Читать книгу The Naked Duke - Sally MacKenzie - Страница 7

Sarah stared in horror at the crowd of faces at the door.

The nasty innkeeper, alternately sneering and wringing his hands. A pair of sniggering footmen. The drunken lord from last night trying unsuccessfully to muffle his laughter. And two elderly women, one tall, one short, their wrinkled faces and bright, inquisitive eyes framed in stylish bonnets.

“James,” the taller one said again, this time without screaming. She and her companion stared at Sarah’s pillow; it was all that stood between her and complete exposure. She flushed and slid lower in the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to her chin.

“Aunt, how delightful to see you. Pardon me if I don’t get up.” James could feel a hot blush surge over his face. He wouldn’t be surprised if his entire body was red, including the unruly part that was making an unseemly tent in the thin blanket. He shifted position.

“James…” His aunt appeared lost for words.

He smiled slightly as he surveyed the people at his door. Lady Gladys Runyon, his father’s older sister, tall and angular with over seventy years in her dish, stared at him, her deep flush echoing his own. Lady Amanda Wallen-Smyth, her constant companion, was beside her. Lady Amanda, who was in her mid sixties, was small and delicate looking. An illusion only. Let the slightest scent of gossip waft her way and she was after the details like a ferret down a rat hole. Now her shrewd brown eyes darted around the room, taking careful note of everything—the girl’s clothes by the fire, his breeches on the floor. Finally they latched onto the girl herself. He swore he saw the old Ferret’s nose twitch. The girl crept even lower under the blanket.

Robbie had finally mastered his laughter. Now his face bobbed up above Aunt Gladys’s head. His mouth moved like that of a beached fish, but no sounds came out. He was making slashing movements with his hand across his throat. James wasn’t sure what he was trying to convey, but cutting someone’s throat, preferably Robbie’s, seemed like a very good idea.

“Robbie, kindly show Aunt Gladys and Lady Amanda downstairs. And close the door when you leave.”

“James…”

“Yes, Aunt. I’ll be down directly. Now please go along with Robbie.”

James sighed with relief as the door finally shut. He turned to the girl. She was still clutching the blankets to her chest, eyeing him warily. She certainly was a very odd whore.

“Please don’t scream again,” he said. “My poor ears have suffered enough.”

“Then don’t do anything to make me scream.” Her eyes strayed down to his chest and then skittered back to his face. “Do you have any clothes on?”

He grinned. “No, do you?”

All the skin he could see turned as red as her hair. He wished he could see if her blush extended as far as his had, but there was no time. Aunt Gladys would not be waiting patiently. If he wasn’t downstairs quickly, she would be back upstairs hauling him out of bed, naked or not.

He frowned slightly. Now that he didn’t have a pillow attacking his ears, he could focus on the girl’s voice. It was very nice, soft and educated. She certainly didn’t sound like a local whore or even a higher-priced London demi-rep.

“You sound American.”

“I am American.” The girl was being very careful to keep her eyes on his face. For a whore, she was amazingly embarrassed by his bare chest. “From Philadelphia.”

“That’s a long way to come to visit the Green Man, sweetheart. We’re quite proud of the place, but I’m shocked that its fame has spread across the Atlantic.”

“I did not come here to stay at the Green Man,” she snapped, “and I can’t say I’m much impressed with an inn that lacks locks on its doors.”

James chuckled. “True, so if you didn’t come to enjoy the questionable hospitality of the Green Man, why are you here?”

“To see my uncle. The stagecoach got in too late for me to go directly to his home last night.”

James thought he knew all the people in the neighborhood very well, but he hadn’t heard of a villager who had an American niece. “Your uncle? Who’s your uncle?”

“The Earl of Westbrooke.”

James felt his jaw drop. “Westbrooke’s your uncle?”

“Yes.”

James swore he saw golden flecks of fire flash in the girl’s hazel eyes.

“My name is Sarah Hamilton, and my father was the earl’s younger brother.”

“David. He did go to America.” James nodded. “So you are here to see the Earl of Westbrooke.” He smiled. Then he grinned. Then he collapsed back on the pillow and howled with laughter.

“Oh, God,” he gasped. “The Earl of Westbrooke! I can’t believe it!”

