How to Wed a Baron (7 page)

“Ah, yes, your mother's family.”

“My family,” she clarified. She hadn't really thought seriously about her mother's family, not until her father was gone, but she'd daydreamed about how they would be. How they'd love her. “They live in Kent. I looked at a map, and it isn't all that far away from London. It's all down here the way Portsmouth is, at the fat end of the island, and not up near Scotland.”

“Yes, I am familiar with Kent. My own estate is located in Hampshire, also in the…fat part of the island. What's your mother's family name?”

“Farber,” Alina told him proudly. “My mother was Lady Anne Louise Farber, daughter of the Earl of—”

“Birling. Yes, I know the family title.”

She watched as Justin stood once more, his handsome features suddenly cold, hard. She sat up straighter, sensing that the ease they'd seemed to have found with each other these past minutes was just that, a thing of the past. “What's wrong?”

His expression softened, but only with some effort, she was sure. “Wrong? Why, nothing, my dear, nothing at all is wrong. I just thought of something else I must discuss with the Prince Regent when next I see him. I must tell him how very clever, no, how fiendishly clever he is.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will, unfortunately. But not right now. It's time you slept. Good night.”

“But…but you said we had to talk, that there was something you needed to tell me.”

His hand on the door latch, Justin turned, looked at her in the near darkness. She couldn't see his eyes now, and she had the strangest feeling that this was because he didn't want her to see them.

“Yes, it had to do with our destination. I'm afraid we won't be traveling to London tomorrow. Instead, you'll be heading off to West Sussex, and the estate of my friend Rafe, the Duke of Ashurst. And his wife, Charlotte,” he added almost immediately, as if he felt he should. “You'll travel quickly, I'm afraid, with only a single night spent on the road and two full days in the coach.”

“And then we'll go to London?”

“I will,” he said, and opened the door. “I most assuredly will be traveling to London. I'm convinced there is someone there who can barely contain his glee as he awaits my arrival.”

She threw back the covers and got out of bed.
“But I won't be going with you to see this happy person? Is that what you're saying? You're going to take me to this Ashurst, and this Duke, and leave me there?”

“You'll remain with my friends until I return for you, yes.”

“But—why?”

He didn't answer her. Instead, he closed the door and walked to where she was standing barefoot on the chilly wooden floor, and put a hand to her cheek, which made her feel very strange indeed. Not frightened. Not at all frightened. She fought to keep herself from tipping her head, so that she could press her skin more closely against his, feel the strength of his hand, the slight roughness of his skin.

“You've been badly used. I'm sorry, pet,” he whispered softly. “I'm so very, very sorry. But I'll fix it, as best I can. I promise.”

“You make precious little sense, Justin,” she told him, caught between anger and fear…and a hint of something she felt fairly certain, after her instructional talk, Tatiana would have termed
interest.
Mostly, she knew she didn't want him to leave. “How can you fix something I don't even know is broken? How would I even know when you'd fixed it?”

He smiled, but it was one of those smiles that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Aren't your feet cold?”

“Never mind my feet,” she shot back, deciding anger was perhaps the best option at the moment.

“Ah, but I find them adorable. Small and slim. Have you ever heard the expression
I kiss your hands and feet?
”

Alina curled her toes and clenched her fingers, and those parts of her that had been so happily slumbering shot out warnings that she might soon be in significant trouble if she didn't apply some maidenly common sense and put a halt to this strange conversation, and that those previously slumbering parts weren't all that averse to a little adventure.

“Once again you're not answering my questions,” she pointed out, striving to regather her scattered wits. “We were speaking about my family, and suddenly you ran for the door.”

“I beg your pardon. I do not
run
for doors.”

“Very well, then, why did you come back?” she asked, believing the answer to that might be more important.

“Perhaps for this?” he offered, moving his hand so that now he was tipping up her chin. “One more look, and perhaps even a small taste.”

“Oh. I…that is…you shouldn't have to answer
every
quest—”

Her eyelids fluttered closed as he brought his lips to hers, and then retreated before she could react at all.

