Tempting a Proper Lady (6 page)

The crowd began to part in front of them, heads turning toward the three of them, curiosity evident.

“I believe that's Lady Canthrope,” Dolly said. “She has someone with her.”

“Maybe it's Richard,” Annabelle said.

“I don't think so. It looks like a dark-haired man, and His Lordship is blond. Perhaps—” Dolly sucked in a quick breath. “Heavens!”

“Mama, what is it?”

The people nearest them moved aside, revealing Lady Canthrope leading Samuel Breedlove straight to their alcove.

Annabelle gasped. Dolly gaped. And Cilla maintained her hard-learned discipline with effort as the couple reached them.
What was he doing here?

Elegant black evening clothes accented by a neck cloth, shirt, and waistcoat of snowy white fit his powerful build as if tailored specifically for him. His long dark hair had been clipped to a shorter, more fashionable style, curling slightly at the ends in a way destined to make a lady's heart quicken. Rather than bringing to mind the working classes, his sun-bronzed complexion served to accent his dark eyes and wicked grin in a rakish way that could not be matched by any of the pale Englishmen in the room.

Cilla's heart gave a hard thud in her chest before her pulse quickened. The man simply embodied virility, and her body responded to his presence
like a flower opening for the rising warmth of the sun.

Her visceral reaction alarmed her, and she reached for her well-learned discipline. He was too handsome for his own good. And American. And determined to stop the wedding she was trying to arrange. And he was most probably a liar.

But that secret softness inside her didn't care. He affected her as no other man ever had, and that made him dangerous.

“Mrs. Bailey, look who has arrived! Captain Breedlove tells me he is a close family friend, so of course I felt I should escort him to your side myself!” Lady Canthrope's plump face creased in a huge smile, her small eyes glittering with anticipation.

“Mrs. Bailey. Annabelle.” Samuel executed a perfect bow. “Mrs. Burke.”

“Samuel! My goodness, we had assumed you had gone back to America,” Dolly said.

“I'm afraid you aren't rid of me that easily.”

Annabelle lifted her chin and looked away over his shoulder. “Oh, Samuel, really.”

“I couldn't leave England without saying good-bye, Annabelle. We've known each other too long to part in anger.”

Annabelle jerked her gaze back to his, clearly moved despite herself.

Even Cilla's heart melted a bit at the romantic phrasing, but she steeled herself against further softness toward this man. What was he about? How had he infiltrated the closely guarded doors of London society?

“The captain has been the talk of London these past few days,” Lady Canthrope gushed.

So, the mysterious captain
was
Samuel.

“We have been hearing the most incredible stories about you, Captain Breedlove,” Cilla said. “Exaggerations, surely.”

“Gossip is a frivolous waste of time,” Lady Canthrope declared with a sharp look at Cilla. “However, I must admit that I, too, have been subjected to such innuendo. Perhaps the captain might dispel such rumors for us, his close friends?” She beamed up at him.

Samuel looked perplexed for a moment, and Cilla felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Even before Cilla had left England, Lady Canthrope had been the biggest gossip in London. It would be quite a coup if she learned his secrets from the man himself.

“I can understand you must have questions,” Samuel said, quickly recovering his aplomb. “But I will only reveal my secrets to Annabelle—if she grants me the pleasure of the next dance.”

Annabelle jerked her gaze to his. “Isn't that against protocol? I
am
an engaged woman.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Lady Canthrope gushed. “After all, your betrothed has not yet arrived, and your mama and I are here to chaperone. I see nothing wrong with an innocent dance, especially with an old family friend.”

“I don't know if that's such a good idea,” Dolly said. “I wouldn't want Annabelle to do anything that would upset Lord Raventhorpe. And after what happened at the engagement party—”

“Oh?” Lady Canthrope's gaze glittered like that of a raven sighting a shiny object. “What happened at the engagement party?”

“Water under the bridge,” Dolly said. “Though I must admit to curiosity, Samuel.”

“It's up to Annabelle,” Samuel said.

