finding an English girl to marry. They must be falling all over each other to get to you.”
James looked surprised. “I will take that as a compliment. However the London ladies are not pursuing me—they are hunting my title and my purse.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
He grimaced. “Believe it.” He looked down at the water rushing over the rocks. “How about a compromise? We won’t get engaged now. As you say, nothing actually happened last night, so there’s no rush. You can stay at Alvord with Aunt Gladys and Lady Amanda as chaperones. Then when we take Lizzie up to town in a few weeks, you can help keep track of her. She’s seventeen and a bit of a handful. I really don’t think Aunt Gladys is up to the task and it sounds as if you have some experience with young girls. You can think of it as your first position, if you like. You’ll have some time to get used to me and to the idea of marriage.”
“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she hastened to say. “You seem very nice. I just don’t know you.”
James nodded. “That’s completely understandable. There are just two conditions.”
“Yes?”
“First, if word gets out about our night at the Green Man, you must marry me. I won’t have your reputation shredded. And I won’t be the man accused of shredding it.”
Sarah thought it unlikely that word would get out. Who would care about Sarah Hamilton? And anyway, the only people who knew about the incident were James’s family and friends…and the obnoxious innkeeper and footmen.
“I can’t imagine that your aunt will spread the story, but those footmen…And the innkeeper does not like me at all.”
“Don’t worry. Jakes won’t breathe a word—he knows if he angers me, his inn’s days as a profitable establishment are numbered. And he’ll see that the footmen keep mum.”
“All right, then. And the second condition?”
James grinned and Sarah felt her stomach do an odd little flip.
“Second, I reserve the right to try to persuade you to accept my suit.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, this and that. Mostly this.” He leaned over and covered her lips gently with his.
Sarah no longer heard the gurgling of the brook by her feet or felt the rough bark of the log upon which she sat. Her world shrank down to James and his lips brushing lightly across hers. She was fully awake this time, but still the touch of his mouth on hers did shocking things to her insides.
Only one other male had ever kissed her. The butcher’s boy, smelling of sausages and blood, had grabbed her in her father’s kitchen. That had been an assault. This was an invitation. But to what? She pulled back, breathless, and looked at James. His eyes had the strange, intent look they’d had earlier, when he had been staring at her…at her chest. Sarah flushed.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, my lord, um, grace.”
“James.” His voice was low and husky. “I really must insist, love. Your republican lips have too hard a time getting around the lords and the graces.”
His eyes focused on those lips. She wet them nervously with her tongue. His gaze sharpened and he started to lean forward again. She stood up abruptly.
“Yes, well, we’ll see.” She looked at him helplessly. “What were we talking about?”
He grinned. “These,” he said, touching her lips lightly with his index finger. He rubbed the rough tip gently across her lower lip. “And the second condition to delaying our engagement—that you’ll allow me to court you.”
“Do I have a choice?”
His grin widened. “No.”
Chapter 3
Sarah tried to ponder her situation as she walked back to the Green Man with James. She had never had a man—the butcher’s boy did not count—pay her attention, and now she had James, surely the handsomest man she had ever encountered, saying he wanted to marry her.
But no, James wasn’t just any man. He was a duke—a different species entirely. A British peer who did not hesitate to shed his clothes and climb into bed with any strange woman he came upon. He was obviously very practiced at seduction.
“Damn.”
James’s muttered exclamation brought Sarah out of her reverie—that and his increased pace. She hurried to keep up with him.
“What is it?”
“My cousin Richard causing trouble.”
“Bastard!” A girl with bright red hair and a purplish, swollen eye stood in the inn yard screaming at the black-haired devil from last night’s stagecoach. “I did what ye wanted. Ye didn’t have to ’it me.”
“Molly!” Another girl came running out of the inn. “Molly, are ye all right?”
“Look what ’e did to me, Nan! Look what ’e did to m’face.”
Nan hugged Molly and glared at Richard. “Molly’s a good girl, sir. Ye shouldn’t ’ave ’it her.”
“A good girl, is she? Well, she’s a very poor whore.” Richard grabbed Nan’s wrist and pulled her toward him. “Let’s see if you’re worth my money.”
“Richard!” James closed the gap between them. “Let the girl go.”
“Why? Is she a favorite of yours?” Richard’s knuckles whitened and Nan gasped in pain. His cold eyes focused on Sarah, moving slowly from her hair down her bodice to her waist and hips. Her skin prickled everywhere his gaze touched.
He loosened his grip, and Nan collapsed sobbing into Molly’s arms.
“Who is your long Meg, James?”
Sarah thought that James would not answer since the silence between them stretched out so long.
“Miss Hamilton, my cousin Richard Runyon.” James bit off each word. “Richard, Miss Hamilton of Philadelphia.”
“Philadelphia? Going somewhat far afield to find entertainment are you, James?”
“Richard! Miss Hamilton is the Earl of Westbrooke’s cousin.”
“Really? We shared a coach down from London, did we not, Miss Hamilton? Robbie must love you as little as James does me, if he consigns you to the common stage.”
Hatred swirls around this man like flies on a dung heap, Sarah thought. She kept her voice even. “My cousin did not know I was coming.”
“Ah, a surprise. I hope Westbrooke likes surprises. And you’ll be staying with him, I suppose? Lucky Robbie.”
“Sarah will stay at Alvord.”
One