Sarah clutched the blanket tightly to her chest and stared at the man convulsed with laughter on the bed. This morning could not get any more bizarre. Was the man a lunatic? Naked or not, she should have thrown herself on those ladies’ mercy while she’d had the chance.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” The man sat up and grinned. “In fact, I should be crying, not laughing. But I’m not unhappy. This unusual incident may prove to be the best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

Sarah tried to keep her eyes on his face. It would have helped if he would show the least embarrassment about his naked state, but now that the older ladies were gone, he seemed quite comfortable in his skin. It was very nice skin. The blanket had slipped down to pool at his hips, revealing a fine dusting of golden hair, slightly darker than that on his head. She felt the shocking urge to use her fingers to trace its path from his collarbone to his navel, over the planes of his chest and the muscles of his flat belly. She flushed, looking up to find his eyes on hers.

“Sweetheart, I would love to let you do whatever it is you’re thinking of, but if I don’t get dressed and downstairs promptly, Aunt Gladys will be storming back in here to help me.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“No? Well, perhaps it’s just my dirty mind that’s imagining all the lovely things we could be doing if I didn’t have to be downstairs—and if you weren’t a lady, of course.”

He turned to swing his legs off the bed. Sarah admired the ripple of muscles in his broad back before she dove under the covers. She heard him laugh, then move around the room.

“Coast is clear,” he said. “I’ll be right outside the door when you’re ready.”

Once she heard the latch click, she pulled the blankets off her head and took a deep breath. Well, at least now she knew who the mysterious James was. That is, she knew what he looked like. She burst into a hot blush. She knew what quite a lot of him looked like.

Still, she didn’t know his surname. What was she to call him? Not James. She had never addressed a man by his Christian name. But then, she had never slept with a naked man before. Naked with a naked man! If her face got any hotter, she would set the bed aflame. She slid out from between the covers and darted over to the fireplace to retrieve her clothing.

If she had to find a man in her bed, she had certainly found an excellent specimen. She knew the Abington sisters would tell her that she shouldn’t notice such things, but she wasn’t blind, and only a blind woman would not have found this man wonderful with his dark blond hair, broad shoulders, and amber eyes. And his voice! It made her think of warm honey. Mellow and deep and magical. It had certainly cast a spell over her.

She pulled her dress over her head and dug a comb out of her reticule. She surveyed her hair in the mirror. She should have braided it last night, but then it wouldn’t have dried. Well, she had paid the price. Now it was a mare’s nest—a red mare’s nest. She started to tug her comb through the mess, remembering how the Abington sisters had bemoaned its unfortunate hue.

“Maybe it will darken as you get older,” Clarissa Abington had said when Sarah was thirteen, “and look more like your father’s.”

“Just keep your bonnet on, dear, and no one will notice,” Abigail whispered.

“Sometimes, Sarah, men think girls with red hair are fast, so you must be especially careful.” Clarissa waggled her stumpy index finger under Sarah’s nose. “Red hair is a curse—it’s that simple. Men will assume you are a whore.”

Sarah’s hand stilled. Had the man in her bed this morning thought she was a whore? Heart pounding, she leaned against the wall for support. Exactly what had happened last night?

She took a deep breath and tried to suppress her rising panic. Was she still a virgin? Certainly she would know if she wasn’t, wouldn’t she? She would feel…different.

Well, she had certainly felt different when she awoke this morning. Was that enough? She did not know. No one had ever bothered to explain the mechanics of procreation to her. Was being alone with a man sufficient? The Abington sisters had always been so careful that none of their students was ever by herself with a gentleman caller. Sarah put her hands to her hot cheeks. She had not just been drinking tea alone with a man in the school parlor! No, she’d been in bed with him. At night. Unclothed.

Sarah put a shaking hand on her stomach. Could there be a child growing within her right now?

And why had the man laughed when she’d told him who she was? He had appeared to believe her. He must realize now that she was not a whore.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She would not let her imagination run away with her. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment. She would just tie her stomach into knots fretting.

She wrapped her hair into a bun at the back of her neck and fastened it there with her hairpins. She surveyed the result. Not elegant, but at least she no longer looked like a red haystack. She opened the door.

The man was waiting in the hall, as promised. He looked very elegant and unapproachable with clothes on.

“There you are.” He offered her his arm. “Let’s go downstairs and brave the dragons.”

Sarah stepped closer. Now that he was standing, she saw that he was quite tall. She was used to looking men in the eye, but she came only to this man’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to introduce her to your aunt, are you, James? I can take her down the backstairs and settle up for you if you haven’t had time.”

Sarah started. She had not noticed the other person in the hall. It was the red-haired man of last night. She frowned. Why had he put her in his friend’s room? She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but James was already talking.

