Page 11 of Taming of the Rogue

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“In some circles we are often called the ‘beautiful Fairbanks’ in tones coated with acid.”

“And in other circles?” Miss Fernsby asked.

“Some call us the ‘very bad Fairbanks’,” Fanny said with an unrepentant grin.

“Ah, you are proud of the moniker?”

“More amused. We are hardly that scandalous.”

Little Lily trotted into the room, with that uncanny ability to find her mother wherever she was. “Mama,” the little imp cried, wobbling over.

“You have escaped your nursemaid once more,” Fanny chided, some of her earlier glow dimming. Stooping, she scooped her baby into her arms and faced Miss Fernsby. “It was wonderful to meet you, and I look forward to your lessons. Be aware not all of my sisters will be so…accommodating.”

“Fanny,” Colin murmured. “We do not want to lose Miss Fernsby before she starts.”

“Oh no, my lord, there is no chance of losing me,” she replied with sweet earnestness.

And once again, his damnably disobedient gaze dropped to her lips. Her mouth was entirely too pretty…too kissable. Raking a hand through his hair, he turned away with a silent curse. He noted the mocking smile about his sister’s mouth, and then she winked at him. Colin scowled and Fanny laughed, excusing herself from the room.

“Please allow me to call for the carriage to take you home, Miss Fernsby,” he said with civility.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He went to the drawer and wrote a bank draft for two hundred pounds, slipped it in an envelope, and handed it to her. The lady’s relief as she took it was palpable, and he was suddenly glad that he had hired her. Before inheriting the earldom, he had been financially comfortable, even if his living had been modest. Now he had more money than he could spend in a lifetime. He made a mental note to add a sizeable bonus at the end of her contract, once she had acquitted herself well in her position.

Tucking the note into her reticule, she attempted to walk away and once again wrenched her ankle. This time she took a tumble, and he darted forward and caught her into his arms. Colin lifted her, and her gasp of shock was so profound he halted, glancing warily down at her.

“I am taking you to the carriage,” he said. “You are likely to break your foot if you continue in that boot.”

He had never witnessed anyone spluttering before. She tried to speak but no words came out.

“You have a distinct flair for melodrama,” he drawled. “There is hardly anything that shocking in me assisting you.”

With more energy than he anticipated, she wrenched herself from his arms. It was a damned miracle she did not fall on her face. Quickly stooping, she removed the offending boot, then stood and glared up at him.

“Rule number one, my lord. You will not touch me without my permission.”

“You were about to fall on your face,” he said drily. “I was being gallant.”

Her eyes rounded and a small smile tugged at her lips before she squashed it. “If you do not obey the rules, be prepared to suffer the consequences, my lord.”

Now he was intrigued. “And what might those be?”

He stepped back at the smile that curved her mouth. It was downright feral and devious. She nodded once and strolled away with a considerable limp given she only had on one boot. Yet there was a quiet dignity and grace in her movement.

Colin laughed.

“Who is that lovely creature,” a voice murmured. “Your new mistress?”

Glancing down the hallway, he watched as his brother Nicholas strolled toward him.

“I would never bring a mistress under this roof. Not with the old dragon’s penchant for simply appearing, whether invited or not. Especially when not invited.”

Hell. He recalled he should be doing better. “Or with little Lily. There will be no lover or mistress under this roof.”

“I hear you are getting yourself a wife.”

“I might be.”


Tags: Alyssa Clarke Historical