Seduction Wears Sapphires

by Renee Bernard

  After all, her own great-uncle had been convinced that her father was some sort of artistic radical because he’d preferred to pursue architecture and philosophy over banking and politics.

  But seconds in Ashe’s presence had erased her doubts and only reinforced how potent and impossible he could be. This was no errant schoolboy. This was a dangerous predator, self-assured and genuinely skilled in the hunt, and she’d agreed to try to hold his tail!

  All her pride in being an example of feminine sensibility, independence, and scholarly achievement had evaporated in a flush of appreciation of male beauty, and in the next breath, pride alone had allowed her to hold her ground as if his disdain meant nothing.

  Months ago, she’d readily accepted his grandfather’s invitation to come to his family’s aid and enjoy a visit to London. But she had never told another living soul the true reason for her agreement. In exchange for her discretion, Mr. Blackwell had offered a generous reward of twenty thousand British pounds. It was a staggering amount that had banished every argument she could construct against the unorthodox arrangement. Not that she’d confessed anything at all to her Aunt Emilia! As far as her aunt knew, she was merely away visiting her grandfather’s business partner who had offered her a tour of London society.

  For years, she’d relied on the charity of her family, charity they’d begrudgingly given after her parents’ deaths. Her dear grandfather would never have believed that his own brother would have been so cruel, but after he’d passed, her great-uncle’s disapproval of her father had been a weapon that had banished them from good society until it was too late. And when her great-uncle had finally died, it was his eldest daughter, Emilia, who had taken her in. But Aunt Emilia’s charity did not extend so far as depriving her own children of a single penny of their inheritance by undoing her father’s wrongs. Instead, Caroline’s education had been provided for only because it was understood that she would have to make her own way in the world, without benefit of fortune or husband.

  Her education had proved to be her salvation, and Caroline had no regrets. Instead, she’d marveled at the freedom it had afforded her and had grown more and more convinced that other young women could benefit by a similar chance. She’d been frustrated at the limitations on higher education because of her sex, and inspired to change things if she could.

  The compensation that Mr. Blackwell had promised was more than enough to found the school of her dreams and create a foundation for everything she’d hoped to achieve. She’d come to England absorbed with visions of a small college where young women could achieve an equal education to their male counterparts and begin to defy the conventions that held them back.

  She’d never even thought of her charge, somehow imagining him in terms of a troublesome adolescent or just a lackluster man in need of a woman’s advice and subtle guidance. His grandfather had said in his letters and repeatedly after she’d arrived that all his grandson needed was the presence of a steadier character to improve himself. And when she’d questioned why a man wouldn’t serve better in the capacity, the elder Mr. Blackwell’s answer had flattered her into agreement. “Men are too easily corrupted, and if not corruptible, then it would simply become a manly competition that Ashe’s pride would never let him lose. He would misbehave on purpose to put the other gentleman in his place. But a woman evokes more courtesy and respect, and I am convinced that he will demonstrate the discipline he needs.”

  Twenty thousand pounds if I succeed in chaperoning a grown man through a winter social Season without scandal, but what cost if I fail? This will be like a blind woman herding a mouse through a cheese factory!

  Caroline reached her room and closed the door firmly behind her. It was a temporary sanctuary at best. In the morning, the carriage would be waiting to take them to London, and there would be no going back.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror across the room, and the storm of her thought slowed for a moment. Drab . . . how can one word from his lips rob me of so much? I’d managed twenty-four years of my life without a care when it came to appearances. I took pride in my indifference to fashion and nonsense and now . . .

  She shook her head and approached the mirror, as if studying her reflection for the first time. Her parents had always encouraged her independence and supported her desire to make more of herself than a pretty ornament for someone’s home. Losing them as a child had only strengthened her resolve to follow her own path, and her chosen profession of teaching hardly encouraged more than a practical nod to a mirror now and then.

