Alexander’s heart gave a leap, though he fussed over her hand, bending to kiss it with flair. He caught a whiff of her scent then, roses mingled with the perfume of her own skin, and that sent an unwelcome stab of desire through him.

  There was a second girl, Miss Eurydice, who was younger, stockier, slightly darker in coloring and who eyed him with suspicion. Lady North Barrows then ushered her granddaughters into the tavern ahead of her, as if they were wayward chicks. Alexander watched them go, telling himself he should be pleased that the dowager viscountess was not intent upon flinging her eligible granddaughters at him, like every other ambitious mama in the ton, but in truth he was disappointed to have enjoyed their company for so short an interval.

  Even though it was undoubtedly for the best.

  To his surprise, Miss Goodenham turned to glance back at him, her remarkable eyes filled with appeal. “But Grandmaman,” she whispered, loudly enough for him to overhear. “Surely we cannot let His Grace eat luncheon alone. It would be unforgivable.”

  Lady North Barrows paused in the midst of giving instruction for their meal to her maid, which she wished to have served in a private room. She eyed him, her misgivings more than clear. “We would not wish to intrude on His Grace’s meal,” she said, her tone chiding, and Miss Goodenham appeared to be so disappointed that Alexander almost spoke out.

  Instead, he took out his snuffbox and fussed over a pinch, ensuring that he looked a perfect fool. The working men regarded him with disdain, but that was part of the plan. His disguise kept anyone from looking closer.

  No sooner had Alexander savored his snuff and stepped into the tavern, then Rupert appeared and bowed. “Your Grace, all has been made ready for your luncheon.”

  “Thank you, Haskell. Is there a fire? I cannot bear the cold in this place! And is the soup very hot?” He shuddered elaborately, then ran a finger across the top of a table. He eyed his glove with distaste. “I hope it is clean, Haskell.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Rupert bowed once more and smiled. “I have ensured that all will meet with your approval.”

  “And dessert?” Alexander whined. “I must have a choice of two desserts.”

  “There is only one pudding, Your Grace, but I will fetch some oranges from the carriage.”

  Alexander sighed. “I suppose that will suffice. One must endure so many hardships while travelling.” He waved to the ladies with his lace-trimmed handkerchief and followed Haskell, ensuring that his steps were mincing. He then held that handkerchief to his nose, as if the smell of the tavern was too much for him to endure, and heartily regretted losing sight of Miss Goodenham.

  He couldn’t help but overhear the discussion Lady North Barrows had with the proprietor.

  “I apologize, my lady, but there is only one private chamber,” that man informed her with a bow. Alexander paused to listen. “We seldom have such noble guests. If you would like to take your meal in the far corner, there, I will have that fire set...”

  “In the tavern?” the dowager protested. “It is unthinkable! Surely you have some chamber available.”

  “I am sorry, my lady, but...”

  Alexander cleared his throat. “How large is the chamber where I shall dine?” he asked Rupert.

  His man bit back a smile. “It is a fair size, Your Grace. I am certain you will have every comfort there.”

  “Is it of sufficient size that the ladies might join us?”

  Miss Goodenham turned to him, her eyes alight with pleasure and her lips parted. Zounds, but she was an alluring creature!

  Was she as conniving as that beauty, Lady Miranda Delaney, had been? Alexander wished very much to know, although already he doubted as much. There was something open about her expression, something that hinted at an honest heart.

  He couldn’t help but recall his sister’s list of attributes in a potential wife. A suitable woman, one who is honest and true, pretty enough to tempt you—and young.

  Miss Goodenham appeared to have every quality on that list.

  The seed seemed heavily in his pocket.

  “There is no need, Your Grace,” Lady North Barrows began to protest, for undoubtedly she did not wish to be in his debt.

  “There is every need when the comfort of three ladies is at stake,” Alexander said with a bow. “I insist that you accept my hospitality and dine with me this day. Our conversation will pass the time pleasantly until we continue on our separate ways.”

