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Never Trust a Rebel
Sarah Mallory


Flirting with danger!Ten years ago Drew Castlemain fled England, disowned by his family and branded a traitor. So returning to escort his new ward Elyse Salforde to her fiancé is not only frustrating, it’s downright dangerous!Drew is honour-bound to protect Elyse, but when he discovers she is beautiful, intelligent and far too spirited for her own good, that’s easier said than done! Drew is in no position to offer her anything, but when every touch is forbidden – and yet oh, so delicious – he won’t be able to fight temptation for long…









‘Would you like to kiss me goodnight?’


She knew she was taking a great risk but he did not look outraged, nor did he admonish her for her forwardness. When he maintained his silence she added softly, ‘You are a rake, are you not? And rakes always want to kiss a pretty girl.’

He stopped, frowning down at her fingers resting on his sleeve.

‘You would not be wise to pursue this, Miss Salforde.’

A tiny frisson of excitement ran along her spine as she heard the warning note in his voice. She moved a little nearer.

‘Surely it would not be improper for my guardian to call me Elyse?’

Her excitement intensified as his gaze moved to her face, so piercing that for a moment it took her breath away. She read danger in his look, but the wine she had imbibed had given her courage and she felt emboldened by the challenge. She schooled her face into a picture of innocence, at the same time leaning closer so that the lace at her breast was almost touching his waistcoat. She saw his eyes darken and felt a flicker of satisfaction.

‘You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Salforde.’




AUTHOR NOTE (#ulink_50ef04d5-4786-5ac6-97c8-30859d2e6754)


Ten years after Bonnie Prince Charlie tried and failed to reclaim the British throne for his father, Drew Castlemain returns to England to carry out his friend’s final wishes. He meets Elyse, a spirited young lady and the belle of the northern spa town of Scarborough, but events conspire to prevent him from delivering her to her fiancé and instead they find themselves falling headlong into love…

This Georgian romance is set half a century before the Regency, when it was still usual for men to carry swords and for ladies to wear heavy gowns with hoops and layers of petticoats. Travel was slower, too, with poor roads and lumbering coaches—as my hero and heroine discover to their cost.

I really loved telling Elyse and Drew’s story; they are a young couple who have to fight against the odds to win their happiness, but of course in the end they succeed, and I hope you will enjoy their journey as much as I enjoyed writing about it.

Oh, and on a final note, Drew and Elyse’s whirlwind romance blossomed over a couple of weeks. Improbable, you might think, but it can happen—I met my own hero and knew after just two weeks that he was the one for me. We have just celebrated forty-one years together, so I think I might have been right!


Never Trust

a Rebel

Sarah Mallory






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the UK’s brilliant NHS and all its dedicated staff, especially in A&E.

In particular, Dr E B-G—thanks for the (rather painful) memory!


SARAH MALLORY was born in Bristol, and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen-name of Melinda Hammond, winning the Reviewers’ Choice Award from singletitles.com (http://singletitles.com) for Dance for a Diamond and the Historical Novel Society’s Editors’ Choice for Gentlemen in Question. Sarah Mallory has also twice won the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s RONA Rose


Award for The Dangerous Lord Darrington and Beneath the Major’s Scars.


Contents

Cover (#u2a6b71e3-e438-5b8d-a63f-181ba7ae5196)

Introduction (#u6a630c54-d196-5296-8de3-018c331d885d)

Author Note (#u15fc9edb-64d0-56d5-9058-807f75c8476e)

Title Page (#u5d8cc292-7f3d-5870-9a4c-367d592c1456)

Dedication (#u358368ad-ea90-52f1-b32b-37b46ef43c9f)

About the Author (#ufcafe976-e7f0-5b59-aee1-5a801df16ef5)

Prologue (#uc227e9a4-59a1-5592-bcf9-49d240c096bc)

Chapter One (#u40204716-3cf7-5ed7-8a53-e6e5b28be61d)

Chapter Two (#uc19c9937-a80b-5e94-b1fb-c415e13a1da6)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#ulink_d155cb9c-2b9e-5e40-a9ce-07cca8f9b48c)

Paris—1756

The Porte St Honoré was crowded with the usual mix of smart carriages, heavy wagons and tumbrils, all anxious to reach their destination before dark. Suddenly shouts and an unseemly scuffle interrupted the steady flow of traffic. A group of liveried servants surged down the Rue St Honoré, dragging in their midst two figures whose bloodied faces, muddied frockcoats and torn lace ruffles suggested that they had been seriously manhandled. When the group reached the city gate they carried the two men outside and threw them down on to the cobbles.

‘If you are wise you will not return to Paris, messieurs,’ growled one of the servants, making a great show of dusting his hands.

‘Aye, we do not take kindly to English dogs cheating our master at his own card table,’ declared a second, while several others aimed vicious kicks at the two men on the ground, before the whole group turned and made their way, laughing, back into the city. The excitement over, the traffic on the Rue St Honoré resumed its steady progress, passing on either side of the two bodies with barely a glance.

One of the men struggled to his hands and knees and stayed there for a moment, as if debating if he could get up. He made the attempt and stood, swaying. Then he pushed his long, unpowdered hair back from his face and turned to help his companion.

‘Come along, Harry. I think it best if we heed their advice.’

‘No choice, my friend. The duc will see to it that we are not made welcome in Paris for some time.’ Harry gingerly touched his swollen lip. ‘I can’t abide a bad loser.’

‘You were flirting with La Belle Marianne. That was damned reckless of you.’

‘Faith, Drew, the lady gave me a blatant invitation to pursue her. And what of you? Madame le Clere has been warming your bed for the past se’ennight.’

‘Someone had to amuse her, with her husband out of Paris. Not quite the same as dallying with the duc’s mistress under his very nose. You should have resisted.’

‘Nay, my boy, where is the fun in that? Now, where the devil’s my wig?’

Drew scooped up the sorry-looking jumble of hair and silk and held it out, saying, ‘And you are sure you did not mark the cards?’

‘Of course not.’ Harry jammed the wig on his head. ‘Stap me, boy, I should call you out for that.’ He winced and put his hand on his back. ‘Egad, but that hurts.’ His grin faded and was replaced by a look of shock as he staggered. He collapsed against his companion, saying with a feeble laugh, ‘By Gad, I fear they have finished me, old friend.’

* * *

‘Come along, Harry,’ Drew wrung out the cloth and wiped the ashen face. ‘We’ve been through worse than this.’

He frowned as he regarded the restless figure on the bed. He himself was stiff and bruised from the beating he had received but he was recovering, whereas Harry appeared to be growing weaker, writhing in agony as the effects of the laudanum wore off. They had made their way to an inn on the Rue de Chemin Vert where the landlady quickly ushered them upstairs to a bedroom, declaring that the sight of them in their present bloodied state would frighten away her customers. Drew welcomed her ready assistance and suspected she was another of Harry’s conquests. He felt a momentary irritation with his friend: they might not be in this situation now if Harry had been able to resist flirting with every pretty woman who came his way.

As the long night wore on he could do nothing but bathe his friend’s face and administer more laudanum. In the long periods between he thought back over the years they had spent wandering Europe together. Three years ago Drew had been scraping a living as a mercenary, fighting for any foreign power that would pay him, but then he had met Harry Salforde. Drew was more than ten years his junior but the two men had struck up a close friendship. Harry had taken Drew under his wing, bought him a suit of fine clothes and introduced him to the gambling hells of Rome, Naples and finally Paris, where they had practised their skills at games of chance. So successful had they been that Drew had been able to put away a tidy sum. Thus he was not too concerned about their current lack of funds. It was one of the hazards of living by one’s wits.

They had found themselves at the gaming tables with the richest and most powerful nobles in France, but those same nobles did not enjoy losing to their English opponents, and Drew supposed it was inevitable that one day their luck would turn. That the duc should have them beaten and thrown out of the city in such an ignominious manner rankled, but Drew bore the man no ill will. He had learned that much from Harry over the years. He merely shrugged off misfortune, learning from his mistakes and moving on to the next city.

Except this time it did not look as if Harry would be moving on for some time.

* * *

Drew spent a sleepless night, finally getting a little rest as dawn broke and Harry was sleeping more peacefully, but it did not last and as the morning wore on he grew restless again. Drew noted with some unease that Harry was sweating badly and he fetched a damp cloth to bathe his face. Harry looked at him with bloodshot eyes and for a while did not seem to recognise him. Then at last he gave a sigh.

‘I think I’m done for this time, Drew.’

‘Devil a bit. Rest is all you need, old friend.’

Harry shifted in the bed, wincing and Drew reached for the laudanum.

‘Here, drink this, it will help you sleep.’

‘No, not yet.’ Harry grabbed his wrist. ‘Before that, there’s something I must tell you. Something you must promise me.’

‘Of course. Anything.’

‘I have a daughter.’

‘I know. Elyse.’ Drew forced a grin. ‘You told me she is a rare beauty.’

‘Aye, she is. She had just emerged from the schoolroom the last time I saw her but she was bidding fair to become a diamond, like her mother.’ His face contorted in pain. ‘Lisabet. Frenchwoman, y’know. Beautiful, spirited—only woman I truly loved. She died several years ago and since then Elyse has been in the care of her aunt, my sister, Matthews in Scarborough.’

‘She is safe then.’

Harry’s grip on his wrist tightened.

‘No. There’s more. That last time I visited her was just before I met you. Viscount Whittlewood was in Scarborough for his health and I chanced upon him at the gaming tables. Naturally we sat down together on several occasions.’

‘Naturally,’ Drew said drily.

‘He—er—lost. We came to an arrangement. He would marry Elyse to his younger son, in payment of the debt.’

‘What? But that’s outrageous.’

Harry gave a laugh that was cut short by a gasp of pain.