“Innocence,” he said softly. “You taste like innocence. And I should be shot.”

And then he was gone, and Alina crawled back into bed, holding a hand to her mouth, knowing she wouldn't sleep a single wink for the remainder of what was going to be a very long night.

W
IGGLESWORTH DEPOSITED
the coddled eggs in front of his master with all the trepidation of the servant charged with delivering the head of John the Baptist to Salome; he thought it might be what the baron wanted, but could not be sure of its reception now that it was a done thing.

The porridge had been looked upon, but not eaten. The kippers—done to a turn!—had been waved away without so much as a “ye gods, Wigglesworth, not those horrid things.” Even the inn's own country ham, purely a desperate move by the servant who put little trust in any cooking save his own, had been met with a fairly blank stare and a short shake of the head.

“Wigglesworth, I said I wasn't— Oh, damn. Here, let me force these down. I wouldn't want to put you into a sulk.”

“Thank you, sir,” the servant said, sighing. And then he dared more. “Is there…something amiss, my lord?”

“Your solicitude becomes tiresome. A man can't
forgo a single breakfast out of thousands without something being wrong?”

Wigglesworth wrung his hands even as Brutus, standing in a corner—hulking in a corner—shook his massive head sorrowfully, either for worry over his employer or the fact that he now, after being passed the porridge and the kippers for his own consumption, would be denied the coddled eggs.

“Your bed wasn't slept in, my lord,” Wigglesworth pointed out quietly. “There was nary a hint of reproach when I nicked you that small—infinitesimal, I assure you—cut with the razor. And you did not even a single time remonstrate with me when I informed you that your second-best Hessians seemed to have suffered a fatal crack to the heel on the cobblestones yesterday.”

“My, what a litany of abuses you've laid before me, Wigglesworth. Very well, consider your sorry self run up and down by the rough side of my tongue.
Now
may I be left alone? Wait—a
fatal
crack?”

“Possibly. Perhaps. I may have overstated. I will deliver them personally to Mr. Hoby when we are returned to London.”

Justin put down his fork, what little appetite he may have had, either for the eggs or soothing Wigglesworth's feelings, now gone. “An event that is to be somewhat delayed,” he said as the major entered the breakfast room. “Ah, Luka, there you are,” he went on, no trace of anything but happiness at the
appearance of the man in his voice. “Would you like my man here to prepare you something with which to break your fast? He has quite taken over the kitchen, you understand.”

“Thank you, no. I've been up for hours, and have already eaten,” the major said, a note of recrimination in his tone, as if anyone who remained abed past dawn was a sluggard not worth considering. “Pardon me, but I could not help but overhear. We are not immediately setting out for London? It was my understanding that Lady Alina was to be presented to your Prince Regent, and then you and she were to immediately exchange your vows, sealing the…the, um, bargain.”

“Just what I tarried here to speak to you about. Such haste is unseemly, don't you think? Her ladyship is fatigued from her travels. It would be unconscionable to force her to continue her journey without some small respite, which is why I sent off one of my outriders at first light to the estate of my dear friend the Duke of Ashurst, to alert him that Lady Alina will be his guest for a few days. The duke will be dispatching outriders to meet you along the road and escort you the remainder of the journey. They'll be with you by the time you arrive at your first night's lodging, I'm sure. Rooms will be waiting for you.”

Luka narrowed his eyes. His moustachios may have twitched as well, but it was a close-run thing to
know if this was a natural occurrence or a remarkable aberration caused by the man's consternation at the position he had been forced into by his king. If it was the latter, Luka had Justin's full sympathy. And empathy, if it came to that.

“Lady Alina will be the duke's guest? And
you
will be…?”

“Elsewhere. I see no need to provide you with a listing of my comings and goings, I'm afraid, as I've been my own master for quite some years now. Until recently, that is, which is a circumstance that is about to change. You've protected her thus far, and Brutus and my own trusted and quite prodigiously well-armed outriders will be with you. I imagine you're up to getting her safely to Ashurst Hall. Well, Brutus is,” Justin qualified, getting to his feet, quitting the room and leaving the major to follow or not, whatever his inclination. Not that he was surprised to have the man hot on his heels as he strode out to the inn yard.

