The Captain and the Wallflower

by Lyn Stone

  “Will he not come for the wedding then?”

  Caine shook his head, though his answer was positive. “He plans to attend. Insists on it, in fact. We can make him comfortable in the carriage, bring his physician and take the journey slowly. Unless his condition worsens between now and then, he’ll be all right, I think.”

  She smiled up at him. “You care for him a great deal, don’t you.” It was not a question.

  “I love the old fellow, even when his demands drive me mad,” Caine admitted. “He and my aunt were always like parents to me, even when mine were alive.”

  “You’re a good man, Caine,” she said.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “If not so good to look at.”

  “I would never say that, nor would anyone with two good eyes.” Then she realized the faux pas and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Not to worry. I was just teasing you. And thank you for the compliment, however undeserved.”

  “But it’s not undeserved! You have to stop seeing yourself as that stupid girl described you.” She reached up and touched his eye patch. “Take it off.”

  He backed away, glaring at her, his lips drawn into a firm line.

  She braced her fists on her hips. “If I’m to run from you, wouldn’t you want me to do it now before you’re shackled to me for life? How can you bear wedding a woman you cannot trust to stay? Take it off and test me.”

  “You’re a demanding little tyrant, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “At times, but this is all I’ve asked you for and really meant it. Do it, Caine. I dare you.”

  To her surprise, he reached up slowly and removed the eye patch. She gasped with surprise. “You have your eye!”

  He glanced away, obviously embarrassed.

  “It moves with the other! Can you see out of it, Caine?”

  One shoulder lifted in a shrug and he nodded once.

  She threw up her hands in dismay. “I’d just begun to think you a sensible man! Why on earth would you cover your eye and give up half your sight for vanity’s sake? If you place so much value on appearance, why take an ugly wife? Will you put a patch over me?”

  “You are not ugly!” he replied. “Are you attempting to destroy our bargain with a fight?”

  “Do you want it destroyed?” she demanded. “Have you second thoughts?”

  “None! If anything, I am more resolved!”

  “Why?”

  He turned away, then back to face her. “Because I like you, damn it!” he exclaimed. “I need to protect you and I care. Make of that what you will!”

  “I shall make the most of it then,” she snapped, and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, goodbye, Captain.”

  “Goodbye, Grace,” he said.

  She marched right up to him, snatched the eye patch out of his hand and stalked back to the house alone.

  Inwardly, she was bursting with happiness. He could see! How bloody marvelous was that! And his scars didn’t signify at all. They were not pretty, she admitted, but they were not what she would deem disfiguring, either.

  And he liked her.

  She glanced over her shoulder as she reached the door. He still stood there, such an imposing figure, one hand on his hip, watching her.

  Grace couldn’t resist. She shot him a defiant grin and raised a hand in farewell before ducking inside.

  Did she imagine she heard his laughter?

  *

  Caine’s step felt light as he walked on to the stables. Mr. Harrell awaited him there, along with Trent and the saddled mounts.

  “I did not wish to speak of this in front of Lady Grace, Mr. Harrell. Now that I’m leaving, you should assemble every able-bodied man on the estate and have them armed. Not only the few I’ve seen patrolling, but all of them,” Caine ordered.

  “Oh, that was done at the outset, sir, even before you came,” Harrell assured him. “Many are stationed well out of sight so you or anyone approaching wouldn’t notice. All are mindful of any traffic upon the roads leading in and guards are posted at every entrance to the house itself, night and day.”

  “Yes, I saw those few every day.” Caine was impressed. He had been so preoccupied with Grace’s company and so sure he could protect her himself, he hadn’t thought to question the number of guards.

  “The earl will be happy to hear of your initiative, as am I. In fact, I plan to suggest that you be properly rewarded for the effort that goes beyond your official duties.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Harrell’s chest puffed out. “I reckoned the need immediate when Lady Grace arrived.”

  Caine smiled and nodded. “Carry on, Mr. Harrell, and send word if you need anything. You have enough weapons?”

  “Loaded and well manned, sir. There’s more powder and shot on order. If it turns out we don’t need that now, there’s always the fall hunt.”

  Fall hunt? They had not had one since his father and Trevor died. Was Grace already planning one or was this Harrell’s idea? In either event, it was not a good idea, but he would take that up later.

  Caine mounted up. “We shall return soon,” he told Harrell. “Keep a sharp eye.”

  He and Trent rode out, pacing their horses for the long ride to London. Trent’s thoughtful look prompted Caine to ask, “Do you still think I’m mad to marry her?”

  “I think you’re mad if you don’t,” Trent replied. “How was your visit with her?”

  “Enlightening,” Caine replied, thinking that was the understatement of the century. He had come to like Grace enormously and fully appreciate her originality. Unless he was badly mistaken, she liked him, as well.

  Her independence certainly suited their situation. He knew she would be fine by herself when he was occupied with business. And on occasion, when he was not, she would welcome his company. A perfect arrangement for both.

