Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance by Kate Harper Page B

‘But I wanted to speak to you before you left.’
    ‘Oh?’ he eyed her warily. She was not looking at him but at Hermes, face reflective. This close, he caught the scent of perfume; it was not overwhelming, but something light and pretty. Jasmine, perhaps. He couldn’t help but wonder how this exquisite creature would be received in London when she went up for a Season. He was prepared to wager she would have a goodly portion of the men at her feet within a sennight.
    ‘Lord Hathaway, I have a great favor to ask of you,’ she began slowly. ‘I doubt,’ she added, with a quick glance up at him, ‘that you will wish to do so but I feel that I… I must ask. I have nobody else to turn to, I’m sorry to say.’
    He frowned down at her. This did not sound good. This sounded, in fact, like something that could keep a fellow moored in one place for far too long. ‘Oh?’ he repeated cautiously, mentally rehearsing excuses that would allow his escape.
    ‘I am very much afraid, you see.’ The words were soft and barely discernible and, almost against his will, a shaft of concern pierced him and he leaned forward instinctively. What the devil could a girl like Johanna Claybourn have to worry her?
    ‘What are you afraid of?’
    She was silent for a moment, as if ruminating on the wisdom of saying more. Then he heard a sigh. ‘You might think me a fool, but I am afraid of Lord Mordern.’
    Marcus frowned. ‘Why should you be afraid of him?’ Although, even as he asked the question he thought he might already know the answer. Mordern was a rake, or something very like it. The signs were on his face for all to see. Men such as that often looked for the most advantageous marriage to leverage themselves out of difficulties, so his presence in the house was hardly surprising. But Marcus could not believe that Sir Antony would give his daughter to such a man, especially as the girl obviously disliked him.
    She turned to look up at him. The light in the stable was not very good but he had no trouble making out the pale oval of her face. Her dark eyes appeared every bit as liquid as Hermes’ and a great deal more appealing. ‘You will think me a fool, my lord.’
    ‘I think I will be the best judge of that. Tell me.’
    ‘He tries all the time to be alone with me. Once or twice he has succeeded and – oh, how can I explain it? He frightens me, my lord!’
    ‘In what way, frightens you?’ Marcus demanded sharply. Surely the fellow wasn’t pressing his attentions on a young girl scarcely out of the schoolroom? Although, having taken a good look at Mordern, Marcus suspected that was exactly the kind of thing the man would do. Get the girl in a compromising position and then have somebody else insist that he do the decent thing. It was hardly a new ploy for a man without scruples – or a woman, truth be told – but it was a despicable one, all the same .
    ‘I do not mean to sound hysterical,’ Miss Claybourn continued on in a low voice, ‘but I want the advice of somebody who has seen something of the world. Lord Mordern is always about the place, turning up when I least expect it. He has not been so bold as to come to my bedchamber but it seems that he watches me all the time and there have been several occasions when I have thought – when I have believed – that his intentions are far from honorable. But he is always so careful, you see! When it first happened I thought I had just imagined it but only yesterday he caught me up in the hallway and tried to kiss me -’
    ‘The devil he did!’ Marcus exclaimed, appalled. ‘Excuse my language, Miss Claybourn but you must tell your father. Get the man pitched out of the house.’
    ‘Papa would not believe me!’ she cried, wringing her hands together. ‘I don’t know if you noticed, but my father is very much under Mrs. Gordon’s influence. He thinks the world of her and I am sure that he would say that I am just imagining it, or that I must have been mistaken.