“I beg your pardon? Have you forgotten that you are charged with protecting Lady Alina?”

“She has her prepared-to-die-for-her secretary,” Justin said, turning to his left and heading for the stables. “Anyone approaches with a nefarious look in his eye, and you just be a good fellow and attack him with your quill. You—yes, you. Saddle the bay now, my fine young fellow, and there's a guinea in it for you.”

The eager ostler hastened to do Justin's bidding, but not quickly enough to save the baron from the major's fury.

“You're leaving? Just like this? I can't allow you to do that.” To give credence to his words, he roughly took hold of Justin's arm above the elbow.

Justin turned slowly to face the irate man. “Allow? You cannot allow? Worse, you're putting a crease in my jacket.”

The major loosed his grip. “The devil with your jacket. Last night you looked like a man who was going to tell her about the threat to her life. Did you?”

“I allowed my mind to be changed on that head,” Justin told him, taking the gloves and hat and riding crop Wigglesworth, who had materialized seemingly from out of nowhere, pressed into his hands. “Thank you, Wigglesworth. You remain, as always, a treasure.”

“You're welcome, my lord. I would have been here sooner, had you but told me you were about to depart. You will be careful, won't you, sir?”

“Am I not always careful, Wigglesworth?” Justin asked, putting on his curly brimmed beaver and lightly tapping it into place.

“No, sir, you're not.” The servant turned to address the major. “He's not, you know. But he always triumphs. If his lordship says that everything will be fine, then it will be fine, because he wouldn't
have it any other way. But perhaps not always immediately.”

“I'm touched, Wigglesworth. Such damning praise.” The ostler brought out the saddled horse. “And now, adieu. Major, please deliver my felicitations to the lady, and my promise to join her at Ashurst Hall within the week with, I most sincerely hope, news that will please her.”

Along with information that will devastate her,
Justin added silently as he put his booted foot in the stirrup and gracefully mounted the bay.

Once again Luka was proving meddlesome. He grabbed onto the bay's bridle and stepped close. “If any harm comes to her, there will be no place safe for you to hide. Leaving her like this, knowing the danger? You're nothing but an overdressed, pompous coward.”

“And now I am desolated. Are you telling me you are not up to protecting the lady by yourself for two more days, after getting her safely halfway across Europe and onto these shores? Have I so badly misjudged my man?” Justin asked him quietly.

“No harm will come to her,” Luka said firmly.

“Good.” Justin smiled, even as his eyes remained hard, cold chips of green ice. “Because, my new friend, if any does, you'll have left me no choice but to kill you.”

The two men stared at each other for long moments until, as Justin had expected, the major
released his grip on the bridle. Poor fellow; men who lived by the rules had so many problems to beset them. That's why he'd given up on being bound by such pesky things a long time ago.

He was almost safely gone. But just as he was about to turn his mount and exit the yard, out of the corner of his eye he spied the Lady Alina in the doorway of the inn.

She had been an enchanting, provocative vision in her ermine-tipped cloak. She presented a heartbreakingly beautiful picture now, framed in the doorway, her midnight-blue traveling ensemble turning her exotic and yet still so very English—a mix of blood that had mingled to create a masterpiece.

Either he left right now, or he'd never find the strength to go.

He lifted his hat to her, bowed his head slightly, and without a word put his heels into his mount's flanks, causing the obedient horse to break into an immediate gallop.

All the way to London, the vision that haunted the corners of his mind was not of Alina in her ermine-tipped cloak, nor of Alina in her dashing traveling ensemble and that silly shako hat tipped down over one eye.

No, the picture he could not get out of his head was of Alina in that disastrous and wildly appealing nightwear, her golden eyes wide and innocent as she
proudly told him the name of her mother…and sent his soul crashing straight to hell.