  If there was a detraction from that perfection, Caine admitted it was his burgeoning desire for Grace as a woman. She managed to stir his senses even though he could not precisely explain it. Her joie de vivre, perhaps. She did embrace life with an energy he envied. The more he was with her, the more he wanted a taste of that, a taste of her.

  Trent nodded his approval. “Well, I must tell you, Mrs. Oliver informed me last time I was here that Grace ordered armed guards the moment they arrived. Harrell merely followed her directions. You shouldn’t give him the credit.”

  Caine smiled to himself. He had figured as much.

  Trent continued, “True, Grace is no beauty and she could cut you to ribbons with that saucy tongue of hers, but she’s amazingly resourceful and…well, quite interesting,” Trent observed.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Trent gestured, palm up. “You must admit, the girl’s no henwit. Took a cartload of courage to do what she did to that highwayman.”

  “Daring.”

  Trent continued, his mood thoughtful. “And she has this way about her, y’know? A way of moving with a purpose. Not jerking about or anything like that, but efficient, I guess you might say.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Can’t see how one could help but do that. However, she eats an enormous amount of food, did you see that? Last time I was here and this time, too. She’ll beggar you at the market.” Trent released a harsh sigh. “She could run to fat. Three helpings of pudding.” He shook his head. “I would never mention that to her, you understand. But I expect she’ll realize it herself before it comes to that, smart as she is.”

  Caine inclined his head in agreement. “I daresay.”

  Trent sounded half in love with Grace himself, obviously taken with her boldness and courage, if not her face a
nd figure. He had obviously given it much thought in the past three days. As had Caine, in a much more personal way. Grace was perfectly charming and he was happy that Trent could see it, too.

  Her appearance had changed, though Caine had trouble pinpointing precisely how. Her features were the same, so that wasn’t it.

  She still wore her hair, straight as a rapier, scraped back into a tight little chignon unless the wind destroyed its severity. He loved when it did that. With outdoor exposure, it did look lighter, streaked with sun and with more shine to it. Like silk. Several times he had touched it briefly just to feel its texture.

  Perhaps the difference he saw was due to the hair and the color of her complexion. She looked healthier, pinker. She had clear, beautiful skin, flawless, in fact, though it had looked deathly pale before. Country air obviously agreed with her.

  Her vivacity and outspoken manner, something he had admired from the very beginning, certainly overrode any plainness. In truth, she no longer looked plain to him at all. He had been perfectly honest with her as far as his own perception went. She was not ugly.

  She had an increased air of confidence that he certainly approved. Her humor enchanted him more than he could say. The girl could make him laugh out loud. Who would have thought?

  And didn’t she seem quite within her element running the Wildenhurst household! He hoped she would accept that there would be little opportunity to entertain as a couple after they were married. He hated to deny her that, but needs must.

  She loved his old home. He looked back at the house that would belong to him when he became earl and then to his son if he ever had one. The impending death of his uncle, the event necessary to inheriting, saddened him.

  “You’re frowning. Was your parting with her unfriendly?” Trent asked, showing sincere concern. “You didn’t quarrel again, did you?”

  “Didn’t you notice? She stole my eye patch,” Caine said, turning back to view the road ahead.

  “By God, she’s precocious! I’ve wanted to do that for weeks! If you ask me, I always thought the thing looked a bit theatrical.” He leaned toward Caine and squinted at his scars. “Not as red as they were, are they? Did she remark?”

  “Only to exclaim that I still had my eye. She expected an empty socket. I suppose my having the eye mitigated the scars.”

  “You won’t wear the damn patch again, will you?”

  Caine shook his head. “The only person whose opinion matters to me doesn’t seem put off, except by my vanity. I trust you now believe I chose that person wisely?”

  Trent met his gaze squarely. “I think you picked up what appeared to be a rather ordinary rock and discovered a solid gold nugget. But I don’t see how you could have known her value at first glance. How did you?”

  “It was her eyes,” Caine replied readily, surprising himself with a truth he hadn’t fully realized until now. “I looked into her eyes and they hid nothing.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next week provided little in the way of solving the riddle of who had hired the assassin, despite the leads Trent had amassed. Those came to nothing. In fact, his and Trent’s questioning in all quarters only served to reveal publicly the fact that the attempt on Grace’s life had failed. Word was out in Town. Now Caine had to worry that another attempt might be made.

  On the Friday, he walked down Fleet to Rundell and Bridge Jewelers at Ludmore Hill, intent on purchasing a wedding ring for Grace, as well as a bride gift.

  “Something with diamonds. White stones. Nothing ostentatious,” he specified when Mr. Rundell asked his preference. “The lady is quite dainty and her taste, modest.”

  Once he had decided on a simple gem-studded band of gold, he asked to see something worthy of a morning gift, perhaps with blue stones. Rundell nodded with satisfaction. “I have just the thing, a versatile parure fit for a royal. Understated and elegant and absolutely exquisite.”

