by Cheryl Holt
“Not only are you horribly vain, you’re also a snob.”
“Definitely.”
He offered her his arm, and she grabbed hold, and they started off, strolling in a comfortable silence. Occasionally, he pointed out landmarks, important buildings, or the homes of prominent citizens.
She was enjoying herself immensely, and much too soon, they reached the harbor, their encounter at an end. When she found herself trying to devise reasons to delay their parting, she was disgusted with herself.
She wasn’t a debutante who played flirtatious games, but he was attractive and interesting, and she hoped she’d see him again before too much time had passed.
Her hotel was just ahead, and he asked, “Shall I walk you to your door?”
“I’d like that.” They kept on, and she said, “Gibraltar is much smaller than I thought it would be. Will I be able to find a cottage to rent?”
“I’m sure you will, but your brother will have to rent it. No landlord would rent to a female.”
She bristled with exasperation. “I hate how you men run the world.”
She was beginning to sound like Miss Hastings!
The remark amused him, and he chuckled. “If we permitted women to have a hand in managing things, it would upset the entire order of the universe.”
“What if my brother is away for weeks or months and can’t sign a lease for me?”
“His commanding officer will help you, but you’ll figure it out. As you mentioned, it’s a small place. You’ll meet people quickly, and they’ll be glad to assist you. Especially the men. There are far more of us than there are of you ladies.”
“I was so afraid my arrival would be difficult.”
“No, it will be very easy,” he said. “Are you Miss Boyle?”
“Yes. Miss Amelia Boyle.”
“Please tell me you didn’t travel from London alone.”
“I didn’t. I came with another girl who’s joining her brother too.”
“So it was two females traveling alone.”
“Three actually. She has a little sister.”
“I can’t decide whether to be impressed or alarmed.”
“You shouldn’t be either. We’re grown adults who are fully capable of buying a ticket on a ship and sailing off on an adventure.”
“Is that what you’re having? An adventure?”
“Yes. I’m someone who’s never previously gone anywhere, so I’m absolutely having an adventure.”
They continued on to the hotel’s front door. Amelia glanced up at the window to her room that faced the harbor, and Laura was there, watching for her to return. Amelia waved, and she waved back, then slid out of sight.
“How long have you been stationed in Gibraltar?” she asked him.
“I suppose it’s been eight months now.”
“You’re practically a local.”
He snorted. “How about if I stop by some afternoon and give you a tour of the area? My personal tours are free of charge.”
“Arrogant beast,” she muttered, “but yes, I would love it if you could show me around.” She could hardly keep from batting her lashes, but then, he had that effect on a woman.
He emitted a charisma that was tangible. It made her want to linger in his presence, to have him gaze at her with his magnificent blue eyes. The hot looks he flashed sent shivers down her spine. She’d never felt a sensation like it before.
He hadn’t introduced himself, so she asked, “What is your name, gallant sir? You haven’t said, and if I bump into you in the future, I should know how to address you.”
“Pardon me for being so remiss.” He clicked his heels and bowed, acting silly and officious. “Captain James Hastings, at your service.”
“James…Hastings?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness.”
She gaped at him, astonished. Other than a porter and a maid, she hadn’t talked to anyone since she’d debarked. What were the chances she’d run into him?
He noticed her odd stare. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”
“You are James Hastings?”
“Yes,” he repeated more slowly, as if she didn’t understand English.
“Lord Denby? That James Hastings?”
“Well, I’m not Lord Anybody, but that’s a long story. You may call me Captain Hastings, and you’re still gawking. Why?”
“I’m not sure if I should spoil the surprise or not.”
“What surprise?”
Miss Hastings had prattled on for weeks about her brother, how he’d encouraged her to come, how he’d sent money, but that he didn’t realize she would make the trip so soon. He thought she was still in school and didn’t realize she was finished.
Miss Hastings should announce her arrival in her own way, but Amelia couldn’t imagine not telling him. Not when he was glaring at her as if she were a tad deranged.
“I traveled with your sister,” she said. “I accompanied her from London.”
He frowned. “What sister? I don’t have a sister.”
Amelia was taken aback by the comment, but she forged ahead. “Your sister, Brinley? Brinley Hastings?”
A thunderous expression darkened his handsome features. “Brinley is here? In Gibraltar?”
“Ah…yes?”
He froze, appearing bewildered. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“Your sister, Laura, is here too.”
“I have no sister named Laura.”
Amelia was completely flummoxed. “Are you certain?”
“I’m quite certain, Miss Boyle. I think I’d know if I had a sister named Laura.”
The entire voyage, Miss Hastings had waxed on about her brother and their close bond. Whenever Amelia had mentioned her own brother, Miss Hastings would become particularly effusive, as if she always had to have a better anecdote than Amelia.
How could Miss Hastings be filled with tales about her brother, while Captain Hastings claimed a scarce acquaintance? What morass had Amelia entered?
“Where is she?” he demanded, his tone lethal.
“In Room Six—on the second floor?”
