by Olivia Drake
Or did that honor exclude disobedient cubs like Leo?
Fortunately the dilemma was resolved without any duplicity on his part. With a small cry, she sprang forward and lifted the edge of the tablecloth to peer underneath it.
“There you are, you naughty child!” she said on a trill of laughter. “That’s quite the clever hiding spot.”
“It wasn’t very clever since you found me,” Leo griped.
“Well, come out of there at once,” she said, watching as he scrambled to his feet. “And next time, mind that your toes don’t stick out. Now, pray make your apologies to the gentleman for disturbing his dinner.”
“Sorry, mister.”
“There’s no harm done,” Hadrian said, forgetting that he’d chastised the lad for that very thing only moments ago.
“Sometimes Leo doesn’t stop to think about his actions,” the woman said ruefully. “It is a trait we are working on modifying. In the meantime, I must thank you, sir, for being so understanding.”
Her mouth curved in that appealing smile, she leaned over the table and extended her hand to Hadrian.
Startled, he realized that she meant for him to shake it as a gentleman would do to his equal. Not even the grandest grande dame of society would commit such a faux pas with a man of his rank. A lady might offer the back of a gloved hand to be kissed, but only after having curtsied to him. Nevertheless, he found himself clasping her hand, keenly conscious of the warmth of her slim fingers.
“It was my pleasure,” he murmured.
The feel of her bare silken skin heightened the intensity of her effect on him. He felt as giddy as a schoolboy meeting his first pretty girl. It made no sense, for he prided himself on being a man in firm control of his emotions and somewhat jaded by the allures of the fairer sex.
She must have sensed his reaction, for her gaze widened slightly and a rosy blush tinted her cheeks. Her expression held a frank curiosity about him, as if she, too, were puzzled by the unseen energy of attraction. As they stared at each other for timeless moments, Hadrian felt as if he were drowning in those gorgeous eyes. He had the strongest urge to reach out and unpin her hair, to see those sable tresses tumble around her shoulders and bosom.
It was only when she gave a tug that he realized he was still gripping her hand. He loosened his hold, and she stepped back, the sparkle of warmth on her features dimming to a mask of politeness. She lowered her gaze to the boy, who had wandered to the hearth and picked up a stick of kindling to poke at the fire.
“Put that away, Leo, and come along. Your bath is growing cold.”
He abandoned the stick, but dug in his heels. “Don’t want no bath.”
“Proper grammar, please. And the bath is necessary, for tomorrow you are to meet your grandfather.” She took hold of Leo’s hand and guided him away, pausing only to toss a quick, heart-stopping smile over her shoulder. “Good evening, sir. Do pardon us again for the intrusion.”
A moment later, they disappeared out into the corridor and shut the door. The muffled grumble of Leo’s protests gradually died away.
It took a moment for Hadrian to feel like himself again. A trace of her alluring feminine scent lingered in the air. Now that she was gone, it seemed ludicrous that a stranger could affect his equilibrium to such a degree.
Her poised manner did not fit the lower orders, so he had been wrong about the boy being the offspring of servants. Rather, she must be an overnight lodger here, another traveler stranded by the freezing rain. He hadn’t noticed a wedding ring, yet it seemed reasonable to assume that a husband awaited her upstairs.
Logic dispelled the remainder of Hadrian’s undue reaction. She was the very opposite of his preferences, for he liked women who were dainty and sophisticated. Her appeal perhaps could be explained away by the fact that he’d discharged his latest mistress a fortnight ago and had been on the lookout for another to catch his interest. But he strictly confined his liaisons to willing widows and discreet courtesans.
Not mothers with young children.
He resumed his seat at the table and took up his newspaper, though the printed words failed to hold his attention. Instead, he frowned into the dying flames of the fire while his mind continued to mull over the intriguing encounter. Despite the faint accent, she had a refined mode of speech, possessed a natural grace, and displayed a charming blush.
