The Scarlet Bride (9 page)

Fatigue from the morning’s work took some of the starch out of Laura. It was baking day and the smell of fresh bread filled the town house. She found the coolness of the parlor refreshing after hours in the kitchen. It was Mister Harrington who kept her from completely enjoying this brief respite.

She scanned his handsome face, and her heart beat a little faster. It was impossible not to notice how well he fit the cut of his clothing. This observation added to her aggravation. Next to his polished perfection, she was a wet cat.

Sticky dough clung to her fingernails. She frowned and hid her hands behind her. “As you can see, I am quite well. Truly, there is no more need for you to concern yourself about my welfare.”

Light twinkled in his eyes. “I can see you are a step up from the bedraggled young woman who clung so valiantly to the back of my horse.”

Reluctantly, she followed the downward path of his eyes. There was a damp patch in the center of her dress, marred by flour and a trio of red strawberry-filling finger marks.

Though she’d assured him she was well, she looked a fright. No wonder the man had his concerns. It appeared as though she’d been under attack by a tray of strawberry tarts.

Somewhere deep within her, laughter began to well. Before she could catch herself, giggles broke free as she reached up to rub at the stains. She heard his chuckle and lifted her eyes to his face, their laughter mingling in the small room.

“When you arrive unexpected, you must accept whatever condition I am in.”

His chuckle faded to a smile. “I am not disappointed.”

Beneath her corset, her stomach flipped. His warm eyes reconfirmed his words. He wasn’t the least bit horrified by her condition. It was the intensity of his stare that rattled her emotions. She didn’t need him to gather her into his arms and kiss her to feel a surprising and most unwelcome attraction to this appealing stranger.

She sobered and cleared her throat. “Don’t come again.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

Impatience flared. She glanced over her shoulder. There was no sound of chatter coming from the kitchen. The women likely had their ears pressed to the door. “Men are welcome only at the party. You are breaking Miss Eva’s strict rules.”

Beneath unruly dark hair, his face sobered. “Then I should leave at once. Miss Eva can be positively frightening.”

Laura’s lips twitched. The man was a rake. An utterly charming rake. Why couldn’t she hold on to her anger? “Only because she cares.”

“Yes, she does.”

Silence fell between them. Then, “Mister Harrington—”

He interrupted, “The real reason for my visit was to ask you a favor.” He crossed the room and stopped a respectable distance from her. “I have purchased a property in Surrey and it requires renovations and a woman’s eye for decoration.” He leaned back on his heels. “Would you ride out with me and give your opinion on what needs to be done to make it inhabitable?”

Laura stared. She couldn’t get rid of the man no matter what she tried. “Don’t you have a female relative you can press into service?”

“I’d ask my sister but she is put out with me at the moment.” He grinned. “Right now she is out searching for highwaymen and pirates.”

Pirates? Laura let the odd comment pass. “I don’t think
that wandering about Surrey with you is a good idea. We would be alone and Miss Eva has her rules—”

“I promise not to take advantage,” he interjected and rushed to assuage her fears. “I will be a proper gentleman.”

“I suspect you have never been proper, sir.” She wanted to refuse. Knew she should refuse. However, something inside her felt an obligation to him. If not for his timely arrival that night, she’d have been returned to her nightmare. What he asked of her was small in comparison. She nodded and sighed. “I will help. But you must have me back by nightfall.”

“It is a promise.”

Another promise? Why then did she have the feeling she was about to crawl into a bucket of snakes?

S
imon was surprised by Laura’s agreement to accompany him. He expected her resistance and lined up several arguments in hope of changing her mind. Thankfully, he didn’t have to use them. Though she wasn’t pleased, she’d agreed, and he was relieved.

“I can retrieve a carriage if you have an aversion to horses or would like to bring a chaperone.” He hadn’t considered that she might be unable to ride. Clinging to Horse out of fright did not make her a skilled rider. “For the sake of propriety, of course.”

A cheerless smile tugged her lips. “The maid has gone off to purchase eggs and the courtesans are better off kept away from you. Besides, I am well beyond the age and circumstance where I need to concern myself with propriety. Being a courtesan allows me the freedom to wander about as I wish.”

Simon grimaced. There was no bitterness in her words, just cold acceptance. How had she come to this? He found that he wanted to know her story—every last detail.

“You are no longer a courtesan,” he said tightly. It
annoyed him to think of her that way. As if “courtesan” was all she could claim. She was so much more.

She settled her beautiful eyes on him, and an undercurrent of desire shifted through his body. He tamped it down.

“Current or former, it really matters not, does it?”

He wanted to say it did matter, but she was correct. It didn’t matter if her father was a king or her mother a duchess. Once she was labeled a courtesan, she’d always be considered tarnished in the eyes of society.

It was a shame. With her beauty, she could have been much sought after by men of the Ton. Add a huge dowry and she’d have her pick of husbands. They’d line up to charm her and beg to wed her. She’d choose her favorite and that one man would be lucky to spend the rest of his life in her bed.

There was no chance of that now.

Simon shook his head and silently scoffed at the thought. When had he become a romantic, and where had he put his lute?

Instead of answering her, he looked over her serviceable dress. “Can you ride?” He wanted the day to be light and enjoyable. No dismal topics, no arguments.

“Passibly.” She looked down and grimaced. “I shall tell Miss Noelle of our plans, and change.”

With that, she left the room. Simon listened to her footsteps fade away. He walked to the window. Laura might not welcome his visits, but she wasn’t entirely cold to him either. He’d seen a slight spark of appreciation when she’d flicked her gaze over him.

Damn. He knew he was floundering through dangerous seas with Laura. Still, he couldn’t seem to keep away from this damaged former courtesan.

