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“I thought as much.” In the silence that followed her statement, he studied her from across the carriage. “What are you thinking?”
Memories flitted by: Mejdan, laughing indulgently while his two young daughters draped him with silks to make him look like a woman. Nafisa and Aysha on market day, happily trying on a hundred scarves while the shopkeeper grumbled and huffed. Katherine and Nafisa laughing themselves sick while Nafisa taught Katherine Arabic from the same book the children used, and Katherine’s tongue refused to cooperate. Had Captain Warre and her father been successful, there would have been no market days, no playing with the children, no laughter. She would have been brought home to a country that would have seen her as a tragic oddity, where nothing awaited but ruination, isolation and loneliness.
But she made herself raise a brow at him. “That you are by far the most efficient cabin boy I’ve ever had, and promoting you would not have served my interests at all.”
“Touché, my dear Captain.” His smile did not reach his eyes, but something else did. For the briefest moment she saw his desire wage war with his guilt.
And then the carriage drew to a stop in front of a town house, and his expression changed to cold calculation. “Here we are,” he said. “I would suggest you bear in mind that Lord De Lille is one of the most powerful lords in the House.”
She peered out at the house with that same knot in her gut as when she faced an aggressing ship. “I remember. He and Lady De Lille were friends of my father’s.”
“Then I don’t need to tell you to remember your manners in front of Lady De Lille.”
She smiled at him. “For shame, Captain. When have I ever not remembered my manners?”
* * *
MANNERS, KATHERINE DECIDED a short time later, were a severe inconvenience.
“I’ve always thought foreign travel was fraught with danger,” Lady De Lille declared after Captain Warre had flawlessly introduced a retelling of his rescue. She was a plump froth of lace and pink ribbons, peering out from a frame of heavily powdered gray curls topped by a lacy cap. “I’ve never once been tempted to see the world’s oddities—especially not those where you’ve been.” She leveled her eyes at Katherine the way a ship might level its guns and pointed her fan as though it were a pistol. “Not that I haven’t been to Paris, mind you.”
Katherine clenched her teeth behind the smile she’d pasted to her lips. “Naturally.”
“But I would never travel farther south than that.” Lady De Lille’s mouth pruned disapprovingly. “I have strong feelings about the effect of the Mediterranean climate on one’s passions.”
“How fortunate that passions are rarely inflamed in Paris,” Katherine said.
Captain Warre shot her a meaningful look. Behave.
She let her eyes drive into him. This is preposterous!
Seated nearby, Ladies Gorst, Linton and Ponsby exchanged looks with each other and with a Mrs. Wharton, who was married to one of the navy’s top admirals.
Lady De Lille narrowed one eye, but Captain Warre spoke first. “Hot weather does tend to make people more reactionary,” he said pointedly.
“So true!” Lady Gorst agreed. Quickly fanning herself, she leaned toward him to assure a clear view of cleavage her disarranged fichu no longer covered. “A summer in London nearly does me in. I’m sure I wouldn’t last above an hour in that hot climate. However did you tolerate it?”
“One quickly acclimates when one has no choice,” he said.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Wharton said. “The admiral has always said exactly that.” The lady looked at Katherine. “You must have grown quite acclimated to the heat. One can only see how much time you’ve spent in the sunshine.”
“Sunshine is unavoidable in the Mediterranean,” Captain Warre said quickly, cutting off the reactionary response that leaped to Katherine’s tongue. “In any case, I’ve always questioned whether it can be good for ladies’ health to avoid sunshine as studiously as they do.”
“Bless me if this isn’t the first time any such question has crossed your mind,” Lady De Lille scolded. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life.”
Lady Gorst laughed and drew her fan across her cheek. “And it’s hardly a winning argument, as a lady will always sacrifice health for beauty.”
Lady Ponsby nodded.
“One can only see how your time in Barbary has affected you.”
“Is it true they eat dogs?” Lady Gorst gave a graceful shudder. “Oh, I couldn’t bear it.”
Lady Ponsby paled.
Katherine thought of Zaki, with his jeweled bowl and his silken pillows, chewing on a mutton bone with nearly an inch of meat still attached. These people were fools.
Captain Warre shot her a glance. “An ill-informed rumor, I assure you.”
“Except when the market for kittens is tight,” Katherine added.
“Oh!” Lady Gorst placed a hand against her heart.
“My word,” Lady De Lille said crossly. “You are in more dire need of a husband than anyone I’ve ever met. It is only too bad that your age and adventures put you out of the market, though I suppose there is the estate’s fortune to sweeten the deal.”
