It Started With a Whisper

by Dawn Brower

  Her smile lit up the room. “And just what sort of time would you like to spend with Miss Beckett?”

  “As much as she’ll grant me.” Reese shrugged slightly. “A ride in the park tomorrow, perhaps?”

  “Just a ride in the park?”

  “Well, to start with,” he said.

  “I’ll have to check her schedule, but I think that can be arranged.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” he replied, and meant every word. Then they continued the short distance to the nearby group. He briefly met Lucien’s and then Arch’s eye before focusing completely on Mellor. “Richard, it has been an age.”

  The girls in the group all turned at once to cast a variety of pitying and smug glances toward Miss Beckett, and Reese silently cursed that blasted gossip column anew. Any one of those girls might whisper the wrong thing to Miss Beckett at the first possible chance they got. So much for Reese’s idea of privately pulling Mellor away for a little chat. He couldn’t risk leaving Miss Beckett’s side for even a minute before the female half of London’s population would descend upon her to fill her ears with all sorts of poison...even, he supposed, if that particular poison was the truth.

  “Indeed it has.” Mellor gulped a bit nervously, drawing Reese’s attention back to him. No, the earl hadn’t forgotten the tidy little sum he still owed, but Mellor would get a reprieve for the moment as Reese wasn’t about to abandon Miss Beckett to the ladies of that group.

  Damn it all, but they were stuck there for the time being. He’d just brought Miss Beckett to the small group but a moment ago. He couldn’t steer her away yet, not without causing undue notice and most certainly her scrutiny in the process.

  So he gestured toward to Lucien and said, “Miss Beckett, I know you’re familiar with Captain Gates, but are you acquainted with everyone else?” But damn it all, the last thing he should do was introduce her to the harpies who were just waiting to destroy him. He had to come up with something…

  “No. I haven’t had the pleasure,” she began.

  “I thought it was supposed to be a proper girl,” Lady Judith Tilling muttered under her breath.

  Reese narrowed his eyes on the blonde who’d always seemed to think rather highly of herself without any real reason to do so.

  Beside him, Miss Beckett’s hold tightened on his arm at hearing the other girl’s comment, though her expression gave nothing away. “I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice clear and even. “Did you say something?”

  The pretentious blonde looked as though she’d swallowed a fly. “Certainly not to you,” she replied dismissively. Then she linked her arm with Miss Marsham’s beside her. “It seems Jane is summoning us.” Then she practically dragged her friend from the group and muttered, “Parvenu Irish trash,” under her breath. But they all heard her.

  Miss Beckett stood perfectly still, her smile never wavering even in the face of such viciousness. And Reese’s respect for her grew by leaps and bounds. Any of his sisters would have dissolved into a puddle of tears if they’d been treated so dismissively in pubic. Though just because Miss Beckett maintained her poise, there was no reason for her to continue doing so alone.

  “So I’ve got a drop of Irish blood,” Reese drawled, drawing attention away from Miss Beckett and onto himself, “but they never let me forget it.” Though he was fairly certain he didn’t even have as much as a drop. How much did Miss Beckett have? Not that he truly cared one way or another, but it must be a significant amount for Lady Judith to react so strongly.

  “Arch Atherton,” Reese’s friend introduced himself to Miss Beckett, the Irish slight seemingly forgotten. Then he gestured to the brunette beside him. “My sister Emma.”

  “A pleasure to meet both of you,” Miss Beckett said.

  “Atherton’s father is Viscount Hadleigh,” Reese told her. “A devout Tory who takes his position in parliament quite seriously.”

  Atherton snorted at that assessment. “Are you boring the poor girl to death with talk of politics, Darling?”

  “On my life, she enjoys it,” Reese replied with a laugh. “Miss Beckett may have the face of an angel, but she has the mind for politics.”

  “But does she have the feet for dancing?” Lord Daniel Westham appeared next to Atherton.

  Where the devil had he even come from? Unscrupulous blackguard. Was he seriously going to vie for Miss Beckett’s affections? That was hardly sporting of him, considering their wager.

  “I’m afraid I never dance with a fellow to whom I haven’t been introduced,” Miss Beckett replied and then cast Reese a little glance out of the corner of her eye, as she’d most certainly agreed to waltz with him under those very circumstances.

  Damn it all. He did like her.

  “I can certainly rectify that, Miss Beckett,” Westham began smoothly. “I’m Lord Daniel Westham.”

  The fellow with whom Reese had made that wager. Lord Daniel was handsome—tall, broad shouldered with golden hair and a very dark pair of blue eyes. But most importantly, he was the one man whom Cara needed to convince that she was falling in love with Reese. The wager, after all, was between the two of them. If anyone needed to be satisfied that the merits of the wager had been met, it was Lord Daniel.

  “And are you a skilled country dancer?” Cara asked as couples began lining up in the middle of the dance floor.

  A pleased grin spread across the blackguard’s face. “I am without equal,” he vowed.

  And just the slightest bit arrogant. Still, it was in Cara’s best interest to say yes. So she slid her hand from Reese’s arm and offered it to Lord Daniel instead. “Then I daresay I shouldn’t miss such an exhibit of skill.”

