To Tame a Dangerous Lord

by Nicole Jordan

  “Indeed,” Rayne agreed dryly, amused in spite of himself.

  “She has volunteered to help you retrieve my letters.”

  “Is that so?”

  “She said you need a female to navigate the widow’s lair—and I agree.”

  Frowning, Rayne shook his head. “You’ll recall, she already offered her help this morning and I refused.”

  “Yes, but that was before she pointed out that being a woman has its benefits. She is more likely than you to get into Madame Sauville’s bedchamber undetected. You should let her help, Rayne. Besides, she could use the funds.”

  “Funds?”

  “I offered her a reward if she participates. As a gentleman, I cannot welsh now.”

  Rayne felt a decided twinge of exasperation. “I told you to let me deal with Mrs. Sauville, Freddie.”

  “I know, but I thought Miss Ellis raised a good point,” his cousin said stubbornly.

  “Even so, I don’t want to put her at risk if something goes wrong.”

  That argument at least made Freddie hesitate. “Well, perhaps you are right.”

  Rayne refrained from replying that of course he was right. Freddie was not entirely witless, merely thoughtless. He often failed to think things through, as opposed to Rayne, who had spent the past decade analyzing possible outcomes of various actions, usually regarding issues of life and death.

  Freddie gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose I let Miss Ellis sway me too readily, but she has an easy way about her…. When she talks to a chap, she sounds perfectly logical, as reasonable as any man.”

  “That she does,” Rayne agreed.

  “’Tis a pity you cannot choose her,” Freddie added almost to himself.

  “Choose her for what?”

  He angled his head, gazing at Rayne thoughtfully. “For your bride. Since you must marry, Miss Ellis might be a good choice for you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Rayne’s gaze sharpened on his cousin. “Are you foxed, Freddie?”

  “Not a bit of it. Miss Ellis is a comfortable sort, and courageous besides—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind. It was a damn fool notion.”

  Rayne had gone very still, hiding the range of emotions his relative’s offhand suggestion had stirred in him. The chief one was startlement, followed swiftly by intrigue. “No, I want to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

  Freddie’s expression turned sheepish. “You will only laugh.”

  “I assure you, I won’t.”

  “Well, in truth, Miss Ellis is much too plain to be your countess. On the other hand … her lack of looks could be an advantage. She will likely be grateful that you are willing to wed her and solve her financial difficulties. It isn’t as if she will have many offers at her age. Spinsters cannot be choosers, you know.”

  Rayne had no chance to respond since Freddie was evidently warming to his theme. “She likely won’t complain of neglect if you seek your pleasures outside the marriage bed. And with her womanly hips, she should be able to bear children easily and thus give you the heir you need to satisfy your grandmother.”

  Although Rayne disliked his cousin making such intimate observations about Madeline Ellis, he was definitely struck by the idea of wedding her.

  “Moreover,” Freddie was saying, “she doesn’t seem to be the romantic sort, so you needn’t worry about her going all daft with love for you.”

  That was a significant point in her favor, Rayne acknowledged silently, since he was determined that love would play no role in his marriage. He would allow himself no emotional ties with a wife—and wanted none from her either.

  “Where is Miss Ellis now?”

  Freddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you mean you might seriously consider my idea?”

  “I might. Where can I find her?”

  Freddie pointed toward the far end of the ballroom. “A moment ago she had secreted herself over there by those palms, but I don’t see her now.”

  Had she escaped the ballroom? Rayne wondered. If so, he would go in search of her. “A proposal is certainly worth contemplating, but I should first like to speak to her.”

  Rayne turned toward the row of palms, leaving Freddie to stare after him in incredulous wonder.

  His cousin had catalogued the advantages of wedding Madeline Ellis quite accurately, Rayne decided as he traversed the length and breadth of the ballroom in search of her. A marriage between them would achieve several goals: He would fulfill his duty to his title and his promise to his grandmother, in addition to satisfying the personal obligation he still felt toward Madeline’s late father for saving his life. As his countess, she would no longer have to scrabble for her living, or be vulnerable to lechers such as Baron Ackerby. And naturally, he would provide financial support for her younger brother.

  Of course, judging by his grandmother’s standards, Madeline was not the ideal wife for him. She would never move in elite circles the way Roslyn Loring could, for instance. Yet the qualities he sought in a wife were different from those his grandmother wished for him.

  Rayne agreed that Madeline’s plain appearance was not necessarily a drawback, since beauty was often accompanied by cruelty or vapidness. He prized intelligence and wit far more than appearance, attributes that Madeline had in abundance. And she was spirited enough to keep him challenged.

  That, perhaps, was the chief reason the idea was so amenable to him, Rayne realized. Because he’d been looking for a woman who challenged him. With her refreshingly frank manner and provocative wit, Madeline would keep him on his toes. He enjoyed sparring with her, despite her outsized pride and prickly independence—or even because of them.

  Another point in her favor was that he could be fairly honest with her, Rayne conceded, since she knew of his past occupation. He wouldn’t have to mince words around her, or pretend to be anything but what and who he was.

