Until that moment, he hadn’t been sure he would prevail. Any woman brave enough to thrust a blade at him was unpredictable at best, and dangerous at worst.
Sabrina JeffriesYou needn’t manhandle me,” she hissed, though she didn’t fight him.
“Trust me, Miss Butterfield, you’ll know when I’m manhandling you.” He stopped before a chair. “Sit,” he commanded, pushing her into it. “And try to restrain your urge to attack people for half a moment, will you?”
“I was not-“
“As for you,” he growled at her companion, “give me the satchel that caused all this furor.”
“Yes, sir…I mean, my lord.”
Oliver took the satchel from the young man, whose face was drained of all color. Clearly, he lacked his companion’s fierceness.
Ah. Better and better. “So you’re here virtually alone, with no money, despite your claim to have a rich father and a certain station in society.” He fished for more information. “You expect me to believe that the daughter of a wealthy ship company owner-who would be taught to keep quiet, do as she is told, and respect the proprieties-would go sailing across the ocean in search of her fiancé, looking for him in a brothel, attacking the first gentleman who dares to question-“
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she snapped. “I told you why I did all that.”
“Besides,” her companion put in. “Uncle Adam isn’t…wasn’t like other rich gentlemen. He started out a soldier in the Marine Corps. He never put on airs. Always said he was born the poor bastard of a servant, and he’d die the rich bastard of a servant, and that was better than being a rich ass.”
She groaned. “Freddy, please, you’re not helping.”
“So you see, sir,” Freddy went on, to Oliver’s vast amusement, “Mop-Maria isn’t like other women. She’s like her father. She doesn’t listen to those who tell her to sit still and keep quiet. Never has.”
“I noticed,” Oliver said dryly. It was a point in her favor.
Anyone can tell that Freddy is no thief.”
“She’s right about that,” the dull-witted Freddy put in helpfully. “I’ve got two left feet-can’t go anywhere without running into something. That’s probably why they caught me.”
“Ah, but in cases like this, the fools generally prevail. Those fellows out there don’t care about the truth. They just want your cousin’s blood.”
Panic showed in her face. “You mustn’t let them have it!”
He stifled a smile. “I could put in a good word for him, soothe their tempers and get you two out of this with your necks attached. If…”
She instantly stiffened. “If what?”
“If you accept my proposition.”
A fetching blush spread over her pretty cheeks. “I shan’t give up my virtue, even to save my neck.”
“Did I say anything about giving up your virtue?”
She blinked. “Well…no. But given the kind of man you are-“
“And what kind is that?” This should be amusing.
“You know.” She tipped up her chin. “The kind who spends his time in brothels. I’ve heard all about you English lords and your debauchery.”
“I don’t want your virtue, my dear.” He flicked his glance down her delectable body and suppressed a sigh. “Not that I don’t find the idea tempting, but right now I have more urgent concerns.”
And no man of rank was fool enough to seduce a virgin-that was the surest way to end up leg-shackled to a schemer. Besides, he preferred experienced women. They knew how to pleasure a man without plaguing him about his feelings.
“This may surprise you,” he went on, “but I rarely have trouble finding women to join me willingly in bed. I’ve no need to force a pretty thief there.”
“I’m not a thief!”
“Frankly, I don’t care if you are. The important thing is that you suit my purpose perfectly.”
She had the same brash temperament as his sisters, which Gran had always deplored. She had the sort of upbringing that Americans seemed to prize and Englishmen to despise. A mother who’d been a shopkeeper’s daughter, and a father who’d been an illegitimate American of no consequence? Who’d fought in the very revolution that had cost Gran her only son? He couldn’t ask for better.
You’re mad.”
“No, I’m just plagued with a grandmother who thinks that forcing me and my siblings into marriage will settle her mind about our futures-an idea that I mean to show her is absurd.”
“By pretending to be engaged to a perfect stranger?”
He shrugged. “I came here looking for a whore to do the job. But they’re expensive, and why should I settle for a whore when you’ll do nicely?”
