To Be Seduced. Stephens Ann SophiaЧитать онлайн книгу.
question. “That depends on your stomach, my dear.”
Offended at his amusement, she permitted him to hand her into the rattletrap and place a hot brick at her feet, but refused to speak to him further after he took his place on the seat opposite. Richard knocked on the roof and with a violent lurch the day’s journey began.
Inside the Bell and Moon’s common room, the large gentleman watched their departure with great interest. He had not set eyes on Richard Harcourt or his family for some time, but he very much doubted that his sister would have grown so many inches since then. Or changed from a blonde to a redhead.
Although the distance to London was longer by several miles than the previous day’s travels, the smoother roads prevented another episode of Bethany’s illness. After a number of stops to rest the horses and give her a chance to get down from the coach, it was midafternoon before they arrived.
Richard watched her wide-eyed gaze take in the noise and bustle of the capitol, hiding his amusement. For all his twenty-eight years, he had gawked much the same way when he arrived for the King’s coronation last spring.
A night in the hayloft left him in no fine mood that morning, and his irritation increased when he realized that the day would see the last of his ready cash gone. Thankfully, his little Puritan had eaten lightly at dinnertime, and he could delay supper until their arrival in town.
His back and posterior ached from the bouncing on the thinly padded seats all day. Despite her fascination with the sights outside the coach’s window, she looked pale. Noticing that she rubbed the back of her neck every once in a while, he surmised that she had a headache. He assured her that they would arrive at their destination shortly. Her grateful smile told him he guessed right.
A shout from outside the carriage startled both of them. He sprang to a half crouch between the seats, his sword drawn instinctively. He glanced at Bethany and put a finger to his lips. She nodded, gray eyes wide with fear. Straightening as much as possible in the cramped vehicle, he flung the door open.
Torchlight danced along his naked blade as a couple of soldiers confronted him.
“Where be you going after sundown, sir?”
Richard lowered his weapon a few inches. “I am attempting to return to my lodgings. And what business is that of His Majesty’s army, pray tell?”
“Never tell me you don’t know anyone abroad after dark is to be stopped and questioned!” The older man, a sergeant, regarded him indignantly.
“Certainly such was not the custom when I left London four days past.” Richard assumed the brisk air he’d used during his days in the French army. “Who is your commander?”
The guard scratched his head. “I can’t rightly say, sir. A fellow named Venner sent some Puritans on a rampage against the King two days ago, and then again last night. We were called out and told what to do, but we ain’t seen an officer all day.”
“No officers and you’re still on duty? Well done!” Under his calculated praise, the men straightened and puffed out their chests. After giving them his name, they saluted smartly and waved the coach along.
Shortly after that, Lane set them down before the old building containing his lodgings. Richard assisted Bethany out and escorted her to the door. She stopped short as she gazed up at the building.
“What is this place?” She faced him, realization gathering in her gray eyes. “Do not tell me you expect me to share your lodgings.”
“I do expect just that.” They had not argued excessively, but two days of sitting in that miserable coach, a night in a hayloft, and short rations had exhausted his patience. “Now, please be so good as to go inside and not pick a quarrel on the street.”
“I do not normally indulge in such ill-bred behavior, my lord, but no gentleman installs an unmarried lady in his lodgings.” His companion’s pretty face looked downright mulish as she stood her ground. “I insist that you find a decent place for me to stay. At once.”
He reminded himself of his desperate straits and her fortune in order to restrain himself from pulling her inside like a small child. “This, madam, is London. You will find a good number of females living with gentlemen to whom they are not married.”
“Those are not ladies.” She crossed her arms, daring him to deny her demand. He took a deep breath. Gloriana at her most spoiled did not exasperate him like this chit.
He turned to the grinning coachman. “Lane, return the coach to the Mermaid at once.” The grizzled driver barely suppressed a snort of laughter before climbing back on the box and slapping the reins against the horses’ backs.
Returning his attention to his outraged fiancée, he grasped her arm and tried to escort her inside. She did not budge.
“Your choice, my girl. Either spend the night in my rooms or on the street. I haven’t the silver to buy you a room.” He stepped over the threshold and looked over his shoulder. “Well?”
She gave him a withering scowl before flouncing through the doorway.
Following him up the stairs, Bethany wrung her hands under her cloak. It never occurred to her that he would bring her to his lodgings. She faced disaster.
“Do you not have any married friends I could stay with?” She would infinitely prefer to stay with strangers instead of a man who turned her to melted wax with one touch.
“No.” She flinched at the snapped monosyllable. She tried to think of an alternative, but her pounding head pushed all thought aside. Except for her wish to avoid the all too attractive Richard Harcourt until after they wed.
She had nearly given in to him last night. His mouth ignited her with its touch and honeyed whispers alike. It would have been easy enough to remedy such a lapse. As a peer he could apply for a special license, and her trustees would have paid to prevent a scandal.
A scrabbling in the wall next to her interrupted her musings. She shuddered and hoped this ramshackle building housed nothing larger than mice.
Richard clearly needed her fortune and only by marrying her could he touch a penny of it. Her jaw hardened as she watched his heavy cloak swaying up the stairs ahead of her. She had consented to wed him for a home of her own and a title, but she hardly cherished illusions of matrimonial bliss. Once she provided him with an heir, she expected him to deposit her at his estate while he lived mostly in town.
Compared to this dank-smelling place, the prospect of living in the country sounded downright appealing. She had learned to order a household and run an estate from her mother.
Bethany stifled a sigh. A husband held absolute authority over his wife and her possessions unless her father or guardians bargained for a decent allowance. As she had neither, she must look after her own interests. If she convinced Richard to settle part of her money on her outright, she would gain some measure of security.
Besides which she objected to Richard gambling her father’s fortune away and spending it on his mistresses.
But for her to force his hand, he had to need the marriage more than she did. If she allowed him to finish what he had started last night at the inn, she also must marry in order to preserve her reputation.
Despite her bravado in the coach the previous day, she did care about society’s opinion. Growing up in her mother’s well-run but austere household, Bethany’s liking for display and attention had earned her frequent lectures on proper feminine behavior.
Ahead of her, Richard paused in a doorway off the first landing. His rigid posture indicated his lingering animosity. “Madam.” He bowed. Swallowing, she entered the den of iniquity awaiting her.
After one horrified look, she turned back to him, pleading. “Are you quite sure you don’t know anywhere else I might stay?”
When he had agreed to bring Bethany to London, he had expected to simply bring her to his rooms, find her vicar, wed