The Scoundrel and I: A Novella (9 page)

As he handed her up into his dashing carriage behind the matched grays, she said, “Live doll?”

“Can’t call on my uncle for tea in rags suited to a ball.”

“Rags?”

“A mantua,” he said, snapping the reins. “Pinafore. Whatever the blazes females call it.”

“A gown?”

He scowled. She had never seen him scowl. Other men scowled, even on occasion mild Charlie and pacific Mr. Curtis. Not Captain Masinter. He was the most blithely untroubled man she had ever met, the sort of man who might kiss a woman in a dark library until she was a puddle and think nothing of it. And yet he was a naval captain, hardly an untroubled profession.

But she did not want to care whether he scowled or not, or why. She did not want to care about him in any manner. And she most certainly did not want to long for more of his kisses, no matter how the sight of his strong hands on the reins made her insides flutter rather aggressively.

“The gown I wore last night is beautiful. It will do for tea.” She could hear the acerbic tone of her voice and did nothing to soften it. Instead she took refuge in Lady Justice’s frequent critique. “The aristocracy wastes a ridiculous amount of money and time on superficialities. Only look at this carriage.”

“You said you liked this carriage.”

“And that coat”—the coat that displayed his shoulders to gorgeous advantage—“must have cost a fortune, when—”

The gaze he turned upon her was full of pleasure. And
affection
. Undeniable affection.

Elle’s breath went entirely out of her.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she managed. “I was chastising you.”

“Rather be chastised by you, Gabrielle Flood, than praised by anybody else.”

“Then you are very silly.”

His forehead crunched anew. “No doubt of that.”

“All right, I will ask. Why are you scowling?”

“A grandmother.” He pulled the carriage to a sudden halt. “A
grandmother
.”

“What are you doing?” She looked around at the traffic. “You cannot stop driving in the middle of a busy street like this.”

“I’m a decorated hero of the Bombardment of Algiers and a member of the Order of the Garter. I can jolly well do anything I like. You live with a
grandmother
yet you never mentioned her to me?”

“Why should I have mentioned her to you? I hardly know you.”

His eyes blazed and he looked directly at her lips. “Is that so?”

He had a point.

“I met you only five days ago,” she spluttered.

“Thought you were a stickler for precision.”

“I am a stickler for precision. But I have no idea why you are noting that now.”

“We met seven days ago,” he said.

“You knocked me over seven days ago. You spoke to me like a human being only five days ago.”

He grew abruptly somber. “I’m sorry I didn’t apologize to you for that, Elle.”

“You did apologize. Begrudgingly, perhaps. But you did.”

“I was in something of a hurry right then.”

“Were you?”

He paused, then said, “My first officer had a spot of rum luck that day. Extraordinarily rum luck.”

“And you were rushing to him with a bottle of brandy?”

“I was rushing to his wife to collect her. Wanted her to be able to pay her last respects before he died.”

Her eyes and lips flew wide.

“Oh, Anthony,” she said. “I am so very sorry. I had no idea.”

“Couldn’t have.” He grasped her hand. Her fingers felt perfect in his, lithe and beautiful. “Now say my name again.”

“W-What?”

“You just called me Anthony.”

She snatched her hand away. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you’re repeating yourself. That’s a good sign.” He looped the reins and jumped off the box. His visit to Jane Park’s house that morning had dispirited him. She was no closer to accepting a gift of money than she’d been two days earlier. But the little ones were hungry as the devil. They had gobbled up the cakes and fallen upon the game of Spillikins he’d brought like ravenous dogs. The widow had tried to reject the gifts, but blast if he would let her pride and religious scruples keep those children sunk in misery. He would find a way to make her accept charity. He had to.

Rounding the team to the other side of the carriage, he extended his hand to Elle and the tangle of frustration in his chest eased.

“Of what is
this
a good sign?” she said as she descended. “That you are an incorrigible scoundrel?”

“That I fluster you,” he said.

She tugged her fingers away again. “You do not fluster me, Captain.”

But he did. And it filled him with the most extraordinary sensation. She wanted him. At thirty-four he was seasoned enough to recognize desire in a woman’s eyes. And she had kissed him as though she wanted him. No shrinking virgin here.

But she did not trust him. That was as clear as rain in a barrel.

“If you insist, Miss Flood.” He leaned close and took a long pull of her intoxicating scent. “But I’ll have you know, I am an experienced tactician. Trained to notice these things.”

Alarm skittered across her features.

Exiting a shop nearby, Seraphina waved and Elle moved swiftly away.

Blast
his cursed tongue. Instead of distressing her he wanted be making those eyes sparkle, making her laugh. She deserved it. She deserved happiness. And he was determined to see that she got it.

With renewed resolve, he went after her.

Seraphina greeted her warmly and drew her into a shop.

“It is an absolute delight to have the opportunity to poke about in shops, Elle. Look at this lace. It is far too expensive for the quality. But that lace there is divine. Now, watch as I inspect these closely,” she whispered. “The shopkeeper will peer at me suspiciously until I reveal my name and then he will fall all over himself. So will those matrons over there, who will eavesdrop until they are able to insert themselves into the conversation.”