Yet the handshake was curious behavior, indeed. She was clearly a rustic who was unfamiliar with the protocol of curtsying to a gentleman. Even if she was unaware that he was the Duke of Clayton, she ought to have recognized him as a man of consequence. He wasn’t offended, only baffled as to what it might reveal about her background.
Devil take it. She would have to remain a mystery. Tomorrow, they’d each set forth to different destinations, never to cross paths again. He wouldn’t waste another thought on a fleeting encounter with a nameless beauty.
Especially not when he was on his way to acquire the perfect bride.
Chapter 2
The following morning, Natalie Fanshawe was busy preparing for their departure when Leo vanished from the tiny room under the eaves. One minute he was there, playing on the floor with his miniature sailing ship, and the next, he was gone.
Or perhaps more than a minute had passed. How long had she been woolgathering?
Having discovered a dab of blackberry jam on his best shirt, she had been scrubbing at it by the early morning sunlight from the single window. Leo must look tidy when they arrived at his grandfather’s house today, for so much depended upon this meeting. Although she had sent a letter ahead—two letters, counting the one posted last summer—Natalie could not be certain what reception awaited them. Nor had she felt it wise to wait months for a reply, for mail across the Atlantic was slow and fraught with peril, despite the recent ending of America’s second war with England.
Now, the door stood open a crack.
Abandoning her task, she glanced out into the narrow corridor. There was no sign of Leo. The aromas of baking bread and frying onions drifted from somewhere downstairs, making her wonder if he had gone down to breakfast without her. It would be just like the little rascal to do so. He had an independent streak that alternately amused and frustrated her.
Natalie went back into the room to fetch a warm shawl. She scolded herself for not keeping a closer watch on him. He was her charge, the sole reason she had made the six-week journey across the ocean. She oughtn’t have let herself dwell upon a stranger whose name she did not even know.
Ever since encountering that gentleman the previous evening, she had been preoccupied with the memory of his intent gray eyes and the firm clasp of his fingers. It was ludicrous, really, for he was too polished and proud for her taste, like the haughty British aristocrats that she’d heard tales about in her youth. Regardless, his masculine presence had caused a melting sensation deep in her bones. She’d scarcely been able to draw a breath while the warmth of his skin had been pressed to hers.
Why, oh why, had she unthinkingly offered him her hand?
His raised eyebrow had made it clear that she’d broken some silly rule of etiquette. She must keep in mind that things here were different than in America. Her late father as well as her friend Audrey often had decried the caste system in England, where a person’s station in life was determined by his or her birth.
Who was the man, anyway?
Someone of consequence, no doubt, judging by his exquisitely tailored attire and superior manner. He likely had expected her to curtsy to him. Well, even if the proper decorum had been known to her, she still wouldn’t have complied. She was not his inferior. A genteel handshake was perfectly proper in Pennsylvania, and that was that!
A rumble of laughter from downstairs yanked Natalie back to the present. She was doing it again, letting herself forget that her primary duty was Leo. It wasn’t like her to be so distracted.
She closed the door and hurried down the narrow stairwell that led to the front of the inn. The taproom teemed wit
h guests eating breakfast at planked wooden tables. A harried maidservant, her mobcap askew, rushed hither and yon delivering plates of food and refilling cups. The previous day’s storm had filled the inn to the rafters, and Natalie counted herself lucky to have secured even an attic chamber.
She glanced around, but Leo’s towheaded form was nowhere in sight. Could he have wandered into the private parlor for a second time? The possibility unsettled her. Though the opinion of a stranger oughtn’t matter, she cringed nonetheless at the notion of being judged a slipshod guardian by those intense granite-gray eyes.
A few steps past the front desk took her to the private room. The door stood open, and the sight inside was measurably more serene than the noisy taproom. And glory be, her aristocratic nemesis wasn’t present, after all. She saw only an elderly manservant in a neat black suit laying out gleaming silver on the white tablecloth.
