Tempted (13 page)

It had begun to rain again, word having reached his cousin that a storm was headed their way. Alex wondered if that might impede their departure on the morrow, but at least they’d been able to send word to his father.

“You’re not answering me, m’lord, which makes me think you know your idea is a bleedin’ daft one.”

She stood inside the stall, the fog having dropped down from the sky to coat everything it touched with dew. She was still cold, for he could see her shiver beneath her cloak, no matter that she’d settled herself upon a mound of straw in the corner, then scooped some of it over her legs for warmth. Alex was no warmer, though staring down at her with her hair loose about her shoulders made his body beat in places he didn’t want to think about.

“Mrs. Callahan, please, hear me out.”

“Hear you out? I’m done hearing you out. I’m tired, cold, and fair on me way to starving to death. All I want to do is go back to the duke’s so I can fetch my things and leave.”

“Leave?”

She nodded. “I’m through being a nurse. Through with kidnappers and smugglers and upright lords what think they rule the world.”

She had, indeed, been through a lot. And it was his fault.

He turned away, resting his weight against the stall door, but the image of her stayed in his mind. Even Rein had commented upon her extraordinary good looks, Alex feeling an unexpected surge of protectiveness at the interest he saw in his cousin’s eyes. It didn’t matter that she wore a tattered brown cloak. That her hair hung wild and wet around her head. That she looked tired and worn and cold. Her spirit illuminated the stall as brightly as a new moon, and he knew she was exactly the sort of woman Rein would be attracted to if his cousin put it into his head that he wanted her. And he would.

He jerked around to face her again. She rested her head against the back of the stall, her eyes closed now. And for a few moments he allowed himself to admire the way her nose blended into her face. He truly loved her nose. And the way her forehead seemed just the right height. And the way her hairline swept up, then back down, then back up again. There was a perfection to her features one rarely saw and Alex found himself wondering if she’d return Rein’s interest.

“You have no choice in this matter,” he said, suddenly feeling out of sorts. “I do it to protect both your reputation and mine.”

Her eyes opened at the same time she snorted. “What reputation?” And her lips quirked up into a smile, and for the first time he noticed an edge of cynicism to that smile. Indeed, and a hint of sadness. “I have no reputation to save.”

“Be that as it may, I am not giving you a choice. You will do this, Mary Callahan, or—”

“Or what?” she asked, red brows lifted. “You’ll release me without wages? I wish you would.”

He swallowed, refusing to say the words, though he realized after everything they’d gone through he’d be hard pressed indeed to think of her as a nurse. If, indeed, she was one. But he couldn’t escape the fact that she’d rescued him. Twice.

“I hope that you understand I truly do have your best interest at heart.” And he did, damn it, he did. “You will be treated like a queen, waited upon hand and foot, given the best of care. Please say you’ll do it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Mary wanted to call him daft again. Had he been conked in the head too hard? Was his brain box damaged? Had his noodle stopped working due to lack of cotx?

“It won’t work.”

“It will,” he said. “With my help.”

She almost laughed. That were rich. His lordship teaching her to act like a proper lady.

And suddenly there were two faces outside the stall, the earl’s and Alex’s. “I had a devil of a time securing this gown,” said the earl. “Had to fabricate a tale of a lost trunk and an overturned carriage. The bad news is that Lady Dalton is all agog to meet my long-lost ‘cousin.’” The earl peered into the stall. “What did she say when you told her of your plan?”

“I told him to sod off.” And then she caught sight of the gown Alex’s cousin held. She pushed herself to her feet, no matter that it hurt like the very devil to do so. “Coo, is that for me?”

Rein nodded. “It is, though I’ve no idea if it will fit. Like as not it will be too big for you. Lady Dalton is not the most svelte of women. But it was the best I could do, her ladyship the only person I felt comfortable involving, though she does not know the truth, of course.”

Mary wouldn’t have cared if it were as big as a circus tent. Coo, would you look at that material? Silk it was, she would stake the piece of precious chocolate she had stashed in the side pouch of her satchel back at the duke’s. And, oh, how she longed to take it. Lord, she hadn’t received something so nice since the time that groom at the circus had given her that piece of tin with the horse engraved on it. She still had the thing stashed in with her chocolate.

“May I touch it?”

She saw the two men exchange a glance that clearly said, “We’ve got her.” But Mary was far from convinced the idea would work. Granted, she did a fair imitation of her betters. Better than fair, but the rest of it? Eating, dancing, conversing with the swells? She’d make a muddle of it for certain sure.

But the dress…

Too big it might be, but beautiful without question. The color of her eyes it was, Mary wondering if the earl hadn’t chosen it for that very reason. But what caught her attention were the sleeves, for they were made of the sheerest green lace with little flowers and dots stitched onto the fabric. Around the waist was a piece of thick, forest green ribbon, and beneath that, covering the long skirt, more of the fancy fabric. It was the prettiest gown Mary had ever seen, and it shocked her how much she longed to put it on.

