Texas Viscount

by Henke, Shirl

  Was he going plumb loco?

  * * * *

  Sabrina stood frozen in the dense shade cast by an overgrown boxwood hedge at the corner of the block. What on earth was Josh doing skulking about across the street from her cousin's lodgings? This was scarcely the sort of neighborhood frequented by the peerage. It was, in fact, somewhat dangerous for her to be here alone, but she had originally planned to have the hansom driver stop directly in front of Edmund's boardinghouse and let her out—until she saw Josh.

  He was standing at the intersection of an alley across the way, deep in conversation with another man, also bearing the unmistakable stamp of aristocracy. Not wishing him to see her until she knew what was going on, Sabrina had ordered the driver to let her off around the corner. Then she'd walked back to observe the Texan and his mysterious companion. After a few moments, the fellow departed and Josh remained, as if he were spelling his companion. But for what purpose? Did it concern Edmund?

  An icy surge of fear rippled down her spine. She had just learned a horrifying secret about her cousin, who had lied to her and taken money from her—money she could ill afford—under false pretenses. Edmund worked for Josh's uncle. What if his gambling debts had frightened the foolish boy into petty thievery? Nonsense. If so, the earl would simply have had the police arrest him. Perhaps this had nothing at all to do with Edmund.

  Sabrina determined to wait and see. As she stood in the noonday heat, her thoughts skittered around the past weekend. Saturday night had changed her whole life. She was in love, desperately in love, with her Texan. No, not hers, she corrected herself firmly. And not simply a Texan either. He was Viscount Wesley, and would eventually marry a woman of significant rank, when he found her.

  An ironic smile passed fleetingly across her lips as she thought of Lady Eunice. No, Eunice would certainly not be his choice, no matter what the earl said, if that was any comfort to her. It was not. There would be many more eligible candidates waiting to ensnare Josh. A spinster teacher was merely a pleasant dalliance for a man used to charming women. His very skill as a lover attested to that fact. He had caught her at a very vulnerable time. The debacle aboard ship that day, his kindness and empathy for poor Drucilla, his perception about her own feelings—everything had conspired to make that one moonlit night pure magic.

  Magic that could never happen again.

  Oh, she knew well enough that he wanted to continue their liaison. If she'd ever harbored any doubts about her ability to attract a man—and she certainly had after Dex—he'd laid those fears to rest. She could thank him for that. The irony was, now that she was certain she could have a normal relationship, she wanted no man but the one who was unattainable. Was it better never to have known paradise than to pine for it after it was lost? Sabrina thought about it. In spite of her heartbreak, that one glorious night had been worth the price of every lonely day for the rest of her life.

  Besides, she would have other matters to fill her time after the earl provided her with the funds to start her school. But before she could reorder her life and begin implementing her dream of helping indigent girls, she would have to complete her assignment with Hambleton's charming heir. How ever would she get through it without succumbing to temptation again...and again?

  That troubling thought was interrupted when she saw Josh slip out of the alley and start walking down the street. From her vantage point at the corner, she could not see the boardinghouse; but it quickly became apparent that Josh was following her cousin, who was climbing into a hackney he'd hailed. Before her amazed eyes, Joshua Cantrell, seventh Viscount Wesley, leaped nimbly onto the boot of the lumbering conveyance and pulled the canvas cover over himself.

  Sabrina stood in flummoxed amazement until a fat woman carrying a market basket overflowing with leeks and carrots bumped her, nearly knocking her into the street.

  “Watch where yer goin’,” she snarled, waddling past.

  What should she do? Wait for Edmund to return and confront him or go back home? It was obvious that her Texan would not be at the earl's city house for afternoon lessons. As she hailed a hackney, Sabrina reminded herself for the hundredth time not to keep referring to that rogue as her Texan.

  * * * *

  The trouble he took following Edmund Whistledown was not worth the bump on his skull he'd received when he leaped from the hansom as it pulled away from Epsom. Josh gingerly rubbed his head. All the stupid young fool had done was to meet with a couple of plug-ugly characters whom Josh wouldn't have trusted to clean a cuspidor. The quivering clerk paid them a wad of cash, no doubt the same wad he'd been given earlier by Zarenko.

