Regency Vows. Kasey Michaels

had simply come home. None of them had ever tasted true powerlessness. Not one.

      She tasted it now, even more bitter and pungent than she remembered.

      Slowly she unfolded the note and read it once more. “JW.” The scrawled initials taunted her with their informality. Not Captain, not Lord Croston. Just JW. James Warre.

      The memory of his kiss scorched across her lips and through her belly.

      She forced it away. He was not JW to her. And if he did not find a way to resolve everything very shortly, she would begin taking advantage of her role as his rescuer and dare him to object.

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      “I DON’T CARE where you put them,” she told Dodd the next morning, surveying the gilt-and-floral tangle piling up in the entrance hall. “Just so long as they’re loaded into the cart within the hour and returned to the seller.”

      “Of course, your ladyship.” He cast an uncertain eye over her outfit as two servants carried yet another flamboyant chair from the sitting room into the entry.

      She cocked her head and looked him in the eye, satisfied when he looked away. No, she had not changed her clothes. No, she had not slept. Yes, she was taking charge of the household.

      She may not know how to sparkle like Mama, or how to win support like Papa always had, but she knew how to command a ship, and this could not be much different.

      Another servant carried a small chair from the sitting room. “Put it there,” she ordered, pointing to an empty space by the door. “Where is the old set?” she asked Dodd.

      “The attic, your ladyship.”

      “Have it brought down.”

      He inclined his head. “As you wish.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is there something you wish to say to me, Dodd?”

      His brows shot up. “Not at all, your ladyship.”

      “I make it my policy that my crew—my staff—may speak freely.”

      “Your ladyship is too kind. Now if your ladyship will excuse me, I shall see that the old sitting suite is brought down posthaste.” He paused. “One never knows when your ladyship might receive callers.” His eye strayed briefly to her trousers.

      “Thank you for enlightening me,” she snapped. “And if you repeat ‘your ladyship’ once more, I shall mete out consequences no other lady would dream of.”

      His lips thinned, but he acquiesced with a stiff bow and turned to do as he’d been ordered. Resistance was nothing she couldn’t handle. Even sweet old Dodd would follow her direction or find himself seeking new employment.

      She started up the stairs. Phil would be here within the hour with a dressmaker. Dodd would be happy about that, at least.

      But upstairs in the guest apartment, she discovered that Millicent had not waited for the dressmaker.

      “There’s a wardrobe full of gowns in my dressing room,” Millicent told her. “This one fits well enough.” It didn’t, and it was ugly. Katherine specifically remembered leaving the blue-and-beige gown behind because it wasn’t fit for the Continent.

      Anne, sitting next to Millicent on the couch, made a face. “It smells awful, Mama.”

      “Like moths and mildew,” Katherine said. “For God’s sake, Millie, go put on your other one. We’ll all be measured for new gowns as soon as Phil arrives with the modiste.”

      “I don’t need a new gown,” Millie said. “There are plenty in that wardrobe I can remake.”

      “I don’t like London, Mama,” Anne said plaintively. “I want to go back to the ship.”

      Katherine crouched in front of Anne and touched her cheek. “You’ve only been here one night, sweetling. You will love London—I promise.”

      Her false cheer did not fool Anne. “I don’t think I will, Mama.” She sighed and leaned against Millicent.

      “I shall begin remaking one of the gowns today,” Millie said a little crossly. “I shan’t need many.”

      “You will not gad about London in my childhood clothes,” Katherine said. “I don’t want to hear anything more about it.” She went to the writing desk, dipped her pen and signed her name to the last letter she’d written. She glanced up in time to see Millie’s mouth tighten, but she hadn’t the patience to do anything but ignore it. She folded the paper, let a small blob of bloodred sealing wax pool onto it and pressed Papa’s seal into the wax.

      “Will I be gadding about London, Mama?” Anne asked tiredly.

      When she lifted the seal, the Dunscore coat of arms stared up at her.

      When you are countess of Dunscore, Katie, you’ll fly her crest from these ramparts, and the ancients will honor it from their tombs.

      She turned abruptly from the desk and went to Anne. “You—” she tapped Anne’s nose “—will be learning music and dance and poetry and all the things a young lady needs to know.”

      A tutor. Katherine returned to the desk and added to the list. Yes, Anne would need a tutor.

      After answering a barrage of questions about music and dance and poetry and all the things a young lady needs to know, Katherine went to check on the progress of clearing the Holliswells’ things from the rooms they’d occupied.

      Millie followed her into the hallway, where servants scurried back and forth carrying boxes downstairs. “Lady Dunscore,” Millie said from behind her, “when are you going to decide about my position?”

      Katherine stopped. Turned. “Do not ever call me that again.”

      “Then pray, what shall I call you?”

      Katherine closed the distance between them, keeping her voice low. “Nothing has changed, Millicent. Not one bloody thing. I will not have you in my employ—you are a member of my household, not a servant.”

      “I was a member of your crew,” Millicent whispered sharply. “I am not a member of your household. I’d been a governess when I met you, and thanks to you I have little choice but to be a governess again. I’d only hoped to be a governess to Anne and not to some child whose father has wandering hands.”

      “You don’t need to be anyone’s governess. As soon as I’ve secured Dunscore, we’ll go to Scotland. You’ll love Dunscore, Millie. It’s right on the sea. You can hear the waves—”

      “I could have heard them on Malta, as well.”

      Always, always it came back to Malta and that damned surgical school. “I was not about to leave you alone on Malta with no protection but a disguise.”

      Millie’s brown eyes flashed. “A bloody effective disguise, and there would have been no reason for anyone to suspect the truth at all. I would be perfectly content to spend the rest of my life dressed as a man. Even now I could have been attending lectures on anatomy and physiology, but no. I’m here in London—the last place I ever wished to be—and soon you’ll be so busy with masquerades and theater boxes you won’t care about the sound of the waves.”

      “That’s untrue.” Millicent’s words struck like a knife and twisted hard. She would not forget who she was. Not ever. “Disagree with my decisions if you wish, but I will not tolerate disrespect here any more than aboard my ship. Now. Phil will be here soon with the modiste, so you’d best change out of that smelly old gown or I have no doubt Phil will have something to say about it that you won’t like.”

      * * *

      AT 9:45, A NOTE arrived from Papa’s solicitor agreeing to pay a visit that afternoon.

      At