Wildfire Kiss (4 page)

“What, living up in your hunting box and running the
countryside ragged with those hounds of yours …”

“And what of the excellent … er … dinners
we had afterwards this winter? Wasn’t that putting aside our
mourning?” his grace shot back, this time with a smirk at his
friend.

Sir Charles paused and then sighed. “Well, they were
very enjoyable little fancy pieces … to be sure, and having
our old cronies join us, well, but you are evading the issue.”

The duke tipped his dark beaver top hat over his
eyes, sank into his leather-upholstered squabs, folded his arms
across his chest, and said softly, “Do stubble it, my dear Charles,
for you weary me.”

“
Weary you
? Well, and so I shall until you
agree to go into society with me this season. It is time you
carried on the name … you owe it to your father’s memory.”

“Low, very low hit,” said the duke, not moving from
the position he had taken. “Besides, I have you to do that for
me.”

“Me … the devil you say! Besides, I
haven’t … not looking to … now look here, we are not
talking about me. We are talking about …”

“Me!” He lifted his hat ever so slightly from his
face to look at his dearest friend and cousin. “That is your
trouble … sticking your nose into what I should or shouldn’t
do.”

“The advantage I give myself for putting up with
you,” Sir Charles retorted and grinned. “Besides, I am your closest
friend—who, if not me to save you from yourself,” said Charles.
“Look, ol’ man, do you know what they are saying in London? They
say
Lord Wildfire
is Wildfire only on the battlefield and
that you have lost your touch with women.”

“Baiting me, are we?” His grace clucked his
tongue.

“Well, it is being said.”

“Listen here, Lord Wildfire is a name my men gave me
in my early days after we had a succession of victorious battles
against the frogs. What do I care how London decides to perceive
this?”

“Don’t you … care?” Charles returned
sharply.

“Trying to get at me through me ego? Beneath you,
Charles. No…not a lick.”

They had by this time arrived in the heart of the
buzzing fairground, and their coach came to a full halt.

Sir Charles dropped the subject and alighted nimbly
from the coach without benefit of the small steps.

His grace followed, saying to his driver, “We shan’t
need you, old chap, for at least an hour, so do go off and enjoy
yourself …” He threw him a small leather pouch. “And here is a
bit of the ready …”

It was then that something occurred that captured
their entire attention!

***

“No—Otto—don’t!” Lady Babs cried, but in spite of
her objection an impish gleam shone in her eyes. “We will call down
trouble on our heads …” she added as further inducement as she
tugged on his sleeve.

“Ha! Since when did that ever stop us?” returned her
large friend, and with that he climbed onto the first step of the
contraption clearly inscribed for all interested individuals as a
“catch-me-who-can.”

Newly designed, constructed, and invitingly
displayed, this black, gleaming metal structure stood fenced off
from the hub of the crowd. It was London’s portable steam engine, a
mechanical treasure advertised as ‘power subduing animal
speed.’

“Do you really think it can go faster than a horse?”
Babs asked in wide-eyed wonder as Otto managed to climb still
higher up. Then hurriedly and with some concern, she said, “Otto,
do be careful. I don’t think it looks very steady.”

“Faster than a horse!” He snorted. “It’s too
heavy … too clumsy …”

“OTTO!” Babs cried out on a squeal.
“It’s
moving!”

“Oi … oi say there, guv’,” called out the
watchman who had just arrived on the scene. “Ye shouldn’t be up
there … Cum down …”

However, it was at this juncture that the
‘catch-me-who-can’ broke away with a great, creaking groan and
began sliding down the avenue. As it crashed through its temporary
fencing, Babs screamed, and the watchman, evidently worried about
his job, cried out, “It’s the flash covey’s fault, it is …
shouldn’t have been on it …”

“Yes, yes,” Babs agreed at once, “but do something!”
Seeing that the watchman seemed at a loss, she began running after
the engine, which luckily had not yet taken on any speed.
“Otto … Otto, jump for mercy’s sake … jump off!”

