An Unexpected Gentleman Part 2

aHeas not suggesting you steal the girl,a Michael explained.

aIad never be suggesting such a thing.a Gregory looked suitably abashed. He sidled a little closer. a. . . But there was a time a man gave the notion a proper thinking over.a aIave thought it over.a Head had a fantasy or two that fell along those lines, anyway. That was close enough. aThe answer is no.a He started out across the lawn toward the line of trees beyond the garden. The men fell into step behind him.

aTold you it wouldnat work,a Michael whispered.

aBoyas gone soft.a aNo morean a body expect, what with all your coddling.a aMy coddling? Was it me who talked him out of shooting the b.a.s.t.a.r.d in Montserrat, I ask you? It was not.a Connor smiled at the exchange and let the sound of their bickering fade into the background of his mind. He was accustomed to their squabbles. Like the sc.r.a.pe and groan of a favorite old chair, he took pleasure and comfort in the familiar noise. He took strength of purpose as well. These men, who had once been his saviors and mentors, were now family. He owed them. Head have been lost to the gutters of Boston if not for Michael and Gregory. And theyad have spent the last year of their lives as free men instead of caged in a prison cell if it hadnat been for him . . . and, in a more direct manner, Sir Robert.

If it was the last thing he did, Connor would see Sir Robert suffer the cost of his crimes.

Adelaide Ward would be the first payment.

Adelaide wasnat any less tipsy by the time she stumbled her way into her room. She was, however, putting considerably more effort into pretending she was fully sober. She ran hands down her gown and tried to focus her thoughts. When that failed, she tried focusing her eyes instead.

Isobel was still up, reading a book in a chair by the window. They shared the same slight stature and finely boned features, but Isobel had their motheras dark blonde hair and a set of mild blue eyes that hid a stubborn, and oft-times impetuous, temperament.

Isobel flicked a narrowed glance at Adelaide before returning her attention to her book, neatly reminding Adelaide that they had argued before the ball.

aIs it done, then?a Isobel asked caustically. aHas the fair maiden sacrificed herself to the dragon and saved the kingdom?a aNo.a Adelaide walked very carefully across the room, silently congratulated herself for not tripping, and tossed her mask on the bed. aThe realm of Ward remains in peril.a aSir Robert didnat ask?a Isobel looked up from her book, her hard expression replaced with one of confusion. aAnd youave returned?a aI never went.a aBut youave been gone an hour at least. Where have you been?a Isobel squinted. aAnd why are you so mussed?a aIn a sitting room. In the garden.a She waved her hand about. aThere was a breeze. I never made it to the ball.a aThe garden?a Clearly intrigued, Isobel set her book aside and stood. aWhatever were you doing there?a She tried, and failed, to come up with a suitable lie. aAvoiding Sir Robert.a aOh! I knew it,a Isobel cried with uninhibited delight. aI knew you would come to your senses.a aIave lost my senses.a aRubbish. You had lost them, and now youave become reacquainted with them.a Isobel crossed the room and patted Adelaideas arm with exaggerated sympathy. aPoor dear. Iave heard the process can be quite disorienting. Having never lost my own, I canat . . .a Isobel trailed off and sniffed. aYou smell . . .a She leaned in and sniffed again. aDecidedly flammable.a aOh, I . . . There was a sideboard . . . In the sitting room. I thought perhaps a sip to quell the nerves . . .a aAre you drunk, Adelaide?a She sounded positively enamored of the idea.

aAbsolutely not. Iam . . .a A bubble of laughter escaped. aEmbroidered.a aEmbroidered? What on earth does that mean?a Adelaide shook her head and dragged her hands down her face with the irrational idea that it might wipe the stubborn smile from her face. aIt means Iave made an awful mess of things. Dear heavens, what have I done?a aMade fine use of an hour by the looks of it.a Adelaide ignored that, slipped her shoes off, and began to pace between the bed and the door. She told herself to concentrate. She would figure a way out of the tangle shead created. She would think, d.a.m.n it.

aWhat in heavenas name was I thinking?a she muttered.

