Miss Frazer's Adventure

by Alexandra Ivy

  With a ruthless determination, she wrenched herself from his touch.

  She could not weaken. Not unless she wished to find herself seduced back to Kent and the life she had left behind.

  How long would it be before the regrets came crashing in? When Luce abandoned her for his business? When she found herself alone and worthless as she wandered about her empty home? When she awoke one morning to discover she was an old woman with nothing in her life but a husband who had needed her only for her wealth?

  Her chin unconsciously lifted. “We have enjoyed a pleasant interlude, but I warned you from the beginning that I have no intention of marrying you, Luce. I have no intention of marrying anyone at the moment.”

  Luce shoved his hands through the golden hair, his nose flaring with barely controlled fury.

  “Why? Why is the thought of wedding me so repugnant to you?”

  “You know why, Luce.”

  “Because you believe I am only interested in your money? That I haven’t any feelings for you?”

  “In part,” she agreed in a choked voice. “But more importantly, I do not wish to place myself under the authority of another. I will not be confined to Kent once again.”

  His eyes darkened. “And you believe that is what I will do? Take your money and then imprison you in my home?”

  “You have your business that will be forever taking you to London and who knows where else. That is not even to mention the difficulties of salvaging your estate from the moneylenders. How could you possibly do anything but abandon your wife?”

  If anything, her defensive words only fueled the flames of his anger.

  His arms crossed over his chest as his lips twisted with a humorless smile.

  “No doubt I must be mad, but I thought that you might actually desire to be at my side. Whether it was in London, or upon my ship, or even confronting the rather unpleasant moneylenders. Clearly I overrated the attractions of an impoverished earl with nothing to offer but his hand in marriage.”

  The edge of bitterness in his voice struck directly in her heart. Why was he so angry? If anyone should be angry, it was she. It had been his notion to follow her to London after leaving her at the altar.

  Had he stayed in Kent where he belonged, she would no doubt be enjoying a carefree, exciting stay in London. She might even have succumbed to Lord Thorpe’s charming flirtation.

  Certainly, she would not be wretched and confused and not at all confident that she was making the proper decision.

  “What do you want from me?” she at last demanded in shaky tones.

  “I want you to give up this foolishness,” he ground out. “I want you to return to Kent and be my wife.”

  Her hand lifted to press against her throat that ached with unshed tears.

  “It is not foolishness, and if you truly cared for me you would understand my desires.”

  He stared at her as if he thought she had lost her mind.

  And perhaps she had, she acknowledged with a hysterical urge to laugh.

  What maiden in her proper senses tossed aside a handsome earl who made her feel as if she were the most cherished, the most witty, the most beautiful person on the face of the earth? A man who had proved he could be kind and tender and charmingly impulsive.

  A woman who did not want her heart ripped out and stomped upon, she sternly reminded herself.

  “So you refuse to wed me?” he demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “With no regrets?”

  She forced herself to turn away from that searing gaze, knowing she could not hide the agony gnawing at her heart.

  “I am sorry, Luce, but I am certain that you will soon enough discover another wealthy maiden to take my place.”

  There was a stunned silence at her accusation. Then, with a rasping breath, Luce moved to wrench open the door.

  “The devil I will,” he snapped. “I hope you find what you are searching for, Kate.”

  She flinched as the door was slammed shut, and she was left alone with her pain.

  “So do I,” she whispered, unable to shake the sensation that she had just made the greatest mistake of her life.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As ill luck would have it, Kate did not leave London the next morning. Before she had even managed to enjoy her breakfast, she received a brief note from Lord Thorpe revealing that unexpected business had forced him to remain in town for several more days and apologizing for the delay.

  Disappointed but resigned, Kate had been forced to consider her options. Her first instinct, of course, had been to remain safely hidden within her chambers until Lord Thorpe could take her away from London. The mere thought of accidentally crossing paths with Luce was enough to make her feel ill.

  She had hurt him. Oh, no doubt it was only his pride, but it was enough to make him regard her with a fiery dislike that she could not bear.

  Thankfully, common sense had come to her rescue. She had only a few days left in London. And goodness only knew if she would ever be allowed to return.

  She would not be confined to her chambers. Not by Lord Calfield or anyone else.

  Her determination, or perhaps stubborn stupidity, lingered for the next several days, prompting her to an endless round of sightseeing, lectures, and intellectual salons. The hectic pace, however, did not prevent her from incessantly glancing over her shoulder as if she feared the golden-haired pirate might suddenly appear. Nor did it keep her long nights from being haunted by dreams of his tender kindness.

  She had presumed that the passing days would ease the strange ache that clenched at her heart. Or at least dim the remembrance of their days together.

  Instead, it seemed that his lingering presence was everywhere. It was in the garden when she desired a breath of fresh air. It was at the theater where he had followed her to disrupt her evening with Lord Thorpe. And most of all, it was in her chambers, where he had so tenderly cared for her after her night of overindulgence.

  It was little wonder she was so anxious to leave London and travel to Devonshire where she could at last put Lord Calfield firmly from her mind.

