Barbara Pierce (3 page)
Authors: Naughty by Nature
“Fine, then.” Patience shook off his grasp and held out her hand. “You return what you have taken or I will tell Lord Powning of your thievery.”
Perry gawked at her. “Bleeding harpy! Selling out your own family, why, I ask you? To impress His Lordship, who will likely hand all of us over to the magistrate if he gets a whiff of our business.” He dug into his breeches and slapped a garnet necklace into her hand. “Where is your loyalty, woman?”
“You want loyalty? Keep your promises!” she snapped, her fingers tight over the necklace. “What else is rattling around in your breeches besides your brains? It is unlike you to be so stingy.”
His brown eyes flared at her insult. His full lips formed into a sneer as he sullenly slipped his hand back into his breeches. Patience saw the promise of retaliation in her friend’s expression, but she was unconcerned. Unlike Julian Phoenix, Perry had never used his fists on a woman. He slapped a
pretty gold bracelet and two pairs of earrings on top of the necklace.
pretty gold bracelet and two pairs of earrings on top of the necklace.
“Is that all?” she said in a tone guaranteed to infuriate him.
“Yes,” he hissed, clearly perturbed. “That’s all of it. Though I don’t see why you are being so fussy. A few trinkets tucked away for hard times fill not only my empty belly, but yours as well!”
“Not anymore.” Patience gazed wistfully at the jewelry. It was not longing to possess such treasures for herself that nipped at her good intentions; it was the thought of one day being hungry. She shook her head in denial. “Return everything to its proper place. And be quick about it. Lord Powning is expecting us in the ballroom, and we still have to find Link and Deidra.”
Perry snatched the jewelry from Patience’s hand. “Patience, my lovely girl, honor is costly and not for the likes of us.” He poked his head into the wardrobe to look for the pouch he had taken Lady Powning’s jewelry from.
“I disagree.” Patience closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her temple. “You and I just never appreciated its value when it was rightfully ours.”
“Where did you find the pretty Miss Winlow and her troupe?” Ramscar found himself asking his host several hours later after his brief encounter with the lady. She had reappeared at Lord Powning’s side with Miss McNiell and two male companions.
The marquess had not taken his keen gaze off the lady in question. He had set up the ballroom to be reminiscent of a medieval great hall. Two exquisite
stately chairs had been positioned in a place of honor so Lord Powning and his lady had a clear view of the players. Ram leaned negligently against the back of the gentleman’s chair while they observed the two male performers juggling flaming torches.
stately chairs had been positioned in a place of honor so Lord Powning and his lady had a clear view of the players. Ram leaned negligently against the back of the gentleman’s chair while they observed the two male performers juggling flaming torches.
“Are they not remarkable, Ramscar?” Lord Powning said; the reverence in his tone reminded Ram of a boy given his first sword. “I encountered the troupe nearly four months ago while we were off visiting Lady Powning’s mother. They were performing at an obscure fair just outside Bath. A very depressing affair, mind you, but Miss Winlow and Miss McNiell stood out like fragile blooms in a conservatory.”
“I noticed,” Ram said dryly, though, truthfully, he had barely noticed Miss McNiell. “I assume you approached the players after their performance.”
“Naturally.” Lord Powning’s expression revealed there had been no other rational choice. “It was later that I learned that the troupe had no commitments to a playhouse and they were willing to lend their expertise to private endeavors.”
Ram raised his brow in doubt. “And Lady Powning approved?” Perhaps Miss Winlow was the man’s mistress. It was an unpleasant thought.
The marquess finally pulled his attention away from the jugglers and gave Ramscar a startled
look. Expelling a bark of laughter, Lord Powning slammed his fist down on the carved arm of the chair. “You savage rogue! Not those sorts of private endeavors. Are you serious? My lady would geld me for even contemplating such a fantasy.”
look. Expelling a bark of laughter, Lord Powning slammed his fist down on the carved arm of the chair. “You savage rogue! Not those sorts of private endeavors. Are you serious? My lady would geld me for even contemplating such a fantasy.”
The tension in Ram’s stomach abated with the man’s revelation.
Lord Powning did not notice Ram’s discomfort. “The troupe is content to travel like the jongleurs of old. No audience, whether it is three or three hundred, is beneath them.” The marquess smiled as he noticed Miss Winlow wending her way through the rapt spectators into the open area where her male companions defied setting their garments aflame. “An antiquated and charming tradition, I grant you. However, I predict our Miss Winlow is fated for greater things.”
“My lord and lady,” Miss Winlow greeted the Pownings, showing deference with a low and graceful curtsy. “The gentlemen behind me require a brave volunteer for their next feat. I leave it to you to name your fool—” She coughed delicately into her hand. “Uh, gentleman.”
Everyone roared with laughter at her deliberate slight. She smiled sweetly at those around her while several names were shouted out in hopes of swaying the marquess. Ram sensed Miss Winlow was enjoying herself immensely.
“What say you, my lord?” she shouted over the din of the audience.
Lord Powning rose from his chair. “A brave man, you say?”