“Good morning, sir. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
He looked up from his task, his face resembling a wrinkled prune. “This parlor is reserved. So if you’ve come to flap your eyelashes at His Grace, you’ll be as disappointed as the last five twittering girls. I’ll allow no one to disrupt his breakfast.”
His Grace? In America, she’d only heard the appellation used to address an archbishop. Since she would bet her last penny that the toplofty gentleman of the previous evening was no religious cleric, perhaps the parlor was being used by a different guest today. Why that should disappoint her, she didn’t care to examine.
“I’m looking for someone else.” Walking forward, she twitched up the long linen cloth to peek under the table. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset that Leo wasn’t hiding there.
Where was he?
“See here, miss! You mustn’t be touching His Grace’s table.”
“Forgive me. Have you perhaps seen a six-year-old boy with sandy hair?”
“If I had, I’d have sent the naughty child away. Begone with you, now!”
The peevish old gent came toward her, waving a linen napkin to shoo her out of the parlor. He looked so unreasonably sour that Natalie couldn’t resist gliding to the doorway and then pivoting to flash him her most dazzling smile. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, sir. I hope you have a very pleasant day.”
The door closed in her face. What a curmudgeon! It was just as well that Leo hadn’t come here and encountered the snooty servant. But that still left her fretting about where the boy might be. She had to locate him before the mail coach arrived to carry them the remainder of their journey. Ever since the ship had landed at Southampton a few days ago, she had learned that the Royal Mail adhered to a very strict schedule and waited for no one.
A quick check of her pocket watch told her that not as much time had elapsed as she’d feared. She had over an hour in which to find Leo, eat breakfast, and convey their baggage downstairs. Still, she had come to learn that any activity involving a child tended to take longer than expected. And if they weren’t ready to depart on time, they risked being stuck at this inn for another day.
Spurred into action, she spun around and ran smack into a solid wall.
A gasp choked her throat. In swift succession, she noted that the wall was actually a man’s chest, that he was garbed in a fine blue coat and snowy cravat with a diamond stickpin, and that his clean male scent held a tantalizing familiarity.
Glancing up sharply, she realized that it was him. The gentleman from the previous evening.
He gripped her upper arms to hold her steady. Her own hands somehow had landed on his broad shoulders. Natalie had to tilt back her head slightly to look at him, an unusual circumstance since she matched the average man in height. Those eyes were even more spellbinding from up close. They were the gray of the stormy Atlantic in winter, though at the moment she detected a gleam of warmth in them.
His otherwise impassive face was a study in masculine angles, from the firm jaw and smooth-shaven cheeks to the dark eyebrows and rather haughty nose. He had toffee-brown hair, the strands as perfectly groomed as the rest of him. Crushed to him, she felt the strong beating of his heart against her bosom. The imprint of his tall muscled form and long legs pressed into her.
That melting sensation coursed through her again. It permeated the deepest parts of her body in a way that threatened to befuddle her brain. They stood as closely as lovers, a scandalous pose for a woman of six-and-twenty in the arms of an unknown man.
Natalie pulled free and retreated several steps. With luck, he wouldn’t notice the flush in her cheeks. “I beg your pardon, sir! I was in a hurry and not watching where I was going. It’s entirely my fault.”
“Let me guess. Has Leo vanished again?”
The suggestion of a smile on his lips disarmed her. “Unfortunately so. I thought he might be hiding in the parlor, but he wasn’t.” She oughtn’t tell her woes to a perfect stranger, but the confession tumbled out regardless. “I took my eyes off him upstairs for a few minutes, and when I turned back around, he was gone. I have to find him or we’ll miss the mail coach.”
“I see. Where is your husband? Can he not help you locate the boy?”
“Husband? Oh no, I’m not married, I…” Natalie paused, annoyed with herself for blurting out such personal information when she was traveling alone with a young child. The man was regarding her intently, and the last thing she needed was to be pestered by unwanted male attention. “I’m Leo’s guardian. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hurry.”
