The Saint of Seven Dials: Collector's Edition

by Brenda Hiatt

  "I can say the same for you, Mr. Paxton, though I've undoubtedly had far fewer opponents for comparison, which makes your compliment the greater. I thank you." Then, turning her gaze to the board, she moved her king's pawn two spaces forward.

  For several minutes they played in silence, while Noel tried to rein in the effect her combined intelligence and attractiveness had upon him. He was contemplating how best to broach the subject of her brother when Miss Riverstone spoke again.

  "You mentioned last night that you had played some small role at the Congress of Vienna, Mr. Paxton. I would be interested to hear what it was."

  He glanced up, but her attention remained on the board between them. "I was merely a minor aide of sorts to Wellington," he said carefully. In fact, he had been the Duke's eyes and ears in places a more prominent man could not venture without danger and suspicion.

  Miss Riverstone did look up now. "You actually met the Duke of Wellington? Worked with him? What is he like?" Her face was alight, eager, and disturbingly alluring.

  Noel forced himself to study the board for a moment, making his next move before replying.

  "Physically, he is an imposing man, though perhaps not classically handsome. Mentally, he is even more impressive. He has an awesome intellect, particularly in matters of strategy. You would enjoy engaging him in chess, I assure you."

  As he'd hoped, she smiled again. Though he might have expected a less dramatic effect upon him this time, the opposite was the case.

  "I'm certain I would. I had hoped to meet him while in London, but I understand his visit here is to be a brief one, and that he returns soon to Paris."

  "He might possibly accept Lady Hardwyck's invitation before leaving," Noel replied, startled to discover he didn't share her hope. Wellington was a notorious womanizer —not that Miss Riverstone was at all in his usual style, of course. Still—

  "May I trouble you for an introduction, then, should he attend?" Even as she spoke, she took his rook with her knight. Damn! That hadn't been part of his strategy.

  "Of course," he said vaguely, trying to concentrate on the game again. He'd planned to use that rook to draw out her queen. Now he'd have to extricate his other rook for that maneuver. Would Wellington be as intrigued by Miss Riverstone's intelligence as he was? Dash it all, he mustn't let it matter.

  Shaking his head slightly, he moved the pawn that blocked the path of his remaining rook. He barely knew this girl, after all. Certainly, he had no business becoming protective of her. She had a brother for that. His goal was simply to win her confidence and liking so that he could learn more about that brother.

  "What did you do before you went to Austria?" she asked then, taking his pawn just as he'd intended. "Were you in the army?"

  "I, ah, worked with the army, in a civilian capacity." He knew it sounded evasive, but he could hardly tell her he'd spent nearly three years as a spy in France.

  She blocked his rook with a bishop. "What sort of capacity?"

  "I was a courier of sorts," he said, using the cover story he'd maintained for years. "First in Upper Canada, during the second war with America, and later traveling to various parts of the Continent."

  "Canada?" The chessboard apparently forgotten for the moment, her eyes shone. "Is it as wild and extensive as I've read? Did you meet any savages there?"

  In truth, Noel had never set foot in Canada, but he'd made a point of learning about it so that he could answer just such questions.

  "The forests are so thick one can scarcely see through them, and extend for hundreds of miles, interrupted only by pristine, frigid lakes. A beautiful, if rugged, country. There were no savages near our outpost, however, so I know only what I was told of them."

  "And what of the Continent? Where did you travel?"

  Her expression was rapt as she soaked up every bit of information he revealed. The girl definitely had the mind of a scholar. And the face and body of . . . With an effort, he pulled his gaze away, to focus again on the board. His inattention had taken its toll, forcing him to again modify his strategy.

  "Germany, Prussia, Italy— wherever messages were being sent," he replied absently, moving his rook three spaces to the left to circumvent her bishop. He could only hope she had been equally distracted from the game.

  Apparently not. Her next move revealed that he had fallen into a carefully prepared trap from which he could see no easy escape.

  "How I should like to travel," she said as he moved his rook back to its starting point. "That has long been one of my dreams."

