The Bachelor

by Jeffries, Sabrina

  Thornstock frowned. “I assumed you’d be willing to stay at the Armitage town house with Mother and Gwyn. Knowing that you’re there to look after them will relieve me, and because Mother is also your aunt, that should make it perfectly respectable. And Sheridan will be there eventually.”

  “Why wouldn’t Major Wolfe stay with you?” Lady Gwyn asked.

  Was she blushing? Impossible. Unlike his own sister, Lady Gwyn never blushed. Still, her cheeks seemed scarlet just now, and the mere thought of her blushing sparked an unwise fire in his blood.

  The duke narrowed his gaze on her. “Because I don’t want him to, for one thing.”

  “Of course not.” She flashed her brother a calculating look. “How silly of me to think you might give up some of your bachelor habits for a month or two.”

  “How typical of you to assume that’s why,” he said lightly, though his eyes were ice. “The truth is, Wolfe can’t very well protect you if he’s living in another household.”

  “It would be best for me to reside with you and your mother, Lady Gwyn,” Joshua said. “Though I don’t know about the propriety of it.”

  “It’s not the propriety I care about,” Lady Gwyn bit out. “It’s the idea of having my every action scrutinized!”

  “I’ll do my best to give you your privacy at the town house,” Joshua said, “but when we’re in public, I should accompany you most plainly, so that Malet doesn’t even attempt an attack.”

  The woman seemed unsure how to answer that.

  “I agree with Wolfe,” Thornstock said. “Now, on to another matter, sir. Have you a weapon smaller than that flintlock pistol I see peeking from your greatcoat pocket?”

  “Actually, it’s a seven-barreled Nock pepperbox.”

  “Good God, I’ve never seen one, though I knew they existed.” Thornstock held out his hand. “May I look at it?”

  Joshua handed over his weapon. He was proud of it, having purchased it from a fellow marine officer when the man had retired.

  Thornstock looked it over with a clearly admiring gaze. “This is quite a pistol. No wonder you frightened Malet off. I take it you have to turn the barrels manually?”

  Joshua nodded.

  Thornstock handed the pistol back to Joshua. “Unfortunately, you can’t go hauling that about in society. The ladies will swoon to see a mammoth weapon like that.”

  Lady Gwyn snorted. “Men! We don’t swoon at everything.”

  “You don’t,” Thornstock said, “but even you must admit that you’re not the average lady.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. Shoving his pistol back into his greatcoat pocket, Joshua smiled thinly. “In any case, my Nock pepperbox should do for circumstances outside of society. Though it appears rather the worse for wear, it still fires effectively.”

  “What about a firearm for when you are within society?” the duke asked. “Don’t suggest a sword. You may not realize this, but these days officers at balls are not allowed to carry their swords beyond the cloakroom.”

  “I carry my own sword everywhere without being discovered.” Joshua pushed a button on his cane, and the handle slid out to reveal the blade inside it. “Since I always need my cane, I prefer that it serve a dual purpose.”

  Thornstock whistled low. “How clever is that? I’m impressed, Wolfe. You are prepared for every contingency.”

  “I’ve heard they make canes with small pistols in the handle as well. I hope to buy one in London.” Another good reason to accept Thornstock’s offer.

  “You could use my pistol for the time being. It’s one of a pair, so you and I could each carry one.” The duke picked up the pocket pistol he’d set down on the writing table moments before. “What it lacks in the quick firing of your pepperbox, it makes up for in ease of use. Although I don’t know if it could be hidden inside a dress uniform.”

  Joshua stared covetously at the firearm’s gold-chased barrel and intricately carved ivory stock. “Trust me, I could find a way to hide it.” Damned right he could, if only to get his hands on it. “Though it appears to be rather too valuable to use as a weapon, Your Grace.”

  “I did pay two-hundred pounds for it only last month.”

  Bloody hell, that was the equivalent of Joshua’s salary on the estate for five years.

  Thornstock held it out to him. “I assume I can trust you to keep it safe.”