‘Whittlewood had lost an outrageous sum. There is nothing so bad about it. Elyse and William were dancing together at the assembly and getting on famously. Smelling of April and May, both of ’em. That is what gave me the idea. Contracts were drawn up, the boy proposed, everything was agreed, but the viscount asked that the marriage should be put off for a while until his son had reached his majority. I saw no harm in it. After all Elyse was only seventeen at the time and had much to learn about the world.’ He coughed, wincing as the pain tore at his insides and it was some moments before he could continue.

‘Whittlewood’s son was one-and-twenty six months ago but he made no move to claim his bride. I wrote to the viscount, advising him that my patience was wearing thin. Play or pay up. Whittlewood agreed that I should deliver Elyse to him by Michaelmas, when she reaches her majority, and the marriage will take place within the month.’

‘And what does your daughter say to all this?’ asked Drew.

‘What should she say, but yes? What girl in her right mind would turn down the chance to ally herself to the Reversons? They are one of the foremost families in England. Besides, he’s a good-looking young man and they were fancying themselves very much in love even then. Don’t look down your nose at me, Drew. I know that was a few years back but m’sister’s last letter informed me that Elyse has been corresponding with Reverson and he is still eager for the match. So all that needs to be done now is to take the bride to her groom. Only I did not expect to cock up my toes before I could do it.’

‘Do not talk such nonsense. You will be up and about again in a few days.’

Harry closed his eyes, one hand waving feebly.

‘I don’t think so, my friend, not this time. I won’t be able to escort Elyse to her new family, so I must ask you to do it for me.’

‘Me!’ the shock of it surprised a laugh from Drew. ‘Lord, Harry, you more than anyone should know that I can’t go back to England. There’s a price on my head.’

‘You can change your name. It wouldn’t be the first time. And what has it been, ten years since you went back? Who is likely to remember you?’

‘That is not all, Harry. I have lived those past ten years by my wits and my sword, stealing kisses from other men’s wives and daughters. A disreputable rogue! I am the last man you should entrust with such a task.’

‘No, you are the perfect choice to look after my precious daughter.’ Harry’s voice was failing, but he managed a weak grin. ‘Poacher turned gamekeeper. Help me sit up now, and I’ll write a note for m’sister, then she will give Elyse into your care.’

Drew argued, but in vain. In the end he called for pen and ink and helped Harry to write his final letters. It took a long time, sitting up seemed to cause Harry even more pain and he fainted off more than once, but at last the business was finished and Harry leaned back, closing his eyes.

‘There, it is done.’ His voice was little more than a thread. ‘Give this to my sister, she will find you all the documents relating to this business.’

‘Hush, my friend, no need to talk more of this now. Wait until the morning—’

‘I doubt I shall see the morning. The pain in my gut is damnable.’ He waved his hand towards his frockcoat, thrown over a chair. ‘You’ll find some papers sewn into the lining, and a letter of introduction to a certain gentleman in Lyon. Go to him and he will give you access to my funds.’

‘Harry—’

‘No, let me finish.’ He drew another laboured breath, the skin on his face as grey as old parchment. ‘Take what you need for your journey, and give the rest to Elyse on her birthday. ’Tis her inheritance.’

‘I will, Harry.’

‘Do I have your word as a gentleman? And don’t give me that rubbish again about your being a rebel. I knew you for a gentleman the first time I saw you!’

Drew grasped the hand, and not by the flicker of an eyelid did he show his dismay at the cold skin.

‘You have my word, Harry. A rebel’s honour, for what it’s worth.’

‘Good.’ He closed his eyes and seemed to relax down into the pillows. ‘Then I commend my daughter to your care.’

Within an hour Harry Salforde was dead.


Chapter One (#ulink_7beba8ee-31bb-55e9-b93f-b44de8b483e2)

‘Miss Salforde, I prostrate myself at your feet. I am your slave!’

Elyse looked down at the portly gentleman kneeling before her, his badly powdered bagwig failing to cover completely his straggly blond hair.

‘Well, you need not, Mr Scorton. I cannot give you any hope because I am promised to another, as you are very well aware.’

She tried and failed to stop the smile that was bubbling inside her. The gentleman, looking up at that moment, saw her lips twitch and struggled to his feet, saying in an injured tone, ‘You are very cruel, fair beauty. If you will not countenance my suit, why did you agree to come outside with me?’

Yes, why had she?

Elyse pondered the matter. She could not deny that the drawing room was very hot and crowded, but there had been no shortage of gentlemen offering to escort her out on to the terrace. So why had she favoured Mr Scorton?

Because he was the least likely of her many admirers and tonight she had decided to take pity on him. Elyse did not consider herself vain, but she was often called beautiful, so she supposed it must be true. Her figure was good, and there was something about her dark curls, brown eyes and heart-shaped face that seemed to draw gentlemen to her. All sorts of men, married or single, young or old, they crowded around her. They paid her compliments, teased her, flirted with her. She was happy enough to respond to them all, knowing herself safe from any serious courtship because she was in love with the Honourable Mr William Reverson, younger son of Viscount Whittlewood, and she was going to marry him. And her admirers, too, knew of her engagement and were content to enjoy a mild flirtation, a little amusing badinage with a pretty young lady. All quite harmless.

However, it seemed that Mr Scorton, with his pompous manners and badly fitting wig, was so smitten with her that he was not content to kiss her hand and whisper ridiculous compliments into her ear, he had actually had the temerity to propose!

It was a salutary lesson, and one that she knew regretfully she should have learned before this, but what was one to do when men were silly enough to shower her with praise and adulation? However, she had no wish to cause distress to anyone, and she realised she must be more circumspect in future. With a rueful smile she held out her hand to Mr Scorton.

‘Why, sir, I came out with you for a little air, nothing more, but if I have raised false hopes in you then I am very sorry for it. Pray cry friends with me, sir.’

He clasped her fingers in his pudgy hands.

‘Ah, so kind, so generous. I cannot let you go without trying to persuade you to think seriously of my offer.’

Before she knew what he was about he had pulled her into his arms.

‘Really, Mr Scor—’

Her words were smothered as he covered her face with hot, ardent kisses.

He might only be the same height as Elyse, and as broad as he was wide, but Mr Scorton in the throes of passion proved himself immensely strong. She could not break out of his hold and was crushed against him, unable even to deliver a well-aimed kick to his shins because the thick folds of her black petticoats were in the way.

She twisted her head away, shuddering as his wet lips slithered over her cheek.

‘How dare you, sir, I am in mourning!’

‘And your sorrow makes you even more irresistible.’

‘Enough sir, let me go!’

She did not expect him to obey, so she was more than a little surprised to find herself suddenly released.

Elyse staggered back and steadied herself against the balustrade that edged the terrace. As soon as she had regained her balance she raised her head, intending to deliver a blistering reproof, but the words died on her lips when she realised that they were no longer alone on the terrace.

A dark stranger was standing between her and Mr Scorton, who was clutching at his throat.

‘For Gad, sir,’ Scorton gasped, ‘you have well-nigh strangled me.’

‘I had to find some way of pulling you off the lady and my fingers in the back of your neck cloth proved most effective.’

This cool rejoinder brought a choleric flush to Mr Scorton’s cheeks.

‘Then by heavens you shall answer for it. Name your friends, sir.’

Mr Scorton placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword and drew himself up to his full if diminutive height, which Elyse could not fail to notice left him several inches shorter than the tall stranger.

‘Don’t be such a damned fool,’ came the crushing retort. ‘I am the girl’s guardian.’

The effect of this statement silenced Mr Scorton, but it caused Elyse to give a little shriek. Both men looked towards her but it was the stranger who spoke, addressing Mr Scorton in a tone of weary boredom.

‘I suggest you go away, sir, before I give you a bloody nose to go with your sore throat.’

With only the slightest hesitation Mr Scorton hurried away and the stranger turned towards Elyse. Her instinct was to step back, but her thick skirts were already pressing against the balustrade and she was trapped.

‘Keep away from me,’ she said, putting out her hand.

He had his back to the light that spilled out of the drawing room windows, so Elyse could not see his face and she was aware of an unaccountable stirring of alarm. His large frame stood menacingly between her and the safety of the house. She felt a stab of annoyance that her erstwhile suitor had gone off so readily and left her to face this man alone.

He made no move to approach, but his silence was equally unnerving and she said sharply, ‘I have no idea who you are.’

‘Drew Bastion.’ He spoke curtly without even a bow or an ‘at your service’. ‘I wrote to you from France, to inform you of your father’s death and the fact that he had appointed me your guardian.’

‘I do not need a guardian.’

‘From what I have just seen I think you do,’ he retorted. ‘I was surprised to arrive and find the house so full of company.’

‘My aunt arranged this party weeks ago and decided we should not cancel. Once we heard the news about Papa we made it clear there could be no music or dancing.’

‘You should also have made it clear there would be no flirting.’

‘I was not—’

‘From the moment I walked in I have observed you,’ he interrupted. ‘You have been constantly surrounded by gentlemen and your manner, the way you ply your fan, is most unseemly for one in deep mourning for her father.’

Drew paused, reining in his anger. Harry’s loss was still raw and this lack of respect was an outrage. Yet it was hardly Miss Salforde’s fault if men were falling over themselves to win her favour. Her dark beauty was everything that Harry had described to him. Luminescent was the word that came to his mind, despite her bereaved state. She was as covered up as a Jesuit in a bombazine manteau, but its dull black petticoats only enhanced the porcelain delicacy of her fine skin, which was innocent of paint or powder.

She had caught his eye as soon as he walked into the room. In any other circumstances he would have made his way to her and engaged her interest, for there was no denying the sharp tug of attraction he had felt as he took in her excellent figure and those luxuriant curls, the colour of polished ebony. But he had recognised her immediately as Harry’s daughter, and honour would not allow him to trifle with a lady who had been placed under his protection. However, it was clear that the other gentlemen present were equally entranced and they had no such restraint upon them.