  Reese was annoyed; she could feel that emotion rolling off him in waves. But she didn’t dare look back at him as Lord Daniel directed her toward the middle of the dance floor.

  “What can you possibly see in Darling?” he asked, sounding rather confident in his abilities to woo her away from his friend.

  “He’s charming and rather handsome,” she returned quickly, and as Reese was both charming and handsome, it wasn’t even a lie.

  “Charming?” Lord Daniel echoed with a laugh. “I’d wager I could out charm him on his best day.”

  Oh, for pity’s sake. There were already too many wagers floating about. “Indeed?” Cara asked. “And how would that be measured?”

  “You would have to be the judge, Miss Beckett,” he said, bowing before her as the lines began to form.

  “I should hardly think I’d want to be involved in such a contest, my lord.” She curtseyed. “Besides, I should hate to encourage you.”

  Lord Daniel took her hand and spun her around before she changed partners and was spun around once again by some other fellow.

  When she faced him once more, Lord Daniel said, “I may already be encouraged.”

  She shook her head as he led her two steps to the right. “Then that is a pity.”

  “And why is that, Miss Beckett?”

  “I fear I am dangerously close to losing my heart to someone else, my lord,” she said as he spun her around again.

  His brow lifted slightly when she stopped before him. “Darling does work quickly, doesn’t he?”

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  He shook his head. “Most definitely not.”

  Neither did Cara. Only a ninny would believe in such a thing, but saying as much would hardly be helpful to her ruse. “Then perhaps you simply haven’t met the one for you, my lord.”

  “So you’re not the one for me?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as they took two steps to the left. “Certain about that, are you?”

  What a ridiculous conversation they were having. “I’m afraid not.”

  “But Darling is for you?”

  “I don’t know him well enough to say for certain.”

  “And what about love at first sight?”

  Oh, blast it. She should have just answered yes to his ridiculous question. “Why are you so c
urious about my feelings for Lord Darling?”

  They changed partners before Lord Daniel could answer that, but once they came back together he said, “Apologies for being so intrusive. Simply making conversation, Miss Beckett.”

  Of course, her pointed question led to an end to their conversation and they finished out the country dance without another word spoken between them. That suited Cara quite well, however, as she was rather certain that Lord Daniel did believe she was in the process of falling in love with Reese, which was exactly what she wanted him to believe.

  Lord Daniel directed her back to Reese’s group, and the two gentlemen eyed each other warily upon their return. Then Lord Daniel wished everyone well before making his way to the card room.

  Reese offered Cara his arm and said, “Miss Atherton was just telling us about the Hadleigh fair the day after tomorrow.”

  “The Hadleigh fair?” she echoed.

  Miss Atherton nodded. “Oh, you really must come, Miss Beckett. There’ll be musicians, exotic animals, and various performers. They’re my favorite three days of every year.”

  “Three days?” Cara asked.

  “We can take Atherton’s barge down the Thames to Hadleigh, if you’d like to attend,” Reese said.

  “And you are welcome to stay at The Park, for the duration,” Miss Atherton offered. “We still have some room left.”

  Leaving London so early in the season seemed a foolhardy thing to do. Cara couldn’t spend three days at the Hadleigh fair, wherever in the world that was, not when there were so many sitting parliamentary lords in London. “I’m not—”

  “A number of influential peers will be joining the revelry,” Reese added.

  She glanced back up at him to find a very meaningful expression in his eyes. The Hadleigh fair would expose her to men who could only help the Bermudian cause. If she wasn’t careful, she might very well fall in love with Reese, even knowing what he was about. He did seem to know the perfect path to her heart. However, she did know what he was about; but as long as he was willing to assist her…

  Cara turned back to Miss Atherton and said, “You’re certain you have room? I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

  The girl shook her head, sending her dark curls bouncing about her shoulders. “Mama will be quite thrilled, I’m certain.”

  Chapter 4

  DAY TWO

  Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Salon

  Bond Street, London

  Reese landed a right hook into the punchbag. “Exactly how Irish is she?” He glanced toward Lucien as his friend dropped onto a stool not too far away.

  The army captain heaved a sigh. “What does her lineage matter to your wager?”

  It didn’t matter at all, but curiosity about Cara Beckett had grabbed ahold of Reese ever since he’d met the girl the night before. “I imagine she’s quite Irish between your evasion now and that Tilling girl’s comment last night.” Reese landed another right hook.

  “Her mother was Irish. She comes from a long line of Irish dissidents who ended up getting themselves shipped off to Bermuda.” Lucien shook his head. “I told you she was far from nobility.”

  Indeed, he had, but his friend had failed to mention how engaging a conversationalist the girl could be. “And yet vastly more charming than any other debutante I’ve encountered this season.”

  “And exactly how many debutantes would that be?”

  Lucien had him there. Engaging in conversation with any sort of marriageable girl was a rather dangerous endeavor. Besides, Reese generally preferred his female companions to be slightly less proper than those innocent girls fresh from the schoolroom. And in all truthfulness, conversation was generally not what he was concerned about in regard to those less than proper companions. But Cara Beckett was different. Her Irish dissident blood aside, she was a proper girl, and one whom he thought he could converse with the entirety of a night and never know where the time went.

