half to a pair of
bookends, Stephen mirrored Winston's stance and leaned
against the opposite side of the pillar with one leg crossed
at the ankle.

"In other words, you found someplace to hide. Can't say
I blame you. The rumors that accompany your name constantly amaze me. I overheard Lady Tisdale tell Lord
Peltham you post the skulls of dead animals about Badrick
Manor to ward off gypsies. Did you know you also sleep
with ropes of onion and dill about your neck? Thank goodness you no longer behead dark-skinned boys with black
hair and eyes." Winston frowned, disapproval crossing his
face. "My God, does Elizabeth intend to dance with that
toad?"

Stephen followed his friend's gaze to see to whom he
referred. Yes, Lord Hadlin definitely fell into the toad category. While listening absently to Winston ramble, Stephen
scanned the rest of the crowded room for any sign of Miss
Rafferty. She was nowhere to be seen.

"I apologize for asking you to come tonight," said Winston.

"Hmmm." Where the devil had the girl disappeared to?

Winston tapped Stephen on the shoulder, shifting his
gaze between his friend and his wife. "This pillar carries
on a better conversation than you. You're caught up to your
elbows in something. What's going on?"

Not yet prepared to explain anything in detail, Stephen
smoothed his mustache several times. "I heard you, Win ston. You apologized. No harm done. Although I prefer my
privacy, I grew accustomed to society's scrutiny long ago.
It's never stopped me from doing what I wanted in the past
and it certainly won't in the future."

"If you spent more time in London, the speculation
would lessen. People love mystery."

"Perhaps. Do you happen to know a Phoebe Rafferty?"
Stephen was eager to change the subject.

Winston's brows rose and his blue eyes gleamed with
speculation. "The heiress?"

Now this was an unexpected surprise. "What do you
mean heiress?" asked Stephen.

"You know, rich, wealthy, unusually attractive dowry.
Why do you ask?"

"Then you've met her?"

"Not exactly. Elizabeth heard rumblings of a newcomer
to town with an inheritance up for bid, so to speak. And
you know Elizabeth. She talked with Charity Goodliffe
tonight. Evidently, the American girl arrived last week.
Hildegard Goodliffe is her aunt."

Unfortunately, Stephen knew Lady Goodliffe from previous business dealings with her now-deceased husband.
The censure that curled his lips couldn't be stopped.
"More's the pity."

"My thoughts exactly. Do you know this American?"

"What else did Elizabeth glean from her conversation
with Charity?"

Pushing himself away from the pillar, Winston placed
his hands on his hips. "I refuse to answer another question
until you tell me what this is all about."

The last thing Stephen needed was interference, but he
wanted answers. He pursed his lips and chose his words
carefully. "I met Miss Rafferty tonight and I simply wish to
know a bit more about the girl."

"Really?"

Knowing his friend's desire to see him remarried and
noting the all-too-eager expression on Winston's face,
Stephen gave him a scowl. "Don't go looking for something that's not there."

"Relax, my friend. I am not ready to summon the vicar."
Winston waggled his eyebrows. "Yet. I've to meet the girl
first. I haven't seen you talking to anyone, and you disappeared almost as quickly as you arrived. Where did you see
her?"

"Wyman's private study."

"Surely you jest."

When Stephen shook his head, Winston's mouth fell
slack. His friend's stunned reaction almost made Stephen
laugh. Almost.

"Now, I must say, you've succeeded in piquing my
curiosity. What the devil was she doing in Wyman's
library? For that matter, what were you doing in Wyman's
library? My goodness, I appreciate a naked woman as well
as the next gent, but I find that room exceedingly..."

"Crude?" interjected Stephen.

"Precisely."

"It was the one room in which I believed I would find
privacy until you made your announcement. Evidently she
had the same intention, lost her way and found the study
by accident."

"No wonder you want to know more about the girl."
Winston rubbed his hands in delight. "We must talk with
Elizabeth."

Stephen grabbed his friend's arm before the entire situation spiraled out of control. "Listen well. I met this girl. We
had a simple conversation. Nothing else happened. She
made a rather odd statement and I wish to ascertain her
true circumstance. Nothing else. Do you understand?"