No, he could not blame her for attracting any man’s attention, but he could blame her for responding in such a flirtatious manner. And what was Mrs Matthews thinking of, to allow the party to go ahead barely three months after her brother’s death? Of course, this was the thriving spa town of Scarborough and not Paris, but surely the rules of polite society in England had not changed quite so radically while he had been away? As if reading his mind the girl put up her head, a challenge in her dark eyes.

‘We are holding a quiet soirée, sir, as befits a house in mourning. The guests here came only to offer their condolences.’

His lip curled.

‘That may well have been the intention, but the gentlemen crowding around you were certainly doing more than offering their condolences and you were doing nothing to discourage them.’

‘That is outrageous. You have no right to say such things to me!’

He ignored her outburst.

‘Then I come out here to find you flirting so disgracefully in the darkness. By heaven you are as bad as your father.’

‘How dare you malign my sainted papa!’

Her dark eyes sparkled with wrath but he found his own anger diffused by a sudden flash of humour.

He said drily, ‘Your father was many things, including a good friend to me, Miss Salforde, but he was no saint.’

He thought she would fly at him for that, but although her eyes widened and the angry flush on her cheeks deepened, she bit her lip and regarded him in silence. He observed her resentful look, the shadow of doubt in her eyes. So she knew something of her father’s life then. But he was not here to argue with her. He tried to modify his tone when he spoke again.

‘Enough of this, Miss Salforde. Shall we go in and find your aunt?’

* * *

After the briefest hesitation Elyse laid her fingers on his proffered arm. Andrew Bastion. She recalled, now, that her aunt had mentioned his name when she had read out his letter, but Elyse had taken little note of it at the time, nor the fact that he had been appointed her guardian. She had been too shocked by the news of her father’s sudden demise. Since her mother’s death twelve years ago she had only seen Papa occasionally and for very brief periods. He would arrive, boisterous, laughing and bringing with him extravagant presents for them both, then he would disappear again for months, even years. He had become a distant figure, larger than life yet not quite real. That is why it felt so uncomfortable to be in deep mourning for a father she barely knew.

But that did not mean she would forgive this man for upbraiding her in such a brutish manner. A tiny prickle of conscience whispered that she might have deserved his reprimand but she was not accustomed to criticism. Mama had always spoiled her, and Aunt Matthews was of such a complaisant nature that she never made any effort to check her. It was the same with the gentlemen of her acquaintance. As soon as she had left the schoolroom she had been aware of their admiration. Why, even her aunt’s elderly gentlemen friends gazed upon her with approval.

Elyse glanced up at her escort as they stepped back into the light of the drawing room. As a friend of Papa’s she had assumed he would be of a similar age and she was surprised to discover that he was much younger—some years less than thirty, she guessed. As if aware of her scrutiny Bastion glanced down at her and she discovered he was also extremely handsome. Something, a flash, a bolt of attraction shot between them and she quickly averted her gaze, frightened by the sudden inexplicable feeling that came over her, as if she had always known this man. It could not be. She had never seen him before, although now his image was burned into her memory.

His face was lean, with straight dark brows above a pair of searching blue eyes. A coat of dark blue velvet embroidered with silver was moulded to his large frame and threw into sharp relief the snowy lace ruffles at his throat and wrists. His clothes were undoubtedly fashionable and had a distinctly French air. Despite the fact that he wore his own light brown hair unpowdered and caught back with a simple black ribbon she thought him very elegant, much more stylish than any other gentlemen present tonight.

Indignation welled up within Elyse. It would not do to let him know what she thought of him, especially when he so patently disapproved of her. But surely his disapproval would not last for long? He would come round when he knew her better. After all, she had not yet met a man who was impervious to her charms. She took another glance at the unyielding figure of her escort and a tiny doubt shook her. It was true she had never been short of admirers, but she had never before set out to attract a man. She shook her head at her foolishness. She was not trying to attract him, merely to make him like her. She buried her indignation and tried for a friendly tone.

‘Are you truly my guardian, Mr Bastion?’

‘I am. Your father left you to my charge. I have the papers with me, proving my identity, if you would like to see them.’

‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to question you, but when we read your letter—I expected someone older.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘Why, you cannot be much older than I am.’

‘I am six-and-twenty, and old enough not to be bamboozled by your tricks and stratagems, madam.’

The glint in his blue eyes made the blush deepen in her cheeks. Had he guessed her thoughts? She was tempted to protest, but in truth she had been trying to charm him and decided it would be wiser to remain silent until she had the measure of Mr Andrew Bastion.

He took her back to her aunt, who greeted them with unruffled cheerfulness.

‘So you found her, Mr Bastion. Was she on the terrace, as we thought?’

‘I was, Aunt Matthews.’ Elyse answered quickly, to prevent her companion from doing so. ‘I had stepped out for a breath of air and Mr Scorton was so ungentlemanly as to forget himself.’ She could not resist a flicker of a glance at the man beside her. He should not be allowed to think she had been indulging in a light flirtation. ‘He made me an offer of marriage.’

‘Did he my dear? How tiresome for you.’

Knowing her aunt’s complaisant nature, Elyse was in no way disconcerted by her lack of concern, but Mr Bastion was much less sanguine.

‘You appear singularly unsurprised, madam.’

Mrs Matthews opened her eyes at him.

‘You are wrong, sir. I am very surprised, for everyone here knows Elyse is promised to Viscount Whittlewood’s son. However, I must take you to task, Elyse. It is all very well for you to be friendly with the gentlemen here. After all, you have known them for years, but as for going out on to the terrace alone with one of them, that was not at all wise, my love.’

Elyse bit her lip. It did not need her aunt’s gentle reproof to tell her that. She could only be grateful that Mr Bastion did not disclose just how unwise she had been. Yet his silence on the subject only increased her irritation, since she was now doubly beholden to him. When another guest claimed her aunt’s attention Elyse turned to Mr Bastion and began to offer him an apology. He cut her short.

‘Save your words, Miss Salforde. You will not turn me up sweet.’

‘I was not attempting to—’

‘It is my opinion that you have been grievously indulged,’ he continued as if she had not spoken. ‘No wonder your father asked me to take you in hand.’

She drew herself up, an angry retort rising to her lips but before she could utter it he had pulled her hand on to his arm.

‘Let us move away a little, Miss Salforde, where we may talk undisturbed.’

‘I have no wish to talk to you.’

‘I do not doubt that, but I am your guardian and I think I need to make a few things clear.’ He led her to the far side of the refreshment table, which was currently deserted. ‘You have been petted and spoiled and come to think of yourself as a diamond of the highest order.’

She gave a gasp of indignation.

‘I think no such thing.’

‘But you do think yourself up to every rig and row, and able to wrap any man round your little finger, is that not so?’ She blushed a fiery red and he nodded with satisfaction. ‘Let us get one thing straight at the outset, Miss Salforde. I am no callow youth to be dazzled by your smile, nor am I ancient enough to dote on you.’

She pulled her arm free and turned to glare up at him.

‘You are insulting, sir.’

He leaned a little closer. She saw again that disturbing glint in his eye, but this time it held her attention. She could not look away.

‘I am merely making sure we understand one another,’ he told her. ‘Your father appointed me to look after you, and not before time, from what I have witnessed tonight.’

He was towering over her and she had the strangest impression that she was enveloped in his shadow. His blue eyes bored into her as if he could see into her very soul. Her spine tingled, she felt threatened, imperilled, yet this man was her guardian, sent by Papa to protect her.

She blurted out, ‘I think you are far more dangerous than any of the gentlemen here tonight.’

The harsh look vanished and the corners of his mouth lifted.

‘You may well be right, Miss Salforde, so you would be wise to tread carefully.’ He gave a little bow, turned on his heel and left her to stare at his retreating form.

* * *

The remainder of the evening proved very long and frustrating for Elyse. She kept away from the infuriating Mr Bastion as much as possible, but she could not relax and enjoy herself. She was very conscious of every man who approached her, unable to respond to even the mildest compliment and instead she sought out her female acquaintances, determined that no further accusations of improper conduct should be levelled at her.

For once she was relieved when the guests began to take their leave, but even then her trials were not at an end, for she discovered that Aunt Matthews had invited Mr Bastion to remain behind.

‘I have ordered wine and cakes to be brought to us in the morning room,’ she told Elyse, directing a smile at the gentleman that showed how far she had fallen under his spell. ‘There are papers I need to hand over and I made sure you would like to talk to him about your father.’

‘I should, of course, Aunt, but perhaps it is a little late for Mr Bastion.’

‘I have already assured you I am not in my dotage, Miss Salforde.’ His eyes gleamed with a challenge as he anticipated her next argument. ‘And everyone assures me that you have boundless energy.’

She shot him a smouldering glance but was not yet beaten.

‘I have,’ she responded sweetly, ‘but perhaps my aunt may be fatigued.’

Aunt Matthews laughingly disclaimed.

‘Not a bit of it. Why, it is not much past midnight. Now come along, both of you, let us repair to the morning room and make ourselves comfortable.’

She sailed out of the room and Elyse followed, head held high and ignoring the gentleman who fell into step beside her.

‘I would not advise you to cross swords with me, Miss Salforde,’ he murmured.

She gave a little huff of impatience.

‘I have no wish to do so,’ she hissed at him. ‘But I will not allow you to browbeat me, you...you bully!’

He stopped caught her arm, turning her to face him.

‘I shall do whatever is necessary to look after you as your father would have wanted. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly.’ The harsh look in his face made her quail inwardly, but she kept her chin up and met his eyes with a defiant stare. ‘But that does not mean I have to like you.’

