Lord Fool to the Rescue (2 page)

She dared not disobey, but padded alongside him like the puppy she felt. She took note of the flowers planted no doubt to distract one from the ugliness of the fountain. The path exaggerated the shape of the pool—octagonal, but elongated. Not once could she remember carriages on that path, but they were there today. The horseman’s animal swung its hindquarters out of the way just in time to avoid the wheel of an antique barouche packed with women. Tempest wouldn’t have looked up had the horse not screamed.

The horseman took a step in the poor beast’s direction, but it quickly settled. The conveyances ebbed away, though the southeast section of the park remained popular. Her puppy-training friend seemed equally loathe to give their audience any attention in return, so they walked on, looking from their shoes to the fountain, and back again.

“Can you…really…be so…naïve, my lady?” He asked it cheerfully, as if he were asking her opinion on the weather. They were clipping along quickly enough that even though some of the crowd could hear a word or two clearly, no one would have time to hear more. “Can you not think…of something…more valuable…to a gentleman…than your…pretty slippers?”

“I’m sorry, sir. But did you not indicate that I was
not
being auctioned off as a man’s mistress?” she murmured.

“Understand me, my lady. That would naturally be the next logical step in your life. After. After the deed was done.” His hand once again covered hers where it lay on his arm. “Your despicable guardian has offered only a part of you for a price. No doubt a man like that would also require fees from your future patrons as well.”

Tempest looked up to find the man’s jaw about to snap although he held her hand in all gentleness. Poor man. She would just have to let this stranger in on her little secret.

“My dear Mister Hercules. How brave you are to risk scandal by bringing me such a warning. However, I must tell you I will not be a party to my stepfather’s little arrangements.”

He closed his lovely blue eyes and took a deep breath. When he exhaled she thought she could nearly taste him. Soap and cinnamon.

“My dear Miss Aphrodite, I’m afraid your willingness has nothing to do with the blackhearts plans.”

“Oh, but Mister Hercules, I will not be around to find out. I had planned to leave my stepfather’s loving home in but two days. I will have to adjust my schedule a bit, but rest assured, sir, I will be gone by morning.”

He stopped and turned to her, his brow smoother than it had been since they met.

“Happy I am to hear it, my lady. Happy, indeed.”

They resumed walking albeit at a slower pace about the fountain. Her companion’s steps were lighter than before, the silence filled with a decidedly off-tune whistle from his lips which drew only laughter from her.

“I doubt she had strawberry-red hair, my lord.”

“Pardon?”

“Aphrodite. I doubt she had strawberry hair.”

“Oh, my dear. Of course she did.”

That earned him yet another laugh.

A black horse stepped into their path and Tempest looked up to find a man blocking the morning sunshine from her eyes. She smiled in appreciation until she realized why another man might have come to get a glimpse of her. She hoped the brim of her hat concealed her blush. Surely this man was only there out of curiosity. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she raised her gaze to his.

“Wescott,” he said, greeting her companion but not taking his attention from her. “Pray introduce me, man.”

Hercules couldn’t be Leland Wescott, the Duke of Stromburg. He couldn’t! She released her hold on his arm, but he seemed not to notice, holding her hand just as firmly as before.

She was guided around the horse and rider and swept away by her possibly notorious companion before he tossed his response over his shoulder.

“You already know who you are, Redmond.”

This time they strode around the fountain in deafening silence. If she were not losing her wits, she had just been party to the Duke of Stromburg giving the cut direct to the Duke of Redmond. And as much as she wished they had changed their course, she was being guided full circle to face the snubbed man once again.

The dark horse remained in their path, the man now standing next to it, and the Duke of Redmond didn’t look as if the snub had done more than amuse him, thank heavens.

This time Hercules lead her in a wide circle out around the man and his horse and the crowd, no longer pretending ignorance, roared with laughter. She was grateful the Duke of Redmond was laughing along. The Duke of Stromburg smiled politely as they rounded the south end of the fountain and much to the delight of the crowd, he slowed their pace to that of a belligerent tortoise as they made their way back to the other duke for the third time.

Tempest was about to pull her arm free to avoid another turn around the water feature when her horseman gave her hand a squeeze and halted a few paces before the other man’s horse.

“Odiferous? Is that you, ol’ boy?” he addressed the animal.

“That’s Othello, as you well know,” said Redmond, removing his gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his rich green riding jacket. “Now will you introduce me to this lovely lady, or would you like to finish your conversation with my mount?”

“Impossible,” Hercules said flatly. “I have not yet been introduced to this fair lady, so I cannot pass on the favor.”

“And yet you walk with her? Pray tell what has he been telling you Miss…?”

“Miss MacIntyre, Your Grace.” At least she had the presence of mind to curtsy, though Stromburg pulled her up from it rather quickly.

“Of course. A Scottish lass. Perfect,” the man purred and chills originated in the center of her spine and exploded in warning as they often did when her stepfather asked to speak to her in his library.

She was no longer able to smile, sincerely or otherwise.

“Well, Miss MacIntyre, his grace has certainly been talking at great length to a lady with whom he is not yet acquainted. What topic of discussion could he possibly have used for entertainment? What excuse to bend your ear?”

She could feel her horseman stiffen beside her, but she answered before he could interrupt.

“We discussed the best methods for training dogs, Your Grace.”

The eyebrows on both men rose, but now it was the horseman who smiled broadly.

“Indeed?” Redmond looked over her companion.

“It should come as no surprise, Redmond, that I would choose such a topic. You know how much I like animals.” Stromburg patted Othello on the cheek.

