Captive Scoundrel (36 page)
Authors: Annette Blair
“This interview is at an end,” she said. “I despise you and every man like you.”
Marcus stood. “It is I who must beg pardon. My impertinence is unforgivable. I can act the cretin, sometimes.”
She waved away his apology. “You’re a man. Crudity and stupidity are to be expected, though not accepted—not by me and not in this house.”
“I assure you that foolhardiness and insensitivity are not chronic failings of mine, despite the fact that the momentary dullness of my wits seems matched only by the size of the foot in my mouth.” Marcus ran a hand through his hair and considered speaking frankly. “Jade…you did say I could call you that?”
She nodded with all the warmth of an ice queen.
Marcus stood. “As a man who will, as it turns out, never enter your employ, but offers…fellowship, on the basis of a shared friend, and similar childhood memories, I beg you will allow me to advise you on one point before we part.”
He received a second royal nod. Regina Victoria herself would be proud.
Placing the flat of his hands on the mahogany surface of his unlikely employer’s desk, he leaned forward, to keep his advice between them, and capture her brazen, chin-up gaze with his earnest and open one. “When a man can see exactly how long a woman’s legs are, and how perfectly her—” Marcus cleared his throat. Telling her how well her bottom would fit his palms would simply release the fury roiling in her, so he let the thought go, and straightened. “Well…he isn’t likely to be thinking clearly, or seriously, on any level, save one.”
Jade Smithfield’s ebony eyes widened, and she paled slightly, before a crimson blush scuttled up her neck.
Marcus nodded, certain she’d got his point. “I apologize for my impertinence, though not for my admonition, and I am genuinely disappointed that we will not be working together.”
Jade’s clenched hands relaxed slightly, her composure returning in slow determined measure. “With Ivy staying, you will be forced to catch the public coach for your return journey, but since it won’t be along again until tomorrow, a room will be prepared for you.”
A few minutes later, a brawny, barrel-chested older man— Jade’s resident doctor cum housekeeper—introduced himself to Marcus as Beecher. With twinkling eyes and fond looks for the children scampering about, Beecher led Marcus from the bedchamber to which he’d been assigned and into a main-level ballroom. Ornate with gilded wainscoting and festooned mirrors, the stately room held an array of fussy gilt chairs facing a puppet stage in the throes of preparation.
The minute Marcus stepped into the room, the assemblage of women and children stilled and quieted, as if they knew he’d displeased their benefactress. But no, on second look, their reactions reflected nothing so simple as displeasure. Some of them had stepped back, others placed hands on hearts, touched their children or each other. Like game in a hunter’s sight, all were frightened and too stunned to move.
Ivy warned him that most of Jade’s cygnets had been assaulted—by husbands, fathers, strangers, males all. He knew they had been battered physically and emotionally, and still, Marcus stood stunned in the face of their terror. Judging by the children, their mothers’ experiences had been, at the least, witnessed. At the worst, Marcus refused to consider.
Drawn by the silence, Ivy peeked from behind his puppet stage and grimaced. He came and made the introductions. Ivy—Yves St. Cyr, Puppeteer—revelled in his role as friend, mentor, and father-figure to half the children in Sussex…even to the ones who’d grown up, or should have done, at any rate, the scoundrels and scandals especially.
After the silver-haired puppet-master’s introduction, most of the women relaxed. Ivy must seem as safe as Jade’s retainers, though not nearly as old.
The children calmed, because their mothers did, all but one cowering blonde moppet, her wide-eyed china-doll gaze directed straight at Marcus himself. Even from across the room, he could see that his presence terrified her.
Damn it, he’d left enough damage in his wake for one lifetime. He did not want to leave yet another with nightmares for his presence in their lives.
Bio: Annette Blair
A New York Times best selling author for Penguin Books, Annette Blair left her job as a Development Director and Journalism Advisor at a private New England prep school to become a full time writer.
At forty books and counting, she added cosy mysteries and bewitching romantic comedies to her award-winning historical romances. Now she’s stepped into the amazing new world of self publishing.
Copyright:
First published in paperback by Kensington Publishing
Copyright 1999, 2012 by Annette Blair
Published by Annette Blair, May 15, 2012
E-book Cover Copyright 2012 Calista Taylor,
Photoshop Brushes: Dark Garden Photography
All rights reserved.
This is a historical work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events and establishments is entirely coincidental. Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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