His gaze traveled down her body with thorough insolence. “You’re exactly the sort my grandmother would find unacceptable as a wife for me: an American of low birth, with an impudent manner and a reckless tongue. And you’re just pretty enough to convince her that I might actually contemplate marriage to you.”
Shock held her motionless. She didn’t know which was worse-his nonchalant attitude toward hiring a whore to fool his poor grandmother, or the insults he’d lobbed at her with insufferable arrogance. “Now that you’ve offended me in every possible way, do you think I’d agree to this insanity?”
Amusement flickered in his black eyes. “Given that your other choice is to take your chances with the gentlemen in the hall…yes, I do. Of course, if you want to watch your cousin hang-“ He headed for the door.
“Stop!”
He paused with his hand on the handle, one eyebrow arched in question.
The curst man had her trapped, and he knew it.
It’s no wonder your grandmother despairs of you. God only knows what a trial you are to your poor parents.”
The humor vanished abruptly from his face. “Sadly, my parents are too dead to be overly concerned about my behavior.”
His words were flip, but the sudden glint of grief in his eyes told another tale. “Please forgive me,” she said hastily, cursing her quick tongue. “It’s awful to lose your parents. I know that better than anyone.”
“No need for apologies.” He pushed away from the door. “They despaired of me long before they died, so you weren’t far off the mark.”
“Still, it was very wrong of me to-“
“Come now, Miss Butterfield, this has naught to do with my proposal. Will you pretend to be my fiancée or not?” When she hesitated, he went on with a hint of anger, “I don’t see why you make such a fuss over it. It’s not as if I’m asking you to do anything wicked.”
That ridiculous remark banished her brief moment of sympathy. “You’re asking me to lie! To deceive a woman for the sake of your purpose, whatever that is. It goes against every moral principle-“
“And threatening to stab a man does not?” He cast her a thin smile. “Think of it as playing a role, like an actress. You and your cousin will be guests at my estate for a week or two, entirely at your leisure.” A dark gleam shone in his eyes. “I can even set up an effigy of myself for you to stab at will.”
“That does sound tempting,” she shot back.
“As for Freddy there, he can ride and hunt and play cards with my brothers. It’s better entertainment than he’d find in the gaol.”
“As long as you feed me, sir,” Freddy said, “I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“Freddy!” Maria cried.
“What? That blasted inn where we’re staying is flea-ridden and cold as a witch’s tit. Plus, you keep such tight hold on my purse strings that I’m famished all the time. What’s wrong with helping this fellow if it means we finally sleep in decent beds? And it’s not a big thing, your pretending to be betrothed to him.”
“I’m already betrothed, thank you very much,” she shot back. “And what about Nathan? While we’re off deceiving this man’s poor grandmother, Nathan might be hurt or in trouble. You expect me just to give up searching for him so you can get a decent meal?”
“And keep from being hanged,” Freddy pointed out. “Let’s not forget that.”
“Ah, the missing fiancé,” Lord Stoneville said coldly. “I did wonder when you would bring him back into it.”
She glowered at him. “I never let him out of it. he’s the reason I’m here.”
“So you say.”
That inflamed her temper. “Now see here, you insufferable, arrogant-“
“Fine. If you insist on clinging to your wild story, how about this: while you pretend to be my fiancée, I’ll hire someone to look for fiancé. A simple trade of services.
Stoneville seems like a decent enough chap.”
She stifled a hysterical laugh. “Oh, yes, quite decent. We met him in a brothel, and he’s blackmailing us into deceiving his grandmother.
Trust me, I’ve seen more women in their corsets and shifts than you’ve seen years.”
“I can well believe that.” She sniffed. “At least turn around.”
“Fine.” He turned his back to her, and Freddy followed suit. “But be quick about it. I’d like to reach Halstead Hall in time for dinner.”
“Do as he says, will you?” Freddy put in. “I’m about to faint from hunger.”
“For once, Freddy,” she grumbled, “would you stop thinking with your stomach?”
The stockings seemed to fit, and she managed to undo her own gown so she could slip the other one on. But she could never button it herself, especially since it was small in the waist. And the bust. Mercy, she would need help.
“Freddy, come fasten me up, will you?”
