father struggled to sit forward. “Who is it?”
She slowly turned, her eyes wide. “It is the magistrate.”
CHAPTER TWO
“BLOODY HELL.” WITH A PAINFUL effort Josiah struggled with the heavy covers that were wrapped about him. “Call for Foster and tell him to put the man off until I can get dressed.”
“Dressed?” Raine crossed to the bed and firmly pushed her father back into the pillows. It was a testament of his weakened state that he gave up the fight with no more than a low groan. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You are not leaving this bed.”
Her father’s lean features hardened with frustration. “I must. The magistrate is already suspicious.”
“So, let him be suspicious.”
“Raine, if he discovers that I am injured he will have me hauled off in chains.”
Raine pressed her hands to her knotted stomach. No. Now was not the moment to panic. Not when her father’s life hung in the balance.
“Do not fear, Father.” She squared her shoulders. “I will deal with the magistrate.”
“Raine, no. I do not want you involved in this.”
She smiled wryly. “I am already involved, Father. Besides, you are in no condition to stop me. Remain quiet and I will return as soon as I can.”
“Raine, I beg of you, do not do this.”
Ignoring Josiah’s agonized plea, Raine headed firmly toward the door. Her father was willing to risk everything to do what he thought was right.
How could she possibly do any less?
TOM HARPER WAS NOT a modest man.-
Although he had been born the son of a vicar who had little to offer his ambitious child, Tom had benefited from a formal education and introduction to gentlemanly manners. When combined with his own natural intelligence and an unwavering drive to succeed, he was assured a comfortable existence.
Comfortable, however, was not enough to satisfy his restless heart. He had traveled to London with every expectation of making a name for himself in the Home Office, and eventually earning himself a seat in the House of Commons.
The fact that it had proved much more difficult than he had anticipated had not dampened his determination. It had, however, made him realize he would have to do something to capture the attention of his superiors.
Which was, of course, the reason he had leapt at the opportunity to become a magistrate in this secluded village.
And why he was standing in the drawing room of the comfortable cottage awaiting the arrival of Josiah Wimbourne.
Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, he politely turned and smoothed his hands over the material of his plain blue coat. He was careful to dress with a somber simplicity that suited his lean body and pleasant features. It revealed he was a man of means without presuming to rise above his station.
The door opened and Tom battled a flare of surprise as a small blond-haired angel slipped into the room.
He had seen Miss Wimbourne in the village, of course. She could not step foot on High Street without every male in the vicinity dropping whatever he was doing and rushing to catch a glimpse of her.
Even himself.
Not that he would ever expect to capture such an exquisite morsel, he thought ruefully. But he was man enough to enjoy the fantasy.
Moving forward with an innate grace, Miss Wimbourne offered a warm smile that seemed to add a glow to the shabby room. It was odd that the powerful and rich so often tended to have children that were pale and unremarkable, while the rogues of the world could father offspring that possessed such vibrant beauty.
No doubt that was the reason the ton was so careful to exclude the riffraff from their society. What insipid debutante could possibly hope to compare with this woman?
Halting directly before him, Miss Wimbourne performed a small curtsy.
“Mr. Harper, what a pleasant surprise.”
Tom bowed, his mind rapidly adjusting to this unexpected encounter.
He didn’t believe for a moment it was mere happenstance that brought this young maiden to the drawing room.
“Miss Wimbourne, I hope I do not disturb you?” he murmured.
“Not at all. Indeed, I have had a very dull morning and have been wishing for a visitor to distract me.” Her dark eyes were wide and guileless, but Tom was not easily fooled. This woman could have every gentleman in the county lined up at her door if she but offered the least encouragement. “I have requested that Mrs. Stone bring tea. Will you have a seat?”
“You are very gracious, but I have actually come to have a word with your father.”
“Why, Mr. Harper, how can you be so cruel?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Her breathtaking smile flashed again. This time Tom suspected that it was deliberate.
“I was just indulging my vanity with the thought that you rode all the way from the village to pay me a call, and now I discover that your interest instead lies with my father. A very lowering realization, sir.”
“My dear Miss Wimbourne, I am certain you know that there is not a gentleman in the entire county who would not ride far farther than a mere five miles to be granted the privilege of your smile,” he said dryly. “Your return to Knights-bridge has created a greater stir than the rumors that the railroad might reach our tiny community.”
“Most charming.” She waved a hand toward the threadbare settee. “Are you certain you will not be seated?”
“No, thank you.” He was too shrewd to become overly comfortable in this maiden’s presence. She would charm him into insensibility given half the chance.
Moving to perch on the window seat, Miss Wimbourne tilted her head to one side. “I believe that you have only recently moved to Knightsbridge?”
“Yes, I lived in London until three months ago.”
“Ah.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“You must have done something quite terrible to have been sent to such a remote, tiresome place.”
He gave a low chuckle. It was an assumption shared by most of the community. “On the contrary, I requested to come to Knightsbridge.”
“Whatever for? It is home to me, but I would think it the last place anyone else would wish to be. Especially a handsome, ambitious gentleman who could be enjoying the delights of London.”
In spite of himself, Tom experienced a small heat in the pit of his stomach. The woman was a born temptress.