  Her genuine warmth attracted him as well, and he even liked that she was stubbornly self-sufficient. In short, he found Madeline Ellis more interesting and appealing than any of the other obsequious matrimonial candidates he’d been exposed to thus far, and he enjoyed her company significantly more. Moreover, the male fantasies he’d had about bedding her were certainly hotter than any he’d had for other prospective brides.

  The thought of taking Madeline to their nuptial bed stirred a distinct surge of pleasure in Rayne’s loins. He wanted to see her lovely eyes soft and hazy with passion. He had little doubt that she would welcome his love-making with an earthy ardor or that she would make a fiery lover once he taught her whatever skills she currently lacked.

  Yet their relationship would be purely physical, he would see to it. There was little danger of his falling in love with Madeline, since she was far from the alluring femme fatale who had once betrayed him.

  Betrayal had a way of making a man wary, while having his heart cut out had made Rayne determined to shun love. He was older and wiser now, though, and he was not about to suffer that pain again.

  In truth, he was glad that Madeline was no beauty, as Camille Juzet had been, since she was less likely to have another lover waiting in the wings.

  A decade ago, during his early career with British Intelligence, Rayne had fallen in love with an alluring French aristocrat who needed his fortune and associations to save her family from danger and bring them all safely from France to England. Camille had used his seduction for her own ends, and afterward, sorrowfully confessed that she was in love with another man, that she’d had no choice but to use Rayne to protect her family.

  He no longer felt much anger or bitterness at letting himself be duped like a callow youth, Rayne acknowledged. But he had no desire ever to repeat his folly or risk his heart again. Therefore, he hadn’t balked when his grandmother had pressed him to wed and sire an heir. He was perfectly willing to make a union of convenience with a genteel bride as long as he chose the lady he would be shackled to for life.

  But do you want to wear those shackles with Madeline
Ellis?

  Rayne tried to imagine himself wed to her, testing the idea in his mind like a tongue probing a sore tooth. She was certainly the best alternative thus far. And if he settled on her, he could immediately cease looking for a bride.

  But could you live with that irrevocable decision?

  Concluding that he could, Rayne left the ballroom, intent on finding Madeline Ellis and making her a proposal of marriage.

  Chapter Five

  I do not know what is more shocking, Maman. Haviland’s pursuit of me … or my yearning to surrender to his seduction.

  Madeline found refuge from her bout of melancholy in an unusual place: the children’s nursery.

  The largest room was obviously used for teaching, judging by the small desks and the smattering of books and primers for young readers on the shelves, while next door were bedchambers, including one for an adult—probably a nanny or governess or nursemaid. The rooms all were freshly renovated and one had a new wooden cradle, Madeline saw, recalling that Arabella had said she was expecting her first child next spring.

  Returning to the schoolroom, Madeline set her candle on a table and went to the window, cracking it open to let in a whiff of fresh air. The room was rather chilly but stuffy from disuse.

  Even so, this nursery brought back wistful memories of her own childhood when her mother was still alive. They’d had so many wonderful times together … Maman teaching her and Gerard to read and do sums and locate on the globe the latest countries where Papa was serving.

  Now, however, both her parents were gone, and her brother had married and moved on to a brand-new life without her. She had to make her own future now, all on her own.

  Sinking onto the cushioned window seat, Madeline gazed out at the moonlit night. The Thames was down there beyond the terraced gardens, she knew. The scents reminded her of home as well, since their farm was situated on the Chelmer River. However, she could hear faint strains of music from the musicians in the ballroom below, which was strikingly different from home.

  Attending the ball had been a mistake, Madeline reflected, since it had only made her feel dispirited. She was better off here, away from the gaiety below, where she could pretend to ignore the certainty that the prime of her life was passing her by. She would never be part of that glittering world—the Beau Monde with its beautiful, wealthy gentility.

  And in truth, she didn’t want to be. Nor did she want to envy the flirtatious young ladies in their fashionable, expensive gowns and stylish coiffures.

  And yet if she were one of their numbers, then Haviland might look at her in a different light. If she could afford flattering gowns to wear and a lady’s maid to dress her hair differently—

  Stop that at once, Madeline scolded herself angrily. She knew it was futile to let herself dwell on her straitened circumstances.

  Just as there was no point in longing for her own children to fill a nursery like this, since she would never marry without love, and finding a husband whom she loved and who loved her in return seemed highly unlikely at this juncture in her life.

  “I know, Maman, if wishes were horses, then beggars would have mounts to ride. And I can be perfectly content without a horse.”

  “So this is where you have hidden yourself.”

  Madeline started at the sound of Haviland’s deep male voice. Jumping to her feet, she whirled to face him and inhaled a quick breath at the sight.

  The schoolroom suddenly seemed much smaller with him in it, she thought, seeing his tall, muscular form in all its formal glory. He was carrying his own lamp, and in the golden glow, he looked stunningly handsome with his pristine white cravat that contrasted so starkly with his tanned features and raven hair.

  He glanced around, then fixed his blue gaze on her as he moved farther into the room. “Were you speaking to someone?”

  She flushed, not wanting to admit that she regularly conversed with her late mother. “I sometimes voice my thoughts aloud,” she murmured, compromising with a variation of the truth.