 

A
LINA HAD NEVER SEEN
Luka so angry as he'd been today and all of yesterday. Not that he'd paid her much attention, concentrating most of his time and effort on positioning the baron's outriders ahead of and behind the coach, and then, when the Duke of Ashurst's men joined them last night at the inn, giving each of them instructions on how he wished them to fit in with the existing ranks.

As if he expected the French to attack at any moment, or some such nonsense. He'd even donned his uniform once more, and he'd told her he wouldn't be wearing it while he was in England, so as to not insult the English government in any way.

When she'd attempted to question him about why the baron had left them, and why they were being sent to this Ashurst Hall and this good friend, Luka had only muttered and said something about having to supervise tying down the luggage so that neither of the two coaches might overturn if there was a need for speed at any time during their journey.

As to his impressions of the baron himself, Luka said even less. But when he left her at the inn doorway and promptly spit into the dirt, she'd gotten a fairly good idea of what her friend thought of her intended husband.

Why, anyone would think it had been his betrothed
who had gone racing out of the inn yard as if the hounds of hell were after him.

“Her,” she corrected herself. “As if the hounds of hell were after
her.
” She didn't know much about marriage, a fact that had been brought home to her with disturbing clarity by Tatiana, but she did know that women married men, and men married women.

Otherwise, her terrible, base, unable-to-beat-down but logical mind told her, the pieces wouldn't fit.

“So good to see you smile, my lady, even if you're only talking to yourself,” Tatiana said from the facing seat in the coach. “So good to know somebody can bear these terrible English roads without wondering if she's soon to see her luncheon for a second time.”

“I told you, Tatiana. It's silly for you to ride backward when there is certainly ample room next to me. Riding backward is sure to make you ill.”

“We're not at home anymore, my lady, where we can do what we want because it is what we want. Danica told me as much. We can only be happy that she knows her place is with the second coach and the luggage. God never takes but what He gives, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Alina said, her mind already off the subject of traveling arrangements and back on to the subject of, well, traveling arrangements.

Why wasn't his lordship—Justin; he'd asked her
to address him as Justin, so she may as well begin thinking of him as Justin—why wasn't he riding with them? Where had he gone, why had he gone, and would he really come back, or had he just said as much in order to get away without Luka shooting him or some such thing?

Had her night rail and dressing gown been
that
off-putting? And that kiss? Did innocence taste so terrible?

Or did he love someone, some sweet, biddable English miss with huge blue eyes and soft blond hair? Had he thought he could sacrifice himself for king and country, but one sight of Alina had been enough to make him feel the sacrifice was too much, even for a loyal subject?

Or it could have been something she'd said to him. What had she said? She'd told him the truth, she'd told him about Aunt Mimi and Count Eberharter's yellow teeth. Had that been
too
honest? How had he answered her? Oh, yes. He'd never before been considered the lesser of two evils.

Had he been laughing at her? Of course he had. Count Eberharter's
teeth?
Who said such things to one's betrothed?

Oh, she was such a child! Clearly Justin Wilde was a man of the world, and just as clearly she was an ignorant infant who possessed the understanding of a gnat.

And it was all Aunt Mimi's fault. Mama had gone
to heaven while her daughter was still a child—more a child than she was now, at least—and Aunt Mimi had abdicated her responsibilities to her niece. There was more to education than learning the globe and her sums. There was also…those other things. The least, the very least the woman could have done was to instruct her niece to expand her selection of nightwear.

But Alina should have asked questions. Especially the one about being kissed and getting babies, because that had always seemed an incomplete answer to her. Not that she'd known what questions to ask in the first place, but also because no one could possibly ask questions that personal of a woman who always loved to look down her nose at you and snicker as if there were some Huge Secret she knew but wasn't about to share with her annoying little niece.

Still, much as she wanted to lay any and all blame at her aunt's feet, Alina knew she had only thought of this marriage from her own perspective. But now that she'd met the baron, and most especially since Tatiana's lesson in the Way Of The World, it was impossible not to consider his part in the equation.