“One quickly acclimates when one has no choice,” he said.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Wharton said. “The admiral has always said exactly that.” The lady looked at Katherine. “You must have grown quite acclimated to the heat. One can only see how much time you’ve spent in the sunshine.”
“Sunshine is unavoidable in the Mediterranean,” Captain Warre said quickly, cutting off the reactionary response that leaped to Katherine’s tongue. “In any case, I’ve always questioned whether it can be good for ladies’ health to avoid sunshine as studiously as they do.”
“Bless me if this isn’t the first time any such question has crossed your mind,” Lady De Lille scolded. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life.”
Lady Gorst laughed and drew her fan across her cheek. “And it’s hardly a winning argument, as a lady will always sacrifice health for beauty.”
Lady Ponsby nodded.
“One can only see how your time in Barbary has affected you.”
“Is it true they eat dogs?” Lady Gorst gave a graceful shudder. “Oh, I couldn’t bear it.”
Lady Ponsby paled.
Katherine thought of Zaki, with his jeweled bowl and his silken pillows, chewing on a mutton bone with nearly an inch of meat still attached. These people were fools.
Captain Warre shot her a glance. “An ill-informed rumor, I assure you.”
“Except when the market for kittens is tight,” Katherine added.
“Oh!” Lady Gorst placed a hand against her heart.
“My word,” Lady De Lille said crossly. “You are in more dire need of a husband than anyone I’ve ever met. It is only too bad that your age and adventures put you out of the market, though I suppose there is the estate’s fortune to sweeten the deal.”
Katherine stood abruptly.
“Sit down, Lady Dunscore,” Lady De Lille ordered.
Instead, Katherine walked away, leaving Captain Warre to make their excuses.
“My heavens,” she heard Lady De Lille declare as Captain Warre’s footsteps sounded behind her in the entryway, “if her father weren’t such an amiable man I would not have her in my house, mark my words, regardless of Croston’s good opinion, which is highly suspect in any case under the circumstances given that he is clearly besotted.”
* * *
“EXAGGERATING MOORISH BARBARISM is a bloody poor way to further your cause,” a clearly-not-besotted Captain Warre growled into Katherine’s ear four visits later after she told an open-mouthed Lady Someone-or-other that she’d witnessed no less than a dozen beheadings during her first year in captivity.
Katherine stepped into the blessed freedom of the waiting carriage. “This is intolerable.” And they saw her not as the countess of Dunscore, but looked at her the way they might gape at some freakish oddity.
“Be that as it may, you will learn to tolerate it or even my most heartfelt endorsement won’t help you.”
“Heartfelt endorsement!” she hissed. “Was that when you told the odious Lord Bashford that I was anxious for domesticity, or when you told Lord Quinn that my ‘accomplishments’ may not be traditional but nonetheless should not be overlooked?”
“Your gratitude leaves me speechless.”
“As did Lady Moore’s suggestion that I should set up shop in Covent Garden.”
“She was talking about the theater,” Captain Warre said.
“Oh, indeed. That was precisely what she meant.”
“For God’s sake, I’ve called you my savior so many times it’s beginning to sound blasphemous.”
“Croston!” A man unfolded himself from a hack that pulled up behind Captain Warre’s carriage. She recognized him instantly from Lord Deal’s musicale: tall and broad-shouldered, perhaps a little over thirty, with irreverently black hair that today was tied back au naturel without even a trace of powder. It was the Duke of Winston, shimmering in a dark yellow coat embroidered with black-and-green vines and trimmed at the seams with silver braid.
“How selfish Croston is,” he said with a grin, “keeping London’s most fascinating new resident all to himself.”
A subtle quirk at the corner of his mouth made it clear he assumed the world was a fruit ripe for his picking. Eyes the color of dark coffee lingered just long enough on her breasts to let her know those, in particular, were fruits he would enjoy picking at the first opportunity.
The look in his eyes suggested an especially lurid method of securing Dunscore. She tasted bile but arched a brow at him, anyway. “Perhaps it is I who is selfish,” she suggested.
There was a flash of white teeth. “I sincerely hope not.” He reached for her hand and kissed it, apparently indifferent to the hard glint in Captain Warre’s eyes.
“I should be careful of this one, Winston,” Captain Warre said in an amiable tone that she recognized was completely false. “That is, if you prefer your anatomy intact.”
Winston barked a laugh. “I do. But you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Croston. Most rumors have no foundation in fact.”
“Anytime you’d care to test your swordsmanship with the lovely captain, I would be an eager spectator,” Captain Warre told him.
“A unique temptation, but my code of ethics would never allow it.” It wasn’t difficult to imagine what his code of ethics would allow, and no doubt many ladies had gladly become test subjects for a wide variety of his skills. “Perhaps, Lady Dunscore, we might strengthen our acquaintance in a more traditional manner one day soon. Tell me, do you share your father’s penchant for racing? I’ve recently acquired a magnificent pair that could use some exercise.”
“I’m afraid my taste for adventure is limited to the sea, Your Grace.”
“Then I shall look forward to showing you my yacht.”
“Do not count on it,” Captain Warre growled, and shoved her into the carriage.
Dear Sirs,
Observed Lady Dunscore during morning visits. Cat-o’-nine-tails apparently left behind; ladies escaped unscathed. No Englishman pressed into service.
Yours, etc.,
Croston
“HOLY GOD, CROSTON, are you out of your mind?”
“She’s an intelligent woman.” In a quiet corner of White’s, James kept his voice practically inaudible as he made his pitch to Hollyroot.