  What difference does it make? Peacock or pigeon, I’m nothing to him, nor do I wish to be anything to a man like that! Let him throw out his petty insults and growl like the sulking overgrown child he’s become!

  She turned away from the table, dismissing the silly game. Caroline wanted to think only of the college of her dreams and not the handsome obstacle in her path, and she began to pace the floor.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked the empty air.

  A knock at the door made her jump guiltily. “Yes, come in.”

  One of the maids came shyly through the door carrying her freshly pressed traveling dress. “Mr. Frasier wanted to make sure you had all the assistance you needed. I took the liberty of freshening your dress for the journey and can lay it out for you.”

  “You’re too kind, Molly. I should have thought of it myself,” Caroline apologized. “But apparently, I’ve been . . . distracted.”

  “He is a distracting man, so handsome! It makes it hard to keep a thought in one’s head.” The young girl nodded knowingly, setting the dress out across a small settee in the corner. “You should hear the housekeeper fuss whenever Mr. Ashe arrives.”

  “Oh! I’m not—” Caroline’s cheeks blazed with heat at the insinuation, horrified that such a thing would be so obvious. “I meant by the thought of London!”

  “Beg your pardon, miss.” Molly curtsied, her smile sincere. “Of course you did! I should have known better, I mean, you being so . . .”

  “My being so . . . ?”

  “Serious,” Molly finally supplied.

  Caroline tried to smile. It might even have seemed a compliment on any other day, but today she’d met Ashe Blackwell and the word sounded hollow in her ears. But if I weren’t so serious, I wouldn’t be in this position. “Thank you, Molly. That will be all for tonight.”

  “Yes, miss.” Molly curtsied and withdrew.

  Caroline walked over to finger the sleeve of her favorite traveling dress, the light wool so soft to the touch. She traced the lines of black silk braid piping and tried to savor a little pleasure in the trim outfit that modestly flattered her figure. Her bags were packed but for a few items, and she felt like a woman standing on the edge of a cliff considering her fate. I’m between the devil and the deep sea.

  She could still beg off and return home. She still had a position teaching at a small, prestigious boys’ academy waiting for her in the spring, but her heart ached at the idea. It was stifling to think of the defeat, relinquishing her dreams to dreary subservience teaching in an environment without inspiration or freedom.

  Or she could ignore every instinct that was telling her to get as far away from Ashe Blackwell as she possibly could, and climb in that carriage tomorrow morning.

  Home.

  London.

  She wondered if Ashe Blackwell knew how tenacious a woman could be when she’d run out of choices. His grandfather had been too kind to her already for her to abandon her promises so quickly. And he reminded her too much of her own dear grandfather for his pleas of family honor not to capture her loyalty.

  The monetary reward had been the initial lure to solidify her commitment, but it was Ashe who had sealed her fate. If he’d been less hostile . . .

  I might have begged off. But now, you are my only thought, Ashe. And if you think to frighten me away or break Grandfather Walker’s heart, you will need to think again, Rogue.

  Chapter
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  Ashe climbed down from the carriage, doing his best to ignore the screaming agony of a knot in his lower back and the popping of his knees. His height had never leant itself to the amenities of a carriage and he’d always hated the confinement. But despite his preference for horseback, defying his grandfather at the very start of their agreement hadn’t seemed like a wise choice. Even so, the physical discomfort of the journey back had only been slightly less painful than the icy silence between him and his traveling companion.

  He’d deliberately tried to ignore her existence, determined to let her stew a bit in her own anxiety about the weeks to come. Despite her show of defiance, he was sure he’d given her pause.

  Although, not enough of a pause to keep her from climbing down Bellewood’s front steps that morning in the most horrifying straw bonnet and brown traveling dress and matching wool coat he’d ever seen. She’d sailed past him and accepted a footman’s hand to aid her up into the carriage with a grace all her own.

