Regency Seduction. Lucy Ashford

woman, Mrs Rowland. This gossip sheet you write for—if anything at all should appear in it about Two Crows Castle, then I warn you, I’ll take strong action. Because there are people who depend on me and I won’t let them suffer for the sake of your cheap scandal-raking, do you understand?’

      Just then there was a knock on the door, which opened to reveal Eyepatch. Rosalie found herself shuddering at the scornful look he cast her way. He said, ‘A word, Captain?’

      Alec joined him in the doorway, bending his dark head to the other’s in a brief exchange. Eyepatch left and Alec Stewart came back in, slowly.

      Alec had to admit that this woman—Rosalie—confounded him at every turn. What was she? Who was she? A whore at the Temple of Beauty, who knew rather a lot about art? A pretty little widow and a digger-up of scandals, who had no idea of the effect she had on men?

      And now Garrett brought still more news about his treacherous captive. Alec folded his arms and gazed down at her. ‘Well, Mrs Rowland, investigative reporter amongst other things, it seems you’ve got certain obligations that you’ve neglected in order to come on your little jaunt this morning.’ He pointed to the open door. ‘You’d better be on your way.’

      Obligations? What …? She glared up at him. ‘You mean I’m free to go?’

      ‘We made a bargain, remember?’ He shrugged. ‘That kiss was payment for your freedom. I’ve no desire to hold you captive.’

      ‘You already have!’ she flared. ‘I’ve been here against my will for at least an hour! I could press charges on you.’

      ‘That’s a novel idea.’ His dark eyes gleamed. ‘Though I would, of course, be forced to press charges in return. Of robbery, perhaps.’

      ‘I—impossible!’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘Think about it, Mrs Rowland. It would be more than easy for me to say there are valuables missing from this place. After all …’ he looked at his pocket watch coolly ‘… you’ve been here for quite a while on your own.’

      ‘But I’ve been locked in a bare room!’

      Again he shrugged those wide, powerful shoulders. ‘Your word against mine. And I could produce plenty of witnesses who’d remember you from the Temple of Beauty. Do you really think you’d be taken seriously at the magistrates’ court?’

      She tilted her stubborn chin. ‘Would you be taken seriously, Captain Stewart?’

      ‘I’m a war hero,’ he responded tonelessly. ‘Though it means little in financial terms, my word would carry more weight than that of a courtesan who writes for a gossip rag.’

      He saw the colour stinging her creamy cheeks. Saw her fighting to find words of resistance and failing.

      He was almost disappointed. Almost felt his heart softening for the defiant little widow. But he clamped down hard on any errant feeling like pity. His face as stone, he went to open the door and pointed the way. ‘As I was saying, you’ve clearly been missed. There are three people outside, looking for you. Including—’ his eyes narrowed ‘—your daughter.’

       Chapter Eight

      Katy was outside, clinging to Biddy. As soon as she saw Rosalie, she reached out to her. ‘Mama? I want Mama …’

      ‘Oh, darling …’ Rosalie hurried to hold her tight in her arms. Alec Stewart was looking at them both, sharply, knowingly. Naturally, Rosalie thought with scorn, that devil of a man had assumed Katy was hers. Well, let him. She realised Matt was there, too, looking rather warily at Captain Stewart and his crew.

      ‘Biddy. Matt,’ she said quickly. ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘Miss Helen sent me after you, miss, and told me to bring Matt, too. She was really cross when she realised you’d not taken him, like you’d said.’ Biddy glanced wide-eyed at the formidable figure of Alec Stewart, who had gone to say something to one of his men. ‘She told me,’ went on Biddy, ‘to say you must come home, because you ought not to be on these streets alone! I brought little Katy, too, ‘cos she was missing you bad, weren’t you, chick?’

      Katy, in Rosalie’s arms, seemed quite happy now, and in fact had wriggled round to stare at Alec, who was strolling back towards them. She was clearly intrigued by the gleaming gold curb-chain of his pocket watch and her little fingers reached out to it.

      ‘Katy, don’t!’ Rosalie backed away with her quickly. She feared that he would use this as an opportunity to castigate her still further. Accuse her of rearing a future child-thief, perhaps.

      But Alec had forestalled her. He pulled out his gold watch so Katy could see it. ‘This is all it is, sweetheart,’ he told the infant softly. ‘Something to remind me that I’m a busy man and I should have been somewhere else half an hour ago at least.’

      ‘Tick-tock.’ Katy looked up at him with her wide, dark-lashed green eyes. ‘Tick-tock man.’ She reached out to touch it, then gurgled in merriment.

      Rosalie saw Alec’s mouth curl into a brief but devastating smile as he patted Katy’s chubby fist and put his watch away. Her heart jumped. So handsome. So beguiling. So false. As if to prove her point, he turned to Rosalie and the smile was quite gone. ‘It appears to me that your duties lie elsewhere, Mrs Rowland. I warn you—and I assure you I mean it—that there’ll be no writing about me or Two Crows Castle. My men will escort you and your companions as far as the hackney stand on Bishopsgate.’

      Matt O’Brien was still watching him almost with awe; much use he was in protecting her from Captain Stewart, Rosalie thought in despair. Her chin lifted an inch. ‘We will make our own way, thank you!’

      ‘You won’t,’ he broke in icily. ‘I want you well clear of this place.’ He swung round and raised his voice. ‘Sergeant McGrath!’ The villainous-looking Scotsman with red hair came up. ‘Find Mrs Rowland and her companions a hackney cab, will you? And make damned sure they get into it.’ Without a further glance at her, he turned and strode off while McGrath led the way along Crispin Street, with Matt O’Brien at his side, eagerly asking questions.

      ‘I hear your Captain fought like the very devil against the French at Waterloo,’ Matt was saying to McGrath.

      You traitor, Matt. Rosalie, holding Katy tight, walked furiously behind, with Biddy chattering away beside her. And she herself was a fool. Today, as Ro Rowland, roving reporter, she’d blundered straight into that man’s stronghold. Twice now she had let him kiss her. She’d twice melted in his strong arms, and, even worse, had wanted more. She shivered at the memory of that powerful body, moulded hard against hers; dear Lord, she had not even tried to resist him!

      Her cheeks burned at the recollection of her astonishing stupidity. If Alec Stewart truly was Linette’s seducer—how on earth was she going to tackle him now?

      McGrath beckoned a hackney, spoke to the driver, then strolled off. Biddy’s brother said he’d walk, since his next job of work was close by in Fenchurch Street. So just Biddy, Rosalie and Katy got into the cab.

      ‘Where to, miss?’ asked the cab driver.

      ‘Clerkenwell. St John’s Church,’ she answered distractedly, fumbling for her purse.

      ‘No need for that,’ said the cabbie. ‘Your fare’s bin paid.’

      ‘No! I won’t allow it!’ she exploded with renewed fury. Captain Stewart must have given the necessary coins to McGrath. How dare he …?

      ‘Suit yerself,’ shrugged the cabbie. ‘Pay me twice over if you wants to throw your money away.’

      Rosalie slumped inside the carriage. Biddy was excited by the novelty of the trip