  “Oh, Grandmaman, what a wonderful invitation!” Miss Goodenham enthused. “Surely we cannot decline such generosity?”

  “Surely we cannot,” Lady North Barrows said grimly. She gave a stiff curtsey. “I thank you, Your Grace. Your kindness is most welcome.”

  “The pleasure will be all mine,” Alexander replied, then offered his arm to the elderly viscountess. Lady North Barrows hesitated only a moment before placing her hand upon his elbow. He was keenly aware of Miss Goodenham trailing behind him and could not quell his own sense of triumph.

  The room was of a goodly size, both comfortable and warm. The fire had been stoked up and the table had been set with hearty fare, both hot and cold. There was wine, because Alexander ordered it, and he fussed over the vintage as well as the cushion on his seat. Of course, the viscountess seated them in order of precedence and he was ridiculously pleased to have Miss Goodenham at his left hand.

  He wished with all his heart that he might not have been in disguise.

  Perhaps he might encounter her again, after this quest was completed, and appear to her as a reformed man.

  Perhaps he would ensure that eventuality.

  The meal was served and various pleasantries exchanged. Alexander ensured that he slurped his soup loudly and took great satisfaction in the way Lady North Barrows winced at the sound. The viscountess turned and began a conversation with Eurydice, enquiring after that girl’s choice of reading.

  Miss Goodenham, however, regarded Alexander with shining eyes, apparently oblivious to his bad manners. Was she stupid? He supposed it was possible, though it would be disappointing.

  “Your Grace, would you indulge me by telling me of Airdfinnan?” she asked.

  “Faith! Why? What would you know about it?”

  “What does it look like? Where is it? I have only been to Scotland once, and that was to visit Edinburgh. I did love that city and always wished to see more.”

  “Airdfinnan is in the Highlands,” he said. “Filthy weather there. Cold and snow and rain, then heat and sun and rain.” He shivered again. “I endeavor to be there as little as possible.” In truth, of course, Alexander would have been glad to retreat to Airdfinnan and never leave his estate again.

  Miss Goodenham was not daunted. “I love the rain in Scotland, and the lush green of the hills. I think it may be the most beautiful place in all the world.”

  Alexander spared her a glance, distrusting that they were in such agreement. “Have you seen much of the world?”

  She laughed, a delightful sound. “Almost none of it, but what I have seen of Scotland is so pretty that it seems unlikely any place could be finer.”

  “Filthy weather,” he repeated.

  “But you must have a fine house to provide shelter from the elements.”

  Did she mean to assess his wealth? Alexander saw no reason to hide the truth, for Lady North Barrows could tell her all she desired to know and more. “A castle,” he confided. “Built on an island in the river Finnan.”

  “How romantic!”

  “Damp,” he said flatly, then lied. “I am never warm when I am there.”

  “Perhaps you need a wife to keep you warm, Your Grace,” she said, blushing at her own daring comment. Her eyes danced though, as if she invited him to smile with her, and Alexander was sorely tempted to do just that.

  If not to kiss her. Her lips were enticing.

  “Daphne!” Lady North Barrows snapped. “Such impertinence is unnecessary.”

  “I meant only to make a jest. I do apologize, Your Grace, if you thought me rude.”

  “Of course not,” he said and was rewarded by her smile. “You cannot have had your first season yet.”

  “No, not yet!” Her eyes shone, reminding him of Anthea’s long-ago enthusiasm. “We are going from Castle Keyvnor to London to prepare for it.” She reached out and fleetingly touched his cuff. “Could you perhaps give me some advice as to the best shops and dressmakers, Your Grace? A man of your sartorial flair must know where the most talented needles are to be found.”

  Was she flirting with him? It was unthinkable. Eligible women, no matter how ardently their mothers cast them into his path, invariably fled from Alexander in this guise.

  “I know little of women’s clothing, to be sure,” he said, laughing loudly so that the food in his mouth was displayed.

