His Secret Heroine (8 page)

"Complete enough to cause me concern. How shall I get you back home without notice? We can only hope your clothing dries out before we reach port, or we shall have to sneak you in the back door."

With a knowing glance at him, Miss Englefield released the ratline and ambled to the rail, exactly where she had slipped and dangled above the roiling waves. For a few moments, she gazed out at the choppy flow of the river.

"If I had gone overboard, I would have drowned."

"Most likely."

"But you would have come after me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you would have drowned, too?"

It was a hard question to answer, but she deserved the truth. "Yes, most likely. The seas were much too high. But I could not bear to lose you while you are in my charge."

"I could not bear to have you die for my sake."

"That is the way of things at sea, Miss Englefield. No man can survive alone. Everyone must work together and depend upon each other. And if we die, we die helping each other. You may be sure, if I had not been there, Russell or MacDevie would have gone over as willingly."

She shook her head. Reggie wondered what part of what he said she did not accept. As lovely and lighthearted as she
seemed, there was something melancholy and solitary about her.

Off the bow,
Tilbury glittered beside the water, and in the distance little lights outlined a city that merged in blackness with the sky. Only the glassy twinkling of stars marked the horizon.

If ever impatience had warred in him with serenity, this was the time, for he wanted her home and safe and warm, yet he wanted this moment with her standing by his side to go on forever.

Nothing could be forever, and the
Xanthe
at last found her berth. The coach awaited, and Reggie left the boat to be secured by MacDevie and the crew, and rode home with the ladies. The first lightening along the horizon spelled dawn just as they drove up before the small town house. Her butler, Cargill, drew in a sharp breath at his mistress's disheveled condition.

"If we might have some tea, Cargill," she said, not responding to her butler's shock.

"Not for me, thank you," said Miss Hawarth. "I should rather hurry on abovestairs, but I am sure Lord Reginald would wish a cup."

He started to deny it, but recognized the private moment he had been granted. Cargill must have kept the pot simmering, for it seemed barely minutes before he brought in the tray to the drawing room.

"Thank you, Cargill. You may go. I shall see to things."

But Reggie would not allow her to pour, and did it for her.

"I must look a fright," she said.

"A lovely fright. I am sure I do not look as fine as you."

The lady smelled gammon and gave him the look that said so.

"I am sorry," she said.

"Sorry?"

"I'm afraid I did not make a very good sailor. And I did so wish
I might."

He had not thought she might feel responsible. "If anyone is at fault, Miss
Englefield, it is I. No one can become an experienced sailor in just one voyage. But even if you had been prepared, you could not have prevented the mishap."

Reggie rose to his feet and set down the cup on a little table beside his chair. "Miss
Englefield, I should not keep you when I know you need to get yourself up to a warm bed. I am frightfully sorry. You cannot know how sorry I am."

Her lips drew thin over her mouth and she stood to walk with him. "You must not blame yourself, Lord Reginald. It was a sudden storm you could not have predicted."

"But there is always that risk, Miss Englefield." He took both of her hands in his. "I should not have gone so near the bar, for there was the sense that something was amiss. The sea is far too capricious."

"But then I could not have said I had been to sea." In the darkened room, her eyes looked the color of emeralds as she looked up to him. Her lower lip drew tentatively over her teeth.

"Miss Englefield, I could not forgive myself if I had lost you. I cannot tell you how afraid I was. I—"

She was so close. Reggie watched th
e delicate curving of her mouth. The urge to lean down and kiss her rushed his senses. But he would not. It was much too soon. All his life, he had been plagued by outrageous impulses such as this, but he had learned to control them. He had only to step back and smile, had only to lift her long fingers to his lips, to show her both respect and affection. Despite the impulses, Reggie was disciplined, in control of himself.

Reggie kissed her.

Chapter Five

If she had willed herself to resist, she would have failed. He was her hero, the man who had thrown himself against the sea itself to save her, who had bruised her wrists rather than let the giant waves rip her from him. Then he had held her in his arms, comforting and protecting, as if she were but a babe.

She raised her lips to meet his, not quite knowing what to expect, fearing she might not give back to him what he wanted. Surely there were those who had been in his arms, who understood how to please a man, like the shocking Lady Lavington. Yet the moment he bent down to touch his lips to hers, and circled an arm about her to draw her to him, Chloe understood. The tingle that began at her lips flooded like warm wine all the way down to her toes and back again. This was where she belonged, in this man's arms.

She was trembling as he released her
, guiltily unable to meet his gaze, then suddenly provoked to gape as if she had never looked upon a man before.

Chloe was still trembling as she peered out the drawing room window and watched Lord Reginald ride away in his coach. She shook as she washed up in the hottest water she could stand, only briefly thinking of the trouble Cargill must have had in obtaining the pitc
herful at such an early hour. In her bed, she curled up, clasping her pillow to her chest, resting her head on one corner, but she was still shaking.

She slept until noon. Even
then the trembling would not quite leave her.

Chloe cracked the shell on her coddled egg. The shell clung where it should not, until she had to resort to using a spoon to remove it. The spoon slipped from her hand and clattered to the plate. Even her pasted smile that expressed both everything and nothing
wobbled as she retrieved the spoon.

It was not the cold, although in spite of her denials, she certainly had been chilled. It was not even fear of death, for even as she had slipped close to the edge and felt herself dangling in space, she had been certain he would not let her die.