Otto was looking around in some perplexity and a
great deal of consternation. She realized he was worried about
jumping off and doing himself some serious injury, and then she saw
him reach for the steering wheel.

She also saw that he was in trouble, for the thing
was headed for a massive tent.

“Yes … steer it off … hurry!” she said in
encouragement to him as he reached for the steering wheel of the
miserable vehicle. He would need to turn it away …

They had read that this ‘catch-me-who-can’ was a
model meant for display and that certain aspects of its design had
been left unfinished. Unfortunately, one of these unfinished items
was the steering wheel. It was not connected to anything in
particular, which Otto discovered when he took hold of it and it
came away nicely into his kid-gloved hands.

Babs gasped as her friend stood wheel in hand aboard
an engine that was tilted downhill and picking up speed. Otto shook
the wheel clutched in his hands, and his eyes grew wide because the
huge tent loomed brightly before him!

Babs was beside herself. What could she do?
Nothing—not one thing could she think of that would serve. And
still she ran alongside as best she could, her skirts held high in
her grip. Her surroundings vanished from her consciousness as she
concentrated on Otto and the runaway vehicle. She was fully intent
on staying with him and the horrible contraption.

And she ran straight into a rock-solid man.

She found herself in his arms, and the first thing
she saw was that he was a perfectly attractive male specimen.
However, as soon as that fact registered, she promptly dismissed it
in lieu of her problem.

“Steady!” he said.

She realized he held her still and that in spite of
the force of their meeting he had managed to take control and keep
them both from hitting the grass. The sound of his voice, deep and
masculine, seemed to tickle through her mind, and despite herself
she was momentarily diverted.

“Thank you,” she said, genuinely relieved that she
had not found herself on the ground. Then she saw that Otto had
taken on the huge tent with marvelously outrageous might. “Oh God,”
she exclaimed as she closed her eyes.

What followed next kept the crowd of spectators (of
which Babs guessed there had to be an enormous number) in
breathless awe. The tent of red, yellow, and blue released an
anguished groan as the steam engine plowed forcefully into the
tent’s central oak beam and came to a crashing halt.

Screaming hysterics were heard from within the tent,
taking on frightful proportions as merchants and their customers
began scrambling for the exit. With air-shattering might and in a
domino effect, the tent’s remaining beams began to fall erratically
to earth. Caught beneath the weight were silks, satins, pillows,
china, and various other sundries. Also caught as the heavy canvas
floated heavily down were the Count Otto Stauffenberg and one
outraged merchant. All others had escaped.

“People are fools!” the stranger at Babs’ side
exclaimed. “The situation calls for calm heads and clear thinking,
but they run around screaming in mob form!” At which point, Babs
nearly released a scream.

***

Charles, gazing at the spectacle, remarked, “I
say …”

“Otto!” Lady Babs cried in distress as she tugged
out of the duke’s hold. “He is still in there!”

Charles had seen at once that the young lady his
cousin had been holding in a firm grip was a friend. He exclaimed,
“
Certes
! Babs—Babs, what the devil have you been up to this
time, minx?”

“Oh thank goodness, it’s you … Chuck …”
Babs dove at him and clutched at Sir Charles’s gloved hand.
“
Otto is in there
. He might be hurt … and what do you
mean? I haven’t done a thing.”

Suddenly all attention was on the large gentleman
emerging from the fallen tent. Otto had found his way out of the
massive mess around him and stood brushing at his dust-covered
body. His clothes were askew, his top hat was missing, but he
appeared none the worse, though he still clutched the vehicle’s
steering wheel. He saw Babs and waved happily at her.

However, he was soon involved in a heated argument
with an irate merchant who had scrambled out of the fallen
tent.

Babs took in the scene and burst with relief into
unladylike laughter.

Charles joined her in this, shaking his head to
declare, “Of course, it would be Otto! How you two manage to kick
up a lark everywhere you go is quite beyond belief.”

“Oh ho!” returned Babs between gasps of laughing.
“Look who is talking!”

“Well, at least he isn’t hurt.” Charles grinned,
ignoring her remark.