Katherine stood abruptly.
“Sit down, Lady Dunscore,” Lady De Lille ordered.
Instead, Katherine walked away, leaving Captain Warre to make their excuses.
“My heavens,” she heard Lady De Lille declare as Captain Warre’s footsteps sounded behind her in the entryway, “if her father weren’t such an amiable man I would not have her in my house, mark my words, regardless of Croston’s good opinion, which is highly suspect in any case under the circumstances given that he is clearly besotted.”
* * *
“EXAGGERATING MOORISH BARBARISM is a bloody poor way to further your cause,” a clearly-not-besotted Captain Warre growled into Katherine’s ear four visits later after she told an open-mouthed Lady Someone-or-other that she’d witnessed no less than a dozen beheadings during her first year in captivity.
Katherine stepped into the blessed freedom of the waiting carriage. “This is intolerable.” And they saw her not as the countess of Dunscore, but looked at her the way they might gape at some freakish oddity.
“Be that as it may, you will learn to tolerate it or even my most heartfelt endorsement won’t help you.”
“Heartfelt endorsement!” she hissed. “Was that when you told the odious Lord Bashford that I was anxious for domesticity, or when you told Lord Quinn that my ‘accomplishments’ may not be traditional but nonetheless should not be overlooked?”
“Your gratitude leaves me speechless.”
“As did Lady Moore’s suggestion that I should set up shop in Covent Garden.”
“She was talking about the theater,” Captain Warre said.
“Oh, indeed. That was precisely what she meant.”
“For God’s sake, I’ve called you my savior so many times it’s beginning to sound blasphemous.”
“Croston!” A man unfolded himself from a hack that pulled up behind Captain Warre’s carriage. She recognized him instantly from Lord Deal’s musicale: tall and broad-shouldered, perhaps a little over thirty, with irreverently black hair that today was tied back au naturel without even a trace of powder. It was the Duke of Winston, shimmering in a dark yellow coat embroidered with black-and-green vines and trimmed at the seams with silver braid.
“How selfish Croston is,” he said with a grin, “keeping London’s most fascinating new resident all to himself.”
A subtle quirk at the corner of his mouth made it clear he assumed the world was a fruit ripe for his picking. Eyes the color of dark coffee lingered just long enough on her breasts to let her know those, in particular, were fruits he would enjoy picking at the first opportunity.
The look in his eyes suggested an especially lurid method of securing Dunscore. She tasted bile but arched a brow at him, anyway. “Perhaps it is I who is selfish,” she suggested.
There was a flash of white teeth. “I sincerely hope not.” He reached for her hand and kissed it, apparently indifferent to the hard glint in Captain Warre’s eyes.
“I should be careful of this one, Winston,” Captain Warre said in an amiable tone that she recognized was completely false. “That is, if you prefer your anatomy intact.”
Winston barked a laugh. “I do. But you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Croston. Most rumors have no foundation in fact.”
“Anytime you’d care to test your swordsmanship with the lovely captain, I would be an eager spectator,” Captain Warre told him.
“A unique temptation, but my code of ethics would never allow it.” It wasn’t difficult to imagine what his code of ethics would allow, and no doubt many ladies had gladly become test subjects for a wide variety of his skills. “Perhaps, Lady Dunscore, we might strengthen our acquaintance in a more traditional manner one day soon. Tell me, do you share your father’s penchant for racing? I’ve recently acquired a magnificent pair that could use some exercise.”
“I’m afraid my taste for adventure is limited to the sea, Your Grace.”
“Then I shall look forward to showing you my yacht.”
“Do not count on it,” Captain Warre growled, and shoved her into the carriage.
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#ulink_3feef8e3-5e4d-5373-8b86-3246e49a41bc)
Dear Sirs,
Observed Lady Dunscore during morning visits. Cat-o’-nine-tails apparently left behind; ladies escaped unscathed. No Englishman pressed into service.
Yours, etc.,
Croston
“HOLY GOD, CROSTON, are you out of your mind?”
“She’s an intelligent woman.” In a quiet corner of White’s, James kept his voice practically inaudible as he made his pitch to Hollyroot.
“Forgive me, but that kind of intelligence is a quality I could do without. Old Dunscore was sporting good fun, though. Such a shame.”
Old Dunscore was a libertine, and everyone knew it. “I think you’ll find that Lady Dunscore has any number of qualities that would make her well suited as a wife,” he said and hoped Hollyroot wouldn’t press him for details.
“Seems more suited to someone like Ingraham, if you ask me.”
