They’d been too young to provide much information about themselves. They couldn’t explain how long they’d been stranded or how they’d survived. They only remembered that their ship had sunk. It was like a plot out of an adventure novel.
It had been British sailors who’d chanced upon them, and with him being a sailor himself, it was a story told too many times to count. After they’d been brought home, it had created a huge uproar in London that had never completely faded.
On stage, she’d been a dazzling vision, wearing a diaphanous white gown so she might have been an angel or a fairy. She’d sung a trio of haunting ballads, and interspersed between the songs, there were several narratives about her being on the island, she and her two tiny friends huddled together at night in the sand and staring up at the stars.
The spectators had been transfixed, and more than one person had dabbed at tears with a kerchief. Not him of course. He was much too manly to exhibit such a maudlin response, but he’d been as spellbound as everyone else.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she waltzed in, looking stunning and splendid and exasperated. At the sight of her, his bones seemed to melt, and his breath hitched in his lungs. He felt overwhelmed as an adolescent boy with his first girl. How did she have such a dramatic effect? What was causing it?
She sauntered over to where he was dawdling by the window and sipping the brandy her footman had dispensed. She grabbed the glass, downed the contents and, with a great deal of irritation, smacked it down on a nearby table.
“Lord Barrett?” she said as if in accusation. “Are you joking?”
“It’s the newly-minted Earl of Barrett.” He grinned. “Have I surprised you?”
“No. You are a pompous bully, so I deem it to be absolutely typical that you would turn out to be an aristocrat.”
“I’m not a bully,” he insisted.
“Whether a man is a bully or not is in the eye of the individual being bullied. That would be me. What are you thinking? I could have sworn we were meeting at the theater.”
“I was positive you wouldn’t oblige me, so I bribed an actor to tattle about you.”
“You are totally absurd. Or perhaps you’re simply deranged.”
His grin widened. “Tell me the truth. If I hadn’t shown up here, would you have shown up there?”
“Yes, I’d have arrived—for I understood that you are an arrogant fiend who can’t bear to have his wishes ignored. If I hadn’t come, you’d have tracked me to the ends of the Earth to find out why, and then, you’d have nagged until I obeyed.”
“You know me so well.”
His approving male gaze roamed down her torso. She was slender, willowy, and petite, but curved in all the right spots. She’d gone to an enormous amount of trouble with her appearance, so evidently, she had planned to attend him.
“You wore red as I requested,” he said.
“I had to. You’re like a force of nature. Who can resist you?”
“You’re learning fast.”
He made a twirling motion with his finger, indicating she should spin and let him view the entire ensemble.
Her gown was bright red—his favorite shade—with black piping along the sleeves and waist. It was cut low in the front, her corset laced so tight that she was practically falling out of the bodice, and he just adored a woman who was brave enough to display so much bosom.
Her glorious blond hair was curled and braided, with black feathers woven into the pretty strands. She was chic and elegant and much too fascinating for him. Normally, he was a very vain fellow, but he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever match her in style and sophistication.
He was as British as the next man, and he comprehended that blood determined a person’s lot in life. Who could have sired such a magnificent specimen?
In his memories about her return to England, she’d been referred to as an unnamed orphan. Had her family ever been found? He didn’t recall how it had ended, but who might her father have been? She had to have an elevated lineage. How else could her stellar traits be explained?
“Are you ready to depart?” he asked her. “Or will I have to cool my heels for an hour or two while you finish primping and preening?”
“I’m ready, you wretch, but it would be nice if you’d told me where we’re going. I hope I’m dressed appropriately.”
“I originally claimed it would be a carriage ride, but I’ve changed my mind. We’re having a picnic.”
“A picnic? Will I have to sit in the grass and pick leaves out of my hair?”
“I’d never make you suffer through such a repugnant episode.”
“Thank goodness. May I inquire as to where this picnic will be held?”
“No, you may not.”
“That sounds dangerous, and just so you know, I always carry a small pistol.”
He frowned. “A pistol? Why?”
“Why do you think? It’s so I can shoot any fellow who acts like an idiot.”
It was the wildest comment any woman had ever uttered in his presence, and he was completely enchanted, but he had no idea why. If he’d been pressed to state an opinion, he’d have declared himself to prefer modest, demur females who guarded their tongues, exhibited perfect manners in all situations, and went to church on Sundays.
Apparently, there was a hidden side to him that liked sass, brazen attitude, and cocky temperament. It vividly occurred to him that his brother, Bertie, had constantly chased doxies, so perhaps Luke was more like Bertie than he’d ever care to admit.
Another woman entered the room. She’d been in the dressing room at the theater as he’d strolled out. She delivered items to Libby—a black lace shawl, a reticule, and fan—and Libby retrieved them and draped