To her consternation his frown disappeared at that and he grinned.

‘I am desolated, of course, but doubtless I will survive.’

She gave a little gasp of indignation. How dare he laugh at her. Pulling her arm free she hurried on to the morning room, determined to be revenged upon the hateful man.

* * *

‘So, Mr Bastion, you were with my brother at the end.’

Drew, Mrs Matthews and her niece were sitting around a small table in the morning room, wine and a selection of delectable little cakes provided by Mrs Matthews’s indefatigable cook set out before them.

Drew sipped his wine, wondering how much to tell them. That he and Harry had been thrown out of Paris, ostensibly for cheating at cards? That might not shock the ladies as much as the real reason, that Harry had been having a liaison with the duc’s mistress. He glanced across the table at Elyse, looking very demure as she nibbled at one of the little cakes. She had probably inherited her beauty from her mother, but she certainly had Harry’s charm of manner. She looked up at him at that moment, peeping at him from beneath her lashes in a way that immediately aroused his interest. He fought it down quickly and frowned. She also appeared to have inherited Harry’s propensity for flirting.

‘You said he died of an injury,’ Mrs Matthews continued, when he tarried too long over his answer. ‘Was he involved in a duel, perhaps?’ She smiled when he looked up, his brows raised in surprise at her question. ‘My brother was a scapegrace, Mr Bastion. An adventurer with an eye for the ladies. He never made any secret of it. Even when Elyse’s mama was alive he could not change his ways and settle down, so you need not think to shock us.’

‘There was a little trouble,’ he confessed. ‘In Paris.’

He paused, remembering how he had half-carried half-dragged Harry to the inn where Harry had told him he knew the landlord’s wife. Drew’s lips tightened. Harry’s trouble was that he knew every man’s wife.

Drew saw that Elyse was watching him, although he acquitted her now of trying to flirt with him. Her gaze was steady, direct. He knew she would not be satisfied unless he gave some explanation of what had happened. But her candid look made him uneasy. He wanted to protect her from the truth.

‘Footpads. Harry was more seriously injured than we thought at first. I summoned a physician but it was no use, he died within hours, but before he did, he drew up certain papers. Including one making me your guardian, Miss Salforde.’

‘Yes, I have been considering that,’ Elyse said. ‘Why should he do such a thing, sir, when my aunt has managed very well on her own for the past dozen years?’

He replied carefully. ‘Your father was very conscious that Mrs Matthews is a widow.’

‘And he thought you a more suitable guardian?’ She raised her brows and he observed the faint look of disbelief before she shifted her gaze to the cakes. ‘I believe you had known my father for some years, Mr Bastion.’

‘That is correct. We had become close friends.’

Her hand hovered over the platter before she selected a tiny iced fancy, saying as she did so, ‘If you were my father’s friend, sir, and you were with him in Paris, it occurs to me that you, too, are an adventurer. And quite possibly a rake,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘I am well aware that my father had that reputation.’

Touché.

‘What I was in the past is irrelevant,’ he told her. ‘As is the future. For now I have a task to perform. Before he died your father was in touch with Viscount Whittlewood concerning your marriage to his younger son, the Honourable William Reverson.’

‘Ah, thank heaven for that,’ exclaimed Mrs Matthews. ‘Elyse and William Reverson have been betrothed now for three years and I was afraid they would never marry.’

‘Quite,’ said Drew. ‘Harry considered the delay had gone on long enough and he was anxious to have the matter settled. He and the viscount came to an agreement, a date was set for the marriage and Miss Salforde will join the viscount’s household a month beforehand, that she may grow accustomed to her new family.’ He glanced at Mrs Matthews. ‘It was also agreed that you, ma’am, should be invited to remain with your niece as chaperon—and honoured guest—until the wedding.’

‘Well, of course,’ said the widow. ‘And that is even more important now, since I am the only relative the poor child has.’

Drew inclined his head at her before turning his attention to Elyse.

‘On his deathbed, your father charged me with the task of delivering you safely into Lord Whittlewood’s care by Michaelmas.’

The cake fell from Elyse’s nerveless fingers.

‘But that is my birthday, and less than a month away.’

‘Yes.’

‘But I shall still be in mourning.’

‘Your father knew that, but it is his express wish that the arrangements stand. The wedding will take place a month later, at the end of October.’

‘I cannot possibly be married so soon.’

From her startled gaze Drew knew that Elyse had not been informed of the forthcoming change in her circumstances. He felt a tiny spurt of irritation. It was just like Harry to want to keep such information to himself until he could return to Scarborough and whisk his daughter off to her new life. He would have considered the speed and surprise of the whole venture exciting. Elyse looked as if she needed more time to grow accustomed to the idea. In contrast to her niece’s shocked countenance, Mrs Matthews was beaming at him.

‘But of course you can, my love. Heavens, you have been waiting long enough. With Lord Whittlewood’s money and influence behind the alliance everything can be arranged in a twinkling.’ She turned her smile upon Drew. ‘That is wonderful news, sir. I know Mr Reverson and my niece are eager for the match, but we did not know a date had been agreed. And, Elyse, just think of it. You will be with Mr Reverson for your birthday on the twenty-ninth of September.’

‘Yes. I shall be one-and-twenty.’

‘At which date my guardianship of you comes to an end,’ stated Drew.

‘And not a moment too soon.’

Mrs Matthews tutted.

‘Now, now, Elyse, it was your father’s wish that Mr Bastion should have a care for you and we must respect that.’ She smiled at Drew. ‘So you will be accompanying us to the viscount’s principal seat, sir? I believe it is in Cambridgeshire.’

‘No. Lord Whittlewood informs me he will be at his town house in London.’

Drew recalled the viscount’s letter which Harry had passed over to him. It was unusually specific. Miss Salforde was to be delivered into his care by Michaelmas and not a day later, or he would consider the agreement null and void. Drew did not know how binding that last clause would be, but to drag the matter through the courts was unthinkable. It would not reflect well upon either party. The viscount’s standing was sufficiently good for him to survive it, but Harry’s name would fare less well, and the scandal attached to his daughter would ruin her for life. And as for his own part in the affair, Drew had no wish to attract the notice of the authorities.

He said now, ‘I intend to deliver Miss Salforde to Lord Whittlewood in London by the end of the week. I will then remain in town for the two weeks until Michaelmas. That will give me time to ascertain that Miss Salforde is happy with all the arrangements before I relinquish my guardianship. After that she will be in the care of the viscount, who plans to remove the whole family to Cambridgeshire for the banns to be called.’

‘Yes of course, but...’ Mrs Matthews frowned. ‘To be in town by the end of the week we will need to set out in a few days’ time.’

Drew nodded. ‘Wednesday at the latest, ma’am. If the weather turns we might easily take a se’ennight to reach London.’

Elyse had been listening in silence, but now she gave an outraged gasp. The news of her forthcoming marriage was shock enough, but to leave her home at such short notice was intolerable.

‘That’s the day after tomorrow,’ she said. ‘We cannot possibly be ready so soon.’

‘I’m afraid you will have to be.’

‘You are riding roughshod over us, Mr Bastion.’

His gaze flickered over her, the blue eyes cold and indifferent.

‘I would have thought you would be impatient to join your fiancé. Perhaps you are not so eager for the match as you once were?’

‘Of course I am, but—’

‘But nothing, Miss Salforde. You have tomorrow to do your packing and make your arrangements.’

She sat upright in her chair, bristling with indignation.

‘It is not long enough. Why, there are a dozen little things I shall need, including new gowns.’ Elyse turned to look at Aunt Matthews, but she received no support there.

‘We will manage with what we have, my dear. After all, we shall be able to go shopping in town, and think how much more exciting that will be. Do not worry, Mr Bastion. Elyse and I will be ready.’

‘Good.’ He rose. ‘I will organise a post-chaise and send you word of what time it will call for you.’

Elyse felt her anger bubbling up inside. She had one hand resting on the table and it clenched tightly into a fist as she drew in a breath to retort, but Aunt Matthews covered her fingers with her own and squeezed them warningly as she repeated quietly, ‘We will be ready, sir.’

* * *

‘What an insufferable man!’

Elyse had struggled to contain herself until Mr Bastion had been shown out and the door had barely closed behind him before her exclamation was uttered, resonant with suppressed violence.

‘Hush my dear, he may still hear you.’

‘I am sure I do not care. I declare I quite abhor him.’

‘Why should you do that, my love, when he is doing his best to carry out your father’s wishes?’

‘But in such a high-handed manner.’

Aunt Matthews chuckled.

‘He does appear to be in a hurry to get you to the viscount, does he not? But there, your father’s plans were never straightforward, so doubtless there is a good reason for it,’ she added shrewdly.

Elyse tossed her head. ‘He is the most arrogant, overbearing man I have ever met.’

‘Is he? I think it more likely that he is the first man you have met who has not succumbed to your charms.’

Elyse flushed, not at all pleased at her aunt displaying such unwonted perspicacity. She said no more on the subject and presently took herself off to bed, where her rest was disturbed by dreams of an autocratic gentleman with searching blue eyes.

* * *

Despite a long journey and the bracing sea air, it was a long time before Drew slept. He had very reluctantly agreed to become guardian to Harry’s daughter and now he realised that his qualms had been justified. Harry had described his daughter as intelligent, spirited and beautiful, but he had not told Drew just how spirited she was. Nor had Drew believed she would be so beautiful. A veritable diamond. Oh, Harry had described her as such but Drew had dismissed that as a father’s natural partiality. And after all, Harry had not seen his daughter for three years, he could not have known with any certainty that the pretty seventeen-year-old would become a nonpareil.