“We’ll sort this all out downstairs, Robbie. I don’t relish discussing my business in the hall, nor do we need to go through this more than once.”

“But, James, you can’t—”

James raised his hand. “Be careful what you say, Robbie. I am most certain you will regret it.”

Robbie stared, then shrugged. “As you will. I suppose you know what you’re doing. You always do.”

Another door opened and a third man stepped into the corridor. He was shorter and broader than the other two, with curly, brown hair. “Morning, James, Robbie, ma’am. Uh, witnessed the commotion this morning. Shall I take charge of the, um, lady?”

“Good morning, Charles. Do come along.” James looked down at Sarah. “Forgive me for not taking the time to make introductions, dear. I assure you, it is better to wait until we have some privacy downstairs.”

Sarah nodded. She had no idea what was going on and decided it was better to hold her tongue. She saw Charles shoot Robbie a questioning look. Robbie shrugged.

The little group walked along the hall and down the stairs, stopping before a closed door. “Courage,” James whispered, touching her hand.

Sarah and the men stepped into a private sitting room. The tall elderly woman and her shorter companion looked up from their tea. The companion wrinkled her nose, as if she’d happened upon a pigsty.

James smiled down at Sarah. There was a sparkle in his eyes as though he were enjoying some grand joke. He turned to the older women. “Aunt, Lady Amanda, may I present Miss Sarah Hamilton of Philadelphia? Sarah, this is my aunt, Lady Gladys Runyon, and her companion, Lady Amanda Wallen-Smyth.”

“Damn!”

Sarah glanced around to see where the expletive had come from. Charles looked bewildered; Robbie looked ill.

Lady Amanda’s nostrils flared as if the pig had left the sty and had had the audacity to root around her skirts. “Alvord, I don’t care if you import your wh—”

Lady Gladys put a hand out to stop Lady Amanda. “Sarah Hamilton did you say?”

“Exactly, Aunt. She is here to visit the Earl of Westbrooke. I believe they are related.”

Robbie groaned.

James—Mr. Alvord, Sarah corrected herself—looked positively gleeful when he turned to introduce her to his male friends. “Miss Hamilton, this is Major Charles Draysmith.”

Major Draysmith bowed. “My pleasure, Miss Hamilton.”

“And this,” James said, his grin widening, “is Robert—Robbie—Hamilton. The Earl of Westbrooke.”

Sarah gasped. Lord Westbrooke executed a jerky bow.

“You can’t be my uncle. You’re too young.”

Robbie ran his hands through hair that looked so like her father’s. “No, sorry about that. I’m your cousin. My father died last year. We’ve just put off mourning.” He smiled weakly.

“So you are David Hamilton’s daughter, girl?” Lady Gladys said. Sarah turned back to face her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lady Gladys nodded. “Now that I look at you, I see the resemblance. Hamiltons always did breed true. And where might your father be? Surely he accompanied you across the Atlantic?”

“My father died in early December.”

“I’m sorry, child.” Lady Gladys did look sorry. “I always liked your father. He had an intensity about him that was quite compelling. And your mother? Is she deceased also?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But why did you leave America so shortly after your father’s death?” Lady Amanda looked suspiciously at Sarah.

There was no point in hiding her situation, Sarah decided. It would be clear soon enough. It looked doubtful that her cousin could take her in, so she’d need help finding work.

“My father was very active in politics and a respected physician, but he had little interest in practical matters. He gave money away freely and never insisted that his patients pay for his services. I would have had very little to live on had I stayed in Philadelphia. But I couldn’t stay—I promised my father I’d come to his brother in England.”

Lady Gladys shook her head. “Well, I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Hamilton, but that does not explain what you were doing in my nephew’s bed. Certainly that’s not how they go on in the colonies?”

Sarah flushed and raised her chin. “I thought it was my bed. Mr. Alvord came along later. I was quite as surprised as you to find him there this morning.”

“Mr. Alvord? James?”

“Yes, Aunt, we’ll sort all that out shortly. What I would like to know is why you felt compelled to invade my room?”

Lady Gladys flicked her fingers at him, but Sarah noticed she did have the grace to blush. “You didn’t come home last night. I was worried.”

“Madam, I am twenty-eight years old. I have risked my life for my country. If I decide not to come home one night, I think that is my own affair!”

“But you never do, James. Not come home that is. You are very responsible. And there is the Richard business. Of course I was worried. You might have been seriously hurt.”

James looked to the ceiling for inspiration and made a mental note that his aunt knew something about “the Richard business.” The Foreign Office could take lessons from his aunt and Lady Amanda. Their spy network was more extensive than either Britain’s or France’s.

