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André flushed. “Your brother made his feeling toward me abundantly clear. And you are right about Stormy. I never thought it would hit me, or it would it me so hard.” He flung himself into a chair, draping one leg over the armrest. “I know she has feelings for me, but I am not sure how she will receive my suit after I left so abruptly during the night.” She was probably as mad as a wet hornet, because she had invited him to join her in her bed. And he would have, had she not been asleep. A stroke of luck or Fate, but if it had happened, what might have ensued afterwards?

Thomas’s face mirrored his glee. “I think you are in deeper trouble with my brother than you are with her. Stormy is his pride and joy, and I can tell you from experience that a man doesn’t take kindly to seeing his child hurt.”

Thomas remark clearly ruffled André’s feathers. “Bloody hell, I had no intention of running off that night,” he sputtered. “I expected to find the papers, retrieve them and get out.

Life just doesn’t work that way.”

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“Well, whatever you plan, you had best do it fast. I had a message from my brother that they’ll be leaving shortly to sail back to America. Stormy is homesick. You’ll have to decide whether Greenbriar or your love for Stormy means more to you.”

André jumped from his chair. “I can’t ride back to London right now. Nothing stands between Snowden and justice but me.”

“I understand that, but I think you should make Stormy your priority before it is too late.

Your search for Snowden might take time.” He saw the misery in André’s eyes. But what else was he to tell the man?

André clapped a hand on his knee and jumped to his feet. “I guess I had better head back to London in that case.” The corners of his generous mouth edged into a grateful smile.

“Thanks, my friend, for helping me see my way through. I will try to get an early start.”

“What about Sir George Fitzsimmons?”

The question stopped him in his tracks. “Bloody hell.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated this new problem. “So much for my leaving early. I forgot all about George. I need to talk to him. The way I see it, it would be better if he were to stay back. And we won’t need to impose upon your hospitality any longer either. I asked the maids to ready at least one bedchamber for use.”

André slept poorly. Dreams of Stormy standing at the bow of the Mystic waving goodbye plagued him throughout the night. Nerves raw, he was less than his usual pleasant self at breakfast. His need to be off had become more urgent. So he came right out with his plan to ride alone.

Sir George Fitzsimmons took the news in stride. “Old chap, I’ll be glad to stay behind.

Truth be told I am in no shape or mood to ride all the way back to London after just having arrived here.” He leaned closer, washing the last bit of a scone down with strong tea. “In fact, I’ll do you one better than asked. I’ll see to it that the maids get more help from the nearby village and get the mansion back to its former splendor by the time you return.”

André grinned. “That’s rather good of you, George. Just don’t scare the poor maids anymore than they already are. Give them some leeway by going hunting.”

“Tommy and Brent can come along, if you like,” Thomas offered. “They know all the best places and can never get enough of hunting. Of course, it also supplements the dinner table.”

George inclined his head toward his host. “In that case I accept the generous offer.”

André threw his napkin to the table. Sketching a mock salute, he pushed his chair back.

“Since we have settled this conundrum, gentlemen, I beg your indulgence, but I really need to be off.” He strode out the door before either man could even wish him a good trip.

Noir sensed his master’s impatience and took off in a ground eating gallop. André had only packed a few necessities, since his apartment on Grosvenor held anything he might need.

He knew he would have to spend one night on the road, if for no other reason than to rest and feed Noir.

* * * *

Stormy wore a sea-green muslin morning gown trimmed in moss green velvet. Her hair had been braided with the same color ribbon and twisted into a soft coronet on the top of her head. It lent her the appearance of innocence, though if anyone looked closer and noticed the devilish glint in her eyes, they would have held their breath.

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Though Stormy had told Christopher that he’d been forgiven for his gaffe, she still harbored some ill feelings. She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes and thought that at home it would have been so easy to settle their differences. He wouldn’t have stood a chance, because she would have called him out to a duel and trounced him properly. Her mind drew a vivid picture of Christopher on the ground begging for succor. That image brought a smile to her lips. It also helped to alleviate the acute boredom she suffered while listening to her grandparents and Christopher’s parents wax poetically about the amenities of their country.

“Would you care to take a short walk around the grounds, Lady Michaella? It will be quite proper, since we can stay on the paved paths.”

Startled, Stormy looked into Christopher’s hopeful face. She still had not gotten used to being called Michaella. But what did she have to lose? Sitting among the older people put a strain on her patience. God, she missed South Carolina, the freedom to dress as she pleased and to ride whenever she felt like it.

She forced herself to rise slowly from her chair, when she would have rather jumped up and run from the stuffy sitting room. She had no intention to fuel the fire about not being socially adept. “I think that would be lovely,” she murmured, inclining her head gracefully.

Once they were out of earshot of the elders, she turned to him. “I thought you were going to take me on a leisurely boat ride.”

He flushed. “Your wish is my command, Lady Michaella.” He waved his hand with a flourish toward the path to their right. “The pond is this way, and the boat is tied up to the dock.

Of course, we have to stay close to shore to maintain propriety.”

“Balderdash. What could we possibly do in a boat that might be inappropriate?”

Christopher flushed again. She was such an innocent that it fired his imagination and his libido. He felt himself harden, when he thought of how he might lure her behind a certain stand of trees to steal a kiss.

He offered her his arm and accidentally on purpose rubbed his elbow against the underside of her breast. Swallowing against the surge of lust shooting through him, he picked up the pace, the stand of oaks within his sights.

Stormy shuddered inwardly. Men had tried to paw her before and if she had been at home, she would have kicked the cad. But here, in a strange land with strange customs, she acted as if she were oblivious to his blatant behavior. Pretending to admire the gardens, she half turned and looked back toward the mansion, hoping someone would come to her rescue.

