Love With an Improper Stranger (2 page)

CHAPTER ONE

The Descendants

Brussels, Belgium

September 30, 1814

“Hurry, Lucilla.”  Hefting
the small trunk of her belongings, Lenore Teversham huffed and puffed, as she glanced at her younger sister and all but ran along the sidewalk.  The lanes, a muddy mess after recent rains, bustled with activity, as she dodged elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen.  “We must not be late, or we may have to search out another ride home.  Given our financial situation, I am not sure I can procure appropriate boarding to sustain us any longer.”

After the Allies drove the French from Belgium, and their father died from wounds suffered in battle, she and her awkward sibling had begged, borrowed, and pleaded their way to the city, wherein they secured return passage to London from one of Papa’s friends.  While the British Army transported the war dead home, it made no provisions for survivors, and she had been left to her own enterprises.

Alone and in dire straits, Lenore had put aside pride and sold precious trinkets to purchase coach fare from Ghent to Brussels.  Now all she needed was the assistance of General Stapleton Cotton and his associate, a naval captain of some estimation with space on his ship for two hapless vagabonds.

“Nag, nag, nag.”  Lucy clucked her tongue.  “Stop crowing, Lenny.  You sound like an old woman.”

“I have told you numerous times not to call me that in public.”  When they arrived at a large intersection, she studied the road and frowned.  “Oh, dear.  I will never navigate that muck without soiling the hem of my dress, and I did so wish to make a good impression on our benefactor.”  Just then, a gust of wind caught her favorite hat, which landed amid the soggy mire in the middle of traffic.

“Well, you may kiss that goodbye.”  With a mischievous grin, Lucy snickered.  “As you will never recover it in one piece.”

“Watch me.”  With her steely gaze fixed on the much cherished, lavender felt fashion item, decorated with a jaunty white feather, she set down her trunk.  “Stay here.”

A passing team gave her pause, and then a curricle raced past, but Lenore remained determined, as she refused to cede anything by accident.  On tiptoes, she evaded a large pool of water and skipped beyond the path of a brougham, but the driver shook his fist at her, which she ignored.  She hopped left and then right and finally neared her goal, with nary a spot on her frock.

So focused on her prize, she scarcely heeded the hoofbeats until it was too late.  The ground shook beneath her feet, a thunderous roar filled her ears, and then the largest most menacing stallion she had ever seen trounced her beloved adornment and spattered her with clumps of mud, as it sped by in a rush.

“Sorry.”  The rogue rider slowed.

“
Blackguard
.”  To her unmitigated embarrassment, she spat dirt from her mouth and wiped her face.  Then she glanced up and beheld Satan—if the Lord of Darkness sported thick brown hair and vivid blue eyes that danced with pure evil.  “Look what you have done to my gown, and that beast destroyed my hat.”

“Big words for a little lady, and lucky for you I do not offend easily.”  He reined in and circled her.  Garbed with precision, her hellish antagonist sported polished Hessians, buckskin breeches, a chocolate brown waistcoat, a dark blue coat, and a pristine cravat with a diamond twinkling at center.  Then his gaze traveled her from head to toe, and she shifted.  “You have spirit, and I like that in my women, but I have a prior appointment, so we cannot explore the possibilities, which I suspect would be delicious.”

“How dare you.”  Despite her somewhat disheveled appearance, she stomped her slippered foot, which became stuck in the slimy filth, and the last of her pride drowned in a pile of nasty ooze.  “I will have you know my father was a hero in His Majesty’s service.”

“Calm yourself.”  He chuckled, in a rich baritone that seemed to kiss her everywhere.  “I paid you a compliment, my dear.  But I cannot delay, as much as I would love to become better acquainted with you.  Alas, I am already late.”  To her shock, he saluted, reached into his pocket, retrieved a bag of coins, and flung it at her.  “For your trouble.”

Then he turned and heeled the flanks of his horse, which showered her in a fresh coat of silt, and Lenore gave vent to an uncharacteristic and unladylike shriek of fury.  Unable to pull her shoe from the sludge, she yielded the fight and hobbled back to the sidewalk, where Lucy waited.

“If you say one word—”

“My lips are sealed, sister.”  But Lucy snorted, and Lenore wanted to cry, as she picked up her trunk.

It was a lengthy, miserable journey to the business district and an exercise in humiliation for Lenore, as passersby gawked at her unsavory attire.  By the time they arrived at the inn where the Cotton’s lodged, her hose was in tatters along with her tenacity.  The servant girl who answered the door stared down her nose, and Lenore snuffled.

“The Tevershams to see General Cotton.”  She tried to hand the maid a card, but the rude girl retreated, as she ushered them into the stylish residence.  “He is expecting us.”

“Miss Lenore?  Lucilla?”  General Cotton strolled into the sitting room, took one look at her, and winced.  “Upon my word, what happened?”

“I met with an unfortunate incident on the way here.”  At that point, she swayed, but an iron grip provided unfailing support, and she daubed her brow with her handkerchief.  “Thank you,” she said to her unknown champion.  “A most dastardly villain almost trampled me beneath an equally vile creature.”

“Perhaps I should order a bath, and you may change into clean clothes.”  Then the general glanced to her right.  “That is, if there is ample time.”

“By all means.”  A familiar voice pricked her ears, and a shiver of recognition traipsed her spine.  “I will await the lady’s pleasure.”

“Wonderful.”  General Cotton snapped his fingers.  “But first, permit me to make the introductions.  Miss Lenore Teversham.  Miss Lucilla Teversham.  Allow me to present Captain Blake Elliott, of His Majesty’s Navy, and your gallant escort.”

When Lucilla cackled, stepped forward, and extended an arm, as would a man, she rocked on her heels.  “Cap’n, you should quit right now and set sail without us.”