  "What other dreams do you have, Miss Riverstone?" he asked in an unworthy attempt to rattle her. He had clearly managed it the night before, but now she seemed more resistant.

  She moved her queen one space to the right before responding, tightening the noose around his remaining pieces. "To set the world to rights, of course. To effect justice for all, rich and poor, titled and base."

  "A humble goal." He laughed, despite his dire position in the game. "So you would wipe out all crime and poverty —and war as well, no doubt?" He took her bishop with his rook.

  "Of course, had I the means to do so. I have long maintained that if women ruled the world, it would be a far more peaceful and prosperous place." She slid her remaining bishop to the opposite corner of the board, exposing his king to her queen while blocking its escape. "Checkmate."

  He'd seen it coming, of course, but losing was still rather a shock. "Well played, Miss Riverstone," he said sincerely, though he was hard pressed not to frown.

  What on earth was the matter with him? He had played —and beaten —some of the best, most devious minds of Europe, while ferreting out their deepest secrets. It was precisely what he'd planned to do tonight, but instead she had managed to distract him. He must be losing his edge.

  Noel forced a smile. "Another match? I'm willing to play white this time, as it appears I need the advantage."

  That elicited another smile, one that set his heart pounding. Merely pretty, he had thought her? He realized now that she was in fact one of the loveliest women he'd met, her beauty uncluttered by frivolous ringlets or fancy clothes, the pure curves of her face only slightly concealed by her spectacles, with no artful tresses to obscure them.

  "I'm far less tired than I was last night," she said, her voice flowing over him like fine wine. "I'd enjoy another game, yes."

  Taking white as promised, he began with a gambit he'd used successfully on many occasions. It appeared to be one with which she was unfamiliar, to judge by her level of concentration. He was just as glad to be spared more probing questions. It felt more wrong somehow to lie to Miss Riverstone than to all of the exalted dignitaries and officials he had deceived over the years.

  Determined not to let his focus waver, Noel spoke not a word for half an hour. Then, feeling he had established a sufficient advantage, he launched another attempt at flirtation, aiming his flattery at her skill rather than her appearance. She would suspect the latter as flummery, he was certain.

  "You are an audacious and unconventional player, Miss Riverstone. I continue to be amazed that you have achieved this level of skill immured in the country."

  "I subscribe to a wide variety of newspapers and periodicals, some of which recount famous matches in great detail. In addition, I had the advantage of an accomplished master in our late vicar, Mr. Winston, a man whose intellect I fear few besides myself appreciated during his lifetime."

  Again, Noel felt himself becoming caught up in curiosity about Miss Riverstone, to the detriment of his attention to the game. What was his next move to be? Ah.

  She reached forward to counter his move with her knight, and he noticed how long and slender her fingers were, belying the roundness of her body. He'd thought her plump on first meeting her last night, but by now had realized she was almost perfectly proportioned, though her frumpy dresses obscured that fact.

  Sternly, he recalled his thoughts and made his next move, which should force her to withdraw her knight so that he
could advance on her queen. Instead, she surprised him by taking his white bishop, sacrificing said knight.

  "I've never been able to bear being funneled into a particular course of action," she commented, a twinkle in her gray eyes. "My tendency to rebel cost me more than one match with Mr. Winston, but he rarely beat me in the same method as he had planned, which I regarded as a different sort of victory."

  And so it transpired. Though Noel was eventually able to win the game, he was forced to alter his strategy numerous times in order to do so.

  "Again, my compliments, Miss Riverstone," he said when he had finally checkmated her. "You kept me on my toes the entire time. I must say, you are a formidable opponent."

  He realized his words were true in more ways than one.

  CHAPTER 4

  Rowena smiled sunnily, aware that she had acquitted herself well and feeling that she fully merited Mr. Paxton's praise. She had been determined not to let her ridiculous attraction to the man distract her tonight and was pleased by her success, though it had taken a surprising degree of concentration.

  "I thank you, sir. I would suggest yet another match, but I perceive that it is nearly midnight."