  Well, perhaps he would not be gone from her mind, she ruefully conceded, but at least she would halt glancing over her shoulder and peeking about corners as if she were batty.

  Returning to the hotel after yet another exhausting day, Kate discovered herself breathing a sigh of relief when a maid scurried to her side to reveal that a gentleman was awaiting her in the back parlor.

  Lord Thorpe, at last.

  Not even bothering to visit her chambers to remove her cape and bonnet, Kate hurried toward the back of the hotel, which sported a small but nicely private parlor. She could only hope that Lord Thorpe had not come to reveal he would be unable to escort her to Devonshire. Whatever her lack of enthusiasm for staying at a palatial ducal mansion with utter strangers, the option was certainly preferable to remaining in London with the constant danger of encountering Luce.

  Pressing open the door, Kate stepped into the room with a forced smile of greeting.

  “At last, my lord, I feared you had . . .” Her light words came to a startled halt as she regarded the short, solidly-built gentleman with a shock of gray hair and a countenance that appeared to have been carved from granite. This was most certainly not the elegant Lord Thorpe. Indeed, he appeared more a ruffian than a gentleman. “Oh. Forgive me. There must have been some mistake.”

  About to back from the room, Kate was halted when the man took an abrupt step forward, holding up a gnarled hand.

  “Please, Miss Frazer, I would ask for just a moment of your time.”

  The sound of her name stopped her retreat and Kate regarded the craggy features more closely. There was something vaguely familiar about him . . .

  It took a long moment before she abruptly recalled where she had seen the man before.

  “You work for Lord Calfield,” she muttered.

  “Aye. My name is Foster.”

  With jerky movements, Kate untie
d her bonnet and removed it from her curls. She needed an opportunity to gain command of her thundering heart.

  “I suppose he sent you here?” she at last demanded.

  “Bloody he . . . I mean, good God, no.” The sailor gave an embarrassed cough before continuing. “He would gut me like a fish if he even suspected I was here.”

  The sharp twinge she felt in the region of her heart was not disappointment, she sternly reassured herself. The last thing she desired was interference from Luce.

  Still, she discovered herself sinking into the nearest chair, almost as if her knees had suddenly gone weak.

  “If you are not here for Lord Calfield, then what brings you to the hotel?”

  The man absently rumpled his gray hair, as if he were uncertain himself why he had come.

  “Mayhap I should first warn you that Luce is more than just an employer to me,” he muttered in abrupt tones that revealed he was not at all comfortable in the presence of a woman. Or perhaps it was simply her presence. “Five years ago he found me in the stews drinking my way through most of the gin in London. He had heard I once sailed at the side of Nelson, and despite all rumors that I had gone to rubble after leaving the navy, he believed I possessed the skills to be his captain.” There was a short silence before the man roughly cleared his throat. “He saved my life on that day. I should no doubt be lying in the gutter, if not in my grave, if he had not given me a reason to pull myself out of the pub.”

  Despite herself, Kate discovered her heart warming at Luce’s kindness. She could just imagine him bullying the poor drunken sailor into taking command of his ship. Whatever his faults, he did not consider himself above others, and was obviously loyal to those who had earned his trust.

  Trust.

  She suppressed a heavy sigh. Trust seemed to be the one thing she lacked in abundance.

  “Obviously you are quite attached to Lu . . . Lord Calfield,” she murmured.

  “I would gladly take a bullet for him,” Foster retorted with a grimace. “Hell’s teeth, I’d as soon take a bullet as be here.”

  She blinked at the odd words. “I fear I do not understand.”

  He folded his arms across his barrel chest, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her puzzled expression.

  “I warned him about you, Miss Frazer. I knew the moment he began chasing after you and behaving the fool that he was headed for trouble. But like any man bewitched by a female, he refused to listen to reason.”

  “Bewitched?” Kate pressed a hand to her suddenly unstable heart. “You are mistaken, Mr. Foster. Lord Calfield was never bewitched, merely in desperate need of funds.”

  The older man’s expression hardened with obvious anger. “If that were true, he would not have trailed behind you like a well-heeled hound, Miss. Nor would he have neglected his business and family simply to please you.” His lips thinned until they nearly disappeared. “You are not the only rich maiden in England, Miss Frazer. Had his wits not been so clouded with the need to make you his wife, he would already be happily wed to another.”

  Abruptly rising to her feet, Kate regarded the intruder with flashing eyes. How dare he? Why, he implied that she had deliberately toyed with Luce’s emotions merely for her own pleasure. And that it was somehow her fault he was too stubborn to choose a maiden more willing.

  “I assure you that I never attempted to deceive Lord Calfield,” she gritted. “I made it quite clear from the moment he arrived in London that I no longer desired to be his wife. Indeed, I did everything possible to convince him to seek another.”

  Foster offered a disgusted snort at her clipped words. “All the while you flirted and teased and readily allowed yourself to be in his company. Do not forget, I witnessed the two of you together. It did not seem you were anxious to be rid of him.”

  Ridiculously, a warm blush filled her cheeks. “Certainly he is a charming companion, and annoyingly persistent. What would you have me do? Give him the cut direct?”

  “Yes. A swift stroke would have been kinder in the end.”