“Did you think to ask the innkeeper how I was?”

“I was worried, James. I didn’t think to ask. And how would he know if something had happened to you in the night?”

“Apparently something did happen to him in the night.”

James chose to ignore Lady Amanda’s muttered comment. “Good God, madam,” he said, addressing his aunt, “didn’t you even think to knock?”

“I thought you were dying. There was no time to knock.” Lady Gladys coughed and glanced away. Her cheeks flushed. “I, um, was quite surprised at the sight I encountered.”

“Yes, yes.” James didn’t want his aunt to go down that conversational path.

“You know you will have to do the right thing, don’t you?” Lady Gladys gestured towards Robbie. “As head of his family, that idiot there should demand it.”

Robbie’s hair was now standing at right angles from his head. He squeezed his eyes shut. “James…” he began.

“Stubble it, Robbie. I’m more than willing to marry Miss Hamilton.” James laughed. “It saves me from the Marble Queen, doesn’t it?”

“Marry me!” Sarah could barely get the words out. She felt as if a huge weight had settled on her chest.

“You are most thoroughly compromised, girl,” Lady Gladys said. “Half the country saw you stark naked in bed with my nephew.”

“But nothing happened!” Sarah frowned. “At least, I hope nothing happened.”

Robbie and Charles were suddenly attacked by coughing fits. Lady Gladys and Lady Amanda stared at Sarah as if she had lost her mind.

“What did or didn’t happen is immaterial, young lady. I don’t pretend to know how things are done in the colonies, but in England when a gentleman compromises a lady—and believe me, there is no doubt that you are compromised—he marries her. James understands that.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

Sarah turned to Mr. Alvord. “But it was an accident.” Even Sarah could hear the panic creeping into her voice.

James smiled reassuringly down at her, then looked at his aunt. “Perhaps it would be a good idea if Miss Hamilton and I spent a few minutes alone to sort this out?”

Lady Gladys snorted. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

“Still, a few minutes of privacy are in order.” James looked back down at Sarah. “Miss Hamilton, will you join me for a short stroll? The Green Man is only a step or two from a rather pleasant little stream. I suggest we go there.”

Sarah nodded, though she got the distinct feeling that her concurrence was not required. Mr. Alvord bowed to the assemblage and whisked her out of the room.

“I am sorry for all the confusion,” he said when they had finally cleared the noise of the inn. “It’s been rather a comedy of errors, has it not?”

“I’m not certain if it is a comedy or a tragedy, Mr. Alvord.”

“James.”

“But I barely know you. I couldn’t possibly call you by your given name.”

“Of course you could. I intend to call you Sarah.”

Sarah frowned up at him, but he grinned back.

“In any event, ‘Mr. Alvord’ is incorrect. My family name is Runyon. Alvord is my title.”

“Your title?”

“I’m sure your republican soul is not going to like this, Sarah, so I hesitate to inform you that my full name is James William Randolph Runyon, Duke of Alvord, Marquis of Walthingham, Earl of Southgate, Viscount Balmer, Baron Lexter.”

“No!” Sarah stopped walking and gaped up at him.

James shook his head. “It’s the truth.”

Sarah worked her way back through the long list of titles. “You’re a duke!”

“Of Alvord. Yes.”

“Does that mean I’m supposed to call you ‘my lord’?”

“Technically, you’re supposed to address me as ‘your grace.”

“My grace?”

James grinned. “I would love to be your grace.”

Sarah thought about that. She shook her head. “I can’t do it.”

“That’s quite all right. I’d much rather you called me James.”

“Hmm. Will Mr. Runyon do instead?”

“That would be a little too revolutionary, I’m afraid. It wasn’t so long ago that Madame Guillotine was separating our French brethren from their heads. Strip us British peers of our titles and our shoulders twitch.”

Sarah looked at James out of the corner of her eye. “You aren’t one of those lords who’ve lost all their money, are you?”

“No, my estate is intact.” He raised an eyebrow in query. “Why would you think I was under the hatches?”

“You can’t afford a nightshirt.”

“A nightshirt?” He snorted. “I’m sure I have a dozen of the things. I just never wear them.”

“Why not? My father wore a nightshirt. Do Englishmen not do so?”

“I have no idea what Englishmen as a breed do or don’t do. I have not made a survey of it. Might I point out—not that I’m complaining, you understand—that you weren’t wearing a nightgown when I made your acquaintance.”