  Indeed, Pearl and her husband had long ago given up their own play, and were all but dozing on the sofa, leaning cozily against each other. They stood now and approached, to inquire about the match just ended.

  "I fear I lack the patience for so long a game myself," Pearl confessed. "So you beat him tonight, did you, Rowena? Brava! A point for the so-called weaker sex."

  Rowena glanced at Mr. Paxton and thought he looked slightly nettled. "I was able to rally for our second match," he said. "I won't deny, however, that your Miss Riverstone plays far better than I'd have believed a woman could. I flatter myself that she is far from typical of your sex."

  Rowena wasn't certain whether he meant that as a compliment or an insult, but could not prevent herself from retorting, "I suspect I am far more typical than you imagine, sir— simply less practiced than most at concealing my abilities."

  Mr. Paxton's brows rose, but it was Lord Hardwyck who spoke first. "What a terrifying thought," he exclaimed. Then, to Pearl, "Never say you possess talents you have not yet revealed, my dear?"

  "I can only hope so," Pearl replied with a grin. "But now, I think we terrifying creatures must bid you good night."

  After taking polite leave of the gentlemen, Rowena accompanied Pearl out of the room, still irked by Mr. Paxton's remark. Not that she wanted to be thought typical, of course . . .

  "Now I'll have to reassure Luke that I haven't been keeping secrets," Pearl said laughingly as they climbed the stairs. "Luckily for me, he seems to find my intelligence attractive rather than intimidating."

  Rowena thought she understood the underlying message. "But most men are not so enlightened?"

  "You scarcely need me to tell you that, after all of your study on such matters."

  "Surely you are not suggesting that I should have let him win that first match?" Rowena asked in surprise.

  "No, no, of course not." But Pearl's voice lacked conviction.

  Mr. Paxton had seemed rather distracted, Rowena recalled. It would have been an easy thing to play a shade below her best— but that would be a species of dishonesty she despised. She admitted that she had hoped for his friendship, but what sort of friendship would it be, if she could not be herself?

  "Would you have done so?" she challenged her friend.

  Pearl thought for a moment, then smiled ruefully. "No, I confess I would not have let him win either. After all, I do not let Luke beat me, and he would not wish me to. But he is a gem, in that and so very many other ways."

  Pearl's obvious adoration of her husband, clearly reciprocated, created a small ache somewhere in the vicinity of Rowena's heart. What must it be like to experience such love, such trust? It seemed unlikely that she, plain and too intelligent for a "proper" woman, would ever know.

  * * *

  "Your Miss Riverstone is rather a quiz, my dear," Luke said as he and Pearl prepared for bed. "Are you certain attempting to launch her into Society is a good idea?"

  Pearl laughed. "You sound like her father used to. Rowena is my oldest, dearest friend, and has helped me through more than one rough spot in the past. I feel I owe her this much. Never say you are afraid she'll embarrass us?"

  "Us? No. Perhaps herself. She seems to speak without thinking, for all she appears uncommonly intelligent."

  "Uncommon indeed. I consider myself one of the best educated women in England, but Rowena casts me in the shade when it comes to intellectual pursuits. I doubt there is a book on her brother's estate—or my father's for that matter—that she hasn't read. Newspapers and magazines, as well."

  Pulling Pearl down onto the bed next to him, Luke nodded. "I surmised that. She seems exceptionally well informed on current events."

  "Yes, if she weren't a woman, I've no doubt she'd stand for Parliament —not that we haven't had more than one discussion on the unfairness of a system that prevents women doing just that," Pearl said with a chuckle.

  Luke raised his hands in mock horror. "We men must preserve some small portion of leadership to ourselves, or your sex would ride roughshod over us all. No doubt she'll manage to scrape along in Society if she is so well-informed as that, however."

  Pearl frowned. "I hope so. But for all her reading, she's had precious little experience with the real world. I fear she may be . . . susceptible."

  "To men, do you mean? She's hardly likely to draw the sort of masculine attention you do, my dear," he said teasingly.

