Reckless

by Shannon Drake

  “Lost?”

  She shrugged. “As I said, maps and itineraries, also calculations. Nothing truly valuable has disappeared. Don’t look so fierce. There haven’t been any break-ins, nothing so dire. Still, it’s good to know that someone as clever as Kat, as quick to capture images and learn their meanings, will be with us. How did you manage to secure her services as an assistant?”

  Hunter hesitated, then said, “To be honest, she is so ridiculously enamored with David Turnberry and the world he lives in I thought that if she spent time with him and his peers, she would see how shallow and unworthy he and his world are. I knew she was entranced by the idea of our voyage to Cairo, so I arranged with Lord Avery, who believes she must somehow be rewarded, that she accompany us.”

  “So you intend to work her to pieces.”

  “She wishes to come. That is what we do.”

  “Ah! But you wish to work her—or punish her?” Camille asked softly.

  “Punish her! Camille, whatever for? She showed extraordinary courage.”

  “Or, as you said, foolishness.”

  He waved a hand in the air, frowning, concerned. “At this point, that particular question is moot. She did dive in and she did save the poor fool’s life. He is the dearly beloved son of Turnberry, and Avery and Turnberry are the best of friends. So. She sits on a pedestal. Sadly, without a rich inheritance, one cannot live upon a pedestal. Her father will accept no charity.”

  “But as we both know, her father could become a wealthy man.”

  “True enough.”

  “Money can be acquired many ways—heavens, far too often, people are born with it. But talent, now, talent cannot be bought.”

  “She is very talented herself,” Hunter said.

  “And you are a benefactor of the arts!” Camille teased.

  “What are you trying to say, dear Camille?” he inquired.

  “I’ve never seen you act so strangely, that is all,” she said innocently.

  “I am not behaving strangely.”

  “But you are. And you must be careful.”

  “Oh?”

  “Good heavens, Hunter, why don’t you simply express your feelings and your intentions, and court the girl?”

  “What?”

  “No, she isn’t Lady-so-and-so, nor is she a rich widow…a gay divorcée…but, quite seriously, Hunter, as one who knows and loves you dearly, I do feel inclined to pry. And advise.”

  “Camille, I don’t need advice.”

  She laughed. “Personally, I believe she’s perfect for you.”

  “You were perfect for me. You do recall that I once asked you to marry me,” he reminded her.

  “But you didn’t really love me, Hunter. It was simply the proper gesture. Now, with this girl…”

  “Camille, I am just trying to look out for her.”

  “You? That’s rich!”

  “Yes, well, thank you.”

  “Oh, Hunter! Believe me, I know that you are far more ethical than you will ever admit. After all, you were willing to marry me because you thought that I was in trouble, in over my head.”

  “Camille, you are a gorgeous woman.”

  “Ah, and you are a flatterer! As I said, you cared about me, but you were never in love with me,” she said.

  “I’m not in love with the girl. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Fine. As you wish. So, where is the lovely girl today?” Camille asked.

  “Home, I believe. We had a riding lesson. She is unfamiliar with horses, and she will have to be comfortable riding in the desert. Sadly, I’m afraid she must be in some pain.”

  “In pain?” Brian Stirling, the Earl of Carlyle, asked, walking into the office. “Hardly. Your lass is at the Tarlington Club with David Turnberry. I noticed their table as I was leaving.” He grinned, moving behind his wife’s chair, looking at Hunter. “I believe she is causing a few whispers, since she is quite a glorious young woman. And hardly unnoticeable, with that brilliant hair. I do believe a few heads are turning. And with her father’s growing reputation, she’ll soon be the toast of the town. Ah, yes! Tongues will wag.”

  Hunter stared at Brian, startled. She’s with David Turnberry, the object of her obsession. And yes, she’s beautiful, and she will indeed be drawing attention, he thought.

  What are David’s intentions?

  “So,” Brian continued, “shall we go over the lists?”

  Hunter barely heard him as he strode for the door.