Sarah flushed. “That was only because my trunk had an accident in Liverpool—the sailors dumped it overboard when they were unloading. What you see before you are the only clothes I now own.”

They had arrived at a pretty little brook shaded by a stand of trees. James led her over to a fallen trunk. Sarah sat; he propped one booted foot on the log and leaned on his knee.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened last night,” James said. “How did you end up in my room?”

“I didn’t know it was your room!”

He smiled. “All right. Tell me how you ended up in that room, then.”

Sarah adjusted her skirt. “It’s really not so mysterious, but I grant you it shouldn’t have happened. I came in on the stage late last night with no maid and no luggage. The innkeeper did not approve of me. He was going to turn me away when your friend—my cousin—came by.”

She stared down at her feet. “I knew Robbie was drunk, but I was so tired I didn’t ask questions. I was desperate for a room with a bed.” She looked back up at James. “I’m not a good sailor. I didn’t sleep well on the passage to Liverpool. And since I haven’t much money, I took the mail to London and then the stagecoach here without stopping. Last night was the first time in two months that I slept in a bed that didn’t move.”

James smiled. “Poor girl. When I got to the room, I did try to wake you. When I didn’t have success right away, I figured you were exhausted and let you sleep.”

Sarah smiled back tentatively. “Does your aunt usually burst in on you like that?”

“No.” He shrugged. “She’s right, though. I usually am home. I didn’t tell her I’d be staying out.”

Sarah frowned. “It does seem a little extreme, panicking when you were only gone overnight. It’s not as if you are a little boy.”

James sighed. “No, but my aunt sometimes forgets that I’m not. She raised me after my mother died when I was eleven. Old habits die hard.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Sarah shifted on the log. There was no getting around it. She had to ask. “I need to know something.”

“Yes?” James grinned. “I hope it has nothing to do with nightshirts?”

“Well, not exactly.” She bit her lip. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Your aunt said I was thoroughly compromised.”

“Yes, that’s very true. I think there is no question of that.”

“How thoroughly?”

James chuckled. “Very. I’m afraid you really must marry me.”

Sarah swallowed and gripped her hands together. “So I’m with child?”

“What!” James’s jaw dropped. Then his eyes lit up, and he slapped his hand over his mouth. His shoulders began to shake.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

He nodded vigorously.

“I know it’s silly that I don’t know these things, especially since my father was a physician, but I don’t. I mean, I have a vague idea. Look.” She listed her evidence. “We slept in the same bed, at night. We didn’t have any clothes on. You kissed me. Isn’t that enough?”

James shook his head no.

“So if I’m not pregnant, how can I be compromised, or at least, thoroughly compromised?” Sarah frowned. “Am I still a virgin?”

“You did not lose your virginity to me.”

“So if I’m not pregnant and I’m still a virgin, you don’t have to marry me, do you?”

James shifted his boot on the log. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “Neither of us did anything wrong, so why should we be punished?”

“It’s not a matter of doing anything wrong, Sarah; it’s appearing to do something wrong.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It may be ridiculous, but that’s the way the world—or at least this world—works. And I can’t believe society in Philadelphia is so different.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t a part of Philadelphian society.” Sarah smiled. “And since I have no desire to be part of English society, my reputation or lack of it doesn’t matter, does it?”

James frowned. “What do you intend to do then, Sarah? From what you told Aunt Gladys, you’ve cut your ties to America.”

Sarah smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Well, yes. I can’t go back, that’s true. Even if I could find the passage money, I have nowhere to go there, not really.”

She thought about the Abington sisters. They would let her continue to drudge for them at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies. She grimaced. She certainly was not braving the Atlantic again for that.

“Frankly, I hadn’t considered much beyond just getting here. My father was so insistent that I come. I guess I had hoped the earl could help me. I don’t suppose Robbie is married, is he?”

“No.”

Sarah sighed. “Then there’s no hope there. I can’t live with him—even I know that. I will need a job. I have some experience as a teacher. Do you know of a school for girls that could use another instructor? Or a family in need of a governess? I’m better with classical studies than painting and music, but if the child were young enough, I’m sure I could cover those subjects adequately.”

James sat down next to her and took her hand. “Sarah, teachers need their reputations more than anyone. I can’t think any mother would entrust her daughter’s formation to a woman who had secrets in her past—and you now have a secret, a very big secret. You and I know what did—and didn’t—happen in that room, but try explaining that to someone who wasn’t there. A mother would never get by the words ‘bed’ and ‘naked’ and, frankly, ‘Duke of Alvord.’ No, love, if you are staying in England, you will have to consider your reputation. Would marriage to me really be a punishment?”

