To Tame a Dangerous Lord (7 page)

“No, not yet,” she replied. “I disliked putting the Danvers staff to the trouble of preparing a meal solely for me.”

“Then will you join us?”

Glancing between the two gentlemen, she nodded slowly. “Yes, thank you, Lord Haviland. I believe I will.”

“Bramsley, please serve Miss Ellis,” Rayne said as he seated her on his left, across from Freddie, then resumed his place at the head of the table.

Looking rueful, Freddie hurried to wipe his mouth with his napkin and sat down again, his fair complexion showing his embarrassment as he fell all over himself to apologize. “I sincerely beg your pardon, Miss Ellis. This is the second time I have chewed my feet upon meeting you. You must think me a clunch.”

She smiled gently. “A charming clunch, perhaps. But truthfully, Mr. Lunsford, it is refreshing to encounter a gentleman who doesn’t mince words. In fact, you remind me favorably of my younger brother, Gerard. He seems to have a taste for feet as well.”

Freddie grinned and looked relieved. “Did you walk all this way from Danvers Hall?” he asked while the majordomo poured her coffee and brought various dishes from the sideboard for her to choose from.

“It was not so far—barely a half mile. I enjoy walking,
and the Danvers housekeeper advised me how to access the path between the two estates. The view of the river is lovely with the autumn colors beginning to show.”

Then speaking directly to Rayne, she lowered her voice enough so that Bramsley could not overhear. “I have a serious bone to pick with you, my lord.”

Rayne dismissed the majordomo as soon as her plate was served. Bramsley had been with him for many years and could be trusted implicitly, but there was no point in having an audience if Miss Ellis wanted to have it out with him.

As Rayne expected, she waited until the servant was gone before taking him to task. “Mr. Lunsford seems to have developed a knack for apologizing. You could learn from him, my lord.”

“Oh?” He observed her over his coffee cup. “Do I owe you an apology, Miss Ellis?”

“You know you do—for abandoning me at Danvers Hall. Granted, you said your social manners are lacking, but even you should realize it is exceedingly gauche to impose on a hostess with no warning.”

Her tone was light, her expression quite pleasant, yet Freddie Lunsford’s eyebrows shot up. He was not accustomed to seeing the Earl of Haviland subjected to a scolding.

Nor was the earl himself.

Rayne drank a swallow of coffee before replying in a casual drawl, “By now Lady Danvers likely knows to expect less than civilized behavior from me. You can always lay the blame at my door.”

Miss Ellis had a ready reply. “But she will expect high standards from me if I am to teach at her academy. I will have to prove myself worthy from the very start. So you
see why I would rather not be tarred by your same brush before I even meet her?”

“Indeed, I do see. But will you give me no credit for attempting to protect your reputation?”

She smiled sweetly. “Certainly I will. But for a brilliant spymaster, I expected better from you. You are clever enough to have thought your way out of my dilemma.”

“In my own defense, I had to decide on the spur of the moment.”

“A rather weak defense, is that not?” she replied, fixing him with her candid gaze. “I confess disappointment that you failed to live up to your vaunted reputation, Lord Haviland.”

Rayne had to wonder if Miss Ellis was purposely baiting him. At least her bright eyes suggested she was enjoying putting him on the defensive.

And she continued in that same light vein when she added, “I will contrive to forgive you, my lord. But naturally I could not remain at the Hall this morning. After Lady Danvers arrives home, I would be obliged if you would escort me there and perform the introductions. Until then, I mean to batten myself on you. You
did
make yourself responsible for me, after all.”

Rayne inclined his head. “So I did,” he agreed with growing amusement. “You are welcome to take refuge here for as long as you like.”

“Thank you.” Miss Ellis turned back to Freddie as she buttered a scone. “I believe it is I who owes you an apology this time, Mr. Lunsford. I did not mean to overset your plans last evening or to interrupt your conversation with Lord Haviland this morning. Please feel free to continue. I believe you were discussing searching for some letters in a particular lady’s boudoir?”

Freddie nearly choked on his eggs, while Rayne had to bite back a laugh. He was certain now that Miss Ellis meant to be provoking, perhaps as retribution for abandoning her last night. And evidently she had overheard his plan to steal Freddie’s letters back and drawn her own conclusions.