Certainly, she hadnat been considering her family, or Sir Robert, or the money shead spent on a new ball gown. She frowned down at her skirts. It wasnat the finest silk or the most fas.h.i.+onable of cuts, but the dress was new, and its production had cost a pretty penny. She could have spent that money on new half boots for herself and Isobel. They were in desperate need of new boots. She should have used the money for something more practical.

aI should have gone to the ball,a she muttered.

It was too late now. Even if she were not embroidered, even if shead not made the promise to Connor, shead be d.a.m.ned if she kissed one man in a garden and accepted a marriage proposal from another man in the same night. She liked to think she retained some measure of honor.

How long, she wondered, did one need to wait between kiss and proposal?

aA day or two?a She flicked a glance at Isobel who, accustomed to Adelaideas habit of pacing and speaking to herself, had taken a seat on the arm of the chair.

Isobel shrugged. aYou do realize I havenat the foggiest notion what youare talking about.a aOf course I do.a Shead just forgotten for a moment. Just as shead forgotten how much she needed Sir Robertas income and how much she had spent on the ball gown.

aI suppose I could try to sell it,a she murmured, but it seemed such a waste, and she was so weary of selling her possessions. Nearly everything of value her family owned had been p.a.w.ned away for a fraction of its worth.

aItas not even been used, really.a An idea occurred to her. She stopped and grinned at Isobel. aYou should use it.a aWhatas that?a aYou should go to the ball.a Isobel straightened from the chair, blue eyes sparking with eagerness. aDo you mean it?a aThereas no sense in letting the gown go to waste.a She laughed as Isobel immediately began to struggle with the b.u.t.tons on the back of her dress. aYouall have to procure a new mask from Mrs. Cress, however. Mine has perished.a Isobel threw a glance at the bed and grimaced. aMay it rest in peace.a Feeling slightly better for having righted this one mistake at least, Adelaide brushed out her skirts and made the clumsy (on her part) exchange of gowns with Isobel. She sat Isobel at the vanity, made several maladroit attempts to do something with her sisteras hair, then gave the task up to Isobel.

Isobel all but squirmed on the bench in her excitement. aPerhaps Iall meet the gentleman who purchased Ashbury Hall and heall fall madly in love with me.a Adelaide thought of the vast and long-abandoned manor that sat just a few miles from their home. aWe donat know the gentleman who purchased Ashbury Hall. We donat anyone wealthy enough to have purchased Ashbury Hall.a aBut we might, by the end of the night.a It took a moment for Adelaide to recognize the glint in Isobelas eyes. aRight.a She strode to the bellpull and yanked.

Isobel frowned at her. aWhat are you doing?a aYou need a chaperone.a She was tipsy, not unconscious.

aI donat,a Isobel protested. aHow am I to have fun with a chaperone looking over my shoulder?a Rather than answer, Adelaide yanked the bellpull again. Harder.

aOh, very well.a Isobel gave a disgruntled huff and returned her attention to the mirror. aSee if Lady Engsly is amenable. Sheas a cheerful sort, and sheas not intimidated by your dragon.a aSir Robert is nota"a aWhat shall I tell Mrs. Cress?a Adelaide blinked at the blatant change of subject. aWhat shall you tell her about what?a aYou are tipsy.a Isobel laughed. aHow shall I explain your absence?a aOh.a She tried to remember what excuse they had planned for Isobelas absence from the ball. It certainly hadnat been that the Ward sisters had been unable to afford the purchase of more than one ball gown. aTell her I have the headache.a aI imagine there will be some truth to that in a few hours.a Adelaide took a seat on the bed and watched Isobel fuss over her appearance. She was such a pretty young woman. So full of life and hope and energy. But that life was stifled by poverty, and Adelaide knew all too well that, unless something changed, the hope would die before long.

aIsobel,a she said and waited for their eyes to meet in the mirror. aWould it be so very terrible, having a wealthy baron for a brother?a It was a long moment before Isobel spoke, and when she did, her voice was soft and filled with a sadness that tore at Adelaideas heart.

aI should adore a wealthy brother.a She turned on the bench to face Adelaide. aBut I donat want a martyr for a sister.a Adelaide digested that in silence. It was the last thing said between them in private that night, and the last thing Adelaide thought of before she closed her eyes and dreamed of dragons and maidens. And a knight with seductive green eyes and lips that tasted lightly of whiskey.