  Caine lifted and examined a delicate necklace of fine blue sapphires, the exact color of Grace’s eyes. He touched the matching combs and imagined how they would look in her hair. “Excellent! These are perfect,” he commented as he returned the set to Rundell to have it properly boxed and wrapped.

  “Captain?” asked a soft voice just behind him. He felt a hand on his back, a light touch.

  He turned abruptly. Belinda stood there, radiant in a bright paisley shawl and white day gown that exposed far too much of her generous bosom. The lovely mounds heaved as she took a deep breath and smiled, focusing on his chin.

  So she still could not look at his face. Caine sketched a perfunctory bow. “Miss Thoren-Snipes.”

  She looked away and gestured nervously toward the front window. “I saw you enter and finally summoned courage to follow.”

  “I commend your bravery.” He turned back to the counter to await his purchases, hoping she would go away.

  “Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked in a near whisper.

  “No happier than you were the last time you saw me,” he said without turning.

  “How dare you!” she exclaimed. Did he imagine she stamped her foot? “I’ve come in here to explain why I ran from you. I was in a state of shock when I saw your wounds. Any woman of delicate constitution would have run!”

  He turned and cocked his head. “And any woman of breeding would not have broadcast her reaction and unfairly labeled me a cold, unfeeling monster to anyone who would listen, would she?” He again faced the counter. Surely she would leave now.

  The white-haired Rundell winced and busily adjusted his cravat.

  “So now you would give me the cut direct?” Belinda whined.

  “I am a direct sort. You would be wise to mark it.”

  “Oh, don’t be mean, Caine! I heard that you are to be married to someone else. Surely a wicked rumor,” she simpered, “since you are still betrothed to me. A gentleman never goes back on his word. He cannot.”

  Caine took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. “When you declared to one and all how you were so fortunate to escape such a gruesome match, I took that as a very public cancellation.”

  “I never cried off it to you! I know you do this to shame me. And you pretended to choose another in my stead, declaring love for her, proposing at an assembly?”

  “Yes, at Cavanaugh’s. No pretense about it. I am engaged.”

  “You cannot be! She is plain as a peasant and worth less than nothing! Everyone told me so!” She issued a patently fake sob. “You’ve made me a laughingstock among my friends!”

  “You will recover. I did.”

  She uttered a cry of disbelief. “You are horrible! I have never known you to be so cruel!”

  What more could he say to be quit of her? “You have no patent on that quality. If you wish forgiveness for all you have said of me, then I give it. If you think this tantrum will rekindle what is now a defunct attachment, I must disappoint.”

  She uttered a pitifully loud moan and ran weeping noisily from the shop. He could swear he heard her mutter a curse just before the door slammed behind her.

  Mr. Rundell winced again and cleared his throat. “Lucky escape, indeed, if I may say so, sir.”

  “You may, this once.” Caine opened his money folder and peeled off the notes to pay for the jewels, adding a generous gratuity. “A bit extra for your future discretion,” he explained. “I should not like this incident repeated. Anywhere.”

  “Of course not, sir.” Rundell inclined his head. “Unless you require my repetition of it…for legal reasons, you may consider it completely forgotten.”

  Caine himself would not forget it. T
he exchange with Belinda only served to reinforce his opinion of her vain and childish nature. Either she could not bear to be replaced by another in Caine’s affections even though she had been the one to reject him, or she had reconsidered the benefits of attaching herself to him now that he was slated to become titled.

  Neither reason spoke well of her. He understood her shocked reaction at seeing his scars for the first time, but he could not forget how she had branded him a monstrous sight to all of society. Adding, ostensibly to excuse her own behavior, that he had gone cold and ruthless in the bargain. That had not been necessary or in any way kind. Marriage to her would have proved a disaster and he knew he was well out of it.

  He met Trent at the club as arranged, but recounted none of the Belinda episode. No need to upset a friend, when it would serve no purpose.

  “We shall have to step up efforts,” Trent remarked as Caine joined him in the reading room. “I’ve checked the papers daily to see whether an account of the incident has been officially reported. See here. No details, but what it does say is factual.”

  Trent read aloud, his voice barely audible. “‘An attack on the carriage bearing Lady Grace Renfair, betrothed of Captain Lord Morleigh, was thwarted last week on the road south of the city. Unfortunately, her modiste, Madame Avril Latrice, was killed. The perpetrator was dispatched, as well, and is no longer a threat to travelers. Additional guards have since been posted to police that road. One must wonder why there was then a scarcity of protection that allowed such a vicious attack.’”

  “Word of mouth probably preceded this by at least a day or two,” Caine remarked.

  “Undoubtedly.” Trent folded the paper and laid it aside. “How soon do you think there will be another attempt now that the one who was responsible has been alerted of the failure?”

  “Who knows? I suppose that depends on who wanted it done and why, what sort of resources he has and so forth. At least Grace is well protected where she is. Let’s go again this afternoon and see whether we can locate Wardfelton’s solicitor at his home address. It seems a strange coincidence that he should be away for—”