was exactly what she appeared to be: a beautiful, well-bred, pretty-behaved virgin.
Not, to be frank, the type of female with whom he had previously had any desire to further an acquaintance. But something about the unfairness of having this woman, who in his observation was exactly the lady she purported to be, accused and convicted virtually sight unseen of being a wanton, even by someone normally as non-judgemental as his great-aunt, roused his fighting spirit. And when a crony of his aunt’s, one of the old beldames who ruled Bath society, gave her an obvious snub when her chaperon attempted to call the lady over, he found himself on his feet before he knew what he intended.
Limping quickly over, he seized the beldame’s hand before she could walk away. ‘Lady Arbuthnot, what a pleasure to see you again and looking so fine!’ he said, bowing. ‘That’s a charming bonnet!’
Pinking with pleasure, the lady replied, ‘I’d heard you were visiting Lady Woodlings, Lieutenant Trethwell! Welcome back to England. What a relief it must be to be home again! I do hope you are making a good recovery from your injury.’
‘How could I not, back in the salubrious climate and genteel company of my home country? Speaking of that—’ Leaving a hand on her arm, he subtly steered her around. ‘Would you do the honour of introducing me to these charming ladies?’
Too late, the woman realised that Johnnie had manoeuvred her into facing the women she’d just attempted to cut. The charm of the smile he fixed on her at odds with the tension in his gut, he waited to see whether the embarrassment of making a scene by refusing his request would outweigh her righteous indignation at having to acknowledge a girl of whom she disapproved.
Deciding to throw his last weapon into the fray, he said sotto voce, ‘If you could do so at once, ma’am? Standing’s not good for my bad leg.’
Apparently, that was enough to tip the balance. ‘I suppose I can’t refuse the request of one of his Majesty’s brave soldiers,’ she said with ill grace. ‘Lady Stoneway, a pleasure to see you in Bath. May I present to you Lieutenant Lord John Trethwell, the great-nephew of my good friend Lady Woodlings and brother to the new Marquess of Barkley?’
The Beauty was even more beautiful at close range, Johnnie thought, everything masculine in him leaping to the alert. Though she stood serenely unmoved while the introductions were made, the flush on Lady Stoneway’s cheek and that lady’s tremulous smile showed at least her aunt recognised the significance of his intervention. ‘Delighted to make the acquaintance of one of our brave soldiers, Lady Arbuthnot,’ she replied. ‘As is my niece, Miss Lattimar. Aren’t you, my dear?’
He’d thought her shy, but the Beauty who dipped him a graceful curtsy was quietly self-contained, he thought, rather than nervous or uncertain. ‘Almost past her last prayers,’ his aunt had described her. Though a female possessing such youthful beauty could never be considered a spinster, she was no blushing ingénue, even if she hadn’t been formally presented. And small wonder she was self-possessed, if ever since she’d budded into womanhood, she’d been facing down innuendo that equated her to her infamous mother.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.’
Her voice was as lovely as her face. He’d intended only to force Lady Arbuthnot to recognise her and then remove himself—not having, despite his aunt’s urging, any interest in trying to entice a wealthy young female to wed him. But he found he simply couldn’t walk away.
Instead, he held out his hand. ‘With your permission, Lady Stoneway, may I make a turn about the room with your niece?’ And before her chaperon had a chance to reply, he clapped a hand on Miss Lattimar’s arm and bore her off.
Not sure whether to be amused or indignant, Prudence obliquely studied her escort from the corner of her eye as she walked beside him. ‘Was that an introduction, or a kidnapping?’
‘You really couldn’t refuse to stroll with me. Not after the signal service I just performed.’
He had her there. Truly, she wasn’t sure what to make of him.
The image of a pirate had flashed through her mind when she’d first observed him in Sidney Gardens, leaning his tall, raw-boned frame down to murmur in his aunt’s ear, dark golden hair curling over the collar of his regimentals. And the gaze he’d given her! Admiration and interest shining in grey-green eyes with a look so penetrating, it seemed he was trying to see right into her soul.
She felt another stir of...something, in the pit of her stomach, just recalling it.
Viewed up close, his lean, tanned face was even more compelling, with its high cheekbones, thin, blunt mouth, purposeful nose and arresting eyes. His regimentals hung rather loosely on him, as if he’d been ill. A fact his slight limp and Aunt Gussie had confirmed, when her aunt, alas, had steered them on to a side path back at the Sidney Gardens, warning Pru she should avoid this youngest son of a notoriously rakehell family.
Rakehell or not, he’d boldly coerced that disapproving matron into recognising her. A move that, had it failed, would have embarrassed him as much as her. Was he compassionate, clever—or just reckless, indifferent whether the gamble would work or not? Uncaring, if it failed, that he had brought humiliating and unwelcome attention to her?
But it had worked and would give a definite push to her campaign for acceptance.
‘In fairness, I do owe you thanks,’ she acknowledged at last. ‘Lady Stoneway’s credit and that of her friend Mrs Marsden are sufficient that most of Bath society deigns to receive me, but there have been...recalcitrants, Lady Arbuthnot chief among them.’ She laughed. ‘Now that you’ve so cleverly manoeuvred her into recognising me, I can breathe a sigh of relief. Although, ungrateful as it may seem, I’m afraid I can’t afford to show my thanks by associating with you once this stroll is concluded.’
‘What, have you been warned against me?’ he asked with a smile. ‘Didn’t think I’d been in Bath long enough for that.’
‘I saw you at Sidney Gardens earlier today with your aunt. I don’t mean to be uncivil, but Aunt Gussie said you have the reputation of being a...a reckless adventurer. And with it presumed that you’re about to leave the army, it’s also said you are...’ She hesitated, her own experience with rumour and innuendo making her loath to repeat further ill of him without knowing the truth.
‘A fortune hunter?’ he supplied, seeming not at all offended. ‘Or have you heard the other version, the one in which I’m in Bath trying to turn my aunt up sweet, so she’ll settle funds on me? You mustn’t feel uncomfortable, repeating the rumours, Miss Lattimar. After all, I’ve been warned against you, too.’
She stiffened, a feeling almost of...betrayal escaping. So her scepticism had been warranted. He hadn’t helped her out of kindness, just on a whim, too devil-may-care to worry about the consequences. ‘I wonder then that you bothered to rescue me,’ she said, unable to keep the anger from her voice.
He halted, forcing her to look up at him. ‘I should think you, of all people, would understand. I dislike seeing someone branded for something only rumour alleges—me, or anyone else. A sentiment I suspect you share. I shall judge you as I find you, not for who your mother was. Everyone in Bath ought to do the same.’
So he had acted out of compassion. Anger faded,