  Joshua should refuse to accept the costly piece. God only knew what would happen if the damned thing proved more ornamental than useful. But he couldn’t resist its sheer beauty. “I will do my best to return it intact,” he said as he took it.

  Thornstock lifted a brow. “You can keep it as payment for guarding my sister . . . as long as you return her intact.”

  Joshua was still reeling at the incredibly generous offer when Lady Gwyn said loftily, “I am not a gun, Thorn. Nor do I belong to you, to be loaned out to the major on consignment.”

  “More’s the pity,” the duke grumbled. “He might actually be able to keep you in line.”

  Joshua wasn’t touching that statement for all the gold and ivory pistols in England.

  Lady Gwyn’s eyes flashed at her twin. “And you wonder why you have so much trouble with respectable women.”

  “I deal perfectly well with respectable married women,” Thornstock drawled. “It’s the unmarried ones trying to leg-shackle me who drive me mad.”

  “So, are we finished with this highly inappropriate discussion about how to manage me in London?” Lady Gwyn quipped.

  The duke smiled thinly. “I doubt many men could ‘manage’ you, Liebchen. I wouldn’t even attempt it.”

  “Good. Because if you did, I’d hand you your bollocks in a box.”

  Bloody hell, even Beatrice wasn’t that outspoken. Lady Gwyn had quite a mouth on her, one he wouldn’t mind explor—

  Don’t even think it, man. That’s asking for a world of trouble.

  “Only one more matter needs mentioning, Wolfe,” Thornstock said. “You mustn’t tell Mother why you’re traveling with us.”

  “Much as I hate to agree with my brother about anything, he’s right.” Lady Gwyn’s face looked shuttered. “It would alarm Mama to hear that my very . . . er . . . future could be in danger. And with her so fragile since our stepfather’s death . . .”

  Eyes narrowing, Joshua looked from one twin to the other, sure that they were hiding their reasons for keeping it from his aunt. But if they were, he couldn’t imagine why. “So what am I supposed to tell her?” he asked testily. “She’ll find it odd that I’m leaving my post on the estate for no reason.”

  “Tell her you wish to see Bea.” Lady Gwyn colored again. “I mean, Beatrice. Tell Mama that you wish to attend the ball where your sister is presented as Grey’s duchess.” She clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s perfect! Mama will be delighted by that.”

  “But Beatrice will find it suspicious,” Joshua grumbled. “She knows I am not one for crowds.” And she knew why, too.

  “Just let me handle your sister.” Lady Gwyn’s smile turned impudent. “I will describe how you’ve pined for her ever since she left, how you get terribly lonely over there at the dower house, and how you just had to see her in her shining moment.”

  Joshua eyed her askance. “Beatrice will laugh in your face if you spout any such fustian. She knows me better.”

  Although he had been lonely and he had missed her, he wasn’t about to admit that to her lofty ladyship. Or to Beatrice, for that matter.

  “Oh, very well,” Lady Gwyn teased. “I’ll have to work on making it sound more manly. God forbid a man should miss his sister.” Her smile vanished. “Right, Thorn?”

  Thornstock stared hard at her. “Watch it, you termagant. I don’t want to run Wolfe off before he even begins.”

  “And on that note,” Lady Gwyn said frostily, “I believe I shall leave. I have packing to do, and the major undoubtedly has matters to settle with the servants under him and with Sheridan.” She turned to Joshua. “Oh, and Major
Wolfe, if you don’t mind, I’d like a private word with you before you head back to the dower house.”

  With a tight nod, he followed her out into the hall.

  “This way,” she said. After peeking into the blue parlor, she led him inside and closed the door.

  That gave him pause. “I believe this is a bit more private than propriety would allow, your ladyship.”

  “Pishposh. This will only take a moment. But I don’t want my brother to interfere any more than he already has.” She lifted her pretty brow. “And by the way, when you say ‘your ladyship’ like that, it sounds awfully sarcastic.”

  “I’ll attempt to make it sound more respectful in future,” he said, though this time he’d been unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

  “That is not what I meant!” she protested. “You know perfectly well you are not a servant.”