With how he was glowering, Amelia couldn’t decide if she should have told him or not. It wouldn’t have been that difficult to find Miss Hastings though. He could have simply inquired at the desk.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Miss Boyle,” he said.
He opened the door into the hotel, and she staggered after him.
“Ah…ah…may I ask where you’re going?”
“I am going to Room Six to strangle Brinley with my bare hands.”
“I wish you wouldn’t!” Amelia insisted, but he was already flying up the stairs.
There were people in the lobby, and they turned to scowl. Amelia smiled wanly, pretending all was fine, then she marched after him.
CHAPTER TWO
“Where is she?” James bellowed as Miss Boyle trudged in behind him.
“I have no idea, Captain Hastings. Or Lord Denby or…or…”
“I am not Denby,” he tightly insisted. “Address me as Captain Hastings or don’t address me at all.”
“All right, all right. I don’t know where she is, Captain Hastings.”
He was so angry he felt deranged. He peeked under the bed and lifted the mattress, but Brinley wasn’t present.
He was being very rude, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t used to being disobeyed or having his orders flaunted. He’d been in the army since he was fourteen, and he could easily command a man or a horse.
With women, he was basically clueless over how to make them behave. If a horse or a soldier defied him, there were consequences he could impose. What was he supposed to do to an unbalanced half-sister with whom he was barely acquainted?
Brinley’s decision to journey to Gibraltar wasn’t Miss Boyle’s fault, and she didn’t deserve the lash of his fury. He would reserve all of it for Brinley.
He took a deep breath and reined in his spurt of rage. “When did you last see her?”
“When I went walking. She intended to nap until five o’clock when the government offices reopen. I’m as surprised as you are that she’s gone.”
“You traveled with her as her companion?”
“Well, not really her companion. No captain would let her sail alone. She couldn’t purchase a ticket unless she had a female joining her.”
“And you were the lucky volunteer?”
“I had planned to move here to stay with my brother. I read her advertisement and I—”
His jaw dropped. “She advertised?”
“Ah…yes?”
“What was her reason for coming?”
“She said you sent for her. She said you were eager to have her live with you and that you’d paid her fare.”
“The girl is mad as a hatter,” he muttered.
Miss Boyle glanced around, peeking under the bed as he had. There was an attached dressing room, and she peered into it.
“What are you looking for?” he asked. “Brinley’s not here. I checked.”
“Laura is here though. When we were out on the street, she waved from the window.”
“Who is Laura?”
“Your…ah…other sister?”
“Are your ears plugged, Miss Boyle? I have no sister named Laura.”
“You’re obviously upset, Captain, and I don’t mean to rile you further, but I’m very confused. Is Miss Hastings not your sister? Did you not send for her?”
He stood in the middle of the floor, arms crossed over his chest, and he glared at Miss Boyle.
She was very beautiful—pretty features, petite height, shapely figure, black hair, very blue eyes—and after meeting her out by the stables, he’d been charmed. But with her being connected to Brinley, even if it was in a minor fashion, she had to be regarded with the utmost suspicion.
Brinley was a toxic brew of horrid choices and crazed antics that had caused her to be expelled from every school she’d ever attended. She was only eighteen, but she imbibed copious amounts of alcohol, stole, lied, schemed, deceived, pursued reckless relationships, and generally drove people insane.
In that, she was exactly like her deceased mother who’d been gorgeous and alluring, but who’d been quite insane too. Her mother had been his father’s second wife, a rich merchant’s daughter he’d seduced during one of his many peccadilloes.
His father, Charlie Hastings, had been a renowned horse trainer and Romeo who’d never encountered a female whose skirt he didn’t lift. Unfortunately for him, his exploits with Brinley’s mother had been discovered and an untenable marriage had swiftly followed.
The union had pitched his father into an early grave. Not that his drinking and philandering hadn’t smoothed his way. He’d definitely been no saint and had never been destined to make it to old age. If his dissolute activities hadn’t killed him, a cuckolded husband probably would have.
But Brinley’s mother had done her best to speed matters along.
His boyhood home had been rife with drunkenness, fighting, and monetary woes. James had washed his hands of the whole sorry crew by demanding his father enroll him in a military boarding school when he was nine. He’d never visited again, so he’d lost track of Brinley.
Then she’d turned up in London, living with his poor brother, Robert, who’d stupidly taken her in after her mother—and their father—had both died.
Robert had embraced too many of their father’s hideous traits. He’d been a gambler and wastrel who’d never worked a day in his life. He’d supported himself by fleecing others and scrounging off his friends, and he’d been the very worst person to be in charge of Brinley.
Yet with their dubious qualities totally ingrained, they’d gotten on well, and—James was certain—Brinley would have learned all of Robert’s unsavory tricks.
Robert had passed away a few years prior, and James had lost track of Brinley once again, but she kept popping up like a bad penny. When the Denby inheritance had been finalized—an inheritance he didn’t want and refused to claim—she’d begun corresponding with him, insisting he retire from the army and open Denby Manor, the grand mansion on the estate, so she could reside there with him.