  It was apparent from their menacing posture that Whistledown still owed more. How could Josh keep the young idiot from digging himself deeper into this manure pile? The boy was certain to take advantage of his access to the earl's office to pilfer more information and sell it to Zarenko. He sighed. It was probably already too late. If they caught the Russians aboard the boat tomorrow attempting to assassinate the man posing as Minister Hayashi, Edmund would be dragged down with them. He prayed the boy would not be with them, but, given his desperation, Whistledown might well fall into the trap he'd unwittingly helped set.

  How will I tell Sabrina?

  The thought plagued him on the way home. He would just have to deal with that when the time came. There was no chance Sabrina had anything to do with her cousin's treachery. But he still wondered about his uncle's role in the intrigue. Why did the earl have access to such secret information about the Japanese mission to England in the first place? As usual, Jamison had been evasive.

  Josh wanted to be present when the trap was sprung. Michael had tried to convince him that he could jeopardize his camaraderie with Alexi Kurznikov and the others if he was present when they arrested the assassins. But he'd been adamant about participating in this little roundup. There would be plenty of time to continue ingratiating himself with the Russians if they failed to take the bait. Josh knew that meant he had to spend tonight drinking at the White Satin, when he'd far rather be motoring through the countryside with Sabrina.

  With luck, once this mess was untangled, he'd have lots of opportunities to ride with her...and not always in the Mercedes either. He smiled at that thought as the hansom he'd hired dropped him off where he'd left the automobile. He cranked it up and set off for the Metropole. If he knew Alexi, he would already be ensconced in the hotel's elegant lounge with a bottle of vodka.

  What Josh found instead was Natasha, who waylaid him in the opulent lobby. She was seated on a ruby velvet settee, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers, most of them young Englishmen ready to do her bidding. One was in the act of handing her a glass of champagne when she saw Josh from across the large lobby. He tried unsuccessfully to duck behind an immense potted palm, but her clear, high voice bounced off the tin ceiling, carrying around the cavernous space over the noise of murmured conversations and squeaky carts being pushed by weary bellmen.

  “Why, if it is not my favorite Americain, the Texas Viscount,” she said, rising and tossing off the glass of bubbling wine just as she did vodka, then handing it to the swain standing by her side as if he were a bellman. Apparently, Russians were anatomically incapable of sipping.

  La Samsonov moved with the imperial grandeur of a Yankee clipper under full sail. The sparse crowd parted for her as if she were the czarina herself. Approaching him with both arms outstretched, she seemed to invite him to take her hands and kiss them. Or did she intend to wrap them around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth? Her black eyes glittered as if she'd been partaking of hashish.

  With a female as volatile as this one, Josh had no idea what was expected of him. He trotted out his most engagingly innocent grin as he took her hands and did a pretty good job of fancy-dan hand-kissing. “You're a sight to make a blind man see, Madame Samsonov,” he said as she continued to grip his hands tightly. He could feel her heat through violet silk gloves and see the pulse that beat rapidly at the base of her white throat,
revealed by the shockingly low cut of her gown, a dramatic concoction of dark purple and pale violet satin. Voluptuous breasts spilled out in milky splendor, adorned by an elaborate amethyst necklace whose lowest stone nestled in the deep vee between the globes.

  Seeing where his eyes trespassed, she gave him a blinding smile. “You are so very charming. Original. Not like these stuffy English. And”—she hesitated for a moment, drawing out her teasing while she pressed the backs of his hands to her bare neckline—“I have learned that you own a horseless carriage.”

  Josh smiled ruefully. “I have a Mercedes.”

  Her smile turned instantly into a pout. “Pah, some Spanish woman can do nothing for you. You shall take me for a ride and I will show you,” she purred.

  It was a command he dared not refuse. He chuckled. “My Mercedes is an automobile, Madame, not a woman.”