  “I beg to differ. Your brother referred to me as a gamekeeper not once but twice.” When she winced, he softened his tone. “You may not think of me in that light, but Thornstock certainly does. With good reason. I do the work of a gamekeeper. And thanks to the agreement I just made, I will do the work of your bodyguard in London. So obviously I don’t mind being employed by your family.”

  What a bare-faced lie. He did mind. He wanted to do something of more worth than managing the kennel and wooded property of a ducal estate.

  “If you say so.” She sighed. “But that’s not what I wish to discuss. Once we reach London, I want you to teach me to shoot.”

  He muttered an oath under his breath. “Because your brother wisely refused to do so?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “He’s merely being his usual overprotective self. But you taught Beatrice, so I don’t see why you can’t teach me.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I taught Beatrice out of necessity, because she was occasionally alone in the dower house at night and I wanted her to be safe. Somehow I doubt that putting a loaded gun into your hand would keep anyone safe, even you.”

  “Then I have a surprise for you, Major,” she said with a toss of her head. “Unless you agree to teach me to shoot, I will walk back into the writing room and tell my brother that I prefer to have him accompany me about London after all. Because you are only of use to me if you do as I ask, at least in this instance.”

  Damn. She seemed determined to force the issue. He could wash his hands of her right now and refuse to do her bidding, in which case he would also lose the chance to go to London with Sheridan’s blessing.

  Or he could try another time-honored tactic: deflection. Hmm. That could work. A plan formed in his mind.

  He nodded as if to concede defeat. “Fine. Shooting lessons, it is.”

  Chapter Four

  The day after Easter, their party set out for London in Thorn’s comfortable traveling coach, with Gwyn and her mother on one side and Thorn and Major Wolfe on the other. Thorn was exerting himself for once, trying to entertain Mama by giving her riddles to solve.

  Gwyn was more interested in watching Major Wolfe.

  The truth was, Gwyn had been dreading her debut until Thorn had hired the major to accompany them. That day in the writing room, she’d poked the bear, and it had been so much fun that she could hardly wait to do it more. Whenever she teased the major, the cloud of gloom lifted from his brow and he turned sarcastic. It meant she was able to affect him more than he let on, which had quite surprised her.

  Today he’d managed to surprise her again. After all the talk about his lack of acceptable clothing, she’d expected him to wear his uniform at the very least. But although his travel attire was somewhat unfashionable—few gentlemen wore dove-gray greatcoats or smoky gray trousers these days—he looked so glorious in it that it hardly mattered.

  Even without a uniform, every inch of him shouted “officer,” from the ebony locks he kept tied in a queue to his gray kid gloves and black leather jackboots.

  And oh, how those boots made her salivate. It didn’t help that the toes of the boot on his right leg were, of necessity, nearly touching her skirts, because he seemed unable to bend that knee very well due to his injury. She wished she were daring enough to run the toe of her half-boot over the toe of his. Perhaps that would tempt him to stretch his feet beneath her skirts, at least enough so that they could touch boots more . . . er . . . intimately.

  Perhaps it would finally make him look at her. He’d kept his gaze trained out the window for an hour now, although she couldn’t figure out what he found so fascinating out there. With Easter having been early this year, the Season was early as well, so spring had not yet sprung. Some trees were budding, but the weather was so damp and cold, even in the carriage, that her wool cloak still didn’t keep her warm.

  She shivered, and her mother reached over to take her gloved hand. “Oh, dear,” Mama said, “your hands are like ice. We simply must buy you a thicker cloak in London. This one is fetching, I’ll grant you, but—”

  “My cloak is perfectly adequate for spring, Mama,” Gwyn said, not wanting to reinforce the major’s opinion that she was spoiled. “Besides, I’d never even had a chance to wear it when we went into mourning. I’m not going to pass up the chance now just because it’s a bit chilly today.”

  “Well, when we stop to change horses,” Mama said, “I’ll ask that they give us some heated bricks. I always find that warming one’s feet helps keep one warm all over.”