  “Hunter!” Brian called. “Where are you going?”

  “I believe he’s heading out for tea, dear,” Camille said.

  Hunter barely heard either of them.

  David Turnberry would never turn away from a marriage to Lady Margaret. But he is young.

  And he is tempted.

  And good God, the silly little mermaid will never be able to resist him.

  Chapter 7

  KAT CARED NOT THAT WHISPERS flew around them.

  The Tarlington Club was exquisite. Great sheets of stained glass covered the windows, blocking the view of the inner sanctum from the streets of London beyond. Only the most elite of London’s society strode through the doors—the cost of membership was very high.

  Chairs were of the finest leather. The scent of tobacco smoke was everywhere, even in the tea room, slipping in from the bar beyond the elegant tables. The silver was polished and gleaming, and the teacups were the most delicate. And those sitting at the tables munching on tiny, elegant sandwiches were dressed in the latest fashions.

  Kat was barely aware of the stylish extravagance around her, so focused was she on the young man before her. She was laughing. Now and then, because they were at tea, she would nibble on a sandwich. Mostly, however, she just watched David, listened to his stories about life at school. Listened to tales about his friends, including Alfred Daws, Allan Beckensdale and Robert Stewart.

  She had seldom felt so intimate with another human being, and her heart was racing. She felt beautiful, truly beautiful. She knew that she had drawn the appreciative stares of many a man in the room. And she knew that David was proud to be in her company. It was exhilarating. She might have been soaring in the clouds. The way that he looked at her—

  “Ah, David! And this must be the incredible Miss Adair!”

  Kat looked up to see a tall, striking young man standing by their table. He had dark eyes, his light hair an arresting contrast. His build was lean and wiry.

  There was something familiar about him.

  “Why, Alfred!” David stood and extended his hand. As they shook, the fellow looked at her with keen interest.

  “Sorry,” David said. “Miss Adair, Lord Alfred Daws. Alfred, Miss Katherine Adair.”

  Alfred Daws took her hand, met her gaze, then made an elaborate show of planting a light kiss on her flesh. “How do you do? This is a pleasure I hadn’t begun to imagine for the afternoon.” His smile did not reach his eyes. “I understand that you are acquainted with my father’s widow.”

  Kat realized then why he looked familiar—she had seen his picture in the social pages of the newspaper. And it was evident that he didn’t care for Isabella Daws. She noticed that he didn’t refer to her as his stepmother, but rather as his father’s widow. She also recalled Eliza’s telling her that they didn’t get along.

  “How do you do,” she murmured. “And, yes, I am acquainted with…your father’s widow,” she said, answering in kind.

  His smile warmed. “May I?” he asked David, indicating one of the other chairs at the table.

  “I suppose,” David replied less than graciously.

  But Alfred Daws ignored the hint. He sat, his eyes on Kat. “How very strange, Miss Adair, that you should be the one to fish old David from the sea. You leave us all humbled! We were running about, thinking to get the small boat and search…but you! You dived straight in. Then to discover that your father is the mysterious artist whose magnificent pieces good old Isabella has been flogging…well, ’tis extraordinary!”
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  “It’s a small world,” David murmured.

  “Apparently,” Kat said. It had never seemed so before!

  “Will you have tea, Alfred?” David asked.

  Alfred waved a hand in the air. “Tea? I’d say it’s time for sherry. Or champagne. David, where are you manners? We must have champagne to salute this heroine.”

  “No, no, please…” Kat protested.

  “Kat is made quite uncomfortable by too much ado,” David said.

  “Then you must join David and me for champagne simply to be social,” Alfred said. His gaze swung to David. “We’re school chums, you know, and I’m afraid that we’re students who sometimes distress our professors. Living a bit on the wild side. Yet I hardly think it would be out of line to order champagne now?”

  Their waiter, seeing the young swain who had joined the table, moved closer. Alfred looked at him. “Why, it’s Humphrey!” he said.

  “Lord Daws,” Humphrey acknowledged.