  Blast it all. Why should she feel guilty? She had not left him humiliated at the altar. She had not followed and plagued him about London. She had not pretended to care for him when all she desired was his wealth.

  “Whatever you may believe, I have not attempted to halt Lord Calfield from finding the dowry he so desperately needs. Indeed, I have not even spoken with him for the past week,” she said stiffly. “I do not doubt he is already sweeping his way through the ballrooms of London and breaking dozens of hearts.”

  Foster took a step forward, his expression tight with suspicion. For a moment, Kate feared that he might have sensed the jealousy that ripped through her heart at the mere thought of Luce charming another. Then he gave a slow shake of his head.

  “You do not know?”

  “Know? Know what?”

  “Luce has left London. He returned to Kent days ago.”

  Kate caught her breath in shock. Gads, the revelation should have brought a sense of glorious relief. She could leave her chambers without the constant dread of meeting him in the corridor. She could sleep easily at night and enjoy her days of independence.

  Ah yes, she should be delighted.

  Instead, a deep, icy sense of loss abruptly settled into her very bones.

  “But . . .” She gave a slow shake of her head, wondering how she had not known. How she had not sensed his absence. “Surely he should have remained in London if he desires a bride?”

  His scowl only became more pronounced. “He has put off all thoughts of marriage. Hardly surprising after having his heart stomped upon.”

  Kate ignored his ridiculous accusation that she could ever reach Luce’s distant heart.

  “I thought it was imperative that he wed. What of his father’s debts?”

  “They remain, although he has managed to put off the most pressing of his creditors by offering his shipping company for sale. He hopes the profits will gain him time to find another means of rescuing his family.”

  He was selling his shipping company?

  Kate abruptly fell back into her seat. Dear Lord. Why? Those ships were everything to him. Not only financially, but as tangible proof that he could forge his own path despite his father’s condemnation.

  “This is absurd,” she muttered. “There are any number of maidens who would be delighted to trade their dowry for the title Countess.”

  Foster gave a growl that might have indicated disgust. “So I told him, any number of times. I even made him a list of eligible possibilities. But would he listen to me? Fah. He had it in his head that you were to be his bride and no other would do. Now, see what has happened.”

  Kate gave a slow shake of her head. It was all so vastly confusing. Not only Luce’s abrupt return to Kent, but his selling the business he treasured.

  Why had he not sought out a more willing maiden? Or even continued his pursuit of her?

  It was not at all the behavior of a gentleman who was only interested in a convenient means of acquiring a fortune.

  She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples as the older man glared at her with a steady anger.

  “What do you want from me?”

  Foster jutted his chin to a stubborn angle. “I want you to talk with him. To convince him once and for all that you are never going to be his wife. Mayhap then he will come to his senses and seek another before he has lost everything.”

  “I . . .”

  Her words faltered quite simply because she did not know what to say. Her thoughts were too tangled. And her heart . . .

  Damn it all. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped from her chest as she thought of Luce proudly turning his back on London and sacrificing everything he possessed because he could not bear to think of another woman as his countess.

  “Well?” the sailor prompted in gruff tones.

  Not even realizing she had made a decision, Kate slowly lifted her head, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek.

  �
�I will go to Kent.”

  Foster heaved a deep sigh. “Thank God.”

  * * *

  “Thank God.” Pressing a fluttering hand to her heart, the current Countess of Calfield pounced upon Luce the moment he entered the door. “I have been awaiting you for hours. Why are you never here when I need you?”

  Biting back a caustic comment, Luce forced himself to ease his raw nerves. He had known when he returned to Kent without the fortune he needed that it would be difficult. Especially for his mother, who had always refused to face the truth of their financial ruin. It was far easier to pretend that all was well than to actually have to make the sacrifices that were so obviously necessary.

  “Someone had to speak with the grocer. He insisted upon payment before he would continue our credit,” he said with admirable calm. “What do you need?”

  Lady Calfield waved a dismissive hand, as if having food upon the table were of little importance. “Thomas came to me this morning and said that a gentleman had arrived to view the stables.”

  Luce smiled with grim amusement. He should have known that his mother’s loyal servants would be tattling behind his back. They would have to suspect that his efforts of economy would soon affect their own positions.

  “Yes, it is a Mr. Marrow. He is interested in making an offer on father’s hunters as well as the carriages.”

  “Luce.” Horrified shock touched the aging countenance, marring the fading beauty. “You cannot mean to sell the carriages?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, steeling his courage. Too long he had dodged the painful choices that had to be made. He could not waver now.

  “They will go along with the grooms and trainers. We will keep two horses and the small cart.”

  “Cart? You expect your sisters to travel about in a cart? They will be humiliated.”

  Luce lifted a shoulder. “They can walk if they prefer.”

  “Dear heavens. How can you be so heartless? Your father . . .”

  “My father is the reason we are currently in this mess, Mother,” he interrupted in firm tones. He was in no humor to hear of the glorious generosity of his father, who had fribbled away near sixty thousand pounds. “And I fear this is only the beginning. I intend to review the servants this evening and request that those who are not essential to the running of the household search for another position.”