Across from him, she cleared her throat with a delicate little sound.
He looked up at her.
She smiled, determined and beautiful, from beneath a ridiculously wide-brimmed hat. “I believe you made a promise, my lord?”
He inclined his head, though his pulse picked up. Of course she wouldn’t forget their bargain.
And indeed her next words solidified his thought. “I know ’tisn’t any of my business, but could you tell me where you were all these years?”
He looked at her silently, struggling not to bat her down with harsh, dismissive words.
The color rose in her cheeks, but she held his gaze even as she tilted her chin up. “Please.”
Courage would be an asset in the mother of his children.
“It is your business,” he said. “I was in the American Colonies.”
“Yes, I know,” she said gently, “but where? And why? Did you lose your memory? Who you were? I’ve heard strange cases of injured men forgetting who and what they were.”
“No. I always knew who I was.” He looked at her, so sheltered from the world. Would such a tale shock her? Repulse her? But she had asked. “I was captured by Indians.”
“Indeed.” Her gray eyes widened. “But surely you haven’t been with them for seven years?”
o;Ah, but this is a thing not to be bought. For this you will need all your charm.” She turned at the door and looked him in the eye, her gaze level and solemn. “A wife is what you need. An English wife of good family. For what man can be mad with a sweet, not-too-pretty wife by his side? Obtain a chit such as this and you will be halfway to regaining your title.”
THE NEXT MORNING dawned bright and sunny. After making her toilet, Beatrice decided to consult with Cook. She was descending the stairs to the front hall when she heard male voices.
Beatrice halted at the landing and looked over the rail to the hall below. There stood the butler, two footmen, and a gentleman she did not know but who looked—at least from the back—somehow familiar. She continued down the stairs slowly, eyeing the man. He wore a freshly powdered white wig and a black coat of a very fine cut, embroidered about the cuffs in silver and green thread. The butler was saying something to him, but the stranger must’ve sensed her stare. He turned.
And she froze on the stairs.
It was Lord Hope—but a Lord Hope transformed. Gone was the thick beard. His jaw was freshly shaven, revealing his square chin and the hard planes of his cheeks. He must’ve cut his hair very close to his head, for the wig he wore was beautifully curled and powdered and fit him excellently. Beneath the black velvet of his coat, his waistcoat was silver and green brocade, and lace fell at his wrists. He was the very epitome of a fine London gentleman, and Beatrice might have felt a pang of regret for the man she’d nursed for the last week had it not been for two things. First, from his left ear, the black iron cross still dangled, primitive and uncivilized next to the perfection of his white wig. And second, the three tattooed birds still circled his right eye, as permanent as the ebony color of the eye itself.
He wore the trappings of civilization, but no one but a fool would mistake them for anything but a thin veneer covering the savage beneath.
He bowed to her, one leg extended, his arm sweeping down sardonically. “Miss Corning.”
“Lord Hope.” She’d regained some of her self-possession and now finished her descent of the stairs. “You’ve undergone a most remarkable change.”
He shrugged. “To fight demons, one must assume the guise of a demon.”
She looked at him. “I’m not sure I understand what that means.”
“No matter.” He glanced away, and with any other man, she might’ve thought him uncertain. “I go to visit my aunt this morn. Would you care to accompany me?”
It was a civilized invitation, and she rather wanted to know what he was about with this sudden transformation, but she bit her lip. Was it safe?
Her hesitation had lasted a fraction of a second too long. His pleasant expression turned to a scowl. “Are you afraid of me, Miss Corning?”
“Not at all.” She tilted her chin, daring him to call her on the fib.
“Then you won’t mind a simple drive in the city.”
Why did he want her to accompany him? She stared at him, trying to decipher his motivations.
“Come, Miss Corning,” he rumbled softly, “a simple yes or no will do.”
“Yes, thank you,” she said. “On one condition.”