Chapter 4.

Adelaide rose the next morning with every intention of putting the events of the night before behind her. It was a remarkably easy decision to make, requiring only a brief reflection on what a fool shead made of herself. Drinking whiskey, kissing strangers in a garden, promising to avoid her suitora"she could scarce believe her own behavior.

She could, however, take very good care not to repeat her mistakes. She would dress, go to breakfast, pay her attentions to Sir Robert, and otherwise pretend she had never met a man named Mr. Connor Brice.

She made good on the first and second intentions. She enjoyed less success with the third and fourth. Sir Robert was not present at breakfast, a detail she all but overlooked during her spectacular failure at ignoring the existence of Connor Brice.

He wasnat at breakfast eithera"she noticed this immediatelya"and she spent the next hour trying to figure how she might inquire after him without confessing to all that theyad met the night before.

She finally gave the effort up when Mrs. Cress stood from the table and suggested the guests join her for a stroll about the grounds. Adelaide demurred, claiming a lingering headache made her poor company. She added the lie to her ever-increasing list of sins. She hadnat a headache. Shead woke that morning feeling fit as ever. A small, welcomed, and undeserved blessing.

Her guilt increased when she slipped out one door of the breakfast room just as Sir Robert entered through another. She would speak with him soon, she told herself firmly . . . but not right now. First, she needed a long walk to settle her mind.

She briefly fooled herself into believing that it was fresh air and solitude she sought as she made her way through the garden, taking care to stay well away from the other guests.

It was such a lovely morning, after all. The late summer sun warmed her back while a light wind caught at her skirts and cooled her skin. All around her were the sights and sounds of a well-loved gardena"the hum of bees amongst the asters, the tidy mounds of sweet william, and the lush and wild growth of an ancient climbing rose. She concentrated on each, doing her best to distract herself from thoughts of Connor Brice, but her best proved woefully inadequate.

Her mind was filled with thoughts of Connor. She wondered when she might see him again. She wondered if she might see him again. She wondered if he might kiss her again. She wondered how and when, exactly, she had become a shameless tart.

Disgusted with herself, she spun on her heel and began a determined march back the way shead come. She would go to her room and stay there until dinner, or until Sir Robert requested her company. Whichever came first. She pa.s.sed the rose and the sweet william, turned a corner, and there was Connor.

Her feet came to an abrupt halt. So did her heart, a split second before it started again with a painful thud.

He sat not six feet away, on a bench that had been unoccupied on her first pa.s.sing. Leaning back, with his long legs stretched out before him, he looked relaxed, confident, and even more handsome than she remembered. Probably, it wasnat rational to think twelve hours was a sufficient amount of time to have forgotten how someone looked. But she wasnat inclined to think rationally at present, not while the sun was weaving brighter strands of gold in his hair and he was giving her that wonderfully inviting smile.

aI wondered if I might see you here,a he murmured.

Too late, she realized that she should have been a little less preoccupied with wondering when she might see him and a little more concerned with what she ought to say to him if she did.

Because what she did saya"or croaked, to be accuratea"was, aMorning.a And, really, he was the first man she had ever kisseda"there had to be an infinite number of more eloquent statements to croak than that.

He s.h.i.+fted his large frame, making room for her on the bench. aWill you sit?a She shouldnat. She really shouldnat. She did anyway and felt like the proverbial moth to the flame.

aYou werenat at breakfast.a Though not a brilliant comment, she deemed it an improvement over her first attempt at speech.

aI rose early.a He turned his head at the sound of distant laughter in the garden. aWhy arenat you with the others?a She shrugged, affecting a casual demeanor. aIam not fond of crowds, particularly. I prefer the quiet.a aShall I leave you to your thoughts?a aNo. Iam not fond of solitude either.a It occurred to her that he might be angling for a polite way to be rid of her. aWould you care to be alone? I didnat mean to imposea"a He tilted his head at her, full lips curved in amus.e.m.e.nt. aAre we back to being shy with one another?a aI donat mean to be.a She plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on her gown. aI donat know why I should be.a Well, yes, she did. Shead kissed him, an act that should make any decent young lady blush. And now she sat there making idle conversation as if the two of them were acquaintances merely pa.s.sing the time. It was, in a word, awkward.

