The Scoundrel and I - Katharine Ashe Page 0,20

can repay the debt yourself. Not the thing for a gently bred female to consort with moneylenders. My solicitor will assist.”

“Captain,” she said, lowering her eyes. “You are very generous to offer. But it would not be seemly for me to accept such a sum of money from a man who is not my relative. What would my children think when they grew to an age to understand?” She lifted her gaze again. It overflowed with sincere modesty. “What would anybody think?”

That he was a cad. A reprobate. A knave, who took advantage of a grieving woman bereft of the protection of her husband to give her a slip on the shoulder. A scoundrel who set up his former officer’s widow as his mistress, whether she liked it or not. She was pretty enough to make it believable, and docile enough to make it likely with at least a third of the bachelors in the navy and a number of the married officers as well. Her religious scruples be damned, Tony knew enough of his fellow officers to be certain that, if presented with this opportunity, those other men wouldn’t even give her a choice.

Tamping down the surge of panicked misery in his chest, he nodded and rose to his feet. She stood too.

“Thank you for offering, Captain. No other commanding officer would be so generous, I am certain.”

He’d no doubt of that. But no other commanding officer had been such a lying, guilty wretch either.

Dropping to his knee on the bare floorboards, he shut out of his memory the last time—the only time—he’d been on one knee before a woman—in a printing house, with that woman’s sweet, sodden foot in his hands—and said, “Mrs. Park, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Chapter Six

When Captain Masinter arrived, Elle was not looking out the window in anticipation. But Minnie was. And Adela. And Esme. And the grocer’s eight-year-old errand boy, Sprout.

Seraphina had sent a note to the shop that morning, informing Elle that the captain would be collecting her early in the evening for the final fitting. They would all leave for the ball together, directly from her home. Elle had been unwise enough to share the news with Minnie, who shared it with their two friends. Then Sprout came by, as he often did to see if he was needed to deliver or retrieve post for Peregrine and Lady Justice, and Adela and Esme set to interrogating him on everything he had seen of the naval hero the previous evening. The four of them had swiftly become quite a merry band awaiting the captain’s arrival, and Elle had retreated to the press room to suffer her agitated nerves in peace and quiet.

“Blimey!” Sprout exclaimed. “Them hacks is bang up to the nines!”

“What does that mean, Sprout?” Esme said.

“That carriage must be worth hundreds of pounds,” Minnie said in hushed awe.

“Elle, he is here!” Adela whispered through the open doorway.

With exaggerated calm, Elle put away her pen, wiped her damp palms on her skirt, and went into the front room. He stood at the door, as tall, dark, handsome, and aristocratic as he had been the previous day and the day before that, smiling at her friends with undiluted good cheer.

Her stomach plummeted to her toes. She could not possibly see this through.

Then he turned his beautiful eyes to her, and his smile changed. It dimmed, but for the better; there was no blitheness in it, only simple, sincere pleasure. He said deeply, softly, as though there were no one else in the room, “There she is.”

And Elle knew she was doomed.

~o0o~

“Does this carriage also belong to Madame Étoile?” she said as he jumped up onto the box beside her and snapped the reins.

“Like it?” he said with a quick glance at her.

“The seat is so comfortable. And we are quite high off the ground, but I do not feel unsafe.”

“Bought it this morning.”

“You bought it? Today? Yesterday you said that a bachelor has no need of a carriage in town.”

“I’d a mind to celebrate,” he said, maneuvering the carriage away from the commercial streets.

“Oh? What are you celebrating?”

His swift smile revealed every white tooth. “Bachelorhood.”

Elle did not know why the single word should make her cheeks erupt in heat, except that it was probably because she was a thorough ninny.

“Your friends were good to see you off,” he said, glancing aside at her again. “Making certain I wasn’t a scoundrel, were they?”

“I think they did not entirely believe