“Too right. Well, Miss MacIntyre, it was good to make your acquaintance. I’m sure we’ll meet again. I’m absolutely sure of it.” With only a slight bow that could be attributed to the speed at which he backed away, The Duke of Redmond turned and mounted. Once the animal was in his control, he urged the beast far too close to Stromburg, but the latter held his ground. Redmond leaned toward Tempest. “Don’t believe half the things he tells you, Miss MacIntyre.” He straightened. “And Stromburg, I’m certain you cannot afford to…accost this lady again. And pray do not bore her with tales of your bravery. It’s likely even Miss MacIntyre is aware—well, never mind.”

The Duke of Redmond kicked his mount and was gone. In his wake, the on-lookers hung their heads in disappointment and wandered away. Finally, she looked at the man who still held her hand to his arm.

“Once again, allow me to tell you how happy I am that you will be escaping your stepfather’s clutches, Miss MacIntyre.” His artificial smile was back, but with even less feeling behind it. His eyes darted away from her.

“Oh please, Mister Hercules, call me Miss Aphrodite. I rather liked it.”

To her complete joy, his gaze and his smile returned, only this time with sincerity.

“Miss Aphrodite, then. I cannot wait to see the look on the bastard’s face when the auction has to be cancelled.”

“Are you referring to my stepfather or the Duke of Redmond, Your Grace?”

“Both.”

Pushing through the retreating crowd, from the direction of the Wellington Arch, was her stepfather’s lackey, Big John Cosgrove.

“Speak of the devil and he’ll appear,” she whispered. “Please go. Before Big John reaches us, Your Grace. Others will pay dearly if there are any unpleasant words between you.”

“Who is he?”

Dear heavens! Why wouldn’t he just go?

“He’s my stepfather’s man. Please go, Your Grace, before he can suspect anything.”

“Mister Hercules to you, miss.” He pulled the back of her hand to his lips and said against them, “Godspeed, Lady Aphrodite.”

And then he was gone.

***

Leaving that woman’s side was the second most difficult thing Leland had ever done. Every step he took away from that fountain echoed like a striking hammer in his ears.

He’d been as sickly curious as every other man in the park that morning. He’d wanted to see if the woman proved to be as much a temptation as the invitation had promised. Whoever had written the cursed thing hadn’t exaggerated at all. Too bad he couldn’t have just taken a look and walked away. He’d never been heroic, despite the medal he’d been awarded, but he’d gotten the silly notion that he should at least prove himself deserving of the thing now that it was in his possession.

And so he’d stepped in to warn the beauty of the fate awaiting her. That was all he’d intended. But that quip about his suspected talent for training dogs had caught him off guard, and the intelligence he’d found in her warm hazel eyes was like a fine confection. He’d been teased with just a taste and been sent on his way, destined never to taste it again.

How he’d love to pursue the woman. How he’d love to be her hero. But he knew what happened to real heroes, and it wouldn’t happen to him.

Any idiot fool enough to tour the park in the company of a woman that morning had still found it impossible to steer clear of the fountain. Those men would be hard pressed to come up with a plausible explanation, and before luncheon was served, every woman in town would know exactly what had been transpiring and why their menfolk had wanted to attend. Clubs all over town would be scrambling to accommodate all the members who would not be welcomed in their own beds this night.

Leland prayed the woman’s plan included an extended stay out of the country where her life could not be entirely ruined by the scandal she would leave behind. He wished happiness for her, then realized the woman would make any place a happy one with her sharp wit and charming smile. Surprisingly, beauty was not the most memorable thing about her.

Mr. Hercules, she’d called him. He felt anything but. He’d not been able to keep Redmond away from her without calling the man out, and the prince had made it clear that he’d throw them both in The Tower if they could not keep their quarrels in check.

In addition, he was ashamed at the relief he’d felt when she told him she could handle her own escape. He’d been hard pressed to think of what he might be able to do for her, other than put her on her guard. Now, he needn’t worry about it. His conscience should be clear.

Why wasn’t it?

Of course, he was leaving her with the enemy, but by morning she would be away. She had a plan. No matter he’d not taken the time to ask her just what the plan entailed.

Dear God, let it be a damned good plan.

CHAPTER TWO

White’s, the famous gentleman’s club, was absolutely the center of the universe. Not only was the front door flapping in the constant wake of entering gentlemen, the rear of the building resembled an army camp readying for battle. Instead of firearms, liveried footmen clutched white squares of parchment while they queued up for news and then fled to waiting hackneys. Some were waylaid by mysterious persons who demanded the latest numbers before allowing the harried servants to scurry off to their masters. Many of those hands beckoning from inside dark carriages belonged to women.

Leland Wescott, The Duke of Stromburg witnessed it all in disgust even as he rushed toward that flapping door, anxious to be in attendance when the auction was called off for lack of a prize.

“Good Evening, your Grace,” said the surprised-looking doorman while taking his coat and gloves. “Didn’t think to see you here tonight. No one kicking you out of the house, I mean to say. No offense, sir.”

“None taken, Gibson. I mean to stay all the same, but don’t worry about a room. I want a front row seat to the outrage.”

“Yes, sir. Outrageous it is, sir.”

Gibson didn’t know the half of it.

He lingered a bit, lighting a cheroot, waiting for the doorman to arm him with everything he might need before entering the arena, as it were. Gibson took great pains rolling up his gloves, fully aware of what was expected of him.

“Are you here to make a bid, sir? I’ve men waiting to hear if you do, and I’ll pocket a bit of coin if I can give them the heads up before the rest. You’re already on the books, sir. You were reported to be checking out the goods this morning a bit closer than the rest.”

Leland hid his expression, but could only hope to hide the blush he felt creeping up his face.

He waited.