When Freddie gazed at her in dismay, Miss Ellis smiled in sympathy. “It was clear last evening that you are in a predicament, Mr. Lunsford.”

“You could say so,” he replied morosely.

“I assume this was an affair of the heart?”

“Well … not precisely.”

“Then what was it?”

Rayne broke in before Freddie mired himself any deeper. “I suggest you stow it, old son. You always have been too loose-lipped for your own good.”

Miss Ellis, however, ignored Rayne’s suggestion. “Certainly I don’t wish to pry, Mr. Lunsford, but is there any way I may help? I should like to repay Lord Haviland for arranging an employment interview for me, even if I cannot like his high-handed methods.”

“Well,” Freddie answered, “the thing is … this particular female—I cannot call her a lady—is in possession of several letters I wrote to her some months ago. And my father will have my head on a platter if I don’t get them back. He would never understand how a chap can get seduced by a pretty face, particularly a pretty
French
face—the old cod’s head,” he muttered in addition.

Miss Ellis sent Freddie a mock look of reproach. “‘Cod’s head’? Surely you do not mean to label your father that disrespectful way?”

Freddie frowned, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh,
I say, you are not one of those managing females, are you, Miss Ellis?”

A warm laugh bubbled past her throat. “My brother would say I am—chiefly because it fell to me to run our affairs for many years. If it is any consolation, I can sympathize with your plight, Mr. Lunsford. Gerard is always getting into such scrapes himself … and I have often been able to extricate him.”

Freddie turned to Rayne. “By jove, I like her!”

“I like you too, sir,” Miss Ellis said good-naturedly. “And I am eager to aid you any way I can.”

His face lit up. “I am desperate enough to take any help I can get—”

Rayne intervened again, not wanting to involve her in any shady dealings with a blackmailing French widow. “Your aid won’t be necessary, Miss Ellis.”

His firm tone sent her eyebrow arching upward. “You mean to say that I should not put my nose where it does not belong?”

Rayne’s mouth curved. “Your acumen is admirable.”

“Very well, but if you change your mind….”

He wouldn’t change his mind, Rayne knew, but he was struck by Madeline Ellis’s keen intelligence. Freddie had said very little last evening about his circumstances, but she had deduced his predicament with little effort. Some of Rayne’s best female agents had possessed her same alert powers of observation. And yet she seemed to be motivated by simple kindness with her offer of help.

Freddie apparently thought she deserved a less harsh rebuff, however, for he hastened to add, “Thank you, Miss Ellis, but Haviland is no doubt correct. He can manage exceedingly well on his own. I have great faith
in his abilities to save me from my folly. It is why I turned to him in the first place.”

Her lively gaze shifted to survey Rayne. “Lord Haviland seems to make quite a habit of saving people. I suppose that explains why he was so determined to come to my aid last evening?”

“Oh, yes,” Freddie answered. “He has been known to rescue any manner of waifs and strays. He cannot help being a hero.”

“Is that so?” Her luminous gray eyes were dancing. “How fascinating.”

It was clear to Rayne that Madeline and Freddie were finding pleasure in ribbing him.

“Indeed,” Freddie continued. “I have always thought Rayne was born in the wrong century. He would have made an admirable knight at King Arthur’s Round Table.”

“I can imagine him riding on a white charger,” she agreed.

Rayne couldn’t dispute his cousin’s contention. From the time he was a small boy, he’d always been committed to righting wrongs, to defending the weak and vulnerable. He couldn’t bear to see injustice and do nothing about it. Doubtless that was what left him so restless now. He was searching for a new mission in life, of course, but thus far he’d found nothing remotely satisfying to occupy his time or talents.

“Yet his derring-do is not all pretense,” Freddie declared in an evident attempt at fairness. “He has risked his life countless times over.”

Miss Ellis immediately sobered and shot Rayne a rueful look. “So I understand. I should not have made game of you, my lord.”

He preferred her laughing at him than looking contrite. “I am hardly a saint.”

“I never imagined you were. But still you are to be commended, not ridiculed.”