aI could fetch a gla.s.s of whiskey if you like,a he offered. aOr a fire poker.a She stopped plucking and laughed. It was a relief to hear him speak so casually of their last meeting. Like poking fun at the pitiful condition of her mask the night before, acknowledging the obvious was far easier than dancing around it.

aThat wonat be necessary,a she said primly. aThank you.a aAre you certain? You were remarkably confident with a bit of drink in you and a weapon at hand.a aI cannot believe I was so ill behaved.a She threw him a look of censure, but there was no heat in it. aI cannot believe you would be such a cad as to remind me.a aI liked you ill behaved.a His mouth curved in the most wicked of grins. aI liked being a cad.a That, she decided, was much, much too casual. And dear heavens, that smile. It could tempt a woman to all manner of sins. It had tempted her to sin. She looked toward the house. aI should go. I shouldnat havea"a aI shouldnat have teased,a he cut in gently. aI apologize.a She eyed him warily. aIf I stay, will you promise to behave as a gentleman?a aYou have my word as a cad.a He smiled again, but there was no wickedness, just a disarming silliness that eased her tension. aTell me what you did after we parted last night. Was your tardiness noticed?a aNo.a She hesitated, uncertain of how much she cared to admit. aI never went. My sister gave my excuses.a aYour sister, Isobel?a She nodded and leapt at the chance to settle on a safe topic. aYes. Isobel with an ao.a a She laughed softly at his raised brows. aShe often finds it necessary to make that distinction.a aAdelaide, Isobel with an ao,a and Wolfgang, correct? An unusual set of names.a She stifled a cringe at the mention of her brother. Wolfgangas circ.u.mstances were public knowledge, but shead rather hoped that knowledge had managed to slip by Connor.

aMy mother was Prussian,a she replied, setting her embarra.s.sment asidea"something shead become all too adept at over the last year. aHer mother was Italian.a aBut the best part of you is British.a She smiled at that. aMy father liked to think so. He liked to say so as well, but only to nettle my mother.a His tone and expression turned gentle. aThey didnat get on.a aOh, they did,a she a.s.sured him. aVery much. They liked to tease, thatas all.a aA common way to show affection.a He reached behind him, plucked a bright yellow flower, and held it out to her. aI believe this is another.a Flattered, she extended her hand to take the offering. aThank youa"a He drew the token out of reach. aDo you know what it is?a aYes. Itas Helenium, brought from the Americas.a It was also known as sneezeweed, which she didnat see the benefit of mentioning.

aDo you have a favorite?a aFlower?a She shook her head. aNo, though Iave a fondness for poppies.a aPoppies. Iall remember that and buy you a dozen.a She blushed with pleasure at the thought. Shead never received flowers from a gentleman, not even Sir Robert. aYou canat. Buy them, I mean.a aEverything can be bought.a aBut they wonat last. They wither as soon as you cut them.a For her, that was part of their appeal. Poppies couldnat be tamed in a vase or lost in a bouquet. aThey have to be appreciated in the garden, just as they are.a He twirled the flower between long, elegant fingers. aWill this last?a aFor a time. Without the proper nutrients, everything will wither eventually.a aUntil then,a he said and handed her the bloom.

Their fingers met on the stem, and she remembered how those fingers had felt trailing across her cheek. The memory made her blush and pull the flower free with more force than she intended.

aIsobel paints them,a she blurted out before remembering that Isobel no longer painted because they had long since run out of funds for supplies. aShe has a tremendous talent for it. My father used to say that when I gardened, I created beauty for a season, and when my sister painted, she captured an essence of that beauty for eternity. He was a hopeless poet.a aDo poets come any other way?a aNot that Iam aware of,a she replied with a smile. She was glad shead chosen to stay. It was so pleasant to sit with a man and make interesting conversation. Shead forgotten just how pleasant.

With Sir Robert, she listened. Or tried to listen, if one wished to be precise. The man wasnat a bore, exactly, but he was predictable and more than a little redundant. Always he spoke of his most recent acquisition for his stable, then his most recent purchase from the tailor, and finally his most recently acquired tidbit of gossip, which generally concerned an individual she had never met and knew nothing about. If she were very lucky, he would vary his routine with a complaint or two about his staff. Her contributions were limited to aoh, mya or aoh, yesa or awhat a pitya at the appropriate pauses in conversation.