“I can’t,” she said, more to herself than to the men. “Certainly you can,” Alex said, taking the dress from his cousin. “Go ahead, at least try it, for we need you to get dressed no matter what your decision.”

Mary almost told him no again. Instead, she found herself reaching for the garment. Her hand shook, almost afraid to touch the bleedin’ thing, it were so fine.

“Go on,” he prompted, waving the dress out in front of him.

She grabbed it from him, quickly, before she changed her mind, the fabric all but slipping through her hand it was so soft and slippery to the touch.

“Coo,” she said, holding it up before her. “Will you look at that? I could dance in Covent Garden in this.”

The two men exchanged The Glance again.

Mary tugged the dress up against her. “Oh, you wicked, wicked men. Come to tempt me like the devil, you have.”

“Tempt you?” said the earl. “My dear woman, we are merely trying to protect your reputation.”

“As I said to his lordship here earlier, I don’t have no reputation to protect. And if you’re going to call a kettle black, you may as well do so. You’re worried about what will be said about the marquis here. Worried that people will assume I’m his ladybird should I show up at your home with him. And don’t tell me otherwise, for I know no one cares about Mary Callahan.”

They had the grace to look abashed. But as Mary held the fabric against her, aye, smelled a floral scent that lingered upon it, a longing she’d never felt before rose up within her.

Just for a night, Mary Callahan. Just for a day, wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like? What’d it feel like to sleep in one of those fancy rooms? To wear beautiful clothes? To be waited upon and served like the finest of ladies?

“Oh,” she shot, clucking her tongue in irritation before she said, “I’ll do it, devil take you. But if I blunder it badly, you won’t be blaming me.”

“What the devil is that noise she just made?” the earl asked.

“She clucks when she’s irritated,” Alex explained. “Does she? How unique.”

“You have no idea,” the marquis said drolly.

Which made Mary wonder if she’d just been insulted or not. But then her hands slid across the silk of the dress and she decided she didn’t care. Not one little bit.

It was exactly like a fairy tale, only better, Mary thought as she stared out the window of her second-floor room. Second floor. With a view. She almost spun around and did a dance. In hindsight she felt silly for raising a breeze over everything. Fool. What was so wrong with spending a night amongst such splendor?

Rose-colored walls with white wainscoting surrounded her. A flower arrangement the size of a shrub sat on an ornate wardrobe, empty, of course, but still the most beautiful piece of furniture she’d ever clapped eyes on. A screen with Oriental figures upon it sat in one corner, a tall mirror with real French glass sitting next to it. A plush rug with large, red roses stretched from one side of the room to the other. Windows with maroon draperies sat one after another along one whole wall. Five of them there were. Five! Mary was hard pressed to decide which one to stare out of.

But what had her all agog, what made her want to twirl around in glee, was the dress. She crossed to the mirror, swishing her hips from side to side like a grand lady. Never mind that the gown hung off her sides like an animal gone too long without food. Or that the hem dragged on the ground. It were the finest, most beautiful gown Mary had ever seen and as she stared at her reflection, Mary was overcome by the silly urge to—oh, she’d gone crackers for certain sure—to cry.

Ach. What a fool you are.

She inhaled before a silly tear had time to form. There were better things to cry about in this world than the way a body looked in a dress.

Oh, but what a dress,
a voice said.

The only thing that she’d worn as fine was the too-short tunic Samuel forced her to perform in, the one with all those fancy paste gems sewn into the bodice. But Mary hated that bloody costume and the catcalls and whistles that went along with being the Royal Circus’s star female performer. Well, actually, the only female performer. In England. Mary was still a bit astounded that she’d carved a niche for herself simply because she’d spent years playing around on old Admiral’s back.

But she wasn’t performing tonight. Well, not on a horse, at least. And if the rain continued on, they’d be forced to stay another night, Wainridge a good day’s ride away. And though she worried a bit about his lordship’s daughter being let alone with that bosky-minded duke— not to mention Abu—she consoled herself with the thought that the two were likely safe as seashells in that giant ocean of a house. In the interim, by heaven, she’d enjoy herself.

She threw back her head, clutched the skirts of her dress and spun around, feeling her upswept hair tug at her scalp. A fancy maid had styled it and so the locks now sat atop her head in loops and coils and fine little wisps, making Mary feel like the grandest of ladies.

“Are you ready to go below stairs?”

Mary stopped and turned toward the door. Oh, how she loved the way Alex’s eyes instantly widened, the way his gaze swept her up and down, the way he suddenly looked speechless.

“Well?” she asked, holding her skirts out. She tipped from side to side again, saying as she swayed, “Look like a grand lady, do I?”

