Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard

CHAPTER ONE

Edward Arundell suspected from the moment he almost ran her down on Monmouth Street, that Miss Fanshawe would be trouble. He had merely a few more corners to conquer before reaching the house on King Street, and had just rounded the bend to Monmouth when a young woman in a delicate sprigged muslin and a straw, beribboned hat, holding a single valise, and with a corded trunk at her feet, stepped lightly into the road. If he hadn’t been such a sure hand at the reins, he’d never have managed to pull up the team in time to skirt around her. But with a hair’s breadth to spare, he missed her and roared past.

He should have kept right on roaring. The curricle he commanded at top speed was not his own, first of all, and if he didn’t reach home before his elder brother Sebastian awoke and discovered the theft (for surely he would call it that) he’d be in for a monstrous combing and quite possibly lose his monthly stipend. The combing he could take with fortitude. But losing his stipend was an unthinkable horror.

To complete his journey he needed only to bear left onto Grafton Street, angle quickly right onto Gerrard’s, then make the razor-sharp turn onto Prince’s in order to come up directly by the mews off King. He would have stabled the horses and got in the house before Sebastian would know the difference. Only he didn’t keep on. The devil made him turn, he supposed, to spy the sweet vixen he’d missed by mere inches and see her drop senseless in the street.

He was no saint, by Jove. But even he, a young sprig intent on making a wave among a set of wave cutters, had no choice but to slow the team, swallow an oath that flew to his lips, and return to the scene of the almost crime. At this early hour, only two passersby were on hand, and they hurried to surround the prostrate young woman. These lost no time in hailing Edward, begging him to be so kind as to take the poor thing in his chariot to the nearest inn or coffee house.

With a heavy heart, Edward allowed them to lift the young lady, and then her valise and trunk, into the curricle. She came to as he drove off, sinking his spirits yet further, for now he would have to apologize prettily, perhaps even take her somewhere across the metropolis—who knew? By the time he got back to King Street with Sebastian’s curricle, his elder brother would be in rare form. And if he cut off Edward’s stipend, which was by any standard already too meager to keep him looking all the crack, he’d be utterly dashed and done in.

He slowed the team to a stop in front of The Boar’s Head Inn and turned apologetically to his slim, dark-haired young victim. After craning her neck to get a good look at the establishment, the young lady turned to him with large brown eyes infused with gratitude, eyes that would melt a sterner man’s heart. “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly. Colouring, she added, “I—I believe I nearly swooned!” He looked past a riot of curls that had escaped her bonnet and met those luminous orbs with a suddenly gentle disposition.

“But you did swoon,” he assured her. “And it was on my account. Please—please—allow me to—to—.” He motioned with his head to the inn, but when the innkeeper emerged from inside the brick building dusting off an apron and followed by a porter, a sudden better thought occurred to Edward.

If he took this lovely creature into the inn to revive her with some refreshment, it would cost him something. More, he’d be detained and not get home before Sebastian—that starched shirt!—would discover his transgression. He’d been given set downs before on account of borrowing the curricle. With this infraction, he and his brother’d go to loggerheads and upset Mama. Or Edward would have to deliver a Canterbury story deep enough to satisfy the pope. In the few seconds it took for the servant to reach him, extending a hand for the ribbons to walk the horses to the mews, he’d made a decision.

“Allow me to offer you breakfast,” he said magnanimously, turning only to dismiss the man with a curt nod. “My mother and elder brother are home, and there is no trouble at all in bringing a guest, I assure you.” With an apologetic air, he added, bowing

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