“I’ll be there.”
A few hours later, when she arrived at the Golden Cross Inn with her bag, she had to remind herself to ignore Lyons’ compliments and the absurd attraction she felt for the man. This was a matter of saving Tristan’s future. Because the haughty duke had once more defied her expectations.
Dressing in lower-class attire ought to have made him look ordinary and workaday, dulling his virile appeal. Instead, it amplified it. With his great coat slung casually over one shoulder, he looked like a rakish adventurer out to conquer the world.
And she had a decided weakness for rakish adventurers.
Drat it all. She couldn’t blame his clothes; the fustian suit was what any merchant might wear—a medium-brown coat, buff breeches, and a dark brown stock tied simply about his neck.
But the soft brown color brought out the warm green of his eyes. And his brown leather high boots, with their creases and weathering, made him look rough and daring, a man to be reckoned with. Worse yet, the bold features and unfashionably straight, gold-streaked hair that had seemed wrong for a rich lord were perfect for an adventurer in fustian.
Then he spoke, and the duke returned in full force, arrogant accent and all. “There you are. I thought that you had forgotten what time the coach left.”
She forced a smile as she approached. “It took me forever to get packed.” Mindful of the people milling about the coach office, she added, “Were there any more notes waiting for you at home from . . . our brother?”
His expression hardened. “No. No word of any kind.”
She released a sigh. Part of her had hoped that Tristan had just been delayed somewhere and would have tried to reach the duke again. But it had been over twelve hours since Tristan had first sent that note. It wasn’t looking good.
Feeling a sudden chill down her spine, she glanced about the coach office, but nobody seemed to be paying them much mind. She’d had the oddest sense that someone was watching them, but it must have been her imagination, spurred by her worry about Tristan. “I suppose you’ve purchased our tickets already.”
“Of course.”
“And your bag?”
“Already loaded.”
“Then I should—”
“Miss Bonnaud!” cried a voice behind her. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
Her heart sank into her stomach as she turned to see Mrs. Greasley, one of her neighbors, bustling toward her with her stoic husband in tow. Oh no. The biggest gossip in her street just happened to show up at an inn halfway across London? What were the odds?
“Going on the coach, are you?” Mrs. Greasley continued as she caught sight of Lisette’s bag.
Steady now, Lisette told herself. If she asks who’s accompanying you, all you need do is claim that Dom is running late. Lots of coaches left from the Golden Cross Inn, and the woman might not even be here to travel on one.
“Good day, Mrs. Greasley,” she said smoothly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“We’re off to Brighton to visit my daughter,” Mrs. Greasley said cheerily. “I suppose you’re off to Brighton, too, eh?”
Lisette froze. This couldn’t be happening. How was she to play Miss Cale if the Greasleys were in the coach with them all the way to Brighton? “I-I—”
But Mrs. Greasley didn’t seem to require an answer, for she went on without pause, “I spoke to the coachman, and he said he had a gentleman and a lady booked for the inside seats with us, but I never dreamed it were you and your half-brother.” She glanced about the inn. “Where is Mr. Manton, anyhow? The coach will be leaving soon, our driver said.”
Panic seized her. She couldn’t be Miss Cale, and Mrs. Greasley knew that she had no other brothers, so she couldn’t claim that the duke was another Mr. Manton or Mr. Bonnaud or—
“I’m afraid the cat has got her tongue,” Lyons said smoothly beside her. “You’ll have to forgive her—it’s been a busy week.” He bowed to Mrs. Greasley. “The lady is going with me to Brighton.”
“You!” Astonishment mingled with outrage in Mrs. Greasley’s voice.
“Yes. Allow me to introduce myself. Max Cale, at your service.” As Lisette’s panic grew to a fever pitch, he took her hand and placed it firmly in the crook of his arm. “I am Miss Bonnaud’s new husband.”
Also by Sabrina Jeffries
BY LOVE UNVEILED
‘TWAS THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS
The Hellions of Halstead Hall Series
A LADY NEVER SURRENDERS
TO WED A WILD LORD
HOW TO WOO A RELUCTANT LADY
A HELLION IN HER BED
THE TRUTH ABOUT LORD STONEVILLE
The School for Heiresses Series
WED HIM BEFORE YOU BED HIM
DON'T BARGAIN WITH THE DEVIL
SNOWY NIGHT WITH A STRANGER (with Jane Feather and Julia London)
LET SLEEPING ROGUES LIE
BEWARE A SCOT’S REVENGE
THE SCHOOL FOR HEIRESSES (with Julia London, Liz Carlyle & Renee Bernard)
ONLY A DUKE WILL DO
NEVER SEDUCE A SCOUNDREL
The Royal Brotherhood Series
ONE NIGHT WITH A PRINCE
TO PLEASURE A PRINCE
IN THE PRINCE’S BED
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2006 by Deborah Gonzales
This work was previously published in The School for Heiresses
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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition May 2013
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ISBN 978-1-4767-3161-2
ISBN: 978-1-4767-3161-2 (eBook)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
What the Duke Desires Excerpt
Ten Reasons to Stay Page 10