Sir Robert never asked her questions. He knew nothing of her family, her past, her likes or dislikes. She very much doubted he was aware of her interest in horticulture, or her sisteras gift for art.

It was different with Connor. He made her laugh, made her think, made her feel. He had learned more about her in less than twelve hours than Sir Robert had in four months.

The exchange reminded her of the lively debates and long, rambling talks shead once shared with her father. Head encouraged her to think for herself, to be an active partic.i.p.ant in the conversation. She missed that, missed having a man speak with her rather than at her.

aWhere are you?a Connoras murmured question pulled her from her musings. She shook her head. She didnat want to think or talk about Sir Robert. Not this morning. Not just this minute. She didnat want to think about the years of mindless interaction ahead of her.

aI was woolgathering. Tell me what your family is like.a aMy mother was Irish, and my father was a British gentleman with Scottish holdings.a She frowned a little. That was fairly nondescript. aDo you have siblings?a aNone I care to claim.a She thought at first that he might be jesting, but a quick search of his features showed no signs of humor.

aI have felt that way once or twice,a she admitted. There had been days when she wanted nothing more than to renounce Wolfgang.

aAbout your brother,a Connor guessed.

She nodded reluctantly. So much for the hope head not heard of Wolfgangas failings. aWe were very fond of each other as children.a aBut now . . .a But now her brother sat in prison because of debts head acc.u.mulated through a combination of obstinacy and selfishness. And he would continue to sit there, unless she did something about it. Suddenly, the morning didnat seem quite so charming. The changing light, the warm air, the whisper of the breeze through leaves, it all seemed rather sad.

aI wish . . .a aWhat do you wish?a She wished she had Isobelas talent for capturing beauty. She might have stolen a moment or two that morning and kept it for herself.

It was an impossible dream, an unreasonable expectation.

aI wish to return to the house.a She rose and, before she could think better of it, asked, aWill you escort me?a aI canat.a aWhy not? Thereas nothing amiss with a lady and a gentleman taking a stroll from a garden in broad daylight.a Particularly when there were no other guests about to see and comment.

aNot generally, no.a aI canat imagine any circ.u.mstance that would . . .a The most horrifying thought occurred to her. aDear heavens, youare married.a aNo. I havenat a wife, or a fiance.a She blew out a short breath of relief. Her sins were many. She had no desire to add adultery to the list. aThen whya"?a aBecause I havenat an invitation either.a aTo come in from the garden?a She gave a small, perplexed laugh. aDonat be ridiculous.a aTo be in the garden,a he corrected.

The implications of that statement sank in slowly. aYou jest.a He gave her a sheepish smile. aIam afraid not. The lady I wished to avoid last night was your hostess.a aYou . . . Youare an interloper?a Oh, good Lord. No wonder head been hiding last night and missing that morning at breakfast. aWhy woulda"?a aTo see you,a he replied easily.

aWe just . . . You canat . . . I have to go.a She spun around and headed for the house at a pace just shy of an outright trot.

aAdelaide, wait.a Connor caught up and fell into step beside her.

aYou should have told me. You should have . . . Good Lord, you broke into the house.a aThe door was open,a he countered. aIt was a ball. Iam not the first gentleman to invite himself to a ball. Happens all the time during the season. Itas an accepted practice.a Having never partic.i.p.ated in a London season, she had absolutely no idea if that was true.

aAccepted or not, it was wrong, and you ought to have told mea"a aI should have. Will you stop a moment so I can apologize properly?a She shook her head. aSir Robert will be looking for me.a And if he was not, she would begin looking for him. It was well past time she remembered why she had come to Mrs. Cressas house party.

aYou canat marry him,a Connor said gruffly.

aI havenat a choice,a she admitted, hoping bluntness would put an end to the matter.