Winston's laughter matched his size and he chose to use
it now. Stephen frowned again as a group of lords standing nearby turned toward them. He nodded a good evening to
them while snapping at Winston. "By God, Winston, I'm
warning you. Your last attempt at matchmaking nearly
killed me. I know you think I need another wife and a son
or two. I don't. The title dies with me."

"That curse is stuff and nonsense. You know that."

"Curse or no curse, with and without love, I've tried my
hand at marriage twice already. I learn from my mistakes
and I have no intention of repeating that one. Ever."

Winston vigorously massaged his chin, obviously contemplating whether to drop the subject.

"Winston, I am content," Stephen said. "Leave it be."

Scanning the ballroom with a resolute expression, Winston nodded. "All right. Let's rescue Elizabeth. She feels
compelled to dance with every fellow who asks. That
wretch, Lemmer, is waiting his turn."

When Winston mentioned his first wife's brother,
Stephen suppressed a sneer. He had no use for the man.
Though he appeared the perfect gentleman, he was a vainglorious little monster in search of a title, and, Lemmer's
sexual appetites slanted toward what Stephen considered
depraved. They had hated each other since Emily's death.
Considering the rapid pace Winston set, his friend evidently felt the same.

It took only moments to cross the ballroom floor and
reach Elizabeth's side. As a result of his prodigious size,
most people quickly moved out of Winston's path.

Elizabeth, a petite woman with a heart the size of her
husband, beamed as she watched Winston approach. His
besotted expression matched hers. Good heavens, Stephen
thought, love transformed people into idiots and fools.
Still, no matter how loathsome Stephen found marriage, he
wanted only happiness for his friends.

Winston wedged himself between Lemmer and Elizabeth, his display of ownership evident for even the simplest of minds. Stephen flanked Elizabeth's other side. Lemmer's eyes flashed for a moment and he appeared annoyed,
but he merely nodded his head in greeting.

Winston faced Lemmer. "Were you leaving?"

With a sudden intake of air, Elizabeth glared at her husband. He merely shrugged his shoulders.

Extending his arm toward Elizabeth, Lemmer said, "As
a matter of fact, your wife and I were about to dance."

"She looks a bit piqued to me," Winston apologized.
"Do you not agree, Stephen?"

Swallowing a chuckle, Stephen cleared his throat. "For
the lady's safety, she had best rest with Winston and
myself." He could almost hear Lemmer's teeth grinding at
the snub.

"Surprised to see you here, Badrick," Lemmer finally
said. "I thought London too public for you. So much talk
about gypsies, murder, dead wives and all."

"Many people with nothing to do spend endless hours
exercising their tongues at the expense of others. I worry
little about them. You of all people should know that."

"Ah, yes. The imperturbable Duke of Badrick. Are you
here in search of another woman willing to take a chance
on your dukedom?"

"Hardly."

With false sincerity, Lemmer placed his hand across his
heart. "Pardon my indiscretion. I forgot. Finding a wife
would be a trifle difficult, what with your reputation and
two dead wives."

Refusing to give Lemmer any satisfaction, Stephen
flicked at a small green leaf he found on his sleeve. "Reputations are funny things. They crumble quite easily when
certain information, best kept between gentlemen, falls
into the wrong hands but I forget myself. This is not the
place to discuss such things. Don't you agree?"

"For now," Lemmer said, his expression pinched and a touch of red to his cheeks. He turned to Elizabeth. "Good
night, Lady Payley."

Winston stared at Stephen. "What was that all about?"

"The man has despised my existence ever since I married Emily. Her death did not endear me. At least we're rid
of his company." Grasping Elizabeth's hand in his, Stephen
whispered, "As for you, my dear, we could still flee to the
far ends of the earth and live happily forever."

Tipping her head slightly, her walnut-colored eyes
sparkling, she glanced from one man to the other. "j is
something to consider."

Winston snatched her hand from Stephen's. "Best say
no, darling. Else I would have to kill him."

"I had not thought of that." She stared at Stephen. "I'll
simply have to find a wife for him as well."

As his eyes lit with mischief, Winston rubbed his chin.
"As a matter of fact---"

Stephen cleared his throat. "Winston." He placed
enough warning in that one word for an idiot to understand.

"What?" Elizabeth asked.

"Nothing," Stephen said.

"I've known you since I was four," Elizabeth said. "I
recognize that tone."