To Bed a Beaty

He had to admit, however, that Roslyn had borne the danger with aplomb. He’d been impressed by her courage and resourcefulness, even if it had sent his heart to his throat to see her in danger of getting shot. Most females of his acquaintance would have fainted dead at the threat.

Simply because he could admire her mettle, however, did not mean he wished to spend the night with her under the same roof. He didn’t want to be tempted by her, or to be subjected to Lady Freemantle’s annoying attempts at matchmaking. But it looked as if he would have no choice.

When the coach drew up before the Freemantle mansion, her ladyship wouldn’t hear of Roslyn going on to stay with her friend, Miss Blanchard, and insisted she remain at the Park to provide solace and company.

Roslyn’s cheeks colored with chagrin, Drew noted, and she sent him an embarrassed glance, yet she didn’t argue with her friend, merely nodded with a wry sigh of resignation.

Lady Freemantle seemed to have recovered from her weakness as she swept into her entrance hall, where she was greeted by her butler. The elderly servant looked distressed when she quickly explained about their frightening experience, but she assured him that the Duke of Arden would handle matters.

“The duke and Miss Loring will be our guests for the night, Pointon,” she added. “Show them to the green parlor, if you please, and bring them refreshments while you attend to their accommodations. His grace has no luggage, but I believe passable attire may be found for him in Sir Rupert’s wardrobe.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Oh, and his grace wishes to speak to our bailiff in the morning. Will you have Mr. Hickling summoned at the duke’s convenience?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Thank you, Pointon. And please send a footman to Miss Blanchard’s house to let Miss Lily Loring know her sister will not be coming this evening.” Lady Freemantle turned to Drew then with an apologetic smile. “I hope you will forgive me, your grace. I am still feeling rather faint and believe I must retire to bed. Roslyn, I trust you to entertain my guest. At the moment I am still too unnerved to be a hospitable hostess.”

Roslyn did protest at that. “Winifred,” she began, her tone tinged with vexation.

Her ladyship held up a hand. “You should have a glass of wine, my dear. I’m sure your nerves are a trifle distraught after that dreadful upset. I will see you in the morning.”

With that, Lady Freemantle turned to ascend the sweeping staircase, leaving Drew alone with the butler and a very irritated Roslyn Loring.

Chapter Five

I agree wholeheartedly with Lily: Winifred’s matchmaking endeavors are maddening! But at least I was able to turn her meddling to my advantage.

– Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn gritted her teeth, trying to hide her mortification. Initially she’d been alarmed by Winifred’s uncustomary feebleness, but now she was simply vexed, since it was clear that once again her ladyship was attempting to throw her at the duke’s head.

She sent him a fleeting look of apology, hoping he was astute enough to realize that she had played no part in her friend’s machinations, but his look was inscrutable.

Removing her evening cloak, Roslyn handed it to the butler. “I will direct his grace to the parlor, Pointon, if you see to the other arrangements.”

“Very good, Miss Loring.”

Silently then, she led the way down the corridor to the green parlor while Arden followed. It was an ostentatious room that bespoke wealth if not good taste. Although there was no fire in the grate, a lamp burned dimly on the mantel.

Crossing to the lamp, Roslyn turned up the flame before facing the duke with a rueful grimace. “I feel I must apologize for Lady Freemantle, your grace. She is evidently set on matchmaking, but you needn’t feel threatened. You are in no danger from me.”

An ironic smile played across his lips. “I remember. You have set your sights on Haviland.”

Roslyn felt color rise to her cheeks. “Well…yes.” She gestured toward the brocade couch. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Pointon will bring you wine shortly.”

With a polite curtsy, she started to leave, but Arden’s amused drawl followed her. “You needn’t run away again, Miss Loring.”

Her gaze snapping back to his, she halted, nettled by his provoking tone. “I am not running. I am walking to the library to fetch a book to read, since I am too agitated to sleep.”

His penetrating glance surveyed her. “Eleanor told me you are bookish.” When that elicited no response, he said more pointedly, “Stay and have some wine. You look as if you could use it.”

Roslyn hesitated. Winifred had been right on that score at least; she was still shaken by the attempted robbery.

Pointon entered just then with a tray containing a decanter of wine and two crystal wine goblets. When the duke instructed him to leave the tray on a side table, the butler did as he was bid and bowed himself out.

“Sit down, Roslyn,” Arden ordered as he went to the table to pour them each a glass of wine.

Roslyn didn’t protest. Deplorably, her hands were trembling. Sinking onto the couch, she clasped her fingers together and gave a small laugh. “It is foolish to be so missish. The peril is long passed.”

“It isn’t foolish at all,” the duke replied. “You could have been shot tonight.”

She glanced up at him as he carried her glass over to her. “Have you ever shot someone before?”

“Once, to foil another highway robbery. I was more successful that time.”

“You were successful this time. The thief didn’t make off with Winifred’s jewels as he intended. She would have been devastated to lose her brooch-although I doubt she is quite as distraught as she claims.”

Arden settled beside her with the fluid elegance that characterized all his movements, making Roslyn suddenly very aware of his proximity. She quickly took a sip of wine to distract herself. “It was kind of you to remain here tonight to solace our nerves, but you needn’t become any more involved in our affairs.”

He gave a shrug of his lithe shoulders as he relaxed back against the couch. “Marcus would never forgive me if I let harm befall you when I could have prevented it.”

At his casual movement, Roslyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She couldn’t help remembering the feel of the hard-muscled body concealed beneath that impeccably tailored coat. She drank another swallow of wine, trying to discipline her wayward thoughts. “You are not responsible for my welfare, your grace.”

“I know. But I still plan to remain here for a day or two.”

She managed a wry smile. “If you stay, her ladyship’s matchmaking will only get worse.”

“Don’t concern yourself. I’ve had ample experience foiling eager matchmakers.” His tone was still amused, but an undercurrent of cynicism had crept into his voice.

“I can imagine,” Roslyn replied, before returning to the problem of the holdup. “So you mean to meet with the bailiff, Mr. Hickling, tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, to have him begin a search for the highwayman.”

“I would like to be present.” When Arden raised an eyebrow, Roslyn expounded. “I saw the culprit up close, so I can offer the best description. And I know most everyone in the district and where to search.” She paused, gazing down at her glass. “The real truth is, however, I would like to feel as if I am contributing. I don’t like feeling so helpless.”

Arden nodded as if he understood. “You are welcome to join us, sweeting. But only if you promise me never to challenge any more armed bandits. You should allow me the chance to play the hero.”

Roslyn shot him a sharp glance before realizing that he was baiting her in a deliberate attempt to take her mind off the robbery. “You were rather heroic tonight,” she admitted lightly, making an effort to quell her disquiet.

“So were you.”

“You said I was foolhardy.”

His slow grin was irresistible. “That too.”