The Vagabond Duchess. Claire ThorntonЧитать онлайн книгу.
and a scoundrel!’ Temperance wanted to cry.
‘Only if I accepted their invitations,’ he said.
‘I’m sure I don’t care to know how you paid your way home,’ she said coldly.
‘I was rescued by my cousin,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you sell me some of this blue cloth?’
‘Not for a sonnet. And after buying that ridiculous wig I doubt you’ve enough coins left.’ She crossed her arms and glared at him.
‘How much?’
When she grudgingly named a price he delved in his pocket and produced the necessary coins.
‘Cut me a length,’ he ordered.
‘Yes, sir.’ She mutinously complied.
He leant his hip against the edge of the board and watched her.
‘There I was, playing my lute to pay for my supper, wondering how I could afford the packet fare without sacrificing my virtue—’
‘Your virtue,’ Temperance exclaimed, then snapped her mouth shut.
‘Indeed. When who should I see approaching but my cousin. A splendid, prosperous fellow. It turned out he was waiting for the packet too. So I prevailed upon him to sponsor me.’
‘Really?’ Temperance didn’t even try to keep the scepticism out of her voice. ‘What a coincidence. What was your cousin doing in Ostend?’
‘He’d gone to visit another cousin of ours in Bruges. But she wasn’t there.’
‘She? You may cease with this nonsense.’ Temperance folded the broadcloth with quick, angry hands. ‘And pay for your purchase.’
‘I really do have several cousins.’ Jack’s eyes twinkled at her as he handed over the coins. ‘One of them was a guest at the English convent in Bruges for several years. It was her fault I went to Venice this summer. I went to Bruges in April to fetch her home and found she’d already left for Italy, so I had to follow her.’
Temperance held the folded cloth in front of her and looked at Jack. Was it possible he was telling her the truth? He’d already mentioned visiting Bruges, and he’d told her about his trip to Venice more than once.
‘Is your cousin a Catholic?’ she asked, noting his reference to the convent.
‘No. At least, she wasn’t when she first became a guest of the nuns. She may have become more sympathetic to their mode of worship over the past few years,’ Jack replied. ‘But I can assure you she doesn’t have horns and a tail.’ There was an unusually acerbic tone in his voice. ‘My other cousin, the one I travelled with to Dover, is a good Swedish Lutheran. No doubt far more acceptable to your English sensibilities.’
Temperance stared at him, trying to unravel everything he’d just said.
‘Aren’t you English?’ she said. ‘I thought you were. You sound like an Englishman. You said your great-grandfather was a grocer here in London.’
‘Yes, I’m English. By birth at least,’ he replied.
‘But you have a Swedish cousin?’
‘Half-Swedish. One of my uncles decided to make his fortune in Sweden and married a Swedish lady,’ Jack explained. It was only when she noticed a slight relaxation in his posture she realised he’d tensed in response to her earlier question.
‘Don’t you feel English?’ she asked.
‘No. Yes.’ He lifted one hand towards his head, then abruptly lowered it.
‘You nearly forgot it’s not your hair,’ she taunted gently. ‘If you hadn’t wasted your money, every time you feel frustrated you’d be able to tug at your hair to your heart’s content. As it is…’ She let the words fade aggravatingly away.
‘Why are you prejudiced against my handsome periwig?’ he demanded. ‘It is no different from that of any courtier—even the King himself. Would you make fun of his Majesty if he came to buy linen from you?’
‘Of course not. But you must cut your coat to fit your cloth.’
‘Very apt. Are you ever going to give it to me? Or just clutch it against your breast until Judgement Day?’
‘Are you thinking a gentlemanly appearance will help you win another audience with the King?’ Temperance asked, experiencing sudden enlightenment. ‘I can see, if you believe it will help you win greater advancement, it might be worth the investment.’
‘I’m glad I’ve finally won your approval.’
‘I didn’t say that. If it was from pure vanity—’
‘Diable!’ Jack snatched the periwig from his head and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘There, are you satisfied?’
Her breath caught. His black hair had been cropped close to his head. Now there was nothing to soften his angular features and the predatory jut of his aquiline nose. His dark eyes simmered with impatience. He looked lean and dangerous. A hard, dark man capable of unimaginable deeds. Her first instinct was to take a step back, but she refused to give ground before him. Why had she allowed herself to forget her first impression of him? He was a vagabond.
Then he started to laugh. ‘You would try the patience of a saint, Madam Tempest. And Heaven knows, I am no saint. Let us call a truce on the subject.’
‘As…as you wish.’ Temperance’s hands felt unaccountably shaky as she turned away to finish preparing the cloth for him. ‘So where is your cousin now?’ she asked over her shoulder.
He shrugged. ‘Somewhere between London and Dover, I imagine.’
‘You left him behind?’ Temperance exclaimed.
Jack grinned. ‘I was in a hurry. There was only one good riding horse at the inn, so I took it. It was his own fault for going for a walk around the town.’
‘You abandoned him after he paid for your passage across the Channel?’ Temperance forgot her resolve not to get embroiled in any further arguments with Jack. ‘How could you have repaid his kindness so ill?’
Jack raised one eyebrow at her. ‘I took his clothes as well,’ he said, casting a disparaging glance down at the olive coat he wore. ‘Surely you didn’t imagine I normally wear such drab attire? But my own clothes had been worn to a thread by the time I reached Dover.’
‘You stole—’ Temperance clapped her hand over her mouth. Accusing a man of being a thief in the middle of one of the busiest shopping thoroughfares of London was a sure way to call unwanted attention upon them.
‘How could you be so ungrateful?’ she demanded in a furious under-voice, smacking the bundled cloth against his chest. ‘Heedless! Have you no conscience? What will you do when he catches up with you?’ she asked. ‘He’ll disown you—or worse.’
‘No, he won’t,’ Jack said. ‘And if he did, it would just mean one less relative to worry about.’
‘To be worried by you, you mean.’ Temperance pushed her hair away from her overheated face. ‘You’re a heedless knave. If you’re not careful, you’ll end at Tyburn.’
‘Would you come to wish me farewell?’
Temperance glanced sideways at him, furious with herself because she did care what happened to him. Just the thought of him meeting the hangman’s noose filled her with sick anxiety.
‘Folly,’ she muttered under her breath. She’d known him for less than one full day, and he done nothing but irritate her the whole time. Except for when he’d saved her from Tredgold and made sure she received fair payment for her linen and muslin. But apart from that….
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.
‘Stupid.’ She turned on him. ‘Stupid. Stupid.