As soon as Drew had arrived in Scarborough he had heard bucks in the taproom toasting the incomparable Miss Salforde and the way they had been clustering around her in her own drawing room convinced him that all the menfolk of the town were in thrall to her. It was not difficult to understand why. She was witty and beautiful and she had a smile that could light up a room. And those large pansy-brown eyes—he had no doubt that her local swains had written odes to them. He had seen for himself how they could be velvet soft or sparkling with anger. He imagined they would be heart-stoppingly glorious when they were shining with happiness. Or love.

The thought had him turning restlessly in his bed. He might not have his old friend’s weakness for a pretty face, but he could not deny the attraction he felt towards Elyse Salforde. What was it that Harry had said?

‘Who better than a rake to look after a beautiful woman? Poacher turned gamekeeper, my friend.’

Well, perhaps there is still a little too much of the poacher about me, thought Drew.

There was no doubt that he found Elyse Salforde too damned tempting for comfort. It wasn’t just her beauty, but something within her, some force of nature that shone out. When their eyes met it seemed to call to him, like a kindred spirit.

By God he was turning into an old fool. He pushed himself up and thumped his pillow before settling down again and pulling the blankets more securely around him. He was honour-bound to carry out Harry’s dying wishes and he would do so. He would deliver Harry’s daughter safe and sound to her bridegroom if it was the last thing he did.


Chapter Two (#ulink_b2714917-0ada-53a4-b4e0-a7b1b8331b15)

The next morning dawned bright and clear and Drew lost no time in making his arrangements. These went well and with the late-summer sun beating down upon him he began to think the task ahead was not quite so onerous. A few days on the road and once they reached London he could hand Miss Elyse Salforde over to Lord Whittlewood. Mrs Matthews had sent him a polite note, inviting him to join them for dinner and he had grinned as he read it. He doubted her niece was in favour of the idea. She had spent most of the previous evening glaring at him, and in truth he knew he had deserved it. He had ridden her hard and given no sign that he found her attractive. She had more than enough admirers and he was not going to add to their number.

Amongst the fashionable beauties of London she might not stand out quite so much, but in a provincial spa town like Scarborough she was undoubtedly a diamond, and far too conscious of her own worth. It would do Miss Salforde no harm at all to be brought down to earth a little and if she tried her tricks upon him then he would do it.

Having finished his business he made his way to the beach to watch the horse racing. He spent a pleasant couple of hours discussing horseflesh with other observers, placing wagers, losing a little money, winning even more before quitting the sands. It was still early and there was time to spare before he needed to change for his dinner engagement, so he decided to stroll through the town. The streets were busy and it was not long before a familiar figure caught his eye.

Miss Salforde was coming towards him in the company of an elderly lady and gentleman. She wore a dark grey cloak over her black gown and it looked out of place against the more colourful attire of her companions. As they approached he recognised the couple as Mr and Mrs Oliver, guests at Mrs Matthews’s party last night. He was relieved to see that Elyse was not escorted by any of her young swains. It seemed the chit had some proper feeling, after all.

It soon became apparent that the Olivers had recognised him. When they came up they stopped to acknowledge his bow and exchange courtesies. Only Elyse looked less than pleased to see him, standing back from her friends and looking beyond him with every appearance of haughty indifference.

‘We are making our daily visit to the spa,’ offered the old gentleman, the improbably brown hair of his bagwig making a stark contrast to the white whiskers and eyebrows that adorned his aged face. ‘But first we are escorting Miss Salforde to the circulating library and home again.’

Elyse looked a little self-conscious when she realised she was the centre of attention, lifting her hands to show him the books she was carrying.

‘I must needs return them before I leave town.’

‘We called upon Mrs Matthews to thank her for her hospitality last evening and she told us the exciting news,’ explained Mrs Oliver. ‘You are all off to London! I am sure the ladies must be very pleased they have you to escort them, Mr Bastion. One can hire a courier, I know, but there is nothing so comforting as having a gentleman in attendance.’

Drew bowed.

‘Indeed, ma’am. But—is the library not out of your way?’

‘Oh, nothing to speak of,’ replied Mr Oliver gallantly. ‘We will make a little detour, of course, but we are happy to do so, since Mrs Matthews would have had to send her maid, and she has told us how much there is do if everything is to be packed up in time. We do not begrudge a little extra walking, do we my dear?’

His wife concurred readily, but Drew’s eyes dwelled thoughtfully upon the way the old gentleman leaned upon his stick.

‘If you wish I would happily accompany Miss Salforde to the library, and save you the extra journey.’ He saw Elyse’s start of surprise, her look of alarm.

‘Oh, but I could not possibly impose upon you,’ she began, flustered.

He gave a wide smile that encompassed all three of them, saying easily, ‘It is no imposition. I have nothing to do until dinnertime and would enjoy the diversion.’

‘Well, that is exceeding kind of you, my boy,’ declared Mr Oliver, beaming. ‘And nothing could be better, Miss Salforde, for there can be no harm in leaving you in the company of your guardian, what?’ He gave a wheezy chuckle. ‘And I’ve no doubt you will much prefer to be accompanied by this handsome young fellow, eh?’

‘No, indeed, Mr Oliver, I am more than happy to remain with you and Mrs Oliver.’

Elyse’s response was heartfelt, Drew was sure, but her elderly friends thought she was merely sparing their feelings. They laughed aside her protests and said goodbye, strolling away and leaving Elyse standing beside Drew. She was regarding him solemnly, a discontented frown marring her perfect features. His lips twitched.

‘I have no doubt they are very kind,’ he said smiling, ‘But to escort you to the circulating library and back again would have added a good mile or so to their perambulations.’ He held out his arm. ‘Shall we walk on?’

Elyse knew she had no choice. The streets were busy and to refuse his escort and walk unaccompanied through the town where she was so well known would expose her to censure, and there was even the risk of being accosted. Also, she thought indignantly, she doubted he would let her walk away from him. How she wished now that she had declined Mr and Mrs Oliver’s kindly offer and waited for Hoyle to come with her—or she could even have sent a footman on the errand.

Curbing such futile regrets she assumed her chilliest demeanour and placed the very tips of her fingers on his sleeve as they set off through the busy streets. She was aware of the attention they were attracting. She acknowledged politely the sly smiles and nods of her many acquaintances but ignored their knowing looks. She noted too the admiring glances that were cast at her escort. His height immediately drew the eye, and there was no denying that his figure was good. It showed to advantage in his russet coat of superfine wool with its silver-gilt buttons. There was no creasing or straining of the material across his broad shoulders or where it tapered gently to his waist before flaring out, and even then a vent in the heavy folds allowed his sword to pass through without marring the elegant lines. In normal circumstances she would have been very pleased to be seen on the arm of such a handsome gentleman, but the circumstances were far from normal and she could not forget his odious behaviour towards her the previous evening. He interrupted her reverie by remarking with a laugh in his voice,

‘It behoves us to have some conversation, Miss Salforde.’

‘I did not realise I was obliged to entertain you.’

‘To escort such a beautiful lady is entertainment enough.’

She could not resist a glance at him as she said drily, ‘Trying to turn me up sweet, Mr Bastion?’

‘Could I do so?’

The glint in his eyes challenged her and she fought down the impulse to smile back at him. Instead she looked away and said in an indifferent tone, ‘You have certainly charmed my aunt.’

‘I have no doubt she is relieved to have someone share the responsibility for your guardianship. You must be a sad trial to her.’

‘That is not it at all,’ she retorted, nettled. ‘I am not the least trouble, I assure you. In fact I am of great use to her.’

‘Oh?’

‘I practically run the household.’

‘You rule the roost.’

‘No, not at all, I—’ She bit her lip. ‘You are making a May-game of me, sir.’

He merely laughed at that, and as they had arrived at the circulating library she said no more.

Mr Frear, the library’s elderly owner was behind the counter and immediately came forward, his friendly greeting balm to Elyse’s wounded pride. She handed back her books and explained that she would not be requiring more.

‘Ah yes, I have heard that you are leaving us,’ he declared. ‘Your going will be a sad loss to the town, Miss Salforde.’

‘By heaven, word travels quickly.’

‘It does indeed, sir, when it concerns Scarborough’s brightest star,’ replied Mr Frear gallantly.

Elyse glanced up at the gentleman beside her. That should show him she was held in some esteem here. And he could not accuse her of flirting with old Mr Frear.

* * *

Her errand complete and spirits raised somewhat by her reception at the circulating library, Elyse and her companion set off back towards Aunt Matthews’s house in Northfield Square. Her escort behaved with such civil courtesy that she was emboldened to try once more to delay their departure.

‘Is it imperative that we quit Scarborough tomorrow, Mr Bastion? Surely an extra day would make no odds.’

‘We may need that extra day if the weather should turn. We are a long way from London, Miss Salforde. I would have thought you impatient to see Mr Reverson again.’

‘I am, of course.’

She could not avoid the heartbeat’s hesitation before making her reply. Marriage to William had been her future for so long that she had come to take it for granted, but the knowledge that she would soon be making her home with William’s family was a little frightening. After all, they were almost strangers, even William. She had not forgotten the pleasure of dancing with him, the elation she had felt at his shy proposal, the thrill of the chaste kisses they had exchanged in secret, but they had been together for such a short time.

William had left Scarborough soon after they had become engaged. Elyse had been heartbroken for a week, but then she had settled down to life as one of the belles of the town, happy in the knowledge that she need not join the other young ladies in their scramble to make a suitable alliance. It amused her each Season to watch them pursuing their quarry at the routs and assemblies but she envied none of them their husbands. Apart from headstrong Jenny Malden who had eloped with an actor and been disowned by her family, they had all married sensibly and although they all appeared to be happy enough, not one of them had married for love, which is what she would be doing, as well as marrying into one of the highest families in the land. How could she not be proud of her achievement?