  “Champagne, I think. Something very fine for Miss Adair.”

  “As you wish.”

  “So, tell me, how well do you know Isabella?” he demanded.

  Kat shrugged. Well enough to know that she is a witch! she longed to say. But despite her loathing for the woman, she was uneasy. She didn’t know this man.

  And sadly, he had interrupted the incredible magic of this precious time she’d had with David!

  “As you said, she is acquainted with my father,” Kat allowed.

  “Egad, but that is kind!” Alfred said with a derisive laugh.

  “Alfred!” David warned. “Your title does not make up for your lack of manners!”

  But Alfred was undaunted. His smiled deepened. “Miss Adair is not some aging battle-ax!” he protested. “And she knows my dear old stepmum! And ah, here’s the champagne.”

  Humphrey had uncorked the bubbly brew. Alfred took a taste and nodded. “Delicious. Dry, smooth, lovely. Please, Humphrey, do pour.”

  Humphrey handed Kat a delicate flute and she thanked him. She sipped it, thinking it rather awful herself. But then, she’d never had champagne before.

  “To you, Miss Adair!” Alfred said.

  She lowered her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “So! You are to accompany us to the desert,” Alfred said.

  “Yes, I will be working for Sir Hunter.”

  “Ah, the dear girl has been sold into slavery!” Alfred said, chuckling.

  “We’re all sold into slavery for the expedition,” David said.

  “True enough.” Alfred swallowed down his glass. “Drink up, my friends. May I call you my friend, Miss Adair?”

  “Certainly,” she murmured.

  “How is it that you’ve escaped this afternoon?” Alfred demanded.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied.

  He tapped her glass again. “Drink up, Miss Adair.” He leaned closer. “I dare say, you might as well! Every nasty matron in the town is watching this table.”

  “They’re wondering that I am here,” Kat said simply.

  “Ah! Indeed, they’re gossiping disgracefully, and why? The daughter of the artist is far more beautiful than their debutante daughters! Well, we should let them envy you, and talk their evil little hearts out!”

  He was outrageous, but Kat liked him.

  And she was probably able to excuse his devil-may-care attitude because they certainly did have one thing in common—an acute dislike for Isabella Daws!

  She swallowed more champagne, realizing that the more she drank, the better it tasted. It also made her feel very light-headed.

  “I am embarrassing you. I’m sorry,” Alfred said.

  “I’m fine,” she murmured.

  “I’m not!” David said irritably. “Alfred, you’ve got the entire place looking at us!”

  “You honestly think that they weren’t looking before?” Alfred demanded, refilling their glasses from the bottle that rested in ice at a stand by the table.

  “You should lower your voice,” David pleaded.

  “Are you afraid that your presence will be noted?” Alfred demanded, winking at Kat.

  “Heavens, no!” David snapped back. But something in his voice suggested that he might have grown uneasy.

  “We could leave,” Alfred said.

  “Yes, I should go home,” Kat said, heartily sorry.

  “I didn’t say that you should go home. In fact, you shouldn’t go home. But we should leave. We must finish up this champagne—it’s frightfully expensive and not to be wasted—and leave, letting all their tongues wag!”

  David swallowed down his champagne and glanced at Kat. She did the same. David appeared anxious now to leave, and she wanted to make him happy.

  “Humphrey, please add all this to my bill,” Alfred called cheerfully, then he rose, pulling out Kat’s chair so that she could rise, as well.

  She did so.

  The world wobbled slightly, but she quickly gained her balance. She felt like smiling. Yes, there were people in the room frowning at them. She didn’t care. Lord Daws had a prestigious title. And he didn’t care about the silly scowls of the matrons he called battle-axes! And David…

  David had her arm. He was touching her. And he seemed to be aware that being on her feet was a bit difficult for her.

  He led her from the tea room. Out front on the sidewalk, in the growing darkness, he looked around, then turned to Alfred.

  “My carriage is gone.”

  “Of course, I sent it away. We’ll travel in mine.”