It was the kiss that had shaken her to her core. In one sweet moment, Chloe had discovered why a woman might choose to be a wanton, for some inner part of her had been craving this man's touch for all her life, and she had not known it.

She had no room in her life for that sort of thing. It was of paramount importance that she be in control of herself
and life, or of any man she might marry. Otherwise, she could not be sure the man she chose would help in her endeavor to rescue her sisters from their malevolent uncle. Other women managed to control their situations, and until this day, Chloe had believed herself capable of the same. Now she was not so sure.

"Dear, we need not make morning calls today," Aunt Daphne said, reaching out a hand to touch Chloe's arm. "I know how you must feel
."

Chloe shot a glance at her aunt, then
awkwardly looked down at her plate.

"It would be best if you rest a bit today, don't you think?"

"I am perfectly well, Aunt Daphne. And as you can see, the day is fine. Morning calls must be made."

"I shall say you have the headache this morning."

"And let it be bandied about that— no, Aunt. Someone will know we sailed yesterday, and with the storm, it will not do."

Daphne's eyes held a mischievous spark. "Dear, you know he will call on you this morning. He must."

"And if you have gone, I cannot see him. Aunt Daphne, he kissed me."

Her aunt's eyebrows rose, just enough to tell Chloe the only news she was imparting was that she was willingly sharing the tidings with her aunt. "Hmm. I thought he might. Then you have fixed his interest. Is that not what you wanted, my dear?"

Chloe couldn't tell whether she was nodding or shaking her head, any more than she could decide if her answer was yes or no.

"Such an intriguing young man. A number of worthy qualities, which I find most unusual for his gender. Since he is rather plump in the pocket as well, would you not find it advantageous?"

"Yes," Chloe mumbled miserably.

"Then when he comes, you will say you cannot receive him as you are alone, but if he is insistent, you will allow him a few minutes. It is those few minutes of privacy that so intrigue a young man, you know."

Sometimes Chloe had misgivings about her maiden aunt. How was it that she had managed to remain a spinster, yet know so much about the workings of a man's mind? Yet, since Aunt Daphne was rarely wrong, perhaps that was the very reason she had escaped the tie that bound.

Chloe waved feebly when her aunt rode away in the bumbling old coach, and she hurried back abovestairs to change her morning dress to something more suitable to wear at home. Then she sat down to finish the trim on the blue ball gown, attaching a single paste pearl to each point of the Van Dyke lace.

Aunt Daphne was soon proven right. Soon Cargill came to announce the arrival of Lord Reginald. Chloe laid aside the blue ball gown and pulled her slippers back on. Descending the stairs, she trailed a single finger along the brass rail, just to steady herself.

The affable smile that he wore so often, that she had come to expect on him, was absent. The sunny-day blue eyes that laughed and twinkled at everything were solemn and intense. She caught her breath, them reminded herself of her composure.

"Good morning, Lord Reginald. I must apologize. I fear my aunt has gone about her morning calls without me. So of course, I may not receive you, as I am alone."

The eager intensity fell from his face. "Yes, of course. I merely meant to see you had not taken a chill, Miss
Englefield."

Oh. He was only being polite. "As you can see, sir, I have not."

"And I must apologize for the abominable treatment you received."

"Nonsense. I am not at all the missish sort. When one asks for adventure, one must expect to take a bit of risk."

His eyes shone wildly. Whatever had she said to incite him? "Miss Englefield, I know it is not at all the thing, but might we speak," he glanced at Cargill, "more privately? For only a moment?"

Cargill bowed himself away almost before Chloe could instruct him. She vowed she would find a way to properly compensate the man, for surely his sensitivity surpassed that of any butler in
Town. She led Lord Reginald to the drawing room and closed the door.

"I have only just finished my morning coffee," she lied. "Shall I call for some?"

"No, thank you. Miss Englefield, I felt I must see you this morning," he said, and she could read the anxiety in his face.

"Of course, you are all that is polite, Lord Reginald, but do not overburden yourself. I am quite well. I only stayed behind because, well, you know we are a household of women, so one of us must take charge of a man's decisions, now and then."

"Yes, I see that your health is safe. But there is that other matter. I did take shameful advantage of your person."

Something had seemed lodged high in her throat until that moment, when it plummeted to the pit of her stomach. He regretted the kiss. He feared it had committed him where he did not desire commitment. A practical woman would leap upon it, make of it a promise, an understanding that he must in all propriety fulfill. And above all, she was a practical woman.

But she could not. "No, Lord Reginald, it was not that at all. Your heart is too soft, sir. It was, I thought, a demonstration of your protective nature. Although I allow I was frightened, I was never in fear of dying, sir, because I knew you would not allow it. I confess I rather thought of you as my knight in shining armor, and everyone knows it is a knight's duty to rescue a lady in distress."

Well, she had done it. Given him all the justification he needed, and now he would not feel the obligation to ask for her hand.

He hesitated then shook his head. "No, it was more than that, Miss Englefield. I confess to an affection for you. I would have been bereft to have lost you from any cause. And while I cannot hope for such sensibilities on your part, as we have just met, still I must hope that time will grant them to me."

Chloe's heart raced and thrummed in her ears. She opened her mouth, but words stuck in her throat.

"And I must ask one other thing of you," he said. "Such intimacies as we have suffered bring a touch of the ridiculous to formalities, so that I must ask for the privilege of calling you by your Christian name."

"Sir
—" Chloe thought she couldn't breathe.