  …But speaking of time, he was going to be late.

  He righted the punch bag and then yanked off his gloves. “Anything else I should know about the lovely Miss Beckett before I head over to Hythe House?”

  Lucien snorted. “My grandmother will have you strung up by your bollocks if you break her heart, which I can’t imagine you won’t do if you continue on your present course, and that is the last thing she needs.”

  “I have no intention of breaking your grandmother’s heart,” Reese teased. “I’m not even going to Hythe House to visit Her Grace.”

  “You know what I mean,” Lucien grumbled. “And speaking as someone who has recently suffered a broken heart, I’m not at all comfortable with you toying with Miss Beckett’s affections.”

  “You said yourself that she’s in love with Bermuda,” Reese replied. “Besides, I’ve already persuaded Mellor to see things her way in parliament.”

  “And that makes things right in your mind, then? You aiding her cause gives you leave to take advantage of her?”

  Reese was hardly taking advantage of Cara Beckett.

  Damn Lucien Gates to the devil. Reese only found himself wound up in this ridiculous wager because of Lucien. The least his friend could do was not make him feel like the worst sort of blackguard because of it. “If you remember, all of this was to prove to you that any girl can fall desperately in love with a man. Just the right words here and there.”

  “What is the point of all of that?” Lucien asked. “Unless you have some magical words that will bring Anna back to me. I hardly—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Reese grumbled. “What could you possibly still want with a chit in possession of such fickle emotions? You are well rid of her.”

  His friend glared at him in response. “You’ve never been in love. You can’t possibly understand.”

  If being in love made one a fool, then Reese would be quite happy to never fall himself. God forbid he ever end up a shell of a man like Lucien Gates.

  Hythe House

  Curzon Street, Mayfair

  “I wouldn’t have thought of it myself, but the Hadleigh fair is an excellent idea,” the duchess assured Cara over breakfast.

  “Lord Darling made it seem that way,” Cara said, lifting a teacup to her lips. “But I’m not certain when I should trust him or when he’s simply focused on winning that wager.” She sipped from her cup as the duchess seemed deep in thought.

  Her Grace shook her head. “In this case, it seems the ideas are not mutually exclusive. I’m certain Darling is aiding you with one eye on his wager, but aid is still aid at the end of the day.”

  That was true, Cara supposed.

  “You did seem rather charmed by him last night,” the duchess continued.

  Cara’s belly twisted slightly at the truth of that. But instead of admitting as much to Her Grace, she shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Well, that was the plan, wasn’t it?”

  “Indeed, it was.” The older woman nodded in agreement. “Should Beckett Salt ever stumble in the future, my dear, you could have an entire career, treading the boards.”

  Cara would make a miserable actress. The truth of the matter was, she genuinely enjoyed spending time with the Earl of Darling. Unfortunately, Her Grace saw entirely too much, at least in regard to the rogue in question.

  “And lucky we are for it,” the duchess continued, seemingly unaware of Cara’s discomfort. “Lady Upwell was quite irritated last night. She accused me of duplicity in regard to our wager, but then she saw the expression on your face and her complaints died on her tongue.”

  A few hours later…

  There truly was something about Cara Beckett that had absolutely nothing to do with Reese’s wager. After being intrigued by her the night before, he was more than captivated once again when she met him in the Hythe’s front parlor that afternoon. She was stunning, of course, with her fiery hair, her intelligent eyes, and a very tempting bodice on her yellow gown; but it was more than that. There was something about her that sent his blood coursing through
his veins and a smile playing about his lips. If he’d ever felt that way before, he could not remember it.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” she said, stepping over the threshold while her enchanting voice drifted through the air.

  “Not at all,” Reese assured her as he pushed off the settee at her entrance. Then he started toward her. “Are you ready for our ride, Miss Beckett?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her smile lit up the parlor and some part of his heart right along with it. “I’ll just send for a maid, and—”

  “There’s no need for a chaperone,” he said.

  She laughed at what she must have thought was a ridiculous statement. “Some of us have a care for our reputations, Reese.”

  Hopefully she didn’t know much about his. Still, it was no matter. “There’s only room for two in my phaeton,” he said. “In fact, that is the most important reason to own such a conveyance.”

  “Is that true?” she laughed once more.

  “Well, it is now.” He grinned in response as he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  She took his arm and something Reese wasn’t familiar with washed over him. He shook the sensation away as he led her back into the corridor and toward the main entrance.

  The ducal butler opened the front door, and Miss Beckett stopped suddenly when she spotted his shiny, new high perch phaeton on the street before them. “That’s not yours?”

  Reese laughed. “Have you never seen one of these before?”

  “Only in London.” She shook her head. “Coaches in Bermuda are much more utilitarian in nature. I’ve never ridden in something like that.”

  “Well, then you are in for a treat.”

  She let him lead her down the front steps; and when she swallowed a bit nervously, Reese’s cock twitched in response.

  “How are you supposed to even climb up insi—”

  Reese placed his hands at her waist and lifted her up into his conveyance. “Like that.” He grinned up at her.