  Despite the slightly askew world around her, Kat knew that the hour was getting late. “I do need to get home,” she said softly.

  “Of course,” David replied gently.

  She could not have drunk so much of the champagne! But when the second man came to her other side and offered a supporting arm, it seemed quite natural. And moments later, barely aware of exactly how she had gotten there, she found herself in an elegant carriage. Now she did smile.

  For David was sitting next to her, a dream come true. In fact life was a dream now, as sweet as anyone could hope. Except, of course, when she was with Hunter. But Hunter wasn’t around right now, and both young men were so handsome and attentive.

  “Miss Adair, forgive me for staring,” Alfred said. “But you are truly and exquisitely beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, her face heating. She felt David move closer to her. A protective gesture, she thought, warmed.

  “And you will accompany us to Egypt! It is a marvel,” Alfred continued.

  “Alfred,” David said a little sharply.

  Alfred gave him a strange look. He lifted his hands. “David, dear friend…I am on your side, you know.”

  Kat glanced out the window. “Pardon me, but I believe that we should have taken that turn.”

  Alfred leaned forward. “We can turn around immediately, of course. But I thought that perhaps I might show you some of the Egyptian treasures in my apartment in Kew Gardens.”

  “I’m afraid that I really need to go home. If my father has returned, he will be worried,” Kat said.

  “I believe,” David said, sounding slightly uneasy, “that your father will be occupied until late.”

  “Oh?” Kat said, startled.

  “Oh, yes, he’s with Lord Avery and my father’s widow,” Alfred said. He stared at her. “Lord Avery, did you know, has commissioned him to do a painting of Lady Margaret. He was most impressed by those portraits William has done of you and your sister.”

  “Ah. But I really must go home.”

  “Please, Kat,” David said at her side. “We might have a few minutes away from the stares of others if we take a trip to Alfred’s lodgings. And it’s also true that Alfred has been on expedition before and can show you more of what to expect. Perhaps a brief exploration of his maps, books and study will help you.”

  “I’ve worked with Sir Hunter,” Alfred explained. “And he is indeed a slave driver!”


  “Well… You’re certain my father will be some time?” she asked worriedly.

  “Quite certain.” Her hand lay on her lap, and now David’s covered it. It suddenly occurred to her that the encounter with Alfred had been planned. David had only pretended to resent Alfred’s intrusion at the club. He had no lodgings of his own here in London; he was staying with Lord Avery. But Alfred Daws had his own apartments. A place for them…

  It was wrong. She was taking a terrible chance.

  But she couldn’t resist. She needed to make David fall in love with her. So in love that he would forget Lady Margaret. Before it was too late. Before their engagement was official.

  “I would cherish any bit of time with you,” David said, looking at her.

  She sat up straighter and stared at Alfred across the carriage. “I cannot stay long. But since we are headed toward your residence, I suppose it would do no harm to spend a few moments there.”

  “Splendid!” Alfred said. Then his eyes fell on David, and she felt a slight ripple of unease. David squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  She glanced out the window again. They had come down an elegant street, and the carriage was turning into an entrance heavily guarded by foliage, bushes that rose high on either side of the drive. They reached an arbor covered thickly with vines, and there they stopped. Alfred exited first, and David helped Kat from the carriage.

  A few steps took them to the house, where Alfred used a key to open the door. The entry brought them into an elegant entryway, where Alfred offered to take Kat’s jacket.

  “I cannot stay long, thank you. I will keep it.”

  “Well, then, come into the parlor,” Alfred invited, and with David’s hand at the small of her back she followed him down a hallway. By the time they reached the parlor, she thought that Isabella must have been angry indeed that all this wealth had gone to Alfred and not herself. Every stick of furniture gleamed, the lamps were elegantly shaded, fine artwork graced the walls. Alfred hadn’t lied about his Egyptian treasures, either, for across the room, artistically placed by the side of a sofa, was an inner sarcophagus. It was elaborately painted, and thanks to her hours at the museum, she could read some of what was written on it.