Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1. Louise Allen

bashed, that he’d succumbed to that rare fit of temper.

      An uncomfortable tweak of conscience jabbed him. He’d have to pen her an apology after that gibe about her being childless. The idea of reaching out to her, even via the impersonal medium of a letter, suddenly lightened the sense of … dismay he’d experienced when she’d refused to be dissuaded from leaving.

      Perhaps he’d call on her and deliver the apology in person. As that thought warmed him even further, the fact finally registered, too glaring and inescapable for him to evade the truth any longer.

      He couldn’t lose Laura Martin. The idea of going through a day without experiencing her smile, her wide-eyed sparrow look of inquiry, the jolt of pleasure that excited his nerves just to be near her, was simply unthinkable. Beyond the ever-present physical pull, she had become that rare friend who challenged his opinions and resisted his commands even as her wit invited his laughter and her quick intelligence piqued his mind.

      He’d been looking forward with impatient anticipation to becoming more than friends. Exactly what form their long-term relationship should take, he hadn’t yet figured out, but there would be time enough later for them to determine that together. First he had to ascertain what had so upset her, and coax her back.

      Beau paced the room, trying to make sense of her behavior. Given the strength of the connection between them, despite her innocence he simply couldn’t believe a mere display of lust would have horrified her into retreat. He’d given her no reason to suddenly fear he’d try to coerce her into similar behavior.

      A radical thought popped into mind, a theory that would settle all the jumbled pieces into place so neatly, he halted in midstride.

      What if Laura Martin wasn’t what she claimed? What if she was not Lieutenant Martin’s wife—but rather his cast-off mistress? A gently born girl who’d been seduced, disgraced and abandoned to bear alone a bastard child who later died?

      Having forfeited through indiscretion the life of comfort and the respect that had been her birthright, estranged from everyone in her family save a kindly aunt, naturally she would wish to live quietly, zealously guarding the tiny niche she’d carved out in this rural society. Betrayed by a man she loved, with neither family nor dowry to protect her, she might well distrust the motives of men, and deliberately seek to discourage their interest.

      And certainly she would flee if tempted to commit once again the folly that had led to her ruin. Seeing the writhing couple last night might have shocked her into remembering all she risked by allowing Beau too close.

      There’d been too much raw pain in her tone for him to doubt that she’d lost a child. But what of the rest of what she’d revealed about herself in Merriville?

      His analytical mind already speeding, Beau determined to send word by return pouch today to have his secretary launch an immediate inquiry into the family background of Lieutenant Winnfield Martin of the Thirty-third Innisford Greys, the man the squire told him had been her late husband.

      Whether or not Laura Martin had suffered such a disgrace mattered not a groat to him. The woman who enthralled him had honor, intelligence and character written into her bones. Nothing that had occurred in her past could dissuade him from wanting her by his side.

      Whatever the truth of her story—and well-honed instinct told him there was much more than she’d yet revealed—he must somehow persuade her she had nothing to fear and everything to gain by confiding in him, a man who regarded his family and close friends as both gift and sacred trust. He must seize another chance to convince her he would never betray her, that he wished instead to hold, protect and care for her the rest of her days.

      He was still trying to decide the best way to approach Mrs. Martin when Ellie reentered the room. With his return to London imminent, he couldn’t afford to wait for answers to an inquiry.

      “An illuminating conversation, brother dear,” Ellie said as she walked to his side. “And don’t pretend you don’t understand. You were very severe with Mrs. Martin.”

      He gave her a rueful grin. “You are right. I was … surprised. I shall have to apologize.”

      “I should think so.” She pointed a reproving finger at him. “You do so hate it when someone within your purview makes a move without your consent.”

      “A despot, am I?”

      “Absolutely.” She kissed his cheek. “A benign one, but a despot nonetheless. Still, in this instance I think Mrs. Martin is being wise.”

      “And why is that?” he demanded, surprised and more than a little affronted.

      “I’ve seen the … attraction between you. Not knowing you well, she might be fearful of what you mean to do about it. After all, Laura Martin is a woman living all alone, without family or defenders. Unlike that demirep of a sharp-spoken bitch, Lady Ardith, she’s not the sort to indulge in idle bedsport. If you’ve dalliance in mind, brother dear, I recommend you confine your attentions to that one. She’s eager enough.”

      “Such language, sister mine,” Beau replied with a quiver of amusement. “And thank you for kindly advising me to take myself off to someone you’ve just pronounced to be an acid-tongued witch.”

      “She’s beautiful enough, I’ll grant. And quite suited for the casual interludes you men seem to enjoy.”

      “Is that what you think I seek?” Beau clapped a hand to his heart. “How wounding that my own sister holds my sex in such low esteem. I assure you, idle dalliance is of little interest to me.”

      “Then your intentions toward Mrs. Martin are more … serious?”

      Careful, Beau cautioned himself. Being not quite sure yet just what form his long-term intentions for Mrs. Martin might take, he had no intention of revealing anything to his deceptively disinterested sister. “Minx!” he said, tapping her on the nose. “Suffice it to say that I would never allow the lady to come to harm.”

      Ellie’s air of detachment dissolved. “You value her that much? Oh, splendid, Beau!” She took her brother’s hand and kissed it.’ ‘I cannot tell you how relieved that makes me. Serene and competent as Mrs. Martin appears, there’s about her an air of such … fragility. I worry about her future, alone in that little cottage with no kin to assist her. But if you, dear brother, have decided to watch over her, I can rest easy. Who knows better than Kit and I how safe and comfortable you make those lucky few you commit to your protection!”

      “You like her very much, don’t you?”

      “Yes. And Catherine adores her.” At his grin, she added severely, “You’ll say a mama would dote on the devil, were he sufficiently attentive to her child, but I assure you, children are fine judges of character. Laura is so good with Catherine. How tragic that she lost a babe!”

      Ellie paused, sighing. “What a sad life she’s had. No surviving family, apparently, and widowed so young.” She shook her head. “From time to time I’ve made reference to Arthur, how I miss him when we’re parted. Not once has she ever volunteered a word about her late husband.”

      “Prying, dear sister?”

      “Certainly not,” she retorted with some heat. “You men are close as monks about your feelings, but women often speak to each other of such things. That Mrs. Martin does not, leads me to believe her union cannot have been a happy one. As far as it lies within my power, I intend to see that her future holds the promise of better. You’ll assist me in convincing her to come to London next Season?”

      Beau laughed. “If you can persuade the very independent Mrs. Martin to accompany you to London,” he offered, sure her future would have been decided in much different fashion by then, “you may tell your husband I’ll frank the expense.”

      “We shall see her settled for certain.” Ellie gave him an impish grin. “But given the interest hereabouts, if you refrain from appearing to dally with her, I may well not need a London Season to achieve that goal.”

      Did