To Tame a Dangerous Lord

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To Tame a Dangerous Lord Page 5

by Nicole Jordan


  Immediately Madeline quelled the thought as a pang of conscience struck her.

  “I know, Maman. I should not be lamenting my lack of pretty clothes when some poor souls have only rags to wear.”

  She should not be thinking ill of Lord Haviland either, even if his domineering, take-charge manner was more than a little aggravating. And indeed, she was grateful for his generosity in rescuing her. She had needed his help last evening. And because of him, her prospects were looking up.

  The possibility of changing her occupation from companion to teacher at a young ladies’ academy held serious appeal. It would be pleasant to no longer be at the beck and call of a cantankerous elderly mistress, Madeline conceded.

  Still, it surprised her that Haviland had put off his own pressing affairs in order to escort her here. Based on her admittedly limited experience with noblemen, she had a rather low opinion of the breed. Quite often, members of the British aristocracy were indolent care-for-nothings.

  “But I confess I was impressed with Haviland, Maman. Compared to Lord Ackerby, he could not be more different.”

  Not only was Haviland more honorable, he had worked his entire life—at a dangerous occupation, no less—even though he certainly had not needed to, given his noble bloodlines and family’s wealth. And he hadn’t seemed to look down his nose at her for working, either. And while she didn’t want to feel obliged to him, it was imperative that she find employment soon so she needn’t rely on her brother to support her. Gerard should begin his married life unburdened by a spinster sister.

  Madeline felt a surge of affection at the thought of her younger brother. Marrying his sweetheart was Gerard’s best opportunity for happiness, and she wouldn’t deprive him of this chance. Her great hopes for him stemmed in part because she felt responsible for him. Growing up motherless—and for much of each year, fatherless—she and Gerard had only had each other.

  It was Madeline’s most profound regret that their mother had died so young. But their sadness had only been compounded because afterward, Papa had wrapped himself in his work out of grief.

  Their parents had been so deeply in love, and now Gerard was over the moon as well. Madeline couldn’t help but envy her brother a little. She had always wanted someone to love, a husband to cherish and grow old with, a tender lover who would give her the children she longed for.

  In her wildest dreams she’d envisioned being swept up into passion and romance. Yet she had never even had a beau. The trouble was, with her rather plain appearance and lack of dowry combined with the demands of her reclusive employer, she had failed to attract any eligible suitors—although infuriatingly enough, she had managed to rouse the unwanted attentions of her lecherous neighbor, Baron Ackerby.

  Even so, she yearned for love. Sometimes the feeling was so strong it was a physical ache.

  But there was no use dwelling on what she was missing in her life, Madeline sternly reminded herself as she pinned up her brown hair into a simple knot. Moreover, she had more important worries at the moment. The Danvers Hall butler and his housekeeper wife, Mrs. Simpkin, had been unfailingly kind, but Madeline felt exceedingly uncomfortable staying at a noble estate without the owners present.

  She intended to call upon Lord Haviland as soon as she finished dressing. Perhaps her trunk had arrived by now, and she needed a change of clothing more suitable to a teacher if she was to have an interview with Lady Danvers later today.

  “Otherwise she will think me an old crow, Maman, and I will need to impress her if I wish her to hire me for her academy.”

  Madeline frowned as she surveyed herself in the small oval mirror on the dressing table, aware that her desire to be more attractive was based in large part on another motive altogether.

  She wanted to impress Lord Haviland as well as Lady Danvers.

  Which was patently absurd. A man of his stamp could have no romantic interest in her—and she had no business fostering any romantic interest in him, for she would be doomed to disappointment.

  In truth, though, Haviland was someone she could easily come to love. His kindness, his sharp mind, his sense of humor, and even more, his sense of honor, stirred her admiration every bit as much as his devastating kisses had awed her. The thought of facing him again set butterflies leaping in her stomach.

  Madeline took a deep breath, striving for composure. Surely in the light of day the Earl of Haviland would not be as overwhelmingly captivating as she had found him last night.

  And even if he was, she should be better able to hold her own with him now that she’d had time to regain her emotional footing and recover her usual practical common sense.