If he agreed, Mary didn’t know, for he still stared at her. Those river-blue eyes of his swept a current through her. They dropped down again, lingering for a bit on her breasts (or so she thought), then up again. And suddenly, the usually redoubtable Mary felt a bit self-conscious. Blimey, her face even heated a bit, her body reacting in rackety fits and starts as she waited for him to say
something.

“You look—” he finally said, only his bleedin’ words dribbled off.

Mary waited, feeling an odd combination of anxiety and pique.

“You look—” he tried again.

Pique won out. “Get on with it, me lord. Is it good or bad.”

Finally
his gaze met her own, and when it did, she realized she needn’t have worried, for she could see how she looked in his eyes: Marvelous. Spectacular. Absolutely top of the trees.

She straightened with pride. “I look well, don’t I?” “You’ll do.”

She smiled, aye, the biggest smile she’d ever smiled before, she realized, for it tugged at her cheeks and made her nose wrinkle. Walking toward him, she ignored the small stab of pain in her feet—what was a wee bit of pain when one felt as fine as Harriet Wilson—and swung her hips, noticing that he looked rather fine himself. He must have borrowed a jacket from his cousin, for he wore a dark gray coat and buff trousers that fit a bit too snug around his thighs, making them bulge in a very stallion-ish way. Mary realized he had fine thighs for a swell.

“Do you think the nabobs downstairs will be fooled?” She stopped, placed her hands on her hips.

His eyes narrowed, his face taking on that odd look he got when he tried hard not to gawk. Lord love her, she almost felt sorry for him. But Mary had never, ever felt as fine as she did now. Like a proper lady, she looked. Aye, as fancy and pretty as any of those women what came to watch her ride. And she’d have a fancy gentleman on her arm, too. And a fancy dinner to eat. Aye, all the things she’d often dreamed about.

“I believe, Mrs. Callahan, that the people downstairs will see what they want to see. That being an uncommonly pretty young woman who talks and acts like a commoner.”

She stopped like she hit a wall. “A commoner?”

He nodded, and though he still looked at her like she were the sweet cream on his pie, he no longer had that dazzled look in his eyes. He recovered himself most quickly, though how he’d done it Mary had no idea. Usually, a man could no more control his base urges than a male dog could stop from lifting his leg.

“Indeed, Mrs. Callahan, for you need to learn how to walk and comport yourself as a lady.”

She almost glared at him. Almost released a huff of frustration. Instead she said, “I don’t need no lesson.”

“Any. You don’t need
any
lesson.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you used the word
no,
not the word
any
.” “And now you’re giving me lessons.”

“Yes, I am.”

She waved a hand in front of her, some of the wispy tendrils she’d been so proud of a moment before fluttering like spider-web strings. Wanted a lady, did he? She’d give him one right and tight.

“I assure you, sir, you have nothing to fear from me.” And she took great care to enun-ci-ate. “I am quite adept at mimicking my betters.” She had the rum-eyed pleasure of seeing his mouth flop open again before she said, “Now, if you would be so kind as to escort me below stairs?”

“Why you little—”

She lifted a brow.

“How did you
do
that?”

She walked toward him with all the grace and finesse of a true aristocrat. “Simple as rum, m’lord. When you’ve watched as many lords and ladies as I have, you pick up their ways.”

He looked at her like she was a spider that had emerged from a crack in the wall. “And you watched these lords and ladies where, exactly?”

Too late she realized she’d revealed too much. He knew her as Mrs. Mary Callahan, nurse, and not as a famous equestrian.

“Why, how do you think?” she improvised. “When working for them.” Which was true if one twisted it about a bit, which she did.

He didn’t look like he believed her, not surprising since she’d demonstrated more than one non-nurse-type talent in the past few hours. But she told herself not to worry. In a couple of days she’d return to the duke’s, collect Abu, and leave.

Aye, though why the blazes that made her feel strangely low, she had no idea.

“And I suppose jumping onto a horse’s back is another talent you ‘observed’?”

“I learned that trick back at home,” which was true. “And jumping from moving carriages?”

Once again, she didn’t need to lie. “My brother James taught me that handy trick. We used to practice on the wagons that used to take the fish to market.”

He stared down at her, Mary realizing she needed to do something before he asked her a question she would be forced to lie about. “Are you through, m’lord, or would you like me to take the bar again?”

Her words had the desired effect, for he gave himself a bit of a start. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Callahan. I did not mean to pry.”

“Lady Callahan,” she corrected with a lift of her nose. He half bowed, and she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch. “Lady Callahan,” he corrected. And then he did the strangest thing, something that made Mary wonder if she hadn’t been a bit hasty in her desire to rattle him a wee bit. He offered her his arm, just like a gentleman would do to a proper lady. “Would you care to go downstairs?”