She said, more confidently, ‘I cannot wait to be with William again. I received a letter from him only recently begging me to come with all speed.’

‘Is he a regular correspondent?’

‘He writes to me when he can. He is very busy.’

She would not tell him that it was the first letter she had received in months.

‘But you have not seen him for three years.’ He paused. ‘A person can change a great deal in that time.’

‘Not William.’

‘And what of you? Are you the same young lady you were when Reverson proposed?’

‘Of course.’

He stopped and turned to face her. ‘Are you sure of that?’

Elyse frowned, angered that he should question her in this manner. Of course she had not changed. But when she looked up to tell him so the words died on her lips. He was looking down at her with a glinting smile that sent all thoughts of William out of her head. When their eyes locked she felt a tremor of something she did not understand run through her body. Heat pooled deep inside and her heart began to thud most uncomfortably in her chest. She felt suddenly breathless and wanted to look away from those disturbing blue eyes. They seemed to see into her very soul and read her most secret thoughts. Not only that, they encouraged new and uncomfortable ideas to form.

She dragged her eyes away but even then they only moved to his mouth and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. She did not doubt that he was very experienced and the thought made the heat deep in her belly curl even deeper. A little thrill of anticipation trembled through her, followed quickly by the knowledge that even thinking of such things was a betrayal of William. Heavens, how could she be so disloyal? In three years she had never before felt like this. She was shocked, and frightened.

Elyse pulled her hand from his arm and turned away, unnerved by his presence and even more so by her reaction. Northfield Square was in sight and she could see her aunt’s house on the far side. She hurried towards it, not caring whether he accompanied her. In fact she would very much prefer it if he did not. She soon realised he was keeping pace with her but she refused to look at him and did not stop until she had reached the door of her aunt’s house. Only then did she turn and force herself to confront him. There was no laughter in his eyes now when they regarded her, no mischievous glint, only a frowning look. She wondered if she had disappointed him and realised how much she did not want that to be the case.

‘Of—of course I have changed,’ she said defiantly. ‘I am older and—and a woman. I am ready now for marriage.’

‘You are certainly that, Miss Salforde,’ he retorted. ‘And I pity your husband.’

She stared at him, outraged that he should say such a thing, but without another word he swept off his hat, made her an elegant bow and strode away.

* * *

By the time Drew reached his lodgings his sudden flash of ill humour had abated. It was not the chit’s fault that he found her so damned desirable. He had thought he had himself well under control. Granted he had teased her a little, just for the pleasure of it, but her forthcoming marriage to Reverson was no matter for levity. It was his responsibility as her guardian to look out for her. To warn her that people could change a great deal in three years.

He had tried to keep his tone light, but when she had fixed those huge brown eyes upon him he had felt again the stirring of desire, the urge to take her in his arms and make her forget all about William Reverson. He had tried to persuade himself that Harry’s daughter was still a child but it was clear that she was not, and the more he saw of her the more his body told him she was every inch a woman, and a very desirable one. Gaining the seclusion of his room he tossed aside his hat and went over to the washstand. He poured some water into the basin and bathed his face, hoping the shock of it would restore his intellect. His anger was not aimed at Elyse, but at her ability to disconcert him and send all sensible thoughts flying from his head.

Drew was well aware that such a weakness could spell disaster for a man who lived by his wits, but after a period of cool reflection he could put the whole incident into perspective. She was a pretty woman, he was a red-blooded male. Sparks were bound to fly when they were together. It was up to him to make sure it did not get out of hand.

* * *

By the time Drew made his way back towards Northfield Square later that day his good humour had returned and he found he was looking forward to dinner with Mrs Matthews and her niece. He had no doubt Elyse would still be at odds with him and who could blame her, when he had treated her so roughly? Perhaps he should not have questioned her about her betrothal to Reverson, but he had to be sure she was happy about it. He himself was uneasy about this whole business. Harry had not explained to his daughter why Lord Whittlewood had agreed to so unequal a match and Drew was convinced the viscount would not want the truth known.

Elyse and Reverson might have thought themselves in love during that brief, heady Season three years ago, but if they had been apart since then he suspected there could be little affection left, and although he thought Elyse a little spoiled he did not wish her to be hurt. He would have to be careful in his dealings with her. It had almost been his undoing when he had teased her, for he had been enjoying himself and relaxed his guard. Then she had turned those soft brown eyes to his and he had suffered a sudden rush of desire that had almost knocked him off his feet. It had driven all teasing thoughts from his head and he had wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms.

Even worse, he suspected she had felt it too because she had pulled away from him and rushed off in a panic. But there was no harm done, he had been taken unawares, that was all. It would not happen again. And Elyse was obviously appalled by the attraction that had crackled between them, sharp as any electrical storm. Perhaps that little fright would do her good. She might now see the wisdom of keeping all men at a proper distance. He grinned, thinking again of the way she had ripped up at him. She undoubtedly had spirit and she was not unintelligent. He would do what he could to lay those ruffled feathers this evening and if he succeeded he thought she would prove entertaining company.

He arrived at Northfield Square at the appointed hour and was shown into an empty drawing room by a servant who was clearly distracted. However, Drew did not have long to wait before he discovered the cause. Miss Salforde came in and stood with her back to the door. She had not changed for dinner and was still dressed in her plain morning gown of black crepe, adorned only with a snowy apron. The simplicity of the homely garb only highlighted the delightful curves of her figure and he found himself once again indulging in highly inappropriate thoughts. However, when his eyes moved to her face he sobered immediately and his attention jumped back to the present, for her dark eyes were troubled.

‘Sir, you must cancel your arrangements,’ she said without preamble, clasping her hands at her breast. ‘We cannot go to London tomorrow.’

‘Is something amiss, Miss Salforde?’ His brows snapped together. There was no sign of the confident, teasing miss he had seen last night, nor the haughty ice maiden of this afternoon. Instead she was very close to tears. In two strides he was at her side, taking her arm and gently drawing her to one of the sofas. Her silent compliance only confirmed to him how upset she was.

‘Now,’ he said when they were sitting down together. ‘Tell me what has occurred.’

‘M-My aunt has broken her arm. She has been hurrying hither and thither all day preparing for the journey and she tripped and fell on the stairs. If she had not been in such haste to make sure we did not keep you waiting—’

She broke off, hunting for her handkerchief. Drew gave her his own.

‘Ah,’ he murmured. ‘So it is my fault. I should have known.’

She blew her nose and brushed away a rogue tear that had escaped on to her cheek.

‘No, of course it was not your fault.’

‘Very handsomely said, Miss Salforde.’

She gave a watery chuckle.

‘Well, you cannot be blamed for the accident. Aunt should not have been carrying those bandboxes down from the attic, but Hoyle was busy packing the trunks and—’

‘Hoyle?’

‘Our maid. She is my aunt’s dresser, really, but she has always looked after me, too. I have never required a maid of my own but with so much to be done in such a short time...’

‘And where is your aunt now?’

‘In her room. The doctor is with her, setting the bone. He says it is a simple break, but she is very shaken up and he will not hear of her leaving her bed for at least a se’ennight.’ She sighed. ‘So you see, Mr Bastion, we must cancel our journey to London.’

Drew’s mind was racing. Mrs Matthews might be able to leave her room in a week but he doubted she would be fit to travel for several more—certainly not before Michaelmas. And those ominous words in Lord Whittlewood’s letter were imprinted in his mind—if Miss Salforde was not delivered to him by Michaelmas then he would consider himself to have fulfilled his part of the contract, and the marriage would not go ahead.

‘No, we will have to go on and your aunt will follow as soon as she is able.’

He found himself subjected to a disconcertingly direct gaze from those brown eyes.

‘But that would be most irregular. I will not travel without my aunt.’

‘I’m afraid you must. Lord Whittlewood is expecting you.’

‘Then I shall write to him and explain, if you will not do so.’

‘If I thought it worthwhile I would do so, willingly, but I do not think the viscount would consider your aunt’s broken arm sufficient excuse to suspend his plans.’ He could almost see the questions forming in her head and added quietly, ‘Lord Whittlewood’s instructions were very clear.’

‘Do you mean, if I do not comply, there may be no wedding?’

‘That is a distinct possibility, Miss Salforde.’

* * *

Elyse sat back. His words were like cold water, waking her from the nightmare of the past few hours into an even worse predicament. If she delayed, then she might lose William for ever. She had been seventeen when they had met, and William only a little older. There was no doubt that she had been dazzled to be singled out for attention by the son of a viscount. He was so handsome, too, everyone had said so. Was it any wonder that she had tumbled into love with him? Of course since then there had only been an occasional exchange of letters, but Elyse held his memory in her heart and longed for the day when he would claim her as his bride. Now the gentleman at her side was telling her that if she delayed that might never happen. She drew a deep, resolute breath.

‘Then I shall have to go to William alone.’

A faint, glinting smile warmed his piercing blue eyes.

‘Not quite alone, Miss Salforde. I shall be with you.’

Elyse found his words reassuring and that surprised her. Their encounters so far had been tempestuous, and occasionally disturbing, yet here she was preparing to travel to London and taking comfort from the fact that he would be with her. However, she had no time to consider such matters, especially since Aston was even now coming in to ask her what she wished to do about dinner.

‘I do not know,’ she said distractedly, putting one hand to her temple. ‘I am not hungry.’

‘Is it ready to be served?’ Mr Bastion interjected, addressing the butler directly.

Aston bowed. ‘Why yes, sir. It only needs a word and it can be on the table in a trice.’

‘Then we should eat.’

Elyse bridled. At this juncture any man of sensibility would withdraw and leave the family in peace.

‘I think not,’ she contradicted him. ‘I should go to Aunt Matthews.’

‘The mistress is sleeping, miss,’ said the butler, trying to be helpful. ‘Hoyle says Dr Carstairs gave her some laudanum before he left and doesn’t expect her to wake up for a couple of hours yet.’