She tried to slip past the man, but he stepped into her path. “Have you any idea as to where he might have gone?”
“Knowing Leo, he could be anywhere. But he hasn’t eaten yet, so I’ll start in the kitchen.”
“Allow me to assist you.”
The thought of being accompanied by this modish gentleman dismayed Natalie. He would only distract her when time was of the essence. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” she said firmly. “I’m sure you’re eager to be on your way this morning.”
“I’m in no rush. You look around inside the inn, and I’ll check the stables. Boys generally have an affinity for horses. We’ll meet outside in ten minutes to compare notes.”
He turned on his heel and strode away through the crowded taproom. A number of guests turned their heads to watch him, the buzz of conversation noticeably increasing. The younger women in particular gawked, and one stout maiden even jumped up to curtsy to him. He afforded her a polite nod before his broad-shouldered form disappeared out the door.
Natalie pursed her lips. He certainly had an air of authority that attracted attention. What a vexing man, to interfere as if he were the one in charge! Yet she had to concede it was obliging of him to search the stables. It wouldn’t surprise her if Leo had slipped outside to watch the grooms at work. Back in America, the boy often could be found at the blacksmith’s or the farrier’s workshop.
She made haste down a cramped corridor to the tiny kitchen at the rear of the inn. The innkeeper’s harried wife was alternately frying eggs, sautéing potatoes and onions, and shouting instructions at a half-grown girl who was toasting bread at the fireplace. The girl scuttled to lay out crockery plates on a table. Natalie had to wait until the woman was dishing out the hot food before questioning her about Leo.
“Nipped a link of sausage, I’ll ’ave ye know,” she said, pointing her spatula at Natalie. “Ye best keep a closer watch on the rascal!”
“Please add it to my account. Did you happen to see where he went?”
“’E run out the back door when I yelled at ’im. That one could use a good thrashing!”
Natalie murmured a quick apology and left the kitchen, heading in the direction that Leo had taken. Mercy, she should never have let him out of her sight! But at least she was on his trail now. With any luck, he soon would be safely back in her custody.
And this time, she would not take her eyes off him.
Pushing open the door, she stepped outside into the stable yard. The sleet storm of the previous
day had given way to bright sunshine and the promise of fairer weather. Already the coating of ice on the roof and trees was melting, leaving the ground wet and muddy. Grooms were hitching horses to various carriages and wagons. From her stance by the inn, she did a visual survey of the area, but could not spot Leo anywhere.
A cold drip from the eaves landed on her cheek. Shivering, Natalie burrowed deeper into her shawl and debated whether or not to proceed to the stable. She didn’t relish the notion of making her way through the lake of muck that had been churned up from the morning’s activity. But could she really trust that fancy-pants gentleman to do a thorough search?
No.
She set forth, lifting her hem and staying at the edge of the yard where the ice-battered grass kept her half-boots relatively clean. Upon reaching the open double doors, she stepped inside and breathed in the familiar perfume of hay and horses. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Several horses poked their heads out of the stalls to snuffle at her.
A man was descending a ladder off to her left. Her heart gave an involuntary leap as she recognized his tall, attractive form in the buff breeches and black boots. He jumped down from the second-to-last rung and dusted off his bare hands.
Unfortunately, he was alone.
She scurried to his side, saying without preamble, “The cook saw Leo heading out the back door a short while ago. But you didn’t find him here?”
“No, and I’ve poked through every nook and cranny, including up in the loft.” Brushing a few pieces of hay from his pristine coat, he added, “I questioned the grooms, too. None of them have seen the little brat.”
Natalie bristled. “Leo isn’t a brat! He’s a very dear boy with a prodigious curiosity.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Whatever his personal proclivities, when he runs off without telling you, he becomes a brat.”
“Well, then! Good day, sir. You needn’t trouble yourself a moment longer on my behalf.”