It happened exactly as she predicted. When Seraphina drew her into the conversation, the shopkeeper and ladies barely glanced at her stained gown before fawning over her too.

She enjoyed it far too much, she suspected. The captain, however, shared only a few charming remarks with the matrons. When Seraphina asked him to cross the street to perform an errand for her, he went without a word.

“What have you done to my brother, Elle?” Seraphina asked a quarter of an hour later as he came through traffic toward them again. “I have rarely seen him so subdued.”

“I have done nothing.” The notion that she
could
do something to disturb his equanimity was ludicrous. Yet the night before, after their kiss, he had obviously been shaken. “Is he subdued?”

“Most assuredly.”

“It’s done,” he said as he met them on the footpath. “Where to next, ladies?”

Seraphina’s attention shifted past his shoulder to a man and a woman nearing. They were dressed expensively if somewhat severely, and their faces were grave.

“Good day, Mrs. Starling,” the man said, making a shallow bow to Seraphina. He sniffed. “Anthony.”

“How d’you do, George? Alice.” The captain’s smile did not reach his eyes.

“We are well,” Alice said. Ignoring Seraphina, her gaze briefly alighted upon Elle then returned to him. “Will you attend Sir Benton’s birthday celebration a fortnight hence, Anthony?”

“Both me and Seraphina, of course. Wouldn’t miss it. Looking forward to seeing all the little ones. By the by, how’s James taken to university? Making top marks?”

“Of course,” George replied. “But we expect that, naturally.”

Seraphina said, “George, Alice, may I present to—”

“Must be moving on then,” the captain cut in. “Elsewhere we’ve got to be. George, Alice, always a pleasure.” He turned to her and Seraphina. “Ladies?” With a decisive nod, he gestured them toward another shop.

When they were inside, Seraphina turned upon him.

“Why didn’t you introduce Gabrielle?” she whispered.

He glanced out the window, impatience stamped on his features.

“Couldn’t stand the idea of it, if you must know,” he said, then faced Elle. “Terribly sorry. Absolutely beastly of me,” he said, but it was as though he were reciting an apology rather than giving it freely. It was the first time she had ever heard him speak without sincerity, and it made her feel ill.

“Well, then,” he said quickly, his voice a strange, discomposed growl, “I’m sure you don’t need me here.” He gestured to the cases displaying ladies’ gloves and reticules. “And, great guns, there’s Nik Acton on the street. Haven’t seen him in an age. Ladies.” Sketching a quick bow, he went out of the shop.

“Elle, I beg your pardon,” Seraphina said. “He is not himself. Something preys upon him, more than George and Alice.”

“You needn’t apologize.” Perhaps he truly was unhappy that she had never spoken to him of her grandmother. But that was preposterous. Why would such a man care about that? “I am not insulted. I understand that socializing at the ball was to a purpose. I do not expect you and the captain to introduce me to all of your friends now.”

“But of course we will! Dear Elle, you have it the wrong way around. I suspect that Anthony hurried us away because he wished to spare
you
from knowing
them
.”

Her eyes popped wide. “But, who were they?”

Seraphina’s generous lips twisted. “Our eldest brother and his wife.”

Elle had no siblings of her own, but Minnie and Adela were fond of theirs. Even Jo Junior and Charlie, for all that they were different sorts of men, shared a bond.

“They were so . . .”

“Cold? Snobbish? Rude?” Seraphina supplied.

“Why did he—George—call you Mrs. Starling?”

“It is my married name.”

“Ah.”
Étoile
meant star, of course. “How wonderful that you have a pseudonym.”

“Just as your friend Lady Justice.” Seraphina smiled and took her arm companionably to leave the shop.

But Elle’s pleasure in the outing would not return so easily. “Alice ignored you.”

“Alice always snubs me in public,” Seraphina said lightly. “She is practicing for when George succeeds to the baronetcy and she will cut me entirely. Their sense of superiority is enormous. All of them, not only George and Alice.”

“On what grounds? Your father’s title?”

“Oh, no.” She paused before a shop window full of trinkets. “Upon the grounds of their own intellectual eminence.”

“Intellectual eminence?”

“My half-siblings include a mathematician, two physicists, a master of ancient history, a theologian, and a patroness of a literary society. If you wonder how growing up as a cousin to those excessively superior individuals was, imagine growing up as their brother.”

“But the captain seems to like everyone.”

“He is unlike them, Elle. And they have always been unkind to him. Even now they poke fun at his profession, as though he is playing at toy soldiers.” She turned away from the window and her eyes lit. “Here he is returned.”

He was not alone. With him now were a tall, slender woman hand-in-hand with a tiny blond girl, a man whose golden good looks were godly, and a girl just on the verge of womanhood. On the captain’s shoulders perched a miniature brunette, her palms spread over his eyes.

“Is this her, Uncle Anthony?” the tiny blonde said, and all of their eyes came to Elle.