“Aye, my lord,” she replied, willing to indulge her host. “The bravest. A man whose nerve will not falter when tested.”
Lord Powning leaned down and whispered something to his wife. The marchioness nodded in agreement and smiled. Straightening, he said, “Well, my lady and I can think of no other man than the Earl of Ramscar!”
An encouraging cheer momentarily deafened Ram as Miss Winlow offered to him her hand. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed from excitement. “Do you like to play with fire, Lord Ramscar?” With a dramatic flourish, she gestured toward the jugglers.
Ram scowled at the flaming torches. “It depends,” he drawled in her ear. He was not exactly afraid of fire. Nevertheless, since he had carried Meredith from the conflagration that once had been the nursery, Ram had kept a respectful distance from any open flame. “I’m rather particular on what I ignite with my hands.”
Miss Winlow reacted to his saucy remark as he had expected. Giving him an amused side glance, she said, “How interesting. It has been my experience that fire is rarely tamed for long.”
The screams of his mother and sisters still rang in his ears when he thought of that night. “I agree, Miss Winlow,” he said grimly.
His trepidation increased as he followed her closer to those flaming missiles that shot out between the two men. Why, of all things, did it have to be fire? What was wrong with juggling several razor-sharpened knives? Or battle-axes? Ram could feel his skin heat under his clothing, and the trickle of perspiration as it collected along his lower spine. By God, he had no intention of being undone by a few lit torches. If word of this reached his friends, he would never hear the end of it.
“What will you have me do, Miss Winlow?” he asked, appalled at his behavior when he realized he was reaching up to tug on his cravat. “My skills as a juggler are abysmal, I can assure you.”
“Never fear, my lord. I would never demand more than you would give willingly.” She moved in front of him and offered him her hands with her palms facing upward.
He stepped forward, briefly wondering if the lady was speaking of more than this brief opportunity to humiliate him in front of his neighbors. The urge to loosen his cravat was as insistent as a hard-to-reach itch. The fire crackled and hissed with each practiced throw behind Miss Winlow. Entwining
his fingers with hers, Ram was startled by the strength of her grasp.
his fingers with hers, Ram was startled by the strength of her grasp.
“Did I happen to mention that I prefer my fires in a hearth?” he asked, his gaze following the arcing flames.
A glint of comprehension dimmed her smile. He felt like an utter fool for being so transparent to a complete stranger. Ram wanted to evoke any emotion other than pity in her lovely blue eyes. He tried to release her fingers, but she would not allow it. In fact, she tugged him closer. Ram raised a quizzical brow at her brazen actions.
Tilting her chin in a challenging fashion, she said, “Come now, Lord Ramscar.” Miss Winlow made a soft chiding noise with her tongue and coaxed him to take another step forward. “You seem like a gentleman who likes to dazzle the ladies. What could turn a lady’s head more than proving that you would walk through fire for her?”
Swallowing thickly, he focused on Miss Winlow’s face and matched her measured steps. His initial appraisal of her was that she was pretty. He was wrong. On closer inspection, Miss Winlow was captivating. There was an inner radiance that enhanced her natural beauty. It added a healthy glow to her cheeks and a merry twinkle to her eyes as she beckoned him to pursue her. He was close enough to
her now that he could count the gold flecks floating on a fathomless sea of blue. There were three flecks in her right eye and one star-shaped fleck in her left.
her now that he could count the gold flecks floating on a fathomless sea of blue. There were three flecks in her right eye and one star-shaped fleck in her left.
Ram was startled by the sudden burst of applause around them. It took him a few seconds to realize they were cheering for him. Miss Winlow stepped away from him and extended her elegant arm toward him, encouraging the guests to continue their clapping. He had been so focused on her face, he had not noticed she had positioned them between the two jugglers. The spinning flames seemed to leap out of each man’s hands as they expertly caught and returned their dangerous missiles. Ram shivered despite the overly warm room.
“I-I had not realized—” He did not bother finishing the thought. Ram had not confessed his slight aversion to fire to his friends; he certainly was not going to reveal his fears to her.
Miss Winlow gave him a genuine smile, and the sheer power of it clouted him like a solid blow to his sternum. He felt his chest constrict as the air was squeezed from his lungs.
“Now, I
am
flattered, Lord Ramscar.” She hooked her arm in a friendly fashion, and they strolled away from the jugglers. The level of relief he experienced heightened with each step. “Take your bow, my lord,” she coaxed him with a nudge.
am
flattered, Lord Ramscar.” She hooked her arm in a friendly fashion, and they strolled away from the jugglers. The level of relief he experienced heightened with each step. “Take your bow, my lord,” she coaxed him with a nudge.
Feeling foolish, Ram gave an abbreviated bow and raised his right hand to silence the clapping around him. He must have been bewitched to permit Miss Winlow to lead him in an act of buffoonery. His sister, Meredith, had been wise to remain at home this evening.
“You have talent, my lord,” Miss Winlow mused aloud. “I vow, no one noticed your discomfort earlier.” She inclined her head as she curtsied.