  With that hopeful reflection, Madeline turned away from the mirror to go in search of Mr. and Mrs. Simpkin.

  “I still worry,” Freddie Lunsford complained as he piled his breakfast plate high from the sideboard, “that you underestimate the urgency of my quandary, Rayne. I have very little time left to thwart Mrs. Sauville and prevent her from revealing my transgressions to my father.”

  “I understand the urgency quite well,” Rayne replied absently, his attention more focused on perusing the morning papers.

  Freddie settled beside him at the breakfast table but did not appear convinced. “How can you possibly retrieve my letters in time?”

  Looking up, Rayne eyed his impatient cousin. Deciding he might better allay Freddie’s fears by sharing details of the plan that had started to take shape in his mind, Rayne folded his newspaper and set it aside. “I mean to gain access to the Widow Sauville’s London home by attending one of her famous soirées Tuesday evening.”

  “But Tuesday is four days from now.”

  “And her deadline is Wednesday. I promise you, the letters will be safely in your possession before then.”

  “How will you manage it?” Freddie asked, shoveling a forkful of soft-boiled egg into his mouth, followed by a bite of kipper. Evidently the threat of impending disaster had not impaired his appetite much.

  “You said Mrs. Sauville claimed to have your letters locked away in her jewel case.”

  “Yes, in her bedchamber.”

  “So I will see that she is occupied while I search her bedchamber for her jewel case.”

  Freddie frowned. “It will not be easy to simply waltz into her boudoir undetected and then waltz out again with my letters. Precisely how do you mean to do it?”

  “Why don’t you leave the particulars to me—”

  Rayne abruptly cut off his reply upon realizing that his majordomo, Bramsley, had appeared at the open door to the breakfast parlor. Directly behind the distinguished servant stood Miss Madeline Ellis.

  Rayne was immediately struck by his unexpected pleasure at seeing her again, although he managed to repress the sentiment. Wondering how much she had overheard, he rose politely in welcome as Bramsley announced her.

  Freddie leapt to his feet also and finished swallowing before blurting out, “Miss Ellis, what the devil are you doing here?”

  Rayne sent his relative a quelling glance. “Won’t you come in, Miss Ellis?”

  She hesitated on the threshold, evidently aware that the conversation had instantly stopped at her arrival.

  “Have you breakfasted yet?” Rayne asked.

  “No, not yet,” she replied. “I disliked putting the Danvers staff to the trouble of preparing a meal solely for me.”

  “Then will you join us?”

  Glancing between the two gentlemen, she nodded slowly. “Yes, thank you, Lord Haviland. I believe I will.”

  “Bramsley, please serve Miss Ellis,” Rayne said as he seated her on his left, across from Freddie, then resumed his place at the head of the table.

  Looking rueful, Freddie hurried to wipe his mouth with his napkin and sat down again, his fair complexion showing his embarrassment as he fell all over himself to apologize. “I sincerely beg your pardon, Miss Ellis. This is the second time I have chewed my feet upon meeting you. You must think me a clunch.”

  She
smiled gently. “A charming clunch, perhaps. But truthfully, Mr. Lunsford, it is refreshing to encounter a gentleman who doesn’t mince words. In fact, you remind me favorably of my younger brother, Gerard. He seems to have a taste for feet as well.”

  Freddie grinned and looked relieved. “Did you walk all this way from Danvers Hall?” he asked while the majordomo poured her coffee and brought various dishes from the sideboard for her to choose from.

  “It was not so far—barely a half mile. I enjoy walking, and the Danvers housekeeper advised me how to access the path between the two estates. The view of the river is lovely with the autumn colors beginning to show.”

  Then speaking directly to Rayne, she lowered her voice enough so that Bramsley could not overhear. “I have a serious bone to pick with you, my lord.”

  Rayne dismissed the majordomo as soon as her plate was served. Bramsley had been with him for many years and could be trusted implicitly, but there was no point in having an audience if Miss Ellis wanted to have it out with him.

