Karen Harbaugh (23 page)

“Passable, but rather pushing and insipid, really.”

“And I,” I said eagerly, “I am not?”

He grinned and drew me to him again. “No, especially not when you kiss like that!” he said when we parted.

“Well, she might kiss better than I, though, Lucas,” I said mischievously.

Lucas shook his head, and his grin grew wider. “No, I doubt it. Her lips do not look at all as kissable as yours.”

My eyes fell and I blushed, but I brought the conversation back firmly. “Well, then, about Lady Caroline. I do not like to be a talebearer, but...” I told him briefly about the last couple of weeks. “I do not have any proof she or Amelia did it, but I cannot help but think it! And then it was Caroline who introduced Sir Harlow to me, and said that I should dance with him.”

“And you listened to her, after all you suspected of her?”

“Well, she took me by surprise, and Sir Harlow took my hand for the dance before I could think! Besides, no one told me I should avoid him!” In view of my weak explanation, I had to admit Lucas’s skeptical expression was somewhat justified. “But I rid myself of him well enough, I assure you!”

“Oh?” Lucas still looked skeptical.

“If you
must
know, I pushed him over the balcony into the moat!” I retorted, much goaded.

“Good God!” uttered Lucas, sounding shocked.

“Well, it was only what he deserved, after all!” I said defensively. “And I do not know why Sir Harlow should have looked so surprised. He should have expected it after trying to kiss me!”

There was a short silence.

“Oh ... my ... God!” Lucas threw back his head and let out a shout of laughter.

“And after he swam out,” I said, trying hard not to giggle, “he had duck weeds all over him!”

Lucas went into another spasm of mirth.

“Then when he came back to L-Lord Amberley’s house, h-his sh-shoes s-squished.” I started to hiccup with the effort not to laugh. “A-and he had a water lily s-stuck to his back!”

Lucas let out a very ungentlemanly howl of laughter, and I could not help myself—I whooped until my stomach hurt and I had to hold on to him for support. Finally we settled down, though it only took a glance to start us off again. We looked about us. My bandboxes had rolled a few feet away, though my bonnet was still at my feet.

“Hmmm.” Lucas gathered up my bandboxes and gave me my bonnet. I tied it back on, looking at him expectantly. “Not a good time for a lady to be out alone. I’ll take you to Mater’s. Samantha will be glad to see you; she’s been a bit moped from a cold as well as from her foot.” He drew my hand through the crook of his arm.

“Y-your mother’s!” I stammered. “But I cannot!”

“Why not?” he asked reasonably.

“Well, the servant Samantha is sending for me, what of that?” I stalled.

“There isn’t any servant. Samantha sent me.”

“What!” I stared openmouthed at him. “But I asked to borrow a servant!”

Lucas shook his head. “Sam said you needed help. Said you were in ‘dire straits’ or some such fustian. Thought she might be roasting me, but I couldn’t be sure she wasn’t sincere. So, I had to come.” A thought seemed to occur to him, for a frown creased his forehead.

“Well...” I hesitated, for I felt there was something that was not quite right, but I could not put my finger on it. “Well, it would not be seemly if I were to run from Lady Stoneham’s to come to your mother, who is not related to me at all!”

“It isn’t seemly to run to Miss Angstead’s, either! Anyway, there’s no need to make it known that you had run away. It’s perfectly respectable for you to stay at a friend’s house. And if we were betrothed, why, that would be unexceptional.”

“Betrothed!” I said faintly, and clutched his arm. The street seemed to take a quick spin. “You—you mean if we were to let it about that we were betrothed—”

“I should think we would want it to be known sooner or later. Things like that are not kept secret for long, you know.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Lucas! Are you saying you want to
marry
me?”

He turned to me, smiling wistfully. “Thought you might like it better than teaching at Miss Angstead’s. And if you still want to teach, I
am
starting a mill school on one of my estates.”

I could not look at him. “You needn’t offer for me just because you feel sorry for me, or because you felt obliged to kiss me. I can do very well at Miss Angstead’s; I’m quite self-reliant, you know—”

His finger lifted my chin, and I looked into his eyes. He bent and kissed me long and hard. “Stupid,” he said caressingly. “Do you think I would kiss you like that if I didn’t love you?”

“Oh, Lucas! I have loved you for so
very
long!” I cried, and flung my arms around his neck. I heard the bandboxes drop as he used his hands to a much better purpose.

Despite my delight in this renewed bout of kissing, the thought that had grown in the back of my mind finally flowered. “Lucas! I have just realized! I believe Samantha has meant to have us betrothed all along!” I exclaimed indignantly when his lips left mine. “She arranged our carriage ride, and sent you here instead of a servant, after all.”

“That occurred to me as well. In fact, I am sure of it. My sister is a scheming minx,” murmured Lucas against my ear. “Shall we strangle her?”

“Oh, no! I am sure she meant it for the best,” I said in a rather breathless voice. “Besides, one can only admire such Planning and Strategy!”

The sound of faint voices startled us, and we parted. “We should go,” said Lucas.

We started away from Lady Stoneham’s house, but my betrothed stopped suddenly. Lucas looked at the house and shook his head. “One moment!” He walked back to it and seemed to search the ground for something. He fumbled with the end of the bed sheet rope, and then with a great heave threw the end of it back into my window. I heard a slight crash, which may have been a chair just sitting opposite to the window. “There!” he said, satisfied. “Bad
ton
having something like that hanging from one’s window.”

I’d like to dedicate this book to my family: my parents for their belief in me; my mother- and father-in-law for laughing at all the funny parts in the story; and my husband, John, and my son, Derek, for believing that I could really write a book and not complaining about my long sessions with my book. Last but not least, I’d like to thank my critique group (Mary, Pamela, Teresa, and Gerri) for their encouragement and for catching all the teeny (and not so teeny) little errors I missed in the heat of composition.

Copyright © 1994 by Karen Harbaugh

Originally published by Harper Monogram Regency (ISBN 0061082775)

Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House/Regency

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.