The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (2 page)

With a contriteness belied by her amused expression, the young woman recently identified as Amanda searched in her reticule for a restorative as she knelt beside her victim's chair and ministered to the stricken woman. "Dear, dear Mrs. Halsey, forgive me for shocking you like this. I see now that I should have let you in on my little secret before we left the townhouse."

Jared laughed at this bit of ridiculous feminine logic. "I see the wisdom of your thinking, Miss—Amanda, is it?" he broke in cheerily. "If the secret you're referring to is your ensemble, informing poor Mrs. Halsey of it prior to your arrival would have most certainly saved her this embarrassment, for she would have swooned at once, and you wouldn't be here at all."

The lovely Amanda stood up once more, which put her at a none-too-threatening cravat level with her antagonist. "We have not been introduced, sir, and I do not recall granting you permission to address me," she intoned with all the audacity of a cheeky chimney sweep caught out pilfering oranges from a fruit bowl in a nobleman's drawing room when, by all rights, he and his brushes should be halfway up the flue.

"Really?" Jared intoned, feigning shock at his own forwardness, even while he longed to box the young minx's ears—or kiss her pert little nose. "How could I have been so crass?"

The girl now identified as Amanda shrugged rather eloquently, then quickly tugged her slipping gown back onto her shoulders. "Oh, I forgive you, I suppose. At least, I will if you'll have the decency to remove yourself while I attend to my companion. And if you're in further need of entertainment, sir, may I suggest that I'm quite convinced there are ample spectacles to poke fun at scattered thick on the ground all through this ridiculous Assembly."

She turned back to Mrs. Halsey and then, as if belatedly locating the remainder of her misplaced manners, turned once more to face Jared. "I suppose must thank you for your assistance, sir," she said grudgingly, then made a quick, shooing motion with her hands. "Now go away. You have my permission to retire."

Her soft voice was rather husky even in her obvious anger, more than vaguely intriguing, and to Jared's mind, fitted her perfectly. It also had given him yet another reason—he already possessed several, much to his delight—to disobey her demand and linger.

His mind quite made up to be as annoying as he could be for as long as possible—as the sight of the lovely Amanda in a temper was decidedly delicious—Jared executed a deep bow, raised himself to his full height, and winked at her.

"A thousand pardons, Miss," he pleaded facetiously, "but perhaps you might save your childish bout of righteous indignation for a more suitable time." He pointedly looked beyond her to the hapless Mrs. Halsey. "You see, at the moment it appears as if your companion has further need of me, as she appears to be listing heavily to starboard."

Amanda whirled around in time to catch the toppling Mrs. Halsey, the unlikely oath of "Damn and blast!" escaping her lips as she did so—and Jared's cup of amusement, already full, most happily runneth over.

He stood by silently as Mrs. Halsey slowly recovered once more, and then stepped forward to bow over the elder lady's hand, the very picture of solicitude and gentlemanly concern. "You have my sympathies for your obvious embarrassment, madam, as well as my fervent hopes for your full recovery. Allow me to present myself: I, for my sins or in spite of them, am Jared Delaney." He raised the woman's trembling hand to his lips. "How can I be of service to you, Mrs. Halsey?"

"Oh, laws!" Nothing in her hitherto uneventful life had served to educate Mrs. Elvira Halsey in the handling of such a disaster as she faced at that moment. And to think she could have stayed in the country as companion to eighty-year-old Lady Forsythe! Oh, but no,
no
—she'd wanted the flash and excitement of a London Season. Well,
next
time she'd stick to leading nursery brats, or pressing flowers in books for octogenarians. For now, however, Elvira did the only thing she could do: she threw herself on his lordship's kind mercies—whether he be saint or devil—looking up at the notorious peer with a fearful plea for help in her eyes. "Delaney? You'd be Lord....Lord Storm then, wouldn't you?
Oh, laws!"
she moaned, fairly certain that her offer of assistance had come from one fairly well acquainted with the Prince of Darkness.

"One and the same, dear lady, and I sense that once more my reputation precedes me. But do promise not to let that weigh with you one way or the other, and grant the favor of making me known to your charming charge here. It seems she will not speak to me until we are properly introduced—and rightly so, I might add."