  He seemed to accept her explanation, or at least he didn’t press her further. After leaving his lamp on the same table as her candle, Haviland came to stand before her.

  Madeline suddenly felt breathless as she looked up at him.

  “You disappoint me, Miss Ellis. I specifically tasked you with rescuing me from a horde of grasping debutantes, but you abandoned me to their tender mercies.”

  His tone was light, even teasing, yet she couldn’t respond in kind. Her wits had gone begging with his close proximity.

  “You did not appear to be in need of rescue,” she finally managed.

  “But I was.” He inclined his head toward the school desks. “The nursery? You chose a curious place to hide.”

  His casual remark pricked her, possibly because he had hit so close to the mark. “I am not hiding.”

  “No? Then why are you here? Because you are not attired in the latest fashion?” His measuring gaze raked slowly down her lavender gown. “You look perfectly acceptable to me.”

  Madeline’s breath faltered altogether at his perusal, but she forced herself to reply. “I told you, I do not care much for balls.”

  “Nor do I. I dislike the trappings and pretensions of society in general. So much idle pleasure seems frivolous after decades of conflict across the Continent. It has always amazed me that the good denizens of the haute ton seemed insensible to the bloody carnage occurring just across the Channel.”

  Madeline felt a surge of sympathy at the reminder of how much war and death Haviland must have seen. “True. And I am accustomed to being occupied.”

  “So am I. But you are not a servant in this household, Miss Ellis. You are a guest, and as such you are entitled to enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “I know.”

  He offered no reply but continued regarding her in that searching way, as if he were seeking something in her expression.

  As time stretched between them, Madeline began to grow uncomfortable. She wondered how Haviland had managed to find her. But then she remembered; he was a master spy, after all.

  “Why are you here, my lord? You should be courting your future bride.”

  He hesitated, then gave a mock wince. “Must you remind me?”

  “You are the one who said you planned to use the evening to further your search.”

  “I thought I deserved a respite. But you disappeared before I could solicit your hand for a waltz.”

  That took her aback. “You wished to waltz with me?”

  “Why does that surprise you? You would make a far more interesting partner than any of the young ladies I danced with tonight.”

  Madeline stared at him warily. “I do not waltz, my lord.”

  His expression turned curious. “Why not?”

  “I never learned.”

  “Your education is sorely lacking then.”

  His observation struck a nerve. “No doubt, but just when would I have had the opportunity to learn to waltz?” she asked. “I have been employed as a companion since it was imported from the Continent two years ago, and in no position to engage a dancing master.”

  Realizing how peevish she sounded, Madeline softened her tone and managed a wry smile. “Besides, Lady Talwin considered the waltz a vulgar display of hedonism.”

  Haviland cocked his head, considering her. “You could always play whist. There are two card rooms set up for those who don’t care to dance.”

  She shook her head. “That would not be advisable. I am a sharp at whist.”

  His mouth curved in amusement, but his response seemed to question her claim. “Indeed?”

  “I am not boasting. Lady Talwin and I played many a hand for imaginary pennies, and she loathed it when I failed to give my all. If I were to play here, I would surely win, and I don’t wish to fleece Lady Danvers’s guests. That is no way to repay her kindness to me.”

  “I expect not,” he agreed, his lips twitching. “Very well, then. Since you cannot play cards, allow me to s
how you how to waltz.”

  “Here?” she asked, startled.

  “What better time? Listen. We even have music.”

  The lilting sounds of a waltz were indeed filtering through the partially open window, Madeline noted.

  “Come,” Haviland murmured. “Let me show you.”

  Her heart leapt as he took a step closer. When he reached for her gloved hands, she stiffened as if afraid of his touch.

  Yet she was not afraid of him precisely, Madeline vowed silently, allowing him to position her right hand on his shoulder and her left hand in his warm, larger one. She feared her response to him.

  She was unnerved by the powerful effect Haviland had on her. He merely touched her, and she lost the power to think. She could feel heat radiating off his body as he placed his left palm at her waist and drew her closer.

  Yet strangely, he made no move to teach her the proper dance steps. Instead, he simply held her in his light embrace, staring down at her.

  Madeline waited, frozen in place, her heart lurching in her chest. She felt as if she were drowning in the depths of his sapphire eyes. His sheer physical presence overwhelmed her senses, while his warmth enveloped her.

  Her gaze slid lower to his mouth, that firm, sensual mouth that had given her such pleasure last evening…. Heavens, was it only last evening that Haviland had kissed her at the inn?

  A fierce longing rose up in Madeline, a craving for him to repeat his stunning assault of her lips. The feeling was so intense, her fingers curled into his shoulder, gripping the superfine of his coat.

  “No,” she whispered in protest of her own need. “I cannot….”

  In a desperate effort to maintain control, she pulled back from his embrace. “I don’t care to learn the waltz or any other dance, my lord.”

  Her action thankfully made him release her, breaking the spell he had cast over her. But when she backed away from him, Madeline forgot that the window seat was directly behind her. As her skirts came up against the wooden panel, her knees literally gave out on her and she sank down onto the cushion.