aYou do. Marry me, instead.a aWhat?a She threw him an incredulous glance and increased her pace. aNo.a aWhy not?a Why not? Was the man unhinged? aIave only just met you. We scarcely know each other.a aIam one-and-thirty. I have all my teeth. Iave never before proposed to a lady. And I have more money than Sir Robert.a aThose are nota"a aIave thought of nothing but you for months.a She stumbled to a stop under the rose arbor and spun to stare at him. aWe met last night.a aIave seen you before, bringing your nephew to see his father. You pa.s.sed by my window every Sat.u.r.day.a She shook her head in patent disbelief. Though most of the people in her village of Banfries were familiar to her, she couldnat claim to have met everyone who resided in the four miles between her home and the prison. aYouave watched me?a aJust for those minutes I could see you.a She didnat know what to say to that. She didnat know what to feel about it. Should she be flattered? Unnerved? Offended? She rather thought she was all three, but they were buried under a mountain of astonishment.

Evidently interpreting her silence as encouragement, Connor smiled and reached for her hand. aMarry me, Adelaide.a In the absence of anything else to say, she settled for the obvious. aYouare in earnest.a She couldnat believe he was in earnest. It was even more alarming that a small part of her was tempted to accept his offer. She knew almost nothing of Connor Brice except that he was willing to sneak into a party to which he was not invited and watch a woman through his window for months before speaking with her. He could be a drunkard. Or a consummate gambler. He could be a thief or a murderer. He could be all four.

She didnat love Sir Robert, but four months of courts.h.i.+p had afforded her some a.s.surance of his character.

Those four months had also depleted much of her inheritance. She was out of time.

aI canat.a The words felt thick and sour in her mouth. Her hand felt cold and empty when she pulled it away. aIam sorry. I have to go.a Connor stepped in front of her, blocking her path. aNot to Sir Robert.a aHeas a good man.a aGive me time to prove Iam a better man. Give me another day.a She shook her head. Every day she put off Sir Robert was a day her familyas future remained in peril. The risk of offending Sir Robert was too real, the consequences too great.

aIam offering another option,a Connor pressed. aIam giving you the chance to have something more thana"a aI donat need more. I donat want it.a How easily the lie slipped from her tongue. aI want to secure what I have.a That, at least, was the truth.

A hardness settled over his face. aIs there nothing I can say to change your mind?a aNothing. Iam sorry.a She stepped past him, only to have him catch her arm and spin her around again.

aKiss me good-bye,a he growled. aGive me that, at least.a He yanked her to him before she could think of denying him.

This kiss wasnat gentle. There was no coaxing or teasing or easy slide into warmth. His mouth slanted over hers and took it. His breath was hot, his scent as intoxicating as the whiskey shead sampled the night before. The rasp of stubble against sensitive skin made her s.h.i.+ver. The skillful pressure of his lips and smooth glide of his tongue made her tremble.

His hand cupped the nape of her neck, angling her head to his liking . . . and hers.

The world spun away. And just as quickly righted itself when laughter erupted directly on the other side of the arbor.

Mrs. Cress. The tour. A wave of panic washed over her.

She froze, her mouth open an inch from Connoras lips.

Connor moved. In a single fluid motion, he pulled them both out from the shelter of the arbor and into full view of a dozen guests.

Which is precisely when her world begin to spin away once more, and this time, there would be no righting it.

Chapter 5.

Adelaide was surrounded by a sea of wide eyes, gaping mouths, and a silence so absolute it was deafening.

She tore herself away from Connor and then stood there, as red-faced as any of the guests . . . with the possible exception of Sir Robert, whose skin wore scarlet blooms that were expanding with disconcerting speed.

Never in her life had she known such mortification, not even when shead tossed up her accounts on the shoes of the vicaras son in front of the entire congregation. Shead been twelve then, old enough to know what mortification was, and still young enough to be certain she could die of the affliction.

Oh, how she wished shead been right. Because in comparison to what she was facing now, ruining a young manas footwear was really but a slight embarra.s.sment. And if there was ever a time a young lady ought to be able to die of shame, it was when half the guests of a house party, including her almost-fianc, caught said lady tossing away her familyas future in exchange for a kiss . . . from a near stranger.

A stranger who had compromised her on purpose.

aWhat have you done?a she whispered in a daze.

Connoras voice floated softly over her head. aIave saved you.a Thoughts of her own death were immediately replaced by visions of his. If there was ever a time a young lady ought to be able to get away with murder . . .