  He’d expected her to grow impatient and make some ploy to initiate a conversation during the long hours of their journey, but the terrier had proven more stubborn than he’d expected. He’d never known a woman who could refrain from chatter, but Miss Townsend had defied his every preconception. She’d snapped open a book of some rusting dissertation on the human condition and effectively dismissed his very existence.

  Impossible woman!

  He reached back to hold out his hand, half expecting her to refuse it, but her slim gloved fingers grasped his and he helped her down to alight on the steps. “Welcome to my humble home.”

  She shook her head, smiling at his jest, since the elegant brownstone didn’t radiate humility with its rose-colored stones and elaborate wrought iron. “It isn’t a mud hut, Mr. Blackwell, but I’m sure it will suffice.”

  Impossible woman who apparently never forgets a single word uttered in her presence!

  He relinquished her hand as the front door opened. “Ah, Mr. Godwin! We made good time.”

  “You did indeed, sir.” Not that Mr. Godwin had been informed of any schedule, but as usual, he was far too unflappable to show even a twitch of surprise at either his employer’s unannounced return or the presence of a young lady at his side.

  Ashe escorted his unlikely chaperone up the stairs and inside the foyer as the butler signaled the footmen to bring in their bags. “Godwin, this is Miss Caroline Townsend. She will be staying with us for a while to enjoy the social Season. Please ask Mrs. Clark to make sure she has everything she needs.”

  “Very good, sir.” He gave Caroline a polite nod and held out a hand for her coat and bonnet. “Welcome, Miss Townsend. May I offer you any refreshments after your journey?”

  “You are too kind, Mr. Godwin. Yes, please.” She smiled at the man as if he were her dearest uncle, and Ashe watched in amazement as his icy Godwin seemed to melt a bit.

  He withdrew to see to a tray for her, and Ashe gestured for her to follow him upstairs into the drawing room on the first floor. “Godwin will find us here, and I thought we could catch our breath before Mrs. Clark whisks you off to get you settled in.”

  “Catch our breath?” she asked, her caramel brown eyes alit with questions as she took in her new surroundings.

  “And establish a few rules,” he asserted, pleased to see that the drawing room was well lit and comfortable. Godwin’s clairvoyant, I swear it, but one of these days, I wonder if I can catch him off guard.

  “Ah, rules!” she echoed softly. Caroline’s expression was instantly more serious. “Are you dictating the rules, Mr. Blackwell? Or was this to be a consultation?”

  He decided to ignore her. “Since you’ll be playing the role of my ward, I’ll ask my housekeeper, Mrs. Clark, to find you a ladies’ maid and see that all proprieties are observed. My grandfather’s strange humors aside, we are not related by blood and I’d like to avoid the obvious scandal that will undo all his efforts to keep things trouble free this Season should anyone ask too direct a question about our connections.”

  “How thoughtful of you!” she exclaimed with a light dusting of sarcasm.

  “If anyone does ask, I’ll tell them you’re a distant relation and a favorite of my grandfather. I think the less information we provide, the better.” He walked over to pour himself a measure of brandy. “I’d hire a chaperone for you, but truthfully, I don’t think I can manage more than one of you. So we’ll occasionally rely on the wives of friends of mine to give an illusion of propriety.”

  She gasped in fury behind him, and Ashe had to struggle not to grin before he turned back around to face her. Go on, little terrier. Storm off and leave a man in peace. “The pace of a social Season can be grueling, Miss Townsend, but you look hale and hearty enough for the challenge. I will say it’s refreshing to see a woman not prone to fainting spells and hysterics.”

  “Do all the women in your acquaintance suffer from such maladies?”

  “Only the ones with good breeding, Miss Townsend. And those, I avoid whenever I can.”

  “Do you? Or do women of good breeding avoid you, Mr. Blackwell?” she countered, apparently unruffled as she took a seat on the divan as if settling in for a good argument.

  He shook his head. “Hardly. Women do not, by their nature, avoid me, Miss Townsend. I have the good fortune of being able to select those with whom I would spend my time.”