And that confirmed Lenore’s worst suspicions.  Given fate had saddled them with so many hardships, she just knew luck would not have thrown her into the auspicious charity of her assailant.  Swallowing hard, she inclined her head, and her unholy tormentor winked.  That was it.  At the end of her tether, everything inside her railed at once.  “
You
.”

“Now do not frown, as it spoils your lovely face.”  The devilish rogue had the unqualified audacity to smirk.  “Captain Elliott, most definitely at your service, Miss Teversham.”  Then he sketched a salute.  “And may I address you as Lenore?”

“No, you most certainly may not.”  As she wrenched from his hold, she peered at General Cotton.  “Sir, while I do not wish to seem ungrateful for your efforts, perhaps you can secure alternative passage to England for my sister and I?  There must be another ship that would suit our needs, sans such onerous company.”

“I am sorry, Miss Lenore.”  The general shook his head.  “But that is out of the question, as most transports have no capacity to accommodate two single ladies of character, and it took some convincing to sway His—”

“Er, just Captain Elliott will suffice, Stapleton.”  The scoundrel checked his timepiece.  “Given we are to be shipmates, there is no need to observe the usual proprieties.”  Lenore did not like the sound of that.  “And on that note, do what must needs, as I intend to cast off before sunset, with or without my fair travelers.”

Furrowing his brow, the general cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.  “Permit me to order a bath.”  In haste, he strode from the room.

“Do not be silly, Lenny.  As you said, we have no money, so we must avail ourselves of Captain Elliott’s goodwill.”  To Lenore’s chagrin, Lucilla snorted, even though she had just revealed the miserable state of their affairs to a total stranger.  “And you can call me Lucy, as Lucilla is a vast deal too formal.  Do you not agree?”

“I do, indeed.”  The blackguard, every bit as imposing as he was on the street, chuckled.  “But to you, little Lucy, I am simply Blake.”  When he returned his gaze to Lenore and smiled, her knees buckled, and again he steadied her.  “Easy, Miss Teversham.  We would not want you to fall and bruise what I suspect is a superior posterior.”

“Release me, Captain.”  She slapped his hand and retreated.  “As it stands, you owe me a new hat, dress, and pair of slippers, as I lost one shoe in the mud, in my failed attempt to retrieve my cherished accouterment.”

“Does your memory fail, Miss Teversham, as I compensated you generously for that, or would you have something else of me?”  And as he did in the lane, her tormentor studied her from top to toe, and she cursed the burn of a blush in her cheeks.  “Of course, I rather fancy the opportunity to clothe your shapely body, even as my thoughts tend toward the opposite objective.  Shall I procure a chemise, garters, and stockings, as well?”

“I beg your pardon?”  Shocked by the intimate nature of his suggestion, she almost swooned.

“She favors lavender, Captain.”  With a snicker, Lucilla sported a mischievous grin.  “But when it comes to her delicate undergarments—”

“That is quite enough, sister.”  Mortified, Lenore did not notice her antagonist had moved, until he cupped her chin and wiped her face with his lace-edged kerchief, and she stiffened her spine.  “What are you doing?”

“You missed a spot, Miss Teversham.”  With his thumb, he caressed the edge of her jaw, and she gulped, as he all but pierced her with his clear blue eyes.  In another time and place, they might have been friends, or something more, as she found him devastatingly handsome.  “But even beneath a coating of road muck, I find you rather appealing.”  Then he grimaced and sniffed the air.  “Good heavens, is that you?”

“
Oh
.”  In that instant, she would have stomped her foot, but she recalled her earlier disastrous display of temper and reconsidered.  Just as a particularly scathing response formed in her brain, the general returned.

“Miss Lenore, the servants are ready for you.”  As the resplendent military man dipped his chin, the maid at his right curtseyed.  “If you would follow Daisy, she will show you the way.”

“Thank you.”  Lenore attempted a graceful exit, but she caught her toe on the carpet and tripped, and her less than chivalrous patron shot to her aid.

“Careful, Miss Teversham.”  Given the captain’s throaty drawl, she braced for another insult, as she glanced over her shoulder, only to discover him blatantly scrutinizing her bottom, and she screeched in protest even as he chortled.  “Well, well, I am correct in my assertion.”

#

The sun sat below the yardarm, as Blake Thornton Deverell Elliott, fifth Duke of Rylan, admired the gentle sway of Lenore’s hips, while she ascended the gangplank of the
Tristan
.  For the second time that day, he clenched his gut, as the incomparable elder Miss Teversham piqued his baser instincts, and his body responded, to his dismay and delight.

At the age of three and thirty, he had indulged in his share of female conquests, neither provisional nor permanent, because none had commanded his faculties, as had the prim and proper, but unutterably beguiling, Lenore.

And despite her valiant attempts to ignore him and convey an air of ennui, during the brief carriage ride to the docks, she could not hide the gooseflesh she rushed to cover when she drew down her long sleeves, as he helped her into the equipage, or the charming pink tinge of her cheeks, when she caught him staring at her.

Yes, he impacted her every bit as much as she affected him, which only heightened his interest and further stimulated his reaction.  It was that fact, alone, which had led him to insist she and her younger sister, who reminded him of a particular friend, Sabrina Markham, save the spectacles, journey with him to England.

“Your Grace, if I may, why did you not permit me to apprise the Tevershams of your peerage?”  Perspiring in the uncharacteristically cool September breeze, Stapleton wiped his brow and shifted his weight.  “No doubt, it would make the voyage much easier.”

“Ah, but often the best things in life require a bit of work, thus they are worth the effort, and the ocean knows no rank.”  And Blake fully intended to enjoy the challenge Lenore unwittingly presented.  “Tell me what you know of her, Stapleton.  Is she married?”