He peeled one little hand from atop his eye and smiled so beautifully that Elle lost her breath.

“Aye, Letty. This is her.
She
.” He lifted a brow. “Right?”

“Correct,” she barely whispered.

“Miss Flood,” he said, “may I make you known to her ladyship, the Countess of Bedwyr?”

“Since you are a friend of Anthony’s, I beg you to call me Jacqueline,” the countess said. Her accent was foreign, soft, and almost shy. “This is my husband and his ward, Claire. And these are my daughters, Letitia and Margaret.”

“How do you do, Miss Flood?” The Earl of Bedwyr bowed gorgeously. “Madame Étoile, a pleasure, as always.”

Elle was gaping. Among Brittle & Sons’s most popular publications, a poem published in three parts titled
The Stone Princess
had seen enormous success. Demand for the poem continued so high for so many months that Mr. Brittle had finally compiled the parts into a bound volume. It was the very book that gave Elle confidence he might do the same with Lady Justice and Peregrine’s letters.

Here before her now, as gloriously handsome as the faery prince in the poem, stood the anonymous author of
The Stone Princess
.

“I proof-corrected your poem at Brittle and Sons!” fell out of her mouth. “Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord,” she mumbled, her cheeks burning. “I am mortified that I just said that.”

Lord Bedwyr grinned. “I am now especially honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Flood. And I am grateful for your assistance with that project. Now, you must tell us where you had the misfortune to meet this fellow.” He gestured to the captain.

“At Brittle and Sons, course,” the captain said.

“A printing house, Anthony?” the earl said with a skeptical twist of his lips. “You?”

“Horse threw a shoe just in front of the shop door, don’t you know,” the captain said breezily. “Had to fix the thing long enough to ride home. Went inside to beg the loan of a tool. Isn’t that so, Miss Flood?”

She did not trust her voice. She nodded.

He was keeping her secret. And he was looking at her again in that manner he had of making her feel that no one else existed except the two of them, as he had looked at her in the library.

“Then a horse’s lost shoe is clearly to our advantage,” Lady Bedwyr said with a smile at Elle.

“Mama!” the miniature brunette exclaimed, then abruptly draped herself over the captain’s head and whispered into his ear. He nodded, and she peered at her mother. “Uncle Anthony wishes to take us to eat lemon ices,” she declared.

“And?” he whispered up to her.

“And he says that if you do not allow it, his heart will break and he will set out to sea again this instant in order to mend it!”

“Lemon ices it shall be, then,” Lady Bedwyr said. “For we must not lose the captain to the sea again so soon.”

~o0o~

His entire bearing changed. As the girls ate ices and the rest of them took tea, he was again liberal with his smiles. Unlike his brother and sister-in-law, these friends were warm and affectionate with Seraphina, and they extended their warmth to her as well. They were obviously his real family. Elle sat mute in her shabby gown, which none of them seemed to note, mingled pleasure and astonishment paralyzing her tongue, and her heart grew thick with longing.

Once upon a time, she had known this deep affection, before Grandfather died. Then Gram’s health collapsed. After that there was mostly pain and quiet endurance, and occasional happy minutes when they read Lady Justice’s pamphlets.

She should now be home with her grandmother, not shopping for lace and gloves that she would wear once and taking tea with beautiful, wealthy people who would not remember her tomorrow.

Abruptly the captain stood up and went to the counter. When he returned he came to her side.

“Miss Flood,” he said quietly, “if you wish me to convey you anywhere at this time, I am at your command.”

“Said as prettily as an opera singer, Anthony,” Lord Bedwyr murmured.

“Stubble it, Charles,” the captain said without removing his attention from her. Then his gaze dipped to her lap, where her fingers had twisted a serviette into knots.

“Do you wish to go now?” he said.

It was yet an hour before she typically left the shop. Mr. Curtis would soon be calling upon her grandmother. She could return home early and relieve him of that duty.

She looked into the sailor’s eyes, at the tiny crinkle lines radiating from the corners that revealed a life of both enormous responsibility and much laughter, and she shook her head.

“Not yet, please,” she said.

A half-smile cut his mouth. “Knew you couldn’t resist spending more time with me.”

“You are a regular Romeo, Anthony,” the earl drawled. “It is a wonder Miss Flood can withstand your roguish charm for even a moment.”

“Isn’t it?” Grabbing a chair from another table, the captain plunked it down backward between her and Lord Bedwyr, and settled himself on it, his muscular thigh not an inch from her knees. “Now, Miss Flood, tell us all a nice long tale about the barrels of errors you found in my friend’s poem here. If there weren’t many, invent ’em. Longer the story, the better.”

“Why? To embarrass Lord Bedwyr?”

“Not at all. Don’t think he’s capable of embarrassment anyway. I simply like to hear words come from your lips. Watch them too. Best show in town.”

At that moment it was fortunate that they were in a public place and surrounded by people. For if they were not, she had the most dreadful certainty that she would swiftly be making speech impossible for both of them.