he and Morgan had returned to London, they’d settled into an uncomplicated routine. His valet was a loyal and easy man to spend time with, but sometimes his observations, like the one he’d just uttered, suggested he’d come home from war with more than an eye injury. “But we’re not close to the battlefields anymore.” Christian smoothed his cadence. “We’re safe.”
“Indeed, sir.” Morgan drew back the curtain once more. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief, then blew out a breath. “There are quite a few women here. I wonder how many handkerchiefs you’ll receive tonight.”
“Hopefully none.” Christian smiled slightly and leaned forward to take in the view. “Today, I only received—” Suddenly, he stopped. “Oh, for the love of God,” he said through clenched teeth. “Is that Lady Meriwether coming straight toward our carriage? She appears to be in a high lather and has someone with her.” Christian knocked twice on the roof. Immediately, the driver stopped the slow crawl.
Morgan glanced at the window. “She must be upset if she’s coming here.”
“Indeed. Will you find the Prince Regent and explain that an emergency arose? I’ll not be able to attend the theatre tonight.”
“Of course, Captain. I’ll hire a hackney and meet you back at Rand House.”
Before Christian could offer more instruction, the crisp sound of a knock echoed in the carriage. He peeked outside the window to see the women had arrived. Lady Meriwether’s stare was glued to the door handle. In seconds, Morgan turned the latch, opened the door, and leapt to the ground.
Christian drew in a deep breath. The only avenue available was to leave the area immediately before she could inflict any real damage. With a determined face, she had the look of a person preparing for all-out battle with certain victory to follow. He exhaled when he glanced at the open door. Thankfully, only one person accompanied her. Lady Meriwether’s companion, the one who looked at Christian like he belonged in a pail of pigwash.
Morgan pulled out the carriage steps.
“Company has found us,” Christian drawled. “I’m afraid this isn’t the best time for receiving.”
“I’m not giving, so that’s not a problem. At least not for me,” Lady Meriwether replied.
“I meant that I’m not entertaining guests,” he shot back.
“I meant I’m not giving up.” She smiled, and for a moment, he stared. He’d been correct in his earliest assessment of her. She was pretty, and her tenacity was an admirable trait.
But the woman was beyond exasperating.
Their exchange would have been comical if Christian had been in the mood to laugh. Without warning, the audacious woman stepped into the carriage. Christian had no recourse but to move his legs to make her entry easier.
She gracefully stepped around him, then settled herself on the seat opposite him. Her companion followed. Christian nodded at the woman, who sat next to Katherine.
“My lady, it is a long walk to the theatre.” Christian pulled back the curtain leisurely. “At least half a block. I’m afraid I’ve decided not to attend tonight’s performance. You’ll have to find other transportation. I’m on my way home.”
“Excellent, Your Grace. I’m not attending the theatre either. Did you know I live within walking distance of Rand House?” Without waiting for his response, she continued, “You can take me with you since we live so close to each other. We can have a nice little chat.” She situated herself on the seat facing him directly, then sat ramrod straight. She adjusted her elegant purple velvet pelisse around her. As a direct result of her movement, the fabric shimmered in the light from the streetlamps. Pleased with herself, she nodded, then folded her gloved hands neatly in her lap. “If you’d be so kind? That’s what family does for one another.”
“It’d be my pleasure,” he grumbled. She was practically moving in if her actions were any indication.
“Where are my manners?” she cooed.
Exactly. Where were her manners? Probably back at her house where she undoubtedly misplaced them.
“This is Miss Willa Ferguson.”
“Allow me to do the same. My valet, Jacob Morgan.”
The confounding woman smiled graciously at the valet, who stood outside the carriage. Not a hint of horror crossed her face when she gazed at Morgan and his eye patch. “Hello, Mr. Morgan. I’m Lady Meriwether.”
“Good evening, my lady.” Morgan executed a perfect bow.
Lady Meriwether’s companion nodded also. “Call me Willa, Morgan. Would you tell me what happened to your eye?”
“I lost it in my last battle,” he answered.
Every muscle in Christian’s body stiffened. He’d seen the way men and