The Captain's Return. Elizabeth Bailey

      

      “Keep your distance!”

      “You need not imagine that your identity gives you any rights concerning me.”

      Despite himself, Hal felt his temper rising. “What do you take me for? I have no intention of—”

      “I am glad you chose to bring up the subject of your intentions, sir, because I am excessively interested to know what they might be.”

      Hal tried for a calmer note. “Annabel—”

      “Mrs. Lett to you, sir.”

      “Oh, the devil!” he snapped, exasperated. “I am supposed to be your husband.”

      “Not by any will of mine.”

      The Captain’s Return

      Elizabeth Bailey

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      ELIZABETH BAILEY

      grew up in Malawi, then worked as an actress in British theater. Her interest in writing grew and soon overtook acting. Instead, she taught drama, developing a third career as a playwright and director. She finds this a fulfilling combination, for each activity fuels the others, firing an incurably romantic imagination. Elizabeth lives in Sussex.

      THE STEEPWOOD SCANDAL:

      Lord Ravensden’s Marriage, by Anne Herries

      An Innocent Miss, by Elizabeth Bailey

      The Reluctant Bride, by Meg Alexander

      A Companion of Quality, by Nicola Cornick

      A Most Improper Proposal, by Gail Whitiker

      A Noble Man, by Anne Ashley

      An Unreasonable Match, by Sylvia Andrew

      An Unconventional Duenna, by Paula Marshall

      Counterfeit Earl, by Anne Herries

      The Captain’s Return, by Elizabeth Bailey

      The Guardian’s Dilemma, by Gail Whitiker

      Lord Exmouth’s Intentions, by Anne Ashley

      Mr. Rushford’s Honour, by Meg Alexander

      An Unlikely Suitor, by Nicola Cornick

      An Inescapable Match, by Sylvia Andrew

      The Missing Marchioness, by Paula Marshall

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

      Chapter One

      July 1812

      It was what he had anticipated. But the confirmation did not make the news any more acceptable to Captain Henry Colton. There had been little hope of finding Annabel’s circumstances to be otherwise. But to hear her spoken of as Mrs Lett!

      The Captain took a hasty turn about the bare room. It seemed large in its barren state, empty of all furnishings. But Hal Colton’s six-foot frame dwarfed the place.

      Even in civilian clothes he was impressive, the green frock-coat of plain cut moulding across broad shoulders, and the muscle in his thigh evident under the buckskin breeches. His cravat was simply tied, and his boots decently polished. An air of command belied his six-and-twenty years, and from his bearing no one could mistake his calling, even without the dashing military moustache. Like his hair it was red-gold, in keeping, so his elder brother Edward maintained, with his temper.

      He came to a halt in front of his informant. “You’re sure of this, Weem? She is indeed married?”

      His batman, a stunted individual upon whose enterprise and cunning Hal had relied heavily in the past, nodded vigorously. But there was a glint of mischief in his sharp eyes, and the Captain’s blood quickened.

      “What is it? Tell me at once, lunkhead, or I’ll have your guts for garters!”

      Weem grinned cheekily, arms akimbo over the rough serge coat he had donned by way of disguise, together with a slouch hat now crushed in one hand.

      “Lunkhead, is it? And me an intelligence agent of the highest order!”

      Captain Colton started threateningly across the room, and his batman threw up a hand in surrender.

      “Keep yer hair on, guv’nor. I mean to tell you it all, yer know that.”

      “Then cut line! I’m in no mood for your funning.”

      From the window opposite, the Captain’s brother broke in. “Have patience, Hal. After all, you’ve waited three years and more. A couple of minutes can’t make much difference.”

      It made a deal of difference to Hal. And it had been by no wish of his that the intervening years had furnished no news of Annabel Howes. Ever since that appalling night, when their last hideous quarrel had culminated in his losing all claim to call himself a gentleman, the Captain had spared no pains to try to make all right. Despite being recalled to Spain, and leaving with his regiment the very next morning.

      Annabel had resisted his every attempt to contact her. His letters had been returned unopened. Twice he had spent his hard-earned leave of absence in fruitless searching. Twice he had been turned away by old Benjamin Howes—first in London, and again at the family estates. No surprise there. Howes had been against him almost from the start, causing Annabel to break off their engagement.

      Then had come this windfall, an estate bequeathed to him by his godfather. It was a modest place, but with a decent enough income derived from rents to encourage