  “We don’t have time for heated bricks, Mother,” Thorn put in irritably. “We’re expected at the Golden Oak Inn in Cambridge at dusk, and I want to make good time. Besides, I’m not cold. Are you, Wolfe?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, not even turning his head from the window.

  “Well, of course Joshua is fine.” Her mother sniffed. “He’s probably been in all sorts of weather as a soldier.”

  “I dare say he has,” her brother remarked. “Weren’t you at the glorious Battle of the Nile, Wolfe?”

  At last he turned his gaze from the window. “Yes,” he said tersely. “And it was hardly glorious, trust me.”

  Thorn shifted on the seat to gaze more fully at the major. “The British won spectacularly, didn’t we? I’d say that’s glorious.”

  Major Wolfe grimaced. “We lost nearly two hundred men on our ship, many of them my fellow marines. So forgive me if my image of the battle is colored by the blood I saw running on the decks of the Majestic. At one point, the Majestic was between two of the French ships, which is how we lost our captain and two of our masts, not to mention how our hull became severely damaged. It did not feel very glorious at the time.”

  “All the same,” Thorn persisted, “Sheridan told me last night that you are quite the war hero. That you were promoted to captain on the strength of your performance in that battle alone. I had no idea.”

  Neither had Gwyn. How it must chafe the man to be brought so low as to be a gamekeeper. No wonder he was always grumbling.

  “Is that where you were wounded?” Gwyn asked, eager to hear anything he might say about his time in the Royal Marines.

  A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Given that the Battle of the Nile took place ten years ago, no. I haven’t been languishing in Sanforth as long as all that, your ladyship.”

  “Forgive me,” Gwyn muttered. “I don’t know that much about the war against France.”

  “Clearly,” Thorn drawled.

  “To be fair, I was living in Berlin at the time,” Gwyn shot back.

  “And we all know newspapers don’t exist in Berlin,” Thorn said caustically.

  Mama glared at them, then turned her attention to Major Wolfe. “You know, Joshua, you needn’t speak so formally with us. As my nephew, you’re family.”

  “Ah, yes, my good chap,” Thorn added, “I meant to mention that yesterday. You’ll stand out like a green lad in society if you keep using ‘your ladyship’ and ‘Your Grace’ and such. I know Gwyn and I aren’t actually related to you, but as Mother says, you’re part of the family,
especially now that your sister has married our half brother. Besides, you’re the grandson of a duke yourself. So stop with the honorifics, for God’s sake.”

  “I tried to tell him that two days ago,” Gwyn said, “but he wouldn’t listen.”

  The major lifted a brow. “Forgive me, Lady Gwyn, but it was hard to keep up with the many instructions—and requests—you were giving me.”

  He was veering dangerously close to mentioning her wish to be taught to shoot. Judging from the glint in his eyes, he knew it, too.

  “That’s Gwyn for you,” Thorn said. “Always instructing people.”

  “Me!” Gwyn said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You were the one going on and on about his clothing.”

  “Hush, both of you,” Mama said. “I don’t want to listen to this bickering all the way to the Golden Oak Inn.”

  Thorn rolled his eyes. “We’re not children anymore, Mother, and haven’t been in some years.”

  “You could have fooled me,” she said. “My nephew is the only one behaving with some decorum.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of behaving with decorum, Aunt,” the major said. “Not even my sister.”

  The mere mention of Mother’s favorite niece softened her. “I meant to tell you—it is such a sweet thing you are doing, attending Beatrice’s debut ball. Does she know you’re coming?”

  Major Wolfe slanted a querying look at Gwyn. When she gave a small shake of her head, he said, “It’s a surprise.”

  “That’s even better!” Mama exclaimed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see her face when you stroll into the town house.”

  “Then I shall attempt to stroll, if only to please you, Aunt,” he said without rancor, although he wouldn’t meet Gwyn’s gaze.

  The remark went right past Mama, as excited as she was at the prospect of surprising Beatrice, but Gwyn noted it at once. It made her heart hurt for him. How many times in a day did people speak such things heedlessly? How often did he have to pretend not to notice their slips?