Her cousin’s back stiffened. “I can’t do that!”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Lord Stoneville strode over. “I knew you Americans were prudish, but this is absurd.”
Before she could even protest, he began fastening her gown. To her horror, the faint scent of his spicy cologne and his fingers working efficiently over the buttons made an odd sort of heat rise up from her belly. That couldn’t be good.
“You seem to know how to do up a woman’s gown very well.” She struggled to sound nonchalant. “I take it you’ve had plenty of practice.”
“You know us debauchers,” he said dryly. “Practice, practice, practice.
And you must appear willing to marry me,” Oliver said.
“I understand.”
“Do you? It means you’ll have to act as if you enjoy my company.”
To his surprise, a small smile curved her lips. “I believe I can manage that.” Then, as if realizing she was softening, she wiped the smile from her face. “But you must behave responsibly, too.”
“By not trying to seduce you, you mean.”
She started. “No! I mean, yes…I mean, you already said you have more urgent concerns.” Alarm rose in her cheeks. “Oh dear, I forgot that you also said you have no honor or morals.”
He’d made similar assertions half his life, yet tonight he regretted making them. Shocking young ladies seemed to have lost some of its appeal.
“All the same, Miss Butterfield, I promise that your virtue is safe from me.” When she looked skeptical, he added, “You’re not the sort of woman I prefer.” A respectable woman came with strings attached.
“Of course I’m not,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyone can see that.”
That took him aback.
She went on. “A man with no morals isn’t going to want a woman who has them. She’d never let him do anything wicked.”
Freddy coughed, as if choking on something. Oliver understood why. Miss Butterfield had an unnerving way of cutting everything down to its essence.
“Yes,” he said, for lack of a better response. “Quite.” Then he narrowed his gaze on her. “So what did you mean when you said I had to ‘behave responsibly’?”
“You promised to find my fiancé, and I expect you to hold to your word.”
“Ah, right. Your fiancé?” He kept forgetting about that. It was hard to imagine any woman sailing off across the ocean to hunt down her fiancé. No female would ever do such a thing for him.
Not that he’d want her to. That would mean someone cared for him more than was wise, given his character.
And don’t call me ‘my lord.’ That’s what servants do. You’re my fiancée, remember?” He sounded irritated. “I’ll call you Maria, and you should probably call me by my Christian name-Oliver.”
An unusual name for an English lord. “Where you named after the playwright, Oliver Goldsmith?”
“Alas, no. I was named after the Puritan, Oliver Cromwell.”
“You’re joking.”
“Afraid not. My father thought it amusing, considering his own…er…tendency toward debauchery.”
Lord help her, the man’s very name was a jab at respectability. Meanwhile, his estate could probably hold the entire town of Dartmouth!
A sudden panic seized her. How could she pretend to be the fiancée of a man who owned a house like that?
“I was named after King Frederick,” Freddy put in.
“Which one?” asked Lord Stoneville. Oliver.
“There’s more than one?” Freddy asked.
“There’s at least ten,” the marquess said dryly.
Freddy knit his brow. “I’m not sure which one.”
When humor glinted in Oliver’s eyes, Maria said, “I think Aunt Rose was aiming for a generally royal-sounding name.”
“That’s it,” Freddy put in. “Just a King Frederick in general.”
“I see,” Oliver said solemnly, though his lips had a decided twitch. His gaze flicked to her. “What about you? Which Maria are you named after?”
“The Virgin Mary, of course,” Freddy said.
“Of course,” Oliver said, eyes gleaming. “I should have known.”
“We’re Catholic,” Freddy added.
“My mother was Catholic,” Maria corrected him. “Papa wasn’t, but since Freddy’s mother is, too, we were both raised Catholic.” Not that she’d ever taken any of it very seriously. Papa had always railed against the foolishness of religion.
A devious smile broke over Oliver’s face. “A Catholic, too? Oh, this just gets better and better. Gran will have an apoplectic fit when she meets you.”
Tired of his insulting comments about her background, she said, “Really, sir-“
“We’re here,” he announced as the coach pulled to a halt.
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