“Oh, Mama, Richard isn't even here yet.” Annabelle pouted and cast her big blue eyes at her mother. “And apparently there is more to Samuel's story than we know. I'm certain one dance won't hurt anything.”

Dolly visibly melted. “Cilla, what do you think?”

“I don't—” Cilla began. Samuel slanted a sharp glance at her. Their gazes held for a brief, potent moment.

“This is my ball, Mrs. Burke, and I give permission.” Lady Canthrope glared at Cilla. Had consequence been a physical thing, hers would have been flaring like a peacock's plumes. “I see no harm in it, and if His Lordship objects, I will tell him I sanctioned it.”

“My dear Lady Canthrope, your support is greatly appreciated.” Samuel took the lady's chubby hand in his and pressed a kiss to it.

“You rascal.” Blushing like a schoolgirl, Lady Canthrope giggled. “Go on, now. Dance with Miss Bailey before I set my cap for you myself.”

“'Tis my loss that Lord Canthrope won you first.” Turning to Annabelle, Samuel held out a hand. “Annabelle, may I have this dance?”

Annabelle took his hand, her face smug with triumph.

As the two of them moved to the dance floor, Lady Canthrope clasped her hands at her bosom. “Such a man. If I were only twenty years younger.” With a dreamy sigh, she moved off.

Cilla watched Samuel and Annabelle take their places. The orchestra struck up a waltz, and they whirled into motion. They made a striking couple, he so dark and she so fair. They waltzed together as if they had done so many times in the past—which, given their history together, was entirely possible. If not for a tragic twist of fate, they might have been married long ago.

If Samuel was to be believed, he had braved the challenges of Ulysses to return to Annabelle. But if Raventhorpe was to be believed, Samuel was a desperate liar trying to win back the woman he had abandoned. Both stories were fantastic. Which man was telling the truth?

And was she a fool for wanting to believe it was Samuel?

Certainly he was handsome. Tall, good-looking, strong, and able-bodied. He fit every woman's fantasy about the dashing hero coming to rescue the fair maiden. And his genuine pain about losing Annabelle was enough to soften any female's romantic heart, especially hers. Was this why she wanted to believe him? Had the attraction she felt for him colored her opinion of him?

She had been wrong about Edward. What if she was wrong this time, too? It was more than her future on the line.

The crux of the matter came down to whether
Annabelle was truly in danger if she married Raventhorpe. And how had a poor sea captain come into enough funds that he could pay for his rented town house in gold? There were too many unanswered questions. The captain had eluded her at the engagement party and then again later, when she had quietly inquired about him at the local inn, only to discover he had indeed been staying there but had already departed. However, she would not allow him to escape her again.

Tonight she would get her answers.

 

“I've missed you, Annabelle.” Samuel relished the victory of luring Annabelle to the dance floor. He had counted on her curiosity when he'd issued the invitation, and now she would have to listen to him.

“You always were an excellent dancer.” She moved in perfect harmony with him, a nostalgic smile playing about her lips.

“A man achieves a strong sense of balance walking the deck of a moving vessel.”

“I imagine so.” She looked up at him, caution in her eyes. “Why did you do it, Samuel? If you changed your mind about getting married, you should have told me.”

“It wasn't my choice to stay away.”

“So you said.” Her expression darkened. “Richard told me how the two of you argued and you resigned your post in the middle of the voyage. Your temper betrayed you, not him.”

Samuel swirled her around as they swept the room.
“Did Richard also tell you that he pushed me off a cliff and left me for dead?”

Her mouth formed an O of horror. “What a terrible thing to say!”

“It was a terrible thing to do.”

“Jealousy does not become you, Samuel.”

He nearly stopped in the middle of the dance floor, but kept going before he caused a collision. “Jealousy! Is that what you think?”

She gave a little shrug. “What am I supposed to think?”

“You're supposed to trust me, damn it. I'm no liar.”

She ignored his profanity. “But he is? Richard is an earl, Samuel. A member of the House of Lords. Surely a man as important as he is wouldn't bother to try and kill a mere sea captain.”

“Now I'm a
mere
sea captain?” He curled his lip. “A mere sea captain was good enough for you before your father discovered that coal mine under his farm.”