“Pray, remember that the next time you want to take issue with my lack of manners. Now, eat your breakfast, Miss Ellis. Your eggs are growing cold.”

His command was a deliberate provocation on his part, and he received the desired response. Her gray eyes sparked before glimmering with humor once more.

“Yes, my lord,” she murmured meekly—and then surprisingly did as she was bid.

Her submissiveness was an act that hid her true nature, Rayne knew as he applied himself to his own breakfast. Madeline Ellis was impertinent and tart-tongued and fearless when it came to knowing her place in the ton’s social order. And yet he had to admit her lively spirit appealed to him.

Indeed, he found a number of things appealing about Madeline. Her eyes were even lovelier in the morning light, clear and deep and lustrous. And her mouth … Rayne found himself watching that sinful mouth as she bit down on a crumpet.

He regretted having a taste of her last evening, though. If he didn’t know how pleasurable kissing her could be, he wouldn’t be having these unwanted carnal thoughts now.

In truth, his lust surprised him. The glow of firelight was gone now, but he continued to have visions of bedding Madeline. For a moment Rayne’s gaze lowered to her full breasts. He could imagine stripping off that ugly black gown and wrapping her luscious body in something softer and more inviting, a rose-hue silk, perhaps.
Or a deep lavender to bring out the depths of those remarkable eyes….

Rayne felt his loins stir with a renewed ache. He would have to keep severe control of himself and his body’s forbidden urges in the future.

Even so, he was glad for Madeline’s presence in his life. Although he’d rescued her last evening out of a sense of obligation to her late father, he was now set on helping her for his own sake—because his ennui magically disappeared whenever she was present. Therefore, he meant to use his best powers of persuasion to convince Arabella, Lady Danvers, to employ her as a teacher.

He wanted Madeline to remain in the neighborhood so she would continue to enliven his tame existence.

   Since Madeline very much wanted to be hired for the academy, it seemed only natural that her nerves were sorely on edge when she finally had the opportunity to interview later that morning. Fortunately, her trunk had arrived at Riverwood so she was able to change into a more suitable gown of dark blue kerseymere.

At Madeline’s urging, Lord Haviland properly wrote to Lady Danvers to request an appointment, then drove her to Danvers Hall in his carriage to pay a formal call, an approach far more appropriate than traipsing over the countryside between the two estates.

Upon receiving them in the drawing room, Lady Danvers not only welcomed Madeline with surprising warmth but brushed off any thanks for lodging her for the night. Haviland had been correct on that point as well, Madeline soon realized. Lady Danvers was actively
searching for teachers and expressed pleasure that Madeline was interested in a position.

The countess appeared to be about her same age but was quite a beauty—tall and elegant with fair hair that was a pale reddish-gold color, a lady to the core. And yet she seemed quite passionate about the Freemantle Academy for Young Ladies as she discussed the premise.

“I and my two sisters started the academy several years ago with the help of our patroness, Lady Freemantle,” Lady Danvers explained. “But we are more a finishing school than a typical boarding school. We teach the daughters of the wealthy working class how to fit into the drawing rooms and ballrooms of the Beau Monde.”

“What subjects do you offer?” Madeline asked curiously.

“Most of our pupils have been educated by private governesses, so by the time they come to us, they are usually proficient in the typical subjects, but they lack the polish and grace expected of a lady. So for the final years before they make their comeouts, we instruct them in deportment, manners, speech, conversation, and also genteel accomplishments such as riding and driving, dancing, archery, and how to give musical performances with ease. Our goal is to expose them to the kind of culture and refinement they will find if they marry into the gentility.”

Madeline hid a frown, realizing that the curriculum Lady Danvers described was quite different from what she’d expected. But she made no comment as Lady Danvers continued.

“In the past, my sisters and I usually taught at least one class a day, but since we all three married this year,
we were required to revise our instruction schedule. Moreover”—the countess smiled softly to herself—“I am in the family way, and after the baby comes next spring, I expect I will have even less time to devote to our academy. We have a headmistress who manages the daily operations of the school. And I recently hired another full-time teacher to oversee most of the classes, plus a close friend of mine also teaches there frequently. But with twenty-seven pupils, we could use someone of your qualifications to supplement our instruction, Miss Ellis.”