There was no hint of triumph in the smile her guest bestowed upon her, but Elyse still ground her teeth when he said with maddening calm,

‘Then we have plenty of time to dine and you can sit with your aunt afterwards.’

‘I am not hungry.’

Elyse bit her lip. She sounded like a sulky child. What was it about Andrew Bastion that brought out the worst in her? She tried to be thankful that he appeared not to notice her bad manners.

He replied in soothing tones, ‘Perhaps not, but it will do your aunt no good if you are fainting off from want of food.’ He rose and pulled her to her feet, then he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and patted it in an avuncular fashion.

‘Aye, that’s the ticket,’ chuckled Aston, taking advantage of his position as an old family retainer. ‘I’m sure you’ll feel more the thing with some food inside you, miss, and I’ll tell Hoyle to come and fetch you just as soon as the mistress wakes up.’

There was nothing to be done but to comply. Elyse had to admit that by the time she had partaken of several of the dishes displayed and enjoyed a glass of wine she was feeling much calmer. Her guest behaved impeccably during the meal, conversing on light, unexceptional topics that neither angered nor embarrassed her and she found herself relaxing. Her mind was occupied with the plight of poor Aunt Matthews and she could think of little else.

* * *

They had finished their meal when Hoyle came in to say that Mrs Matthews was awake and asking for her niece. Elyse went off immediately, following Hoyle through corridors littered with trunks and cases to her aunt’s bedchamber. Aunt Matthews was propped up in the bed, one arm encased in plaster and resting on a mound of pillows. She was looking pale but composed in a nightgown and cap of frothy pink lace and when Elyse came in she held out her good hand, ignoring the maid who was fussing around her.

‘Oh, my dear, what a silly thing for me to do, I am so sorry.’

‘No, no, Aunt, you must not blame yourself. I am only relieved it is nothing worse. Dr Carstairs told me it would be a simple matter to set the arm and then you will be up and about again in no time.’

‘Yes, but not by tomorrow morning. I will not be able to get up for days.’

Disregarding Hoyle’s tut of disapproval, Elyse perched herself on the edge of the bed and took the proffered hand. ‘You are not to worry about that. You can follow on as soon as you are well enough to travel.’

‘You plan to go without me?’

‘I must. Mr Bastion thinks the viscount would insist upon it.’

‘Well, there is no doubt that these great men are used to having their own way,’ agreed Aunt Matthews, sighing. ‘And you have been waiting so long I am sure you must be eager to see your beau again.’

‘I am of course.’ Elyse replied quickly, although now the moment was approaching she felt more than a little apprehensive. ‘But I would rather wait until you could come with me, Aunt.’

A knock made her turn and she saw Andrew Bastion standing in the doorway.

‘I beg you will forgive the intrusion, ma’am?’

‘Yes, yes, come in, sir. Do not stand on ceremony.’ Mrs Matthews called to him, ignoring another disapproving sniff from Hoyle, who was tidying the pots and jars on the dressing table. ‘We must decide what we are to do about getting Elyse to London.’

‘My thoughts exactly, ma’am. I have hired a post-chaise to be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘Could we not delay it a little?’ said Elyse. ‘I would like to know my aunt is improving before I leave Scarborough.’

‘Oh, I shall go on well enough, my love, you need not worry over me,’ said Aunt Matthews. ‘And the roads being as they are you will want to have as much time as possible for your journey.’

This was very much what Andrew Bastion had told her, but it was no more palatable to hear it from her aunt.

‘I am sure another week would not hurt.’ Elyse fixed her eyes upon Mr Bastion. He met their challenge but would not capitulate and she felt her temper rising. ‘Mr Reverson’s letters tell me he is as eager as I am for us to be together, but if I explain everything I am sure he would understand if my arrival is a little delayed.’

‘But his father would not.’

‘Mr Bastion is right, my love. You must not give them any reason to reject you.’

‘You think they would cry off, over such a little thing? But William and I love each other.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper. ‘Why, in his last letter to me he says he cannot wait for us to be united.’

‘That may be so, but there is no doubt that while this is a brilliant match for you the viscount might have looked higher for a bride for his younger son.’ Her aunt’s gaze had become disconcertingly shrewd. ‘If you want him, love, you must take him now, or it may be too late.’ She squeezed Elyse’s fingers, saying urgently, ‘This is a wonderful opportunity for you, my love. You must grasp it with both hands.’

‘I will, Aunt. I promise.’

‘Good girl.’ Aunt Matthews’s eyes were suspiciously bright and she blinked a little before turning her attention to the gentleman standing at the end of the bed. ‘My brother obviously thought a great deal of you, sir, to entrust you with the care of his only child.’

He bowed. ‘I shall endeavour not to disappoint him, ma’am.’

‘Good. Now, Elyse will be ready to go with you tomorrow morning. And Hoyle shall accompany her.’

There was a clatter as the maid dropped one of the hairbrushes.

‘That I won’t, ma’am. My place is here, with you.’

Aunt Matthews gave an exasperated sigh.

‘Pray do not be tiresome, Hoyle. There is no one else to go with her.’

‘That’s as maybe, but I’ve been your maid for nigh on thirty years and I ain’t about to leave you now, not when you needs me.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told, Hoyle,’ snapped her mistress. ‘Or you can pack your bags and leave this minute.’

The maid did not look unduly worried by this threat. Drawing herself up she said with dignity, ‘That’s for you to decide, ma’am, but I ain’t going.’

She stumped to the door, closing it behind her with a bang.

‘Well,’ Mrs Matthews stared after her. ‘Of all the...she knows I won’t turn her off, of course, but all the same.’

Elyse gave a little shrug. ‘Hoyle has always been a little jealous of me. But even if she were not, you really cannot expect her to leave you now, Aunt, when you are confined to bed.’

‘We must find some female to accompany you,’ stated Mr Bastion.

Elyse was already smarting from Hoyle’s rejection, and the note of impatience in the gentleman’s voice only added to her hurt.

‘Every other maid in the house would be more of a hindrance than a help,’ declared Mrs Matthews frankly. ‘They would most likely fall into hysterics if I suggested they travel more than a mile out of Scarborough.’

He exhaled sharply. ‘Then I shall have to hire someone. Though who I might find by nine o’clock tomorrow morning—’

‘You need not trouble yourself on my account,’ said Elyse, holding herself very stiff.

‘You cannot travel alone,’ he retorted.

‘You are my guardian, are you not? There can be no impropriety in our travelling together.’

She glared at him. He was only trying to help, but suddenly the excitement of her forthcoming marriage was gone, replaced by a feeling that she was merely an inconvenience. It was not a pleasant thought. The gentleman regarded her in silence for a moment and when he spoke his tone was decisive.

‘Very well. If there is someone from the household that you can persuade to go with you it would be an advantage, but as you say, it is not necessary. We can always arrange for a maid to attend you at the inns.’ He turned to Aunt Matthews. ‘I wish you a speedy recovery, ma’am.’ His gaze flickered to Elyse and the indifference she saw in his eyes only added to her dismay. ‘I shall call for you at nine o’clock sharp, Miss Salforde. Be sure you do not keep me waiting.’

* * *

Once more Drew walked away from Mrs Matthews’ house with his mind in turmoil. He had been in England for less than a week and already what should have been a simple task of escorting a young lady to London was turning into a nightmare. First of all there was Lord Whittlewood’s ultimatum, making it necessary to reach London with all speed; and now her aunt, the most proper person to act as a chaperon, could no longer travel with them. Such a trifle would not have worried him unduly, if it was not for the fact that his ward was no schoolroom miss but a very desirable young woman.

He recalled that immediate tug of attraction he had experienced the first time he had seen Elyse in her aunt’s drawing room. In their subsequent meetings, even when she was at her most tiresome, it had only grown more powerful. Whenever their eyes locked he could feel the energy crackling between them, a pleasurable anticipation of what it would be like to pull her into his arms and kiss her, to unlock the passion he felt sure she possessed.

Impossible, of course. Not only was she a gently reared young lady and the future wife of another man, she was also his ward, the daughter of his friend, and he was sworn to protect her. And if she was not his responsibility, and not another man’s fiancée, what then? Would he seduce her? Of course not. Elyse Salforde was a gently reared young lady; he could not take her for his mistress. Yet what else had he to offer her? He was a rogue, a traitor. He had decided years ago that he could not ask any woman to share that burden.

He let his breath go with a hiss. This was not about his misfortunes. He must concentrate upon Elyse. She might be damned attractive but he would cope with that. He was her guardian, he would employ a maid at each inn to share her room at night and preserve her reputation. If she was happy to make the journey to London without a chaperon of any sort then so be it. He was damned if he would worry about it.

Yet worry he did. He had agreed to Harry’s dying wish to take care of his daughter, and that would not include ravishing her before she could be delivered to her fiancé.

* * *

The next day dawned clear and bright, only a slight mist on the sea indicating that it was no longer high summer. Elyse donned her travelling dress, a riding habit of olive-green twill with a collar of buff velvet and small gilt buttons. She had added black ruffles at her neck and cuffs and a black lace veil was suspended from the rim of her bonnet. The veil was folded back at present but when it was pulled down it completely obscured her features. It was all very sober and no one, not even the infuriating Mr Andrew Bastion, could doubt she was in mourning.

Aston came to tell her that the carriage was at the door and once she had directed him to have her baggage taken out she went off to take leave of her aunt.

‘I wish we could wait until you could come with us,’ she said as she gave Mrs Matthews a final hug, taking good care to avoid her injured arm. ‘I do not know how I shall go on without you.’

‘You will do very well, my love, if you remember your manners.’