She flinched. “We've all changed.”

“Some more than most, apparently.” They fell into a strained silence, whirling around the room in perfect physical harmony.

But never had he felt so far away from her. For the first time, he was grateful she had broken their engagement.

 

“Don't they make a wonderful couple?” Dolly sighed and clasped her hands to her bosom. “Such
a shame. I was always fond of Samuel. Still am, I suppose.”

Cilla sent her a startled glance. “Even after all that has happened?”

“Well, I still don't understand why he never came back until now, and then when he did he made all those accusations about Lord Raventhorpe. He broke my Annabelle's heart.”

“But when he tried to explain, you didn't believe him.”

Dolly gave her a look of incredulity. “I had to take my daughter's side. Surely you know that.”

“What if the captain's story is true?” Cilla asked.

“I can't believe that Lord Raventhorpe would deliberately strand Samuel on an island.” Dolly waved a hand in dismissal of the idea. “It's more likely Samuel was too embarrassed to come home.”

“But you all thought the captain was a fortune hunter. Clearly he is not.”

“You don't know him like we do, Cilla. Between the way he was raised and his temper, Samuel has been known to do one or two unwise things.”

Before Cilla could reply, a gentleman in naval dress appeared before her and bowed. His crisp uniform emphasized his light brown hair, startling green eyes, and handsome features. “Miss…I mean, Mrs. Burke, Lieutenant Preston Allerton at your service.”

“Lieutenant Allerton.” Startled—and not a little unnerved by the gleam of interest in Dolly's eyes—Cilla automatically extended her hand for his greeting.

He took it, brushed a kiss against the back of
it. “Pray forgive my impertinence, but your dear mother encouraged me to approach you to renew our acquaintance.”

I bet she did exactly that
.

Dolly coughed, and remembering her manners, Cilla said, “Mrs. Bailey, allow me to present Lieutenant Preston Allerton of Her Majesty's Navy.”

“Charmed to meet you.” Dolly held out a hand, and the lieutenant obligingly bowed over it.

“A pleasure, Mrs. Bailey.” He looked back at Cilla. “Mrs. Burke, I am hoping that our lengthy acquaintance over these past years will compel you to accept me as your partner for the next dance.”

Cilla opened her mouth to refuse, but then Samuel and Annabelle swept by. Samuel's tall form moved easily through the steps, one hand firmly on Annabelle's waist, the other hand joined with hers. However, Annabelle did not look to be enjoying the dance as much as one would expect; in fact, Cilla recognized the flush in her cheeks and the stubborn set to her mouth as clear indications of ill humor in her young friend.

What were they saying?

Leaping to a decision, she smiled at the officer in front of her. “What about this one?”

She could tell she had startled him, but he recovered quickly. A pleased smile curved his lips at what he no doubt assumed was eagerness on her part. “The waltz?”

“
This
waltz. If you are amenable, Lieutenant.”

“Most amenable. Shall we?” He extended his arm, and Cilla took it, barely aware of Dolly beaming at
her. The lieutenant led her to the dance floor, placed his hand on her waist, then whirled her into the rhythm of the waltz.

 

“Speaking of changes,” Annabelle said, “what's this rumor about you paying for a London town house in gold?”

Ah. He had wondered when she would ask.

“I've come into good fortune and find myself richer than any man could dream. Certainly richer than your precious Raventhorpe, for all his title and pretty manners.”

She stiffened. “Richard has explained to me that his estates are terribly expensive to maintain. I know he's not a wealthy man, but I have money enough for the both of us.”

“So you know he's a fortune hunter then. And now I've told you how he tried to kill me, yet you still defend him.”

She tightened her lips, glancing about them as if to make certain no one was listening to their conversation. “What I
know
is that you abandoned me after swearing to marry me. Richard comforted me. He was
there
.”

“It wasn't my choice, Annabelle.”

“It was a terrible time for me, Samuel. Horrible memories. I expected more from you, especially with the way you claimed to value honor.”

“I would have been at your side if Raventhorpe had not betrayed me. A reef around the island shattered every raft I made.”