Regency Vows. Kasey Michaels

is above eighty, I daresay.” She turned a sly look on him. “I heard Lady Dunscore was fairly well received.”

      “As well as could be expected.”

      And now Captain Kinloch knew he’d taken her captivity far more personally than he should have. That he’d thought about her, argued for her, gone out of his way on her behalf. There was no reason he should have done any of that—except that once he’d learned her fate, his mind had conjured up an image of an innocent and terrified young girl in the hands of Barbary captors, and he couldn’t let it go.

      Last night, on her stricken face, he’d seen that girl as though she’d risen from the dead. He never wanted to see her again. Sooner give him the fury that had burned in her eyes the rest of the evening. That he could deal with.

      “Lord Deal ought to have some influence in the matter, I should think. But rumors run wild, James. La, you cannot imagine the stories I’ve heard, even just this morning!”

      “I thought you’d only just risen.”

      “There’s nothing remotely appealing about pretending to be thickheaded, James. I’ve had hardly any sleep at all. I received a note from Lady Effy at two o’clock this morning saying Lord Winston seemed quite taken with Lady Dunscore at Lord Deal’s—promise me you won’t allow that to develop—and one from Lady Atwell at half past four saying she heard Lady Dunscore beheaded three Barbary pirates with a single swipe of her blade. That can’t be true, can it?”

      “No. It can’t.”

      “One pirate, perhaps?” she suggested hopefully.

      “Would you like me to go into the particulars of beheading? It takes a good deal of strength because the blade must sever the bone—”

      “Never mind!” She covered her ears. “No beheadings, then. I accept.”

      “This is insanity, Ree. Nothing about Captain Kinloch is worth sending a footman running through the streets in the middle of the night.”

      She raised a brow.

      “I’d hoped to settle this quietly,” he said, trying and failing to keep the frustration from his voice.

      “You’ve achieved far too much celebrity for that, brother mine. Perhaps you don’t realize? When news of the Henry’s Cross arrived—” Pain fleeted across her face, but then she smiled a little and disappeared into her bedroom again, returning a moment later holding something out in her palm. “If you tell Nicholas, I shall be forced to think of a very unpleasant punishment for you.”

      He looked at the object in her hand. “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” His own likeness stared up at him in brash colored paints from the front of a metal-edged brooch.

      “Thank goodness the street hawker had no idea who I was,” she told him.

      “Street hawker?”

      “It’s disgraceful, I know. But I couldn’t resist it, James. Not when I thought—” Emotion silenced her again, and she curled her fingers around the brooch and held it to her breast. “You may not take it from me. I won’t let you have it.”

      “Believe me when I say the thought of taking it from you never crossed my mind.” But she looked so much as she had when they were small that a moment of emotion threatened his composure. He tamped it down. “I need your help, pet.”

      “I confess I’m relieved to hear it because I’ve already told Lady Dunscore that I intend to do all I can. She’s magnificent, and I adore her.”

      “Now listen here, Ree. She’s no one you should be associating with.”

      “I’m a widow, James. I associate with whomever I please.” She tilted her head slightly. “You seem awfully critical of her, given that she saved your life.”

      “That I owe her my life changes nothing about her character.”

      “Which is...?”

      “Lady Dunscore is the most damned, belligerent creature I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter.”

      “I see.”

      “She may not have beheaded Barbary pirates, but she could take a prize with her tongue alone as a weapon.”

      “Her tongue,” Honoria mused, heavy with insinuation. “My intuition is telling me, brother dear, that misfortune may not accurately characterize your encounter with Lady Dunscore’s tongue. Mmm?”

      “Damnation, Honoria!” All pretense of patience abandoned him.

      She laughed. “I’ve pinned it exactly, I see.”

      “You’ve pinned nothing. I knew it was a mistake to enlist you in this.”

      “To the contrary! You were perfectly right to come to me.” Honoria’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Interesting, though, that she gave no hint there was anything more than a heroic rescue between you.”

      “That’s because—”

      She waved him away. “Oh, don’t try to deny it, brother dear. It’s written all over that menacing face of yours. But never fear—your secret is safe with me.”

      He contemplated explaining more fully how very mistaken Honoria was in her assumptions, but decided it would only entrench her more solidly in the notion that he harbored something more than begrudging gratitude toward Captain Kinloch.

      Something like flaming lust.

      “Don’t make more of this than it is, Ree, for God’s sake.”

      “Very well. Tell me how I may be of service.”

      “I need you to help me find her a husband.”

      “Her— Lady Dunscore? A husband? She said nothing to me about wishing to marry.”

      He stared at her.

      Comprehension settled in her eyes, and her lips curved in a way that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. She came forward and fingered his lapel. “Never say I’m not helpful, James. I daresay I’ve found the perfect man already.”

      He pulled away. “This is serious business. I need someone suitable. Someone she will agree to. I’m beginning to fear she won’t secure her estate any other way.”

      “Such a pessimist. Lady Dunscore is very beautiful, James, and one should never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman. I realize you’ve always been stuffy, but even you must know there are as many ways to influence politics as there are to cook a goose.”

      “Captain Kinloch will not secure her right to Dunscore with her legs spread. I won’t allow it.”

      “My goodness, what an interesting direction your thoughts have taken. I simply meant that men are very often blinded by beauty, and that she may have more success in winning supporters than she expects—merely by talking with people. Talking, James.”

      Talking. “Of course.” His blood pounded, and he flexed his hands. “Perhaps she will at that. But in case she doesn’t...”

      “A husband. I shall give the idea some thought.”

      “And while you’re at it, you can use your influence to turn Clarissa Holliswell off Nick.”

      “Now you ask the impossible.”

      “I think not. Only the weather rivals a young girl’s heart in changeability.”

      “You’re being unfair. If she believes she loves him, there will be little I can do.”

      “Tell her he’s got a pox if you have to.”

      Honoria made a face. “That is no kind of talk for a lady’s boudoir, James. And I would never spread such horrid rumors about Nicholas. Now out with you. Out! You are a horrid brother, even if I do weep with joy at your return.”

      *