"Of—yes, of course, yes, to be sure…" Mrs. Halsey blustered and, with much stammering and hesitation, the introductions were made.

"Boynton?" Jared repeated, mildly surprised upon hearing the name. "Are you by chance any relation to Sir Roger Boynton, a man best known for his success in breeding fine horses?"

"He was my father, yes," Amanda shot at him, with a look that told him to speak well of Sir Roger or not at all.

So much for Jared's hopeful assumption that the girl was an actress foisted on the Patronesses by some young bucks as a wager. She seemed, if outrageous, at least to be legitimate. He warned himself to tread more cautiously as he pursued his interest in the girl. And he
was
interested.

"I greatly admired your father's horseflesh, actually, and have several of his best bloodlines in my stables at Storm Haven," he informed her solemnly, quickly noticing that he had struck a chord with the chit. Oh, yes, this was promising. The girl was decidedly softening toward him.

"You knew my father?" she asked, her gold-coin eyes becoming disturbingly moist, leaving her looking uncomfortably vulnerable.

But not so vulnerable that Jared refused to press this first advantage. "Most assuredly, Miss Boynton, though I was no more than twenty when he died. England lost a fine man in your father. He was a good soldier in his prime, and a gifted horse breeder."

This was becoming almost embarrassingly easy. The chit was more than half won and Jared knew it. Not about to let his opportunity slip past him, he turned to Mrs. Halsey and requested her to allow him the pleasure of Miss Boynton's hand in the next set.

His tone brooked no denial, and the flustered Mrs. Halsey quickly agreed—for even little gray mice knew better than to naysay the wealthy, powerful, dangerous Lord Storm. Besides, she needed a few moments alone to think up a suitable story to tell Amanda's stepfather and her employer, Peregrine Denton, when the man asked for her report on the success or failure of the evening. Saying that the child had danced with Lord Storm might keep her from being turned off without so much as a recommendation. If Miss Amanda would only be cooperative, that is.

Unfortunately for the now hopeful companion, Miss Amanda immediately proved that being cooperative was the very last thing on her mind as, scenting a sensation in the making, Jared said, "I beg your pardon, Miss Boynton, but you may not dance until you've been approved by the Patronesses. He looked at her levelly. "Do you have you this permission?"

"Of course," Amanda announced calmly, and without a blink to announce what could only be an out-and-out fib.

"Oh, laws,
laws
." Mentally Mrs. Halsey shredded her letter of recommendation, packed her shabby portmanteau, and resigned herself to Lady Forsythe and her three pug dogs, two of which had the most unfortunate tendency to become nervous on the carpets. Added to these problems, she felt certain she was near to swooning again, for the room was definitely beginning to swim before her eyes. "Miss Amanda, as we have only just arrived, you know you have no such permission. Why, you haven't even been
introduced
. Think of your stepfather, how desperately frantic he was to secure you a voucher, how angry he will be!"

"That pleasant thought is uppermost in my mind, Mrs. Halsey," Amanda countered sweetly as she held her hand out to Jared. "Are you game, my lord, or shall silly
ton
edicts force you to abandon the course at the first fence?"

Jared didn't know what audacious rig his companion was running, but he was not one to shy at any hazard. Why, he might even be barred from Almacks himself—which could only be seen in the way of a heavenly blessing. He offered her his arm, and she laid her small, gloved hand on his sleeve. "Ah, another rule broken and added to the mound of sins piled high at my door. We shall both be served up for breakfast all over Mayfair tomorrow, you know," he pointed out, bending toward her to whisper the words into her small, shell-like ear. "In other words, my dear Miss Boynton, I would not miss the next few minutes for the world."

"As long as you're aware of your own danger, my lord," Amanda whispered back at him.

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware of my own danger, Miss Boynton, as you so artlessly put it," Jared replied smoothly. "Although I seriously doubt you are."

At his words, and most probably in direct response to his tone, she hesitated—only for a second—then lifted her chin and moved forward with him once more.

Together they headed toward the dance floor. Jared shook his head in warning in the direction of the approaching, clearly irate Countess of Jersey—Almacks leading and most feared Patroness, and a woman whose aging but still lovely face had turned an unbecoming crimson at the sight of Amanda's gown.