“If you don’t count the fact that your Otto fellow
seems to be demented,” said the duke with a grin of his own.

This set Lady Babs off laughing again. When she
finally was able to catch her breath she said, “But it was an
accident after all …”

“They always seem to be accidents,” returned Sir
Charles, chuckling heartily as he watched Otto fend off the
merchant.

“Excuse me,” said the duke in a quiet yet strangely
compelling tone, “may I suggest that we escort the lady away
from …” He looked around at the beadles coming their way. “…
from all this?”

“Yes, thank you … but what of Otto?” Babs said
looking concerned..

“He will pay off the merchant and be done
shortly … but the duke is quite correct. We must get you out
of this immediately.” Charles offered her his bent arm, and
although she placed her gloved hand on it, she turned to look after
the count.

“But … he will wonder where I have gone off
to,” she objected.

“No, he has seen me and will know I have escorted
you away from the rabble just as I should. Come along, Babs. We’ll
see you home before someone recognizes you and your father gets
wind of this escapade,” Charles said with a rueful smile.

Babs looked from the duke to Charles as the duke
took control.

“Indeed … come along …” The duke then
parted a path through the rabble of people straining to have a look
at the fallen tent.

Thus it was that the Lord Wildfire had his first
introduction to the Lady Babs.

Four

GENTLY DEPOSITED WITHIN the confines of the
luxurious coach, Babs was able to take stock of her companions and
come to grips with her latest adventure—which her father would call
yet another scrape.

Thanks to Sir Charles and his companion, she thought
to herself, she had just avoided a bit of a scandal.

Her manner had always been open and forthright, and
so she appraised, admired, and twinkled as her lips formed a
heartfelt smile. Her first impression of Sir Charles’s friend was
that he was devilishly good looking. Her second glance told her
that he was more, so much more than just good looking. He was
probably the most attractive man she had ever seen!

His black hair that peeped beneath the confines of
his top hat seemed to sparkle with midnight stars, so rich was its
shine. His blue eyes were bright and full of laughter. He was tall,
so very tall, and his broad shoulders were certainly Corinthian in
style.

She became suddenly aware of her own appearance and
adjusted her bonnet, which had fallen off center, and patted her
own black curls into place. She saw that he was watching her, and
this made her blush.

“What a dreadful muddle. I can’t wonder what you
must think. Poor Otto, I mean, Count Stauffenberg …” She
frowned and clucked her tongue. “I feel a bit badly just running
off and leaving him in such a mess.”

And then Sir Charles, who had looked back to see
Otto flinging his arms about as the steering wheel was taken out of
his grip by one of the beadles, exclaimed, “Dash it! Better …”
His words trailed off as he rushed back into the crowd.

***

The duke listened to Babs explain how Otto came to
be on the runaway vehicle. As he watched the flitting expressions
cross her beautiful face, he found himself momentarily mesmerized.
It occurred to him that her skin was quite a lovely shade of cream
touched with a flush of peach, and that her dark eyes were
hypnotically alive, but what a little imp she certainly was! Most
maids of her set would have been swooning to find themselves in
such a tangle.

He was called Wildfire for many reasons, one of them
being the speed with which he went through the ladies …
leaving them long before any particular one became attached. His
conquests in the battlefield and the ballroom rivaled one another
to be sure, but as he watched the expressions flit across Lady
Babs’ face, he found himself intrigued.

“This Otto …” he inquired gently, “a relation,
no doubt?”

She giggled, and his eyes once again were drawn to
her rosy lips that he thought a perfect shape. He watched as she
composed herself and answered, “No, a friend—a very dear friend,”
and then quickly added, “Where is Sir Charles?”

The duke smiled to himself. Apparently she had been
flustered if she was only just noting that Charles was absent.

“He’ll be along any minute … I’m certain he
just wanted to be sure, your … er, friend managed.”

“Oh, Chuck is the best of good gentlemen,” she said
and then sighed with relief.

“Yes, he is, but what I am wondering is why you were
in the company of a man who does not seem to be a steady
individual. What friend would bring a lady to this sort of event
and embroil her in—”