“We are almost there, Lady Michaella.” Christopher’s voice held a coaxing note, one that set her teeth on edge. He covered her hand on his arm with his other hand and gently stroked her fingers. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? Today you resemble a white English rose amid lush greenery. Why I quite feel that I need to have a small taste of you.”

Stormy tilted her head to spear him with a bewildered look. “Pardon me, but what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He smiled indulgently down at her, somewhat as a parent looks down at a simple minded child. “Ah, come along and I show you.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her along until the reached a cluster of oaks. Looking furtively around, he pulled her into the deeper shadows.

“I’ve wanted to do this since we met at the soirée the other night. Your mouth is so lush.

I sheer want to devour it.” He dipped his head and captured her lips with his.

Stormy stood ramrod stiff in his arms. She closed her eyes and tried to give herself up to the sensations. His kiss was wet and demanding, his tongue intrusive to the point of gagging her, and suddenly she felt his hand creep up on the underside of her breast.

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Outraged, she shoved him away. “You, sir, allow yourself liberties I am not used to yielding. Where I come from men don’t force their attentions on a lady.”

His eyes turned dark with fury. “You my dear are no lady. You are just a country bumpkin, who happens to be related to an English Earl. You should feel honored that I pay such attention to you.”

Stormy hauled off and slapped him hard across the face. “They always say a leopard doesn’t change its spots. I picked you for a cad and my instincts were right. I demand you take me back to the main house right now.”

Livid, he snatched her arm. “I am not finished with you.”

“Oh, yes, you are, sir.” In the next instant Christopher was spun around, and Stormy heard the solid thwack of a fist connecting with flesh.

Howling his rage, Christopher screeched, “How dare you!” and swung at his attacker.

The two adversaries grappled with each other for a moment, before Christopher was shoved aside like so much chaff and André stepped into view.

His breath caught in his throat. Merde, she reminded him of summer lightning the way her eyes sparkled with outrage. Her cheeks were flushed a becoming pink and her mouth, oh, her mouth looked so very kissable. He opened his arms, expecting her to rush into his embrace, but Stormy stood her ground.

Her head spun from the shock of seeing André well and alive. For a split second she thought she’d faint. And then renewed fury rushed through her with the force of a rain swollen brook.

Pressing her fists into her waist, she glowered up at him. “Why of all the gall. I have had about all I can take of this country. Do you honestly expect me to replace one rake with another?

“How could you ride off without saying good-bye? Not a word later whether you were safe. I … I had nightmares about how Snowden had shot you dead. You … you miserable cad.

While all this time you were probably in London going from one party to the next.”

He stepped closer, favoring her with a glower of his own. His blue eyes sparked with outrage as he took in her mutinous glare. “I’ll have you know that I just rode literally non-stop from Emerald Hills to London after I had arrived there two days ago. And if the pot keeps calling the kettle black, then dare you deny that you have been hopping from one party to the next as you so quaintly accuse me of doing?

“I had no choice to flee after I found the papers I went looking for at Greenbriar. It seemed the right thing to do to come to London to take my complaint before the court magistrate.”

“For your information, I had to wait four days before I was granted an audience, only to be told that the magistrate could intervene on the property rights, but not with Snowden. It’s up to me to see he is punished for the murders he committed. The magistrate said there was not enough evidence to convict him.

“As soon as that was settled, I rushed back to Emerald Hills to explain my situation and to propose marriage to you.”

Stormy had crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stood tapping her foot impatiently, acting totally bored. The words propose and marriage stole her breath. She went completely still as she tried to sort out the basic meaning of what had just been said.

André saw her confusion. His emotions got the better of him. With a soft snort of self-deprecation he stepped forward and without further ado, he hauled her against his chest and kissed her with all the passion he was capable of.

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Stormy hung in his embrace, still not sure if she were awake or dreaming. But as his kiss deepened and she felt his arousal press against her belly, she let her hands steal into his hair and kissed him back.

Tears of joy gathered in her eyes, when he finally broke the kiss to search her face. “I love you, Stormy. I think I loved you from the moment our eyes met. I believe fate decreed our meeting, when I held up the wrong carriage. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Stormy’s lips opened to give her assent, when Christopher hauled her out of André’s embrace and delivered a blow to his chin. “You swine.” He spat on André’s boots. His eyes narrowed with hatred. “I will meet you at dawn tomorrow at the outskirts of the city. You have the choice of weapons, but I demand satisfaction for your slight.”

“I’ll choose sabers.”

“You can’t André. It’s ludicrous. He only spat on your boots. Let’s just leave London.

I have had my fill of the pretense and the tawdriness that most of the ton don’t see, since they party the night away and sleep during the day. I’d rather breathe fresh air.”

“And so you shall, my love. But first I do have to comply with the challenge to duel. I cannot leave the city and be forever called a coward. Please understand. I doubt it will take very long. In fact, I will meet you for breakfast at the Cormac’s, if I am still in your good graces.” He smiled and kissed her nose. “Now let’s go and let me face your parents.” He grimaced. “I dread that confrontation more than any duel.”

Stormy laughed, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she looked into his. “Father is all growl and no bite, while Mama already is half in love with you.”

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When Stormy strolled into the Duke of Salisbury’s sitting room at the arm of André, they were met by four pairs of eyes that showed different degrees of astonishment.

André met their gazes with the hauteur of one born to the aristocracy. He inclined his head and proceeded to pull a chair out for Stormy.

Trevor jumped immediately up from his seat. Pointing a shaking finger at André he demanded that he be removed from the premises.