Both Amanda and Jared patently ignored the gasps and turned heads all around them as they joined the other dancers already moving through the first steps of a silly country dance. Jared could feel the tension in Amanda as their hands touched briefly—but her smile was brave as she drifted away into the first movement of the dance. The girl had spirit—pluck to the backbone, by God.

As the movements of the dance brought them together once more, Jared whispered, "We're causing quite a stir, Miss Boynton."

"I am more than faintly cognizant of that fact, my lord."

Encouraged, he lingered, to tease her further. "Your gown is as enchanting as it is inappropriate, Miss Boynton."

"You flatter me, Lord Storm," she replied as he easily maneuvered her off into the line of dancers. "Inappropriate was the most I aimed for."

Giving up any pretense of keeping to the steps, he placed himself directly in front of her. He tried again, for some reason unhappy with the notion that she could remain so cool, so composed. "You'll be denied access to these hallowed portals from this night forward, and be shunned by all but the most daring of the ton, Miss Boynton."

"Really? Then to that happy news I say,
huzzah
, my lord."

Laughing out loud at this pithy answer, Jared cast an eye toward the rank of dowagers. "I wouldn't advise that you look in her direction just now, Miss Boynton, but your overburdened companion has swooned yet again."

She faltered, taking a single step in Mrs. Halsey direction, then shook her head and stood her ground. "A pity, but unavoidable, my Lord Storm."

He cocked an eyebrow and looked down into her face as a few of the dancers began muttering that Storm and his horrible companion were making a mockery of a most civil dance. Taking her elbow, Jared deliberately leered at her, some devil inside him wishing to see just how far the little vixen was prepared to go to disgrace herself. "You seem to have planned this evening's exhibition with great care. Not that I am unwilling to help. A kiss between us now would send half the ladies in the room to swooning—if you're willing?"

Amanda pulled her elbow free and began walking from the floor, leaving Jared no choice but to follow along as she warned, "Have a care, my lord, or I shall further embarrass myself by slapping that silly grin from your equally silly face. The dance was your idea."

Jared threw back his head and laughed again as he commandeered her elbow once more and directed her through the now staring throng and toward a secluded couch half-hidden by a hideous, towering plant. "You delight me, Miss Boynton, and for that I'd gladly suffer your punishment. You're definitely your father's daughter, you know. I remember that he had the much same flair for the ridiculous, and an equally fiery temper."

Amanda sat down with a small thump, pulling out a fan she opened with a snap, to begin fanning herself furiously. "I thank you for the compliment, my lord, for I can only consider it as such," she said, her voice losing much of its hard edge at this mention of her father. "I really must apologize for involving a friend of my father's in this scheme. I hadn't planned on anyone being brave enough to partner me this evening. The gown, you understand, was to be sufficient outrage."

"You can do nothing to my reputation that hasn't already been done by myself, Amanda. Pardon me, but I feel I can call you Amanda because I must have seen you at your father's home when you were a child. Do you mind?"

She shrugged her delightful shoulders, dismissing this new informality as hardly worthy of notice. "I can't see why it should since, after tonight, you won't see me at all. That said, I have absolutely no idea why I'm still sitting here with you. Really, I must be going."

Jared looked at her intently as they sat side-by-side on the uncomfortable couch. "Going? Going where? And why have you done this to yourself? It wouldn't take the most intelligent man in England to detect an anger beneath your show of bravado, an anger that tells me you're in some distress."

Amanda scanned the room to see that all eyes were on them. She had not planned to remain past a few minutes and wished fervently that the man beside her would stop his infernal questions and conveniently disappear.

"My distress is not your concern, Lord Storm, not that I believe you give a fig for anything save your own curiosity," she answered curtly, anxious to get on with the next step in her plan. "Please escort me back to Mrs. Halsey so that I can remove her before she goes into another taking. My purpose for coming here—and it is
mine
and doesn't belong to the world—has been served."

She made to rise, but Jared quickly grabbed her elbow and sharply pulled her back down beside him, nearly knocking her breath from her. Thinking she may have badly underestimated both the man and his mood, but not really caring all that much, she warned tightly, "This grows tiresome. Unhand me now, my lord, before I do you a mischief. I wish to retire."