Laura took only twenty minutes to ready herself for the ride. She came down the stairs in an unadorned brown gown and gloves. Her hair was swept back into a tight chignon and topped with a serviceable black bonnet that framed her lovely face.

Despite the severity of her appearance, his breath caught.

Yes, he was in deep danger.

He’d never felt such an intense attraction to a woman, and he’d spent time with plenty of beauties. Her subtle seductive pull drew him in and refused to release him.

There were bedrooms aplenty upstairs and Simon ached to make use of one. Instead, he silently cursed his thoughts, walked over to her, and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Laura hesitated, then took his arm. He felt her hand tremble slightly as she touched him. Clearly, she was remembering the afternoon in the meadow.

“I do not bite,” he teased, hoping to set her at ease.

She met his eyes and wrinkled her nose. “Of that, I am not convinced.”

Chuckling, Simon escorted her from the room and spotted Noelle at the end of the hallway. She leveled a pointed frown at him, a silent warning to return Laura in the condition in which she left. He frowned back at her. Then he smiled and led Laura out the door.

I
am impressed by how quickly you were able to secure a second horse, Mister Harrington. I thought your hunt for a mount would prove futile.”

He’d led her through the tiny garden and disappeared into the mews behind the row of town houses. She renewed her acquaintance with Horse with several minutes of neck and ear scratching, before spotting Mister Harrington walking toward her, leading a saddled and pretty little gray mare.

“You must call me Simon. I think we are well past the need for formality.” He dismissed Miss Eva’s groom and adjusted the stirrup himself, shortening the length.

Laura wasn’t comfortable with using his given name, though she often thought of him that way. However, she’d not argue. The weather was divine and she hadn’t been riding in such a long time.

“Where did you find her?” Laura asked and brushed her cheek against the mare’s soft nuzzle.

“The right number of coins can rent almost anything,” Simon remarked as he walked over and gave her a hand up.
She settled in the sidesaddle and accepted the reins. “She was residing in a stable three houses down. According to the stable boy, the owner is elderly and bedridden. She keeps the mare in hopes of one day riding again. The lad assures me his mistress will not notice her missing.”

Smiling, Laura leaned down to rub the mare’s neck and murmured soft words. The mare and Horse were a matched set of grays and a lively pair. She smiled at her companion, pleased that she’d not have to ride Muffin.

“What is her name?” she asked softly. Her world brightened with the feel of the fine animal beneath her.

Simon paused. “I’m afraid I didn’t ask.”

Laura looked from the unnamed mare to Horse and back. She grinned slyly. “For today, I’ll call her Mare.” She ran her gloved hand down Mare’s mane. “I do apologize for this slight, lovely girl. I am certain your real name is far more beautiful.”

She tapped the mare with her heels. “Lead on, Mister Harrington.” She ignored his disapproving grunt. “You promised to have me back before nightfall.”

“Indeed I did.” He darted a glance at the courtesan school and set Horse into motion. “Eva and Noelle will have me drawn and quartered if I break my promise.”

His affection for the women was clear. The orphaned Laura envied his kinship with Noelle. She remembered that on the night of her escape, he’d mentioned they were cousins. And she’d begun to believe Miss Noelle and Miss Eva were more than just two women working toward saving courtesans. No, there were too many subtle exchanges between them not to suspect they were at least very dear friends.

“They have Thomas to do the torturing.” Laura looked at him askance and teased, “I believe he is capable of tearing off limbs and heads.”

He returned her glance and she shivered. The unwelcome reaction of her body to Mister Harrington unnerved her a bit, so she ignored the feeling. If she was to get through the afternoon without incident, she had to keep control of her traitorous body.

“Don’t worry about my limbs,” he said confidently. “I am a fast runner.”

Laura snorted and a giggle escaped. “I suspect you aren’t the kind of man to run from danger. I have seen no sign of cowardice during our short acquaintance.”

In the cloud-filtered sunlight, she noticed a small scar through his left brow and another just beneath his chin. Either he’d been a very clumsy child, or he’d been in scrapes that involved fists or weapons. She believed it was the latter.

He hadn’t hesitated in securing her from the footmen. He’d barreled over the two men with Horse and honed skill. He was no weak-kneed ninny.

“How little you know of my nature, dear lady, to be able to make such an observation.” He sighed deeply. “I am afraid of mice and the dark and I shriek like a banshee when lightning cracks overhead. It is most shameful to admit.”

She smiled and shook her head. “None of that is true.”

He flashed a grin. “Alas, you have indeed caught me in a lie.” He pressed Horse into a trot. Mare followed suit. “Though if I see an animal frothing at the mouth, I flee like the wind in the opposite direction.”

Giggles followed as she imagined a foaming fox chasing him across hill and dale, his coattails flapping as he fled. Oddly, the image didn’t fit at all. He was entirely too manly for such matters. However, the silly chatter had put her at ease. Soon London was behind them.

“So what is it you do, Mister Harrington?” Laura asked after a quiet stretch passed between them. His clothes did not come from a peddler’s cart. They were fitted and costly. “Let me guess. Barrister? Ship captain?”

He shook his head. “Until recently, I did as little as possible beyond seeking my pleasures. Now that I am in the shadow of thirty, and my uncle seems unwilling to beget an heir, my father has begun grooming me for the eventuality that I will inherit a title.”

“Title?” Laura’s chest tightened. It was easy to be comfortable
in the presence of a barrister or captain. Courtesans did not befriend noblemen.

“Should I outlive my uncle and father, I will be Lord Seymour someday.” He shifted in the saddle. “I find it difficult to imagine myself as an earl. I was not born to expect it. There were two uncles born before my father, and we expected their sons to inherit. The oldest died without male issue and the second has no children.”

The shine left the day. Her few contacts with the noble classes had left her with an unfavorable impression. They were spoiled, indulged, and took what they wanted without consequence.