  Pearl grinned, but regarded him speculatively. "Do you think her so plain, then? I believe she merely hides her light under a bushel. I'd say something disparaging about male observational powers if I hadn't noticed the way your Mr. Paxton was watching her tonight."

  Luke's brows rose. "Not matchmaking, are you, love?"

  "Certainly not! In fact, I'd thought to warn her away from him, as his prospects seem rather poor. Besides, will he not disappear once he's caught this spy you say he is after? I'd not have Rowena's heart broken over him."

  Rather than reply, Luke gathered his wife to him for a kiss. Noel's prospects were far better than Pearl knew, but that was not Luke's confidence to divulge. And whatever might spark between Noel and Miss Riverstone was best left to burn or fizzle without Pearl's interference.

  "With your shepherding, I'm sure your friend will do quite well," he murmured into her hair. "I have no doubt you can make her ready for Society in two days' time. I only hope Society is ready for Miss Riverstone."

  * * *

  The next morning Rowena was the first downstairs for breakfast. The Times and Morning Chronicle had been placed on the sideboard to await Lord and Lady Hardwyck's pleasure, along with that week's Political Register, which Rowena had not yet read.

  She rather doubted that most of the great houses in Mayfair received that publication, but it didn't surprise her that Pearl's would. Surely her friend wouldn't mind if she took a peek.

  Rowena was deep in her reading, coffee and toast having been supplied by an unobtrusive footman, when Mr. Paxton appeared. Flustered, she put down the Register, tucking it facedown under her saucer to hide the name of controversial circular.

  "Good morning, Miss Riverstone," he greeted her cheerfully. "I see Lady Hardwyck was right about your usual habits."

  "I—I beg your pardon?" Rowena shot a guilty glance at the folded paper at her elbow.

  "Rising early," he clarified, to her relief. "I tend to keep country hours myself, being a relative newcomer to London."

  She looked at him in surprise. "You do not strike me as a rustic, sir. In fact, quite the opposite." For a moment, her gaze became tangled with his and she was struck again by the perceptiveness of his complex hazel eyes.

  "I've traveled a bit, yes," he conceded. "But until a few weeks ago I was buried in Derbyshire."

  "On your estate." She knew her tone was disapproving, and regret
ted it at once. He could not help having inherited, after all.

  His smile held a trace of mockery. "While you have lived . . . in the cottage of your brother's poorest tenant?"

  She could feel the color rising to her cheeks. "No, of course not— and I apologize. I have grown up privileged as well." Then, lifting her chin, she met his eyes again. "However, I am trying to make some reparation for that."

  "By stirring up sympathy for the common man—or by criticizing every landowner you meet?"

  He had scored another hit but Rowena refused to acknowledge it, nettled by his obvious amusement. "The former, of course."

  "How admirable." His expression softened to something she could not decipher, though it quickened her heartbeat. "And how—"

  "Good morning, early risers!" exclaimed Pearl, breezing into the dining room and interrupting whatever Mr. Paxton had been about to say. She looked fresh and vibrant in blue-sprigged muslin, making Rowena feel dowdier than ever.

  Mr. Paxton rose to bow in greeting. "Good morning, my lady. May I say that you look lovely today."

  Rowena stifled a sigh. He had directed no such compliments her way— not that she merited them, of course. Still—

  "I'm glad to find you both here," Pearl continued after thanking him. "I have realized that as this is Rowena's first visit to Town, she may need a few pointers in order to feel comfortable at her first Society function. I'd like to enlist your aid, Mr. Paxton."

  "Honored to oblige, of course," he responded politely, but Rowena thought she detected a flicker of alarm in his eyes.

  As for herself, she wished she could disappear through the floor. Pearl made her sound like a charity case, a poor country bumpkin with no idea of how to go on in civilized society.

  Turning, Pearl caught her reproachful glance and came forward to hug her. "I'm sorry, dear! I shouldn't have phrased it so. I only meant that you've had few opportunities to practice your social skills in Oakshire. How long has it been since you danced, for instance?"