He still couldn’t deduce how she’d heard about his elevation, and he didn’t care how. He had no intention of retiring or moving to London, and when he’d declined to oblige her, she’d threatened to travel to Gibraltar and nag at him until he relented.
He’d written to her on three separate occasions, and he’d been exceedingly blunt that she shouldn’t come to Gibraltar. The last thing he needed was to have her show up at an army garrison that was full of unsuspecting soldiers and sailors.
As he’d decided eons ago, family was highly overrated as an institution. His dear, departed mother had been a saint and his sole relative worth mentioning. After she’d perished, he’d been left with just his philandering father and disreputable brother, as well as Brinley and her mother who’d been a stepmother right out of a wicked fairytale. He’d also had a handful of Denby cousins he’d always avoided like the plague.
They were all gone now—except for Brinley—and she was like a swarm of locusts that could swoop in and destroy whatever was in her path.
But he wasn’t about to explain any of it to Miss Boyle. He was a very private fellow and never talked about his past.
With the conflict in Europe having wound down after Waterloo, the government was reducing the size of the army. Men were being forced out by the thousands, and James didn’t plan to be one of them. He was unlucky in his ancestry and would never deliberately remind his superiors of his incorrigible sire or his other ghastly kin.
When all the cuts were over, he would still be standing, training the horses the army required in great numbers.
“Brinley is my half-sister,” he clarified for Miss Boyle.
“Oh. I didn’t realize that.”
“We are not close, and I barely know her.”
“Really?” she snottily inquired.
“Yes, really, Miss Boyle.”
“I’m flummoxed by the news. The entire trip, she waxed on about your bond.”
He tsked with irritation. “Brinley is touched in the head. She’s a liar and confidence artist whom you should never believe on any topic. You trust her at your peril.”
“My goodness.”
“I specifically told her not to travel to Gibraltar.”
Miss Boyle blanched. “Then why is she here?”
“That’s the thousand-pound question, isn’t it? I can’t guess what motivates her.”
His tone was much sharper than it should have been, and Miss Boyle bristled.
“There’s no need to snap at me, Captain Hastings. I hardly know her myself. I glommed onto her merely so I’d have a companion during my own journey.”
“I understand, and I’m taking out my frustration on you.”
“Yes, you are, and we’ve spoken enough for one day.” She went to the door and gestured into the hall. “You should return later, once Miss Hastings is back. You can yell at her instead of me.”
“I never yell!”
“You’re yelling right now, and I shouldn’t have to listen to you.”
She was very firm, very snippy, and he was incredibly impressed.
He never spent much time around females except for the loose doxies who hung on the fringes of army camps. Or they were spinsters from London who ostensibly came to visit family members, but who were actually hoping to land a husband.
An aunt or cousin would espy a promising catch, and a niece would be dispatched from home and paraded to show off her best attributes. He was too smart to fall into a matrimonial trap, so he evaded those introductions. After watching his father constantly disgrace himself, he’d resolved to never wed. He was afraid he might possess some of the man’s penchant as a libertine, and he would never put a wife through
the hell his mother had endured.
In his world, Miss Boyle was a rare specimen. She wasn’t flirtatious or working to entice him. Nor was she awed by his looks or uniform. He was fascinated by her lack of regard.
He wasn’t blind. He recognized himself to be a handsome, dashing soldier, a hero of Waterloo and a loyal servant of the Crown. Women threw themselves at his feet. They met him and instantly yearned for a closer acquaintance, but he never granted it. His father’s charm practically oozed out of him, and he regularly broke hearts.
Miss Boyle didn’t seem to want anything from him. She didn’t appear enthralled or eager for a connection. She was simply irked and weary of his boorish conduct.
“You can’t toss me out, Miss Boyle,” he said. “I’m not ready to depart.”
“Well, that’s a problem for you then because I am ready for it.”
“I will remain until Brinley returns.”
She scoffed with disgust. “I can’t predict when she’ll be back, and I’m in no mood to have you prowling and complaining until then.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m stating facts of which you are completely unaware.”
“I’m not interested in your predicament with your sister.”
“My half-sister.”
“Fine, Captain, your half-sister. It’s clear you have significant issues to address with her, but you can’t drag me into it.”
“You brought her here!”
“Now whose ears are plugged? As I’ve explained, I answered her advertisement, and I accompanied her as I promised I would. I’ve fulfilled my purpose, and I’m finished with both of you.”
It was quite a speech, and he was even more fascinated. In his experience, women were keen to butt their noses into all sorts of situations that didn’t concern them. How odd she was!
“Are you always so impertinent, Miss Boyle?” he asked. “Or have I lured your worst traits to the fore?”
“I am not impertinent, Captain. I am exasperated.” She pointed to the hall again. “Would you go? I have my own dilemma to resolve, and I’m too busy to fuss with you.”
“What dilemma?”
“I have to visit the naval office at five to inquire about my brother.”