“Ingraham.” If Ingraham so much as imagined himself marrying her, James would kill him. “Listen here. Lady Dunscore is an agreeable woman.” In a certain sense. “Practical. Well-meaning. She needs someone decent. Sensible.” Someone like Hollyroot, with a harmless demeanor and an estate that could use an infusion of resources. It was the most efficient way. That bill would have almost no chance of advancing if she married.
It was the logical answer.
A few swallows of liquor sat cold in his gut, along with the full implications of what he was suggesting if this conversation was successful. Hollyroot touching her. Bedding her.
James gripped his glass so hard he felt a twinge in his thumb.
“Suppose I ought to be flattered,” Hollyroot said, “but this is a devil of a thing to spring on a fellow.” He knocked back a swallow of bourbon and set his glass down, leaning heavily on one forearm propped on the table. “I mean, there’s no denying her beauty—”
“She’s got more than mere beauty.”
“Indeed,” Hollyroot agreed grimly. “Rumor has it she’s got a child.”
Every muscle tensed. “Anne is a sweet girl. Would make an excellent daughter.”
“Daughter!” Hollyroot shook his head. “All due respect, Croston, but I think the sea’s gone to your head.”
Christ. “Very well. Forget I said a word about it. And if you breathe a word of this conversation to anyone...”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Holy God. Do you think I’d want anyone to suspect, to even imagine— Holy God. I admire the hell out of you, Croston, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
* * *
“HOLD STILL IF you please, my lady.” A painful tug had Katherine second-guessing her decision to appropriate Clarissa Holliswell’s lady’s maid. The girl had developed methods of torture more suited to a medieval dungeon. But piece by piece, Katherine’s hair was shaping into a deceptively simple coiffure that involved numerous rolls and braids woven through with copper ribbon.
“A man like that wants his balls removed,” Katherine said derisively over her shoulder to Phil, who sat by the window in Katherine’s dressing room, reading aloud from the papers.
“I should have warned you about the duke.”
“With so many men who require warning off, it’s little wonder you overlooked it.”
Another tug forced Katherine to face the looking glass. “My lady!”
“‘Adventures in the Mediterranean’?” Phil read aloud. “Insulting. I prefer to think of us as having been engaged in business.”
“We were engaged in business,” Katherine snapped. “And I have the fortune to prove it. I tell you now, if His Grace tries to strengthen his acquaintance with me tonight in any manner—traditional or otherwise—I shan’t be responsible for my actions.” The maid cast her an uneasy glance in the looking glass. She had no way of knowing how severely Katherine’s words contradicted her thoughts.
The morning’s disastrous round of visits had made one thing clear: she would need to strengthen her acquaintance with as many lords as she could, in any manner she could.
“I can think of any number of ways to ensure the duke does not misunderstand me,” she added anyhow.
Phil set aside the papers. “Sometimes you positively frighten me. You need to win over the natives, not alienate them.”
“At least indulge me some measure of aggravation. Men are such fools.” Except one man, but she would not think of that now. Worse, Phil was right. “I’ve got half a mind to go to Westminster, bare my breasts and see this whole business finished.”
Phil laughed. “The situation may be a bit more complicated than that, dearest. Though I daresay if you can gain the attention of a man’s cock, you’ve won three-fourths of the battle. All that’s left is to influence him in the proper direction. Tonight’s party will be an excellent start. Tomorrow night we shall go to Vauxhall, and to the theater the next, until they cannot possibly ignore you.”
No, they would not ignore her. She would make sure of that. “I hate that they amuse themselves so well with their impertinences.”
“Which you must laugh off as though you haven’t a care in the world. All of London is fascinated with you—”
“As they would be with a two-headed ape.”
“—and that can’t help but work to your advantage, especially with Captain Warre’s endorsement. I saw Lady Mullen after I passed you going into Lady Derby’s this afternoon, and she had so many questions about how we managed aboard the Possession I swear she has a notion of going to sea herself. And she wasn’t the only one. And of course, they are all over the moon about Captain Warre.” Phil’s blue eyes sparkled wickedly at Katherine in the looking glass. “But of course, that wouldn’t interest you.”
Katherine smiled at her. “No. It wouldn’t.” But the smile faded almost immediately. “Captain Warre believes there will be a second reading.” It was a struggle to keep the fear from her voice. “After that, will it not be put to a committee? What do you know of committees?”
“Only that they are full of men, which leads back to our original premise. You must bewitch them, Katherine. Once you have them all in hand—and I do not mean that literally, as that would be counterproductive—they will be falling over themselves to please you.”
“With the singular goal of foraging beneath my skirts.”