  She sighed. “I feel so foolish. But I also feel like riding.”

  Josh was certain that a woman as sophisticated as a prima ballerina who toured Europe would know about German luxury automobiles. She was not stupid like Eunice. No, Natasha was playing with him. But why? There was only one way to find out. He took her arm and said, “I'd be happy as a speckled pup with two tails to take you for a ride, Madame Samsonov.”

  “Tasha. My friends call me Tasha,” she purred as they headed for the door.

  As they turned, Josh caught sight of “Tasha's” brother scowling at them darkly from behind one of the palms. “Your brother looks like he's just run across a hornet in the privy.”

  She shrugged dismissively. “Nicki is always brooding about something or other. Forget him. The sun shines. The fresh air calls to me. Let us ride.”

  “Not much fresh air in London,” Josh replied as a footman held open the huge brass door of the red granite hotel.

  “Then you shall drive me to the country where there is fresh air,” she said slyly.

  As they drove through the busy streets, she studied him with intense dark eyes. He was a magnificent barbarian, no doubt of it. And Hambleton's heir. Her cabal was receiving more information now from her new source than from Albany's pale son, but both men bored her in the extreme. Poor sots. This Texan would be good in bed—she could always tell. He was as wild and reckless as she. Soon her assignment here in England would be complete and she'd be sent elsewhere. Tasha decided she was entitled to a bit of pleasure before that happened.

  Neither the Russian nor the Texan saw Sabrina as she stood dumbly at the edge of Russell Square, watching the pair speed past. Trying to take her mind off her troubles, she'd spent the afternoon gawking at antiquities and was in route home. The wonders of the British Museum could not rid her mind of Edmund's gambling debts, or of the night she'd spent in Josh's arms. The last thing she expected was to see him with another woman, least of all the prima ballerina.

  But she should have expected it, she thought bitterly. Had he not said to Drucilla that Natasha Samsonov was tall and beautiful? And she was. While Josh kept his eyes on the traffic, the raven-haired woman had her gaze fixed on his handsome profile as they laughed and talked. Oh, he was a charmer, probably heading to some trysting place where he would...

  No, she could not finish the thought. It made her feel used and cheap. Can you blame him? After all, you were no virginal miss when he seduced you, she scolded herself as tears threatened. Sabrina blinked them back and kept on walking resolutely. She would go to the earl first thing in the morning and terminate her employment. If he chose not to bestow the munificent reward he'd promised for “civilizing” his nephew, so be it. She simply could not endure one more moment in Josh's presence.

  Sabrina should have felt angry and humiliated, and she did. But she also felt betrayed...far more betrayed by her Texan than she ever had by Dex.

  * * * *

  When the daunting butler Nash announced that she would be allowed to speak with the earl, Sabrina felt her stomach clench with an ache that had not left her since yesterday afternoon. She'd spent the night dreaming about Josh, seeing his green eyes dance with laughter, feeling the whisper-light caress of his mouth on hers, hearing the slow, intimate drawl of his voice as he crooned love words in her ear. Now it was over. So quickly, before it had scarcely begun.

  Even though she knew that the breakup was for the best, she had secretly hoped for a few more nights in his arms before they were separated by station and...temptation. She knew how women responded to his exotic background, his charm and handsome face. There had been many before her and would be many after her. Even the glamorous ballerina was only a temporary diversion. Josh would marry a woman of rank and most probably continue having dalliances.

  Especially if he ends up with one such as Lady Eunice, she thought with spiteful anger as she followed Nash into the earl's office. The elderly gentleman rose and smiled at her warmly.

  “Good morning, Miss Edgewater. What brings you out so early? I'm afraid my rapscallion nephew is away from the house and not expected home until later in the day. I do hope he didn't forget a lesson you'd arranged?”

  “No, we made no plans,” she replied as she took the seat he offered her. Although Sabrina would have preferred to stand and quickly say what she'd come to say, it would have been rude to expect the octogenarian earl to stand while she did so. “But I did come to discuss my tutorials with the viscount,” she said as she carefully arranged her skirts.