  “But I love this color,” Daphne said, touching his cuff again and letting her fingers stray to the back of his hand. She flicked a glance at her grandmother who had not noticed her gesture and her eyes were filled with beguiling mischief when she met his gaze again. He did like a little audacity in a woman. “What would you call it, Your Grace?”

  “Abricot, of course,” he said, using the French pronunciation.

  “Abricot,” she echoed perfectly. “I think I shall have a dress made in this hue, with the green, too.”

  “Chartreuse,” he supplied.

  “That is what I thought it should be called!” she confessed with delight. “It reminds me of spring, which is a welcome thought at this dreary time of year.” She bit her lip. “I do not think I could carry the azure at the same time, though.”

  “Perhaps a Spencer?”

  “That is a wonderful notion!” Daphne cleared her throat. “That is, if you would not be insulted to be my inspiration, Your Grace.” She lifted her gaze to his, an invitation in those eyes that fairly stole his breath away.

  It had been a long time since a woman had given him such a welcoming look, and none had ever granted him one while he was in disguise.

  Alexander swallowed. “Of course not!” he cried, gesturing with his fork. “One must take inspiration where it can be found. I saw a gentleman in Town in these very colors and knew I had to have a suit of similar gaiety.”

  “In Town! Oh, I envy you such travels, Your Grace.”

  She would not be dissuaded. Alexander was in peril of being enchanted by this damsel. “It is the food that I love best there,” he confided, then patted his padded belly. “I could eat all the day long there, and invariably, I need to have my waistcoats let out after a sojourn in London.”

  She laughed lightly. “Perhaps I would have to loosen my stays.”

  Alexander nearly offered to help with that task, but he recalled himself. He giggled in a frivolous fashion. “Oh, I have to loosen mine!” he confided in a girlish voice.

  She faltered only briefly, then fixed her attention upon him again. “But you must find some appeal at Airdfinnan. Surely the hunting is excellent there.”

  “I am told that it is, and I suppose we do eat game there with some frequency.” Alexander made a moue of distaste. “But I could never hunt. To kill something? Never! The blood! The horror!” He waved his hands helplessly, then seized upon his fork and gobbled his roast duck and gravy.

  “I love to hunt,” Miss Goodenham admitted, much to his surprise. “I’ve only been once, though. My cousin, the viscount, invited us this autumn after he returned to North Barrows with his new wife. I found it thrilling.”

  ‘Thrilling’ was exactly how Alexander felt about the hunt.

  Indeed, the quest he undertook was a hunt and he savored every moment of it.

  His mouth went dry. It was easy to imagine riding to hunt at Airdfinnan with this alluring beauty by his side.

  “I suppose the weather was fine,” he said.

  She laughed and he’d never heard a more wondrous sound. “It was horrible, Your Grace! It rained and rained. We were filthy with muck, but my cousin took a deer. It was so exciting!” Her eyes shone at the memory, and Alexander found himself shifting on his chair.

  This was madness. He could not have any matter in common with this beautiful girl. He should not be tempted. He had no time for distraction.

  Not until this mission was completed and the villain brought to justice.

  Despite Anthea’s challenge.

  In the back of his mind, Alexander was already considering the merit of opening the London house early, and journeying there from Cornwall himself. If his mission was successful, he would have to return the gem to Cushing and make his report to the crown, after all. What harm would it be to take the delightful Miss Goodenham shopping?

  “Perhaps you are a better man than me, Miss Goodenham,” he said with a giggle.

  She smiled at him. “Perhaps opposites truly do attract, Your Grace.”

  Oh, she was bold, and he was charmed.

  “Dessert!” he cried, putting down his cup so sloppily that he might have been drunk. His wine spilled. Miss Goodenham had taken only the barest sip of her wine. Rupert filled his cup again, then brought him a pudding.

  “Is it apple?” Miss Goodenham asked. She watched as he tasted it.

  “I suppose it might be. It needs a rum sauce to be edible,” Alexander declared, although it was delicious, and Rupert left in pursuit of that very thing.

  “May I be so bold as to ask your destination, Your Grace?”

  “Cornwall. My doctor believes that the sea air will be restorative, though I will not bore you with a full list of my maladies...”