  “Until now,” she corrected him with a sweet smile that grated on his nerves.

  “Until now,” he repeated begrudgingly. But not for long.

  “And what women exactly do you prefer in your selections?”

  The unexpected question nearly made him drop his brandy glass. “Are you asking for introductions?”

  “No, just a general description of the qualities that intrigue you—if not good breeding and a penchant for fainting couches.” Those large brown eyes of hers looked at him as coolly as if they were discussing the weather, and Ashe wasn’t in the mood to play shy. He tried to think of the most abrupt and repulsive reply he could give her.

  “I prefer women who are never serious, loathe conversation when there are other entertainments to be had, are compliant and eager for my company, and who never, ever argue with me.” He raised his glass to her in a mock salute. “And trust me, Miss Townsend, they are worth every penny.”

  “So long as you have pennies enough, Mr. Blackwell, I imagine they are.”

  A wave of suspicion washed through him at the change in her tone. Was that pity? “In any case, we were discussing the rules for your stay in my house, Miss Townsend.”

  “Were we?” she asked, all innocence. “By all means, continue.”

  “You’ll not leave the house alone, unless you have your maid with you. Otherwise, I’ll attend you at whatever engagements I think suitable for this ridiculous charade and we’ll make the best of it.”

  “And you?”

  “And I, what?”

  “Will you be leaving the house unattended? Will you be attending only the engagements deemed suitable?”

  “I’ll come and go as I please, Miss Townsend. The agreement with my grandfather is to avoid any public scandals, and I’m certainly capable of that without becoming a prisoner in my own home!”

  “The agreement was for you to demonstrate impeccable behavior at all times.”

  Ashe crossed his arms. “And I intend to be every bit the gentleman that my grandfather would wish—whether I have you nipping at my heels or not.”

  “I am pleased to hear it, Mr. Blackwell, for you’ll make my job so much easier if that is truly your intent. But let me make my intentions equally clear. I am not going to be cowed into forgetting my purpose, and you may spout your rules until you turn blue, but you are not in charge of me!”

  “You, Miss Townsend, are an impossible—” He stopped himself, refusing to lose all in some childish exchange that he had foolishly started. “Very well, my dear chaperone. You, and you alone, are in charge.” He took a slow, deep breath befo
re laying out her first challenge. “Will you be seeing me to bed each night, or should I ask Godwin to report when I retire?”

  The sharp intake of her breath and the blush on her cheeks was sweet revenge and Ashe savored her reaction. The color made her look almost pretty, her pert features softened in her dismay.

  A knock on the open door frame spared her from being forced to respond, and Ashe looked up to see Godwin, just as expected, with a light supper tray for Caroline. “Shall I set this up for you here, Miss Townsend?”

  Ashe answered before she could. “I’m afraid the journey was far more taxing than anticipated. Can you show her directly to her room for a private meal and see to her comfort there, Godwin? I’ll eat dinner alone in my rooms tonight as well.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Godwin stepped back with the tray to allow her to follow him out into the hall. “Right this way, miss. Mrs. Clark has already seen to the room to make sure that it’s ready, if you’ll follow me.”

  For a moment, Ashe was sure she would refuse, but then she squared her shoulders, back stiffening, and walked out with Godwin. Ashe watched her go, her diminutive frame radiating fury, and he had a fleeting sense of regret. Angering her may not have been the wisest course of action, just as his grandfather had suggested. But the woman provoked him past reason, and Ashe knew he could fulfill his oath far easier without her underfoot. And if it were Caroline Townsend who quit her position in a snit, he was sure he could convince his grandfather to see reason.

  Mrs. Clark was a bustling woman who never slowed to take a breath. But she was a welcome distraction. “What a tiny thing you are! Mr. Godwin said nothing of it when he told me that the master had a guest—and an American! Men never think to mention the interesting bits, do they?”