Elyse pulled a face. ‘I am sure that will not be difficult when I am with Lord Whittlewood, but I am not looking forward to the journey with that man.’

‘You mean Mr Bastion?’ Aunt Matthews patted her cheek. ‘Your father wrote in his final letter that he would trust Drew Bastion with his life. I have no doubt he will look after you, for Harry’s sake. But ...’

She paused, the restless fingers of her free hand pleating and re-pleating the edge of the sheet until Elyse felt compelled to prompt her.

‘Yes, Aunt?’

‘I beg you will be careful when you are with Mr Bastion, Elyse. He is not a man to be crossed. There is steel behind his charm.’

Elyse’s solemn mood was routed by her aunt’s last words. Her eyes twinkled and she gave a merry laugh.

‘Charm? I have not seen any charm, Aunt. He is rude and overbearing.’

‘Well, tread warily my love.’

‘I will, I promise.’ She leaned over the bed to give her aunt another kiss on the cheek. ‘But what can he do, after all? He is only a man.’

With a cheery wave she sailed out of the room and her aunt listened to her dainty boots tapping down the stone stairs. She shook her head.

‘Yes, he is a man, Elyse,’ she murmured. ‘And that is what worries me.’

* * *

Elyse was impressed with the elegant equipage at the door. It may only have been a hired post-chaise but it was freshly painted and had four spirited horses harnessed to it, under the care of two smart postilions. Mr Bastion was waiting to hand her in, his hat tucked under one arm. She noted his appearance with approval, the exquisitely tailored riding coat in dark-blue wool, the pale buckskins and shiny top-boots that covered his legs. They all fitted to perfection. The first time she had seen him he had appeared the perfect society gentleman, at home in any drawing room. Now he was dressed for travel, ready for action and adventure.

It flashed through her mind that a young lady might easily lose her heart to such a man and Elyse was relieved to think that her own heart was already engaged. It belonged to William and she was therefore in no danger. Yet she was troubled by a niggling thought that perhaps she was not being completely honest with herself.

Those disturbingly blue eyes glinted down at her and she wondered again if he was able to read her thoughts. She looked away and moved to the carriage, silently putting her hand into his as she prepared to climb in. Immediately she was aware of the strength in his lean fingers. Her mouth went dry. Neither of them had yet put on their gloves and Elyse realised that this was a mistake, because a bolt of excitement shot through her when skin touched skin. Her heart leapt into her mouth and then settled high in her chest, where it beat a rapid and irregular tattoo that disrupted her breathing. It reminded her of the thrill of receiving admiring glances, or allowing a gentleman to kiss her fingers. Only ten times more exciting.

And far more dangerous. Elyse realised that this was beyond anything she had experienced before. She was no fool, all her life she had been pampered and cossetted. She knew she had been protected from the harsher realities of life. Mr Scorton’s attempts to kiss her should have warned her that the power she had so far enjoyed over the gentlemen of her acquaintance might not always be under her control. It was also daunting to know that she was just as vulnerable; she could not rely upon her own body to behave itself, as proven by the fact that she had to make a conscious effort before her hand would release those long, lean, masculine fingers.

Elyse sat down quickly, aware that Andrew Bastion was watching her but determined not to meet his eyes, lest he should see the consternation in her own. He jumped in after her, casting his hat upon the seat between them. Almost before the door had closed the chaise set off. Elyse had been so preoccupied she had not settled herself comfortably. Her skirts were tangled and without thinking she stood up to shake them out. At the same time the chaise lurched as it swung around the corner and out of the square. She lost her balance and collapsed back, directly into the lap of her companion.

Drew reacted instinctively and caught her in his arms, laughing. She was very light, a deliciously scented, complicated bundle of serviceable twill and frothy lace, but beneath it was the tantalising outline of her body, hinting at luscious curves beneath those layers of cloth. For a moment she remained gazing up at him, her shock quickly replaced by a twinkling look as if she, too, realised the absurdity of the situation.

‘Well, this is an unexpected pleasure.’

Why the deuce did you say that?

The rakish response had been automatic and Drew cursed himself as the glow in her eyes fled, replaced by horror and alarm.

‘Oh, I do beg your pardon.’ Her voice was a little breathless as she struggled in his arms.

Quelling the desire to hold her even tighter, Drew helped her on to the seat.

‘Pray do not make yourself uneasy,’ he said, leaning down to recover his hat, which had been knocked on to the carriage floor. ‘I am quite aware that you did not fall upon me intentionally.’

He grinned at her and was pleased when she responded with a wary smile.

‘Thank you.’ She shifted her position to look out of the window. ‘I was taken unawares by the speed of the carriage. Shall we travel like this all the way to London?’

‘I have instructed the postilions to keep up a good pace, but it will be dictated by the state of the roads. The highways leading from Scarborough are in reasonable repair and as long as the weather remains dry we will make good time. I hope we need spend no more than three nights on the road. However, if it rains the track could turn into a quagmire and that could slow us down considerably. It might even take longer than a week to reach London.’

‘Oh, good heavens,’ she said, without turning around. ‘I do hope that is not the case.’

‘So too do I,’ muttered Drew, regarding the delectable view she was presenting. She had her back to him, but her close-fitting jacket hugged her body, tapering in at her waist before flaring out again over her hips and the soft buttocks that moments earlier had been resting in his lap.

Drew settled himself into the corner of the carriage and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his blood was stirred at the sight of her. Even three days of this would tax his self-control to the limit.

* * *

They travelled long and fast, stopping only to change horses and swallow a mouthful of food and coffee before setting off again and at the end of the first day Elyse was so bone-weary she ate her dinner and retired, making no demur when her escort ordered a truckle bed to be made up in her room for a serving maid. The second day was better, she was anticipating the punishing pace and her youthful resilience made the journey much more enjoyable.

She gazed at the unfamiliar landscape flying by, trying to take in as much as possible. Her companion spent most of his time lounging in the far corner, his hat pulled low over his eyes. If he was tired then she had no wish to disturb him for he was decidedly out of humour. She had tried to talk to him but while he had been coolly polite and answered the questions she put to him, he made no effort to prolong the conversation and she had the distinct impression he was not enjoying the journey, or her company.

She thought ruefully that she could not blame him, for she had behaved very badly to him when he’d arrived in Scarborough. More like a spoiled schoolgirl than a young lady about to be married. And then the embarrassment of falling into his arms! It had been an unfortunate accident and she had been tempted to laugh it off until he had made the sarcastic remark that had filled her with shame and remorse. It did not matter that he had tried to recover the situation afterwards. The damage was done. One thing was certain; Mr Andrew Bastion was no gentleman.

By the time they reached the Three Bells where they were to put up for the night Elyse was not only ready for her dinner but also longing for a little conversation—even if it was only with the vexatious Mr Bastion. Really, it was no wonder that she was out of temper with the man since he had been ignoring her most of the day. She listened to him issuing his orders to the landlord, who fawned and bowed in the most sycophantic manner, and recalled her aunt’s words, that Andrew Bastion was not a man to be crossed. Well, she did not wish to cross him. Elyse had by now recovered her natural sunny spirits and she hoped she might be able to charm him into a better mood.

The private parlour set aside for them was comfortable enough and the warm weather made the sluggish fire irrelevant, so when Drew glanced around with obvious distaste she gave a little laugh, determined to be cheerful.

‘It is not palatial, but it will serve us for one night, sir.’ She waved to a tray on the side table. ‘May I pour you some wine?’

She met his frowning look with a smile and proceeded to fill two glasses. She held one out to him.

‘We made a bad start, Mr Bastion, but I think we should put our differences behind us. After all, we have only each other’s company for the next few days. Will you drink a toast with me? To new beginnings.’

‘Trying to bamboozle me, Miss Salforde?’

The look in his eyes dared her to try and she had to resist the temptation to look away.

‘Not at all, but surely the journey would pass much more quickly if we were not at odds with one another. Besides, it behoves me to be on good terms with my guardian.’

* * *

There was no guile in those velvet-brown eyes but Drew was cautious. He was too old and too experienced to be ensnared by a pretty face.

The devil of it was that Elyse Salforde was not just a pretty face. She was intelligent, too. And spirited. A damned attractive package that brought out the rake in him. He had feigned sleep for most of the day to avoid making any more remarks like the one that had slipped out at the start of their journey. It had upset her, and shown him what a dangerous line he was treading. But it now appeared that his attempts to keep the attraction at bay had resulted in her thinking he was angry with her. She was offering to make peace and he could not bring himself to snub her.

‘I agree with you,’ he said at last. ‘It will make life much more comfortable for both of us.’

She handed him a glass and raised her own. ‘I hope we can be friends from now on, sir.’

A scratching at the door announced dinner and he escorted Elyse to the little table where they took their places and waited while an array of dishes was spread before them. Drew had to admit that the food was good and the company even better. Elyse had been well educated and conversed easily on any number of subjects. Time passed quickly and he barely noticed the servant coming in to light the candles and build up the fire. He did notice, however, that unlike the previous evening, Elyse was in no hurry to dash off to her bed. When the covers had been removed and they had only their wine and a dish of sweetmeats on the table between them Drew sat back in his chair, smiling.

‘I have enjoyed this evening, Miss Salforde, very much.’

‘And do you still pity my husband?’

He laughed.

‘So that rankled, did it?’

‘Of course.’ A rueful smile lit her eyes and hovered on her full lips. ‘No woman likes to be thought unattractive.’

‘I meant merely that your husband will need his wits about him, if you are not to lead him a merry dance.’

She looked down, the dark sweep of her lashes shielding her eyes but he heard the wistful note in her voice when she replied.

‘I will have to learn to be a biddable, conformable wife.’

‘That would be a pity.’ Immediately her eyes flew to his face and he added quickly, ‘I am sure it was your liveliness that attracted Reverson in the first place.’




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