  “Cornwall!” Miss Goodenham said, interrupting him with delight. He nodded warily. “Well, that is where we are going,” she confessed. “To Castle Keyvnor. There will be a double wedding there on Christmas Eve. I think it is so romantic!”

  They had the same destination.

  Praise be that he had remained consistent with his disguise.

  And he would see her again. His heart lurched at the prospect.

  Miss Goodenham continued. “We were there at All Hallows, and now we return for the weddings. Where in Cornwall are you destined, Your Grace?”

  “My man has booked a room in some place called Bowkum...” He waved to the returning Haskell as if he’d forgotten their destination.

  “Bocka Morrow, Your Grace,” Haskell supplied. “The inn is called The Mermaid’s Kiss. It is most reputable.”

  Miss Goodenham was clearly pleased. “Bocka Morrow! Why, that is the village near Castle Keyvnor! Will we see you at the castle itself, Your Grace? We attend the weddings of the two daughters of the Earl of Banfield.”

  “Regrettably, I am not acquainted with the current earl.”

  “But you must come and walk with me,” she insisted, her hand stealing to his cuff again. “I should so like to see you again, Your Grace.”

  Their gazes met and clung, and Alexander’s heart clenched.

  “Daphne!” Lady North Barrows barked. “You have scarcely eaten a bite and we must carry on.” She inclined her head. “Although the duke has been most gracious in his hospitality, I am certain he desires a little time to himself. Regrettably, we have no leisure for dessert.”

  The pudding was set before him again, fairly submerged in a rum sauce, and Alexander hoped the ladies did leave him shortly. There was no way he could eat the entire massive serving, but his disguise meant that he would have to do as much if he were witnessed.

  “Regrettably,” Miss Goodenham echoed under her breath.

  “That is a shame,” Alexander said, rising to his feet. He acted as if he were unsteady and gripped the table, wondering if he could tip the entire thing without injuring any of the ladies. It was a sturdy table, unfortunately, for the feat would have made a fine display of his apparent shortcomings. The ladies rose and each came to express their thanks, as well as to say farewell, and he would not have been a man if Miss Goodenham’s sweet smile had not sent heat surging through him again.

  What would he give for a single kiss?

  He bowed and fussed, and they finally left, the beautiful Miss Goodenham last to depart.

  Alexander pushed away his dessert with impatience once they were gone, more than ready to have this final victory behind him. He found himself thinking about the allure of watching a lovely girl being introduced to the pleasures of London.

  The seed seemed to wriggle in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it, halfway thinking it had changed shape.

  As if it grew a root.

  He would put it in water when they reached The Mermaid’s Kiss. Alexander didn’t believe in it, but it couldn’t hurt.

  And when it came to Miss Goodenham, he was inclined to take a chance.

  “You are shameless,” Eurydice muttered beneath her breath.

  Daphne cast her sister a smile. “In the end, you will call me duchess.”

  “He’s awful!”

  “He’s sweet.”

  “He ate with his mouth open!”

  “He’s unaccustomed to the company of women.”

  Eurydice gave Daphne a skeptical glance. “I suppose you think you’ll be able to charm him into changing his ways.”

  “I don’t care if he changes actually.” Daphne paused and looked back at the tavern, hearing the truth in her own words. There was a face in one upper window, watching. She couldn’t make out the person’s features, but there was an unmistakable area of peach-toned fabric. She waved, a little surprised to realize how little the details mattered. She liked talking to him, and the rest was irrelevant. People changed over their lives after all, becoming thinner or heavier, balder or more grey. It was their essence that mattered most and she liked the duke. “He’ll suit me well, just as he is.”

  Eurydice climbed into the carriage, her disgust clear. “He hates the country.”

  “He hasn’t seen it at its best. The viscount never favored North Barrows until he took a wife.”

  “He drank too much.”

  “He did not. I watched. He gave the appearance of being besotted but he drank very little.” Daphne bit her lip. “I wonder why he would do that?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10