“Except for you, Miss Winlow,” he countered, his tone edged with a hint of unexpected resentment. Since others were watching them, he returned her show of courtesy with a bow.
She shrugged casually. “Observation is a useful skill for an actress, my lord. It is, however, of little consequence,” Miss Winlow said, brushing by him.
Ram surprised them both by halting her departure by grasping her upper arm. “How so?”
The blonde gave him an innocent look. “I doubt we shall meet again. Your little secret is safe, Lord Ramscar. You have my word on it.”
“You and the earl looked rather intimate earlier this eve,” Link remarked to Patience hours later as Lord Powning’s coachman drove them to their lodgings.
“‘Intimate.’” Perry made a rude noise. “Such a fancy word for a crude act. The gent wanted to tup
some pretty miss, and thought our Patience was ripe for a tumble.”
some pretty miss, and thought our Patience was ripe for a tumble.”
She grimaced at both her friends, although she doubted they could see her face clearly in the shadowed interior. “Not every gent has one hand in his breeches while the other is groping up some lady’s petticoats!” she said crossly.
Deidra, Perry, and Link laughed at her naivety. The four years she had wandered the countryside with the troupe and Julian Phoenix had not completely eclipsed fourteen years of genteel innocence. Unlike the rest of them, she still believed there were a few notable individuals left in the world who were not self-serving. On the surface, Lord Ramscar seemed like a decent gentleman. Besides, he had been too preoccupied worrying about the proximity of the fire to think about seduction.
Why are my thoughts so troubled?
The marquess and his wife had declared their evening an out-and-out triumph, and the troupe had been paid handsomely for their efforts. Lord Powning had even given Patience a letter of recommendation, which she intended to use for procuring future engagements. Still, she could not shake off her edgy mood of discontentment.
“What were you and the earl chatting about?” Deidra asked while she rested her head against Link’s shoulder. “He certainly seemed taken with you.”
Patience wrinkled her nose at Deidra’s suggestion. “If you had worn your spectacles, you would not be spouting such nonsense. Our brief exchange barely qualified as a conversation.”
She was not going to admit that a tantalizing awareness stirred her senses whenever her gaze met Lord Ramscar’s very direct hazel green eyes. Patience was too honest with herself to deny that she found the earl handsome. He was shorter than Perry and Link; she approximated his height at five feet, ten inches. His lean, muscular frame was likely honed by outdoor sports rather than the indoor variety suggested by the others. There was a confidence and arrogance in his bearing that drew one’s gaze to him.
It was more than masculine beauty, although fate had not been stingy there. His chiseled oblong face was softened by hazel green eyes framed by long brown lashes, a straight nose, and full lips. Lord Ramscar’s hair was much darker than her pale blond tresses, lightened only in places by the sun. Its thick length was slightly longer than what was considered fashionable to some. Nevertheless, he kept it neat and clean, the ends tied in a queue at his nape. The earl was not handsome in the classical sense, but his face reflected intelligence, humor, and vitality. If she were still Miss Farnaly, she would have found him charming and hoped to have partnered him in a country dance.
As Miss Winlow, she knew better than most that manners and a handsome face could mask the vilest scoundrel. Alas, she would never know if he were saint or devil. The troupe would not be in the parish long enough for her to discover the answer.
“Bah, you are evading our questions,” Link said, slightly slurring his words. “We all saw him whispering into your ear. What did the gent do? Offend your fragile sensibilities by inviting you to his bed?”
Perry burst into a fit of laughter, and Link shared his amusement. Deidra gave Patience a sympathetic smile. Her friends knew that no amount of money would lure her upstairs with any man. She was still relatively innocent in matters of a carnal nature, and she was content to remain that way. Julian Phoenix might have taken her virginity, but her innocence would be given to the man of
her
choosing. The distinction was beyond her companions’ understanding. The three of them came from a world where they bartered anything and everything. Patience’s prim ways did not fit in their ruthless world. It was a quandary, since there was no place for her in the world where she was once Miss Farnaly.
her
choosing. The distinction was beyond her companions’ understanding. The three of them came from a world where they bartered anything and everything. Patience’s prim ways did not fit in their ruthless world. It was a quandary, since there was no place for her in the world where she was once Miss Farnaly.
So where do I belong?
She closed her eyes and rubbed her aching temples. Lord and Lady Powning’s gathering had stirred up feelings Patience had thought were buried. It was so easy to imagine herself in her former life. Miss
Farnaly would have certainly sought a conversation with Lady Powning in hopes of attaining an introduction to Lord Ramscar. Would the earl have treated Miss Farnaly differently? Patience groaned. There was no place in her life for regret. Right or wrong, she had chosen this path when she ran off with Julian Phoenix.
Farnaly would have certainly sought a conversation with Lady Powning in hopes of attaining an introduction to Lord Ramscar. Would the earl have treated Miss Farnaly differently? Patience groaned. There was no place in her life for regret. Right or wrong, she had chosen this path when she ran off with Julian Phoenix.
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