The Rake's Proposal. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

only girl he danced with all night…”

      “He doesn’t usually flock to young innocents, now does he?”

      “Oh, but my dear, she’s not that young…”

      “Twenty-four, I hear. She’s been on the shelf for ages….”

      “Ha! I heard she’s nearly thirty…innocent my foot, that’s what I say!”

      Much as Kate tried to be optimistic, she was a realist at heart. Gossip like that could be very damaging, and she knew that her search for a husband had just become much more difficult.

      She looked out the window, trying to gauge by her surroundings how much longer the ride would last. She was surprised to realize that she was traveling through a completely unfamiliar neighborhood.

      “Owens? Have we taken a detour for some reason?”

      There was no answer other than the carriage picking up speed.

      “Owens? Owens? Stop this instant. Where are we going?” In desperation, Kate began pounding on the window at her side, hoping to attract the attention of any passersby. But it was too late and the night too cold and cloudy. There was no one on the street to hear her. Even screaming would do no good….

      She screamed anyway. Loudly. And then she screamed once more for good measure.

      The driver—who, she was now certain, was not Owens—increased his pace.

      Kate began to panic. She wasn’t used to that emotion but didn’t have a clue what else she could do. There wasn’t a soul to help her, no one to notice anything amiss about the carriage. There wasn’t even anyone at Rob’s town house to notice that she was missing—Rob would be at the party for several more hours and none of the servants would be expecting her home this early. Most likely, no one would notice that she hadn’t arrived safely until morning. By that time, no end of horrible things could happen….

      Kate tried to change the direction of her thoughts. If she started thinking about what might happen to her, she knew that panic would take over. She had to remain calm and focus on how she could escape.

      Taking a deep breath, she squinted out the window, looking for any landmark that might tell her where the coach was headed. They were moving quickly—not conspicuously so, but as fast as possible without drawing attention. She barely had time to focus on anything long enough for it to become familiar, and since she didn’t know London very well anyway, everything she passed managed to look much the same.

      The coach slowed slightly, and Kate realized that they were turning a corner. She sat up straighter, peering out the window even harder. Through the steamy glass she could make out the solid form of a row of town houses, all with shadowy doorways and black, empty windows. Surely the area was inhabited, but at this hour no one stirred.

      Then she saw it—just the soft glimmer of candlelight shining from the windows of one of the narrow buildings ahead, but a sign of hope nonetheless. As the coach neared the building she could make out the form of a man climbing the steps to knock on the front door. She saw the door open, spilling light out onto the street.

      Help.

      It was either one of the bravest or one of the most foolhardy things that Kate had ever done. Shoving aside the possibly dangerous consequences—the man on the street might just as soon hurt her as help her—she let out a scream shrill enough to curdle the blood of a saint. Every resource she possessed went into attracting the attention of the people in the building. She leaned back across her seat, and with both legs kicked at the window. Her slippers were designed for dancing and did no damage to the glass, but they did make a solid thud.

      As the carriage came abreast with the building, she rose from her seat and screamed one final time, a scream so deep that the very power of it abraded her throat.

      The door of the town house opened and a woman looked out apprehensively. A man came running out behind her.

      That was the last thing Kate saw before the carriage stopped abruptly, throwing her into a heap on the floor. She quickly resumed her seat, wanting to be prepared for whatever might happen next. She heard the driver quickly alight, heard heavy footsteps approach the carriage door. It opened.

      Kate closed her eyes, seeking the fortitude to protect herself. She raised her reticule over her head, and with all of her might swung it down, connecting solidly with…she wasn’t sure what.

      She opened her eyes. Standing in the doorway, framed by the light that filtered from the town house, stood Benjamin Sinclair, looking utterly bewildered. Without taking his eyes from her he reached up and rubbed his head.

      What bloody luck.

       Chapter Five

       A n hour and a half later, Kate was sipping hot tea in front of a fire, a heavy wool blanket tucked around her legs. Ben had brought her inside the town house and left her in the care of a slim, mousy-looking girl named Margaret. She was in a plush, although rather ostentatious, room outfitted with overstuffed armchairs and red damask wallcovering. There were several large windows, but all were covered in thick, velvet drapery.

      She hadn’t seen Ben since he’d brought her inside and was anxiously awaiting his return so she could find out where she was and what was going to happen. Kate had tried to get some answers out of Margaret, but the frail girl was not very forthcoming.

      “Margaret, I am aware that I asked you this question before, but are you certain you haven’t any idea where Lord Sinclair has gone?”

      “Sorry, m’lady. I know no more than you do. He just told me to make sure you stayed in this room and didn’t cause a scene.”

      “Oh, he did, did he? Well, could you at least tell me where I am? So maybe I can take a guess as to where he has gone and when he might get back?”

      “I’m afraid I can’t—”

      “You can, or I will cause a scene!”

      “Thank you, Margaret. You can get back to work now,” Ben said as he quietly entered the room. He held out a coin to Margaret, which she gladly accepted before picking up her skirts and racing from the room. As she did so, Kate noticed that the nondescript girl wore the most shocking pink stockings.

      Ben gently closed the door behind Margaret, smiling as he caught the direction of Kate’s scandalized gaze. “So, we meet again. You know, I was thinking as I left the party that my evening wouldn’t be complete if Miss Sutcliff didn’t hurl some object at my head at least once. You have made my night.”

      “I didn’t know who you were. I’m sorry.”

      “You have nothing to apologize for.”

      Kate just smiled faintly. “Where are we? This isn’t your house, is it?”

      Ben burst out laughing for the second time that evening at something that Kate hadn’t intended to be humorous. She waited patiently for him to stop. When he didn’t, she became annoyed and began to glare.

      “I’m glad I amuse you so much, Lord Sinclair, but would you mind answering my question? I’ve had a rotten night.” She was trying to be as condescending as possible, but Ben seemed to be oblivious to her sarcasm.

      “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this. But I must assure you that my house is decorated a little bit more tastefully.”

      “Yes, well this place looks like a harem. All this red!” As Kate said these words, she realized her mistake. She could see that Ben was all but biting his tongue trying not to laugh. She quickly began to explain. “Not that I know what a harem looks like, or anything. It’s just that I’ve heard…” she trailed off as Ben raised his hand.

      “Please, don’t try to explain. I’m certain you have reliable sources. And I’ll tell you where we are, but I think we should figure out exactly what happened first, while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

      Kate