  She's nervous and unhappy, Hambleton thought with a sense of foreboding. “What ever is troubling you, my dear young lady?” He leaned forward against his desk and studied her as she began to speak.

  “I wish to terminate my employment, my lord. If you choose not to fund my school, I shall understand fully.” She waited for the ax to fall, but was puzzled by the slow smile that turned up the corners of his mustache.

  “Ah, so you've had your first lovers' spat,” he said. “Not to worry. Joshua can be a trial, but—”

  “Lovers' spat?” she squeaked with dawning horror. Surely he could not know...

  As if reading her mind, the earl nodded. “Please, don't take offense. I could see by the way you and my nephew began that—”

  Sabrina started to jump to her feet, ready to storm from the room, when the door burst open and the mysterious man she'd seen with Josh yesterday appeared. The viscount's arm was draped over the fellow's shoulder.

  “You'll need to call a physician,” the man said calmly as he gave the bleeding Josh a fulminating look. “The stubborn Texan refuses to go to hospital.”

  “It's just a nick,” Josh said as he looked from his uncle to Sabrina. He removed his arm from Michael's shoulder and used the back of her chair to steady himself. “You do have the most incredible way of surprising a—”

  She was out of the chair and on her feet in an instant, reaching out to him as the stranger caught him while he started to slide into unconsciousness. There was blood everywhere. “What's happened to him?” she asked as the man lowered Josh to the carpet.

  "I told the pigheaded fool he needn't be there, that we could handle it," Michael said to the earl, ignoring her question. "But being one of those wild and woolly Americans, he had to be in on the hunt."

  The earl's face had turned ashen as he jerked the bell pull to summon help. "How bad is it, Michael?"

  Sabrina knelt beside the man the earl called Michael as he pulled a small knife from his pocket and began to cut the sleeves of Josh's jacket and shirt, slicing upward until he revealed a long, ugly gash that had soaked his jacket in blood. “Must have nicked a big vein,” he said as if discussing the weather. “I wanted to take him to St. John's after everything was finished, but he insisted it wasn't serious.”

  “You'll need to stop the bleeding at once,” Sabrina said, reaching over and taking the knife from him. She used it to cut a long strip of her soft cotton petticoat and applied pressure with a wad of cloth. “Hold this while I wrap it,” she commanded, placing Michael's hand over the pulsing wound.

  “How did you learn medicine?” the
earl asked just as Nash came scurrying into the room to announce that he'd already sent for a physician, having seen the condition of the viscount when he was brought in.

  “I was second eldest of seven children, three of them boys, not to mention my very accident-prone young cousin,” she replied as if that were explanation enough. “This looks as if it came near shattering bone. Although Gerard, Donald and Jeffrey did grievous injury to themselves growing up, I've never seen such an ugly, deep furrow. What happened?” she repeated, leveling piercing blue eyes on Michael.

  From behind her, the earl replied wearily, “It would appear, my dear, that he's been shot.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “First I puke in a woman's hat, then I faint dead away. Some damn fine way to impress a lady,” Josh groused as Sabrina leaned over him with an expression of concern. He looked around and realized he'd been moved into his room and lay on his bed. Someone had removed his clothing and bandaged his arm, which ached like hell.

  “I hardly think passing out from loss of blood would qualify as fainting, my lord,” Sabrina replied soothingly, placing her hand against his uninjured shoulder to keep him from sitting up.

  “Hell, I've been shot a lot worse and managed to stay awake.”

  “So I noted by the plethora of scars adorning your body,” she said tartly, then could have bitten her tongue when a lazy grin replaced his chagrined expression.

  “Did you now?” he drawled.

  “Dr. Maynard asked that I remain to assist him when he examined your injury. His examination was more extensive than I'd bargained for. You've led quite an active life, Lord Wesley,” she replied primly as she pulled the sheet higher, trying to cover more of his disturbingly enticing chest. Whenever she was around this man, she blurted out things far better left unsaid.