  As Rayne expected, she waited until the servant was gone before taking him to task. “Mr. Lunsford seems to have developed a knack for apologizing. You could learn from him, my lord.”

  “Oh?” He observed her over his coffee cup. “Do I owe you an apology, Miss Ellis?”

  “You know you do—for abandoning me at Danvers Hall. Granted, you said your social manners are lacking, but even you should realize it is exceedingly gauche to impose on a hostess with no warning.”

  Her tone was light, her expression quite pleasant, yet Freddie Lunsford’s eyebrows shot up. He was not accustomed to seeing the Earl of Haviland subjected to a scolding.

  Nor was the earl himself.

  Rayne drank a swallow of coffee before replying in a casual drawl, “By now Lady Danvers likely knows to expect less than civilized behavior from me. You can always lay the blame at my door.”

  Miss Ellis had a ready reply. “But she will expect high standards from me if I am to teach at her academy. I will have to prove myself worthy from the very start. So you see why I would rather not be tarred by your same brush before I even meet her?”

  “Indeed, I do see. But will you give me no credit for attempting to protect your reputation?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Certainly I will. But for a brilliant spymaster, I expected better from you. You are clever enough to have thought your way out of my dilemma.”

  “In my own defense, I had to decide on the spur of the moment.”

  “A rather weak defense, is that not?” she replied, fixing him with her candid gaze. “I confess disappointment that you failed to live up to your vaunted reputation, Lord Haviland.”

  Rayne had to wonder if Miss Ellis was purposely baiting him. At least her bright eyes suggested she was enjoying putting him on the defensive.

  And she continued in that same light vein when she added, “I will contrive to forgive you, my lord. But naturally I could not remain at the Hall this morning. After Lady Danvers arrives home, I would be obliged if you would escort me there and perform the introductions. Until then, I mean to batten myself on you. You did make yourself responsible for me, after all.”

  Rayne inclined his head. “So I did,” he agreed with growing amusement. “You are welcome to take refuge here for as long as you like.”

  “Thank you.” Miss Ellis turned back to Freddie as she buttered a scone. “I believe it is I who owes you an apology this time, Mr. Lunsford. I did not mean to overset your plans last evening or to interrupt your conversation with Lord Haviland this morning. Please feel free to continue. I believe you were discussing searching for some letters in a particular lady’s boudoir?”

  Freddie nearly choked on his eggs, while Rayne had to bite back a laugh. He was certain now that Miss Ellis meant to be provoking, perhaps as retribution for abandoning her last night. And evidently she had overheard his plan to steal Freddie’s letters back and drawn her own conclusions.

  When Freddie gazed at her in dismay, Miss Ellis smiled in sympathy. “It was clear last evening that you are in a predicament, Mr. Lunsford.”

  “You could say so,” he replied morosely.

  “I assume this was an affair of the heart?”

  “Well … not precisely.”

  “Then what was it?”

  Rayne broke in before Freddie mired himself any deeper. “I suggest you stow it, old son. You always have been too loose-lipped for your own good.”

  Miss Ellis, however, ignored Rayne’s suggestion. “Certainly I don’t wish to pry, Mr. Lunsford, but is there any way I may help? I should like to repay Lord Haviland for arranging an employment interview for me, even if I cannot like his high-handed methods.”

  “Well,” Freddie answered, “the thing is … this particular female—I cannot call her a lady—is in possession of several letters I wrote to her some months ago. And my father will have my head on a platter if I don’t get them back. He would never understand how a chap can get seduced by a pretty face, particularly a pretty French face—the old cod’s head,” he muttered in addition.

  Miss Ellis sent Freddie a mock look of reproach. “‘Cod’s head’? Surely you do not mean to label your father that disrespectful way?”

  Freddie frowned, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, I say, you are not one of those managing females, are you, Miss Ellis?”

  A warm laugh bubbled past her throat. “My brother would say I am—chiefly because it fell to me to run our affairs for many years. If it is any consolation, I can sympathize with your plight, Mr. Lunsford. Gerard is always getting into such scrapes himself … and I have often been able to extricate him.”