Sarah looked into his warm amber eyes with their long, thick lashes. Punishment? Surely he realized that he was every woman’s fantasy. She shrugged.

“How can I tell? I don’t know you. Maybe you’re an inveterate gambler or a wife-beater.”

“No to both charges.” James smiled. “Well, since I’ve never had a wife, I can’t refute your last accusation with complete certainty, but I’ve never physically hurt a woman in my life—and I definitely feel no desire to beat you.” He took her other hand and tugged gently. She turned to face him.

“Look, Sarah, this arrangement has positives for both of us. You need a home. If you marry me, you’ll get that and a ready-made family—Aunt Gladys, who really does have a heart of gold, and my sister Lizzie. Even Lady Amanda. Someday, if we are lucky, we’ll have children. And you’ll be near your cousin—Robbie lives practically next door.”

Sarah flushed. She felt peculiar—warm, breathless, and a little shaky—at the thought of having this man’s children. She could not deny that what he offered was appealing. She had had little family herself. Her mother and newborn brother had died together when she was very young. Her father had been so busy with his work and causes, he had let the spinster Abington sisters raise her. It had been a life lacking in love. She felt a wave of longing so strong it took her breath away.

But James didn’t love her—nor did she love him, she hastened to remind herself. Why would an English duke want to marry a penniless American?

“What do you get?”

“A wife. I have need of one.” He grinned. Sarah noted the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. “In fact, I was on my way to London to look for a bride. You’ve saved me a vast quantity of trouble.”

“I can’t imagine you would have any trouble finding an English girl to marry. They must be falling all over each other to get to you.”

James looked surprised. “I will take that as a compliment. However the London ladies are not pursuing me—they are hunting my title and my purse.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

He grimaced. “Believe it.” He looked down at the water rushing over the rocks. “How about a compromise? We won’t get engaged now. As you say, nothing actually happened last night, so there’s no rush. You can stay at Alvord with Aunt Gladys and Lady Amanda as chaperones. Then when we take Lizzie up to town in a few weeks, you can help keep track of her. She’s seventeen and a bit of a handful. I really don’t think Aunt Gladys is up to the task and it sounds as if you have some experience with young girls. You can think of it as your first position, if you like. You’ll have some time to get used to me and to the idea of marriage.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she hastened to say. “You seem very nice. I just don’t know you.”

James nodded. “That’s completely understandable. There are just two conditions.”

“Yes?”

“First, if word gets out about our night at the Green Man, you must marry me. I won’t have your reputation shredded. And I won’t be the man accused of shredding it.”

Sarah thought it unlikely that word would get out. Who would care about Sarah Hamilton? And anyway, the only people who knew about the incident were James’s family and friends…and the obnoxious innkeeper and footmen.

“I can’t imagine that your aunt will spread the story, but those footmen…And the innkeeper does not like me at all.”

“Don’t worry. Jakes won’t breathe a word—he knows if he angers me, his inn’s days as a profitable establishment are numbered. And he’ll see that the footmen keep mum.”

“All right, then. And the second condition?”

James grinned and Sarah felt her stomach do an odd little flip.

“Second, I reserve the right to try to persuade you to accept my suit.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, this and that. Mostly this.” He leaned over and covered her lips gently with his.

Sarah no longer heard the gurgling of the brook by her feet or felt the rough bark of the log upon which she sat. Her world shrank down to James and his lips brushing lightly across hers. She was fully awake this time, but still the touch of his mouth on hers did shocking things to her insides.

Only one other male had ever kissed her. The butcher’s boy, smelling of sausages and blood, had grabbed her in her father’s kitchen. That had been an assault. This was an invitation. But to what? She pulled back, breathless, and looked at James. His eyes had the strange, intent look they’d had earlier, when he had been staring at her…at her chest. Sarah flushed.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, my lord, um, grace.”

“James.” His voice was low and husky. “I really must insist, love. Your republican lips have too hard a time getting around the lords and the graces.”

His eyes focused on those lips. She wet them nervously with her tongue. His gaze sharpened and he started to lean forward again. She stood up abruptly.

“Yes, well, we’ll see.” She looked at him helplessly. “What were we talking about?”

He grinned. “These,” he said, touching her lips lightly with his index finger. He rubbed the rough tip gently across her lower lip. “And the second condition to delaying our engagement—that you’ll allow me to court you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

His grin widened. “No.”