  Freddie turned to Rayne. “By jove, I like her!”

  “I like you too, sir,” Miss Ellis said good-naturedly. “And I am eager to aid you any way I can.”

  His face lit up. “I am desperate enough to take any help I can get—”

  Rayne intervened again, not wanting to involve her in any shady dealings with a blackmailing French widow. “Your aid won’t be necessary, Miss Ellis.”

  His firm tone sent her eyebrow arching upward. “You mean to say that I should not put my nose where it does not belong?”

  Rayne’s mouth curved. “Your acumen is admirable.”

  “Very well, but if you change your mind….”

  He wouldn’t change his mind, Rayne knew, but he was struck by Madeline Ellis’s keen intelligence. Freddie had said very little last evening about his circumstances, but she had deduced his predicament with little effort. Some of Rayne’s best female agents had possessed her same alert powers of observation. And yet she seemed to be motivated by simple kindness with her offer of help.

  Freddie apparently thought she deserved a less harsh rebuff, however, for he hastened to add, “Thank you, Miss Ellis, but Haviland is no doubt correct. He can manage exceedingly well on his own. I have great faith in his abilities to save me from my folly. It is why I turned to him in the first place.”

  Her lively gaze shifted to survey Rayne. “Lord Haviland seems to make quite a habit of saving people. I suppose that explains why he was so determined to come to my aid last evening?”

  “Oh, yes,” Freddie answered. “He has been known to rescue any manner of waifs and strays. He cannot help being a hero.”

  “Is that so?” Her luminous gray eyes were dancing. “How fascinating.”

  It was clear to Rayne that Madeline and Freddie were finding pleasure in ribbing him.

  “Indeed,” Freddie continued. “I have always thought Rayne was born in the wrong century. He would have made an admirable knight at King Arthur’s Round Table.”

  “I can imagine him riding on a white charger,” she agreed.

  Rayne couldn’t dispute his cousin’s contention. From the time he was a small boy, he’d always been committed to righting wrongs, to defending the weak and vulnerable. He couldn’t bear to see injustice and do nothing about it. Doubtless that was what left him so restless now. He was searching for a new mission in life,
of course, but thus far he’d found nothing remotely satisfying to occupy his time or talents.

  “Yet his derring-do is not all pretense,” Freddie declared in an evident attempt at fairness. “He has risked his life countless times over.”

  Miss Ellis immediately sobered and shot Rayne a rueful look. “So I understand. I should not have made game of you, my lord.”

  He preferred her laughing at him than looking contrite. “I am hardly a saint.”

  “I never imagined you were. But still you are to be commended, not ridiculed.”

  “Pray, remember that the next time you want to take issue with my lack of manners. Now, eat your breakfast, Miss Ellis. Your eggs are growing cold.”

  His command was a deliberate provocation on his part, and he received the desired response. Her gray eyes sparked before glimmering with humor once more.

  “Yes, my lord,” she murmured meekly—and then surprisingly did as she was bid.

  Her submissiveness was an act that hid her true nature, Rayne knew as he applied himself to his own breakfast. Madeline Ellis was impertinent and tart-tongued and fearless when it came to knowing her place in the ton’s social order. And yet he had to admit her lively spirit appealed to him.

  Indeed, he found a number of things appealing about Madeline. Her eyes were even lovelier in the morning light, clear and deep and lustrous. And her mouth … Rayne found himself watching that sinful mouth as she bit down on a crumpet.

  He regretted having a taste of her last evening, though. If he didn’t know how pleasurable kissing her could be, he wouldn’t be having these unwanted carnal thoughts now.

  In truth, his lust surprised him. The glow of firelight was gone now, but he continued to have visions of bedding Madeline. For a moment Rayne’s gaze lowered to her full breasts. He could imagine stripping off that ugly black gown and wrapping her luscious body in something softer and more inviting, a rose-hue silk, perhaps. Or a deep lavender to bring out the depths of those remarkable eyes….

  Rayne felt his loins stir with a renewed ache. He would have to keep severe control of himself and his body’s forbidden urges in the future.

 

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