Wildfire Kiss (Sir Edward 1)

He made Lady Babs move closer, for he did not immediately release her hand; instead, easily, indiscernibly, he brought her to him, and his drawl lowered to a soft, husky tone. “Your obedient servant, my lady.” He turned to smile sweetly at the count, who was by now pulling a face, and said, “My dear count, one wonders how it is you manage, in spite of the deplorable habit you have of donning a gray greatcoat, to wield Lady Barbara on your arm.”

The large count started to bluster out a reply, but Babs put a restraining hand on his upper arm and said lightly, “La, Sir Edward, the color suits him … I think, don’t you?”

“Yes, deuce take it, what is the matter with gray?” the count managed to demand.

“It is Napoleon’s color,” Sir Edward drawled, his sneer marked. “As nearly everyone knows, but then, I have heard your views lean in that direction …”

It was a bait, just the sort of bait to set two men against one another. Napoleon and Wellington were in the very heat of battle in Spain, and sects of Napoleon sympathizers existed (though in small numbers) in England.

“Politics!” Babs stood between the two men and stamped her foot, drawing their full attention. “It is not the subject to openly discuss in a Bond Street Book Shop.” She lifted her piquant face to the count’s. “Now, as I recall, you promised me a trip to the fair.”

The count’s expression was victorious as he offered Babs his arm.

“Very neat,” Sir Edward whispered as she moved away. “My felicitations—you handle him well.”

To this, Babs frowned, and then she hurried with Otto out of the shop, all the while listening to Otto grumble about his greatcoat, the color gray, Sir Edward, and the dastardly inference Sir Edward had made.

“Do not allow him to annoy you. He provoked you on purpose, you know,” Babs said as she smiled sweetly at Otto’s round face.

“He wants you,” Otto pronounced after a moment’s silence.

“Do you think so? I do not,” she returned on a laugh. “He would not provoke my friends if he wanted to curry favor with me.”

“You are naïve,” the count said and clucked his tongue. “Just look at how he attends you. I have never seen him behave like that with any marriageable chit before. He is forever seeking you out and paying you considerable notice.”

“You are mistaken. Sir Edward is not interested in me. For goodness sake, I have been out two seasons, so why should he suddenly decide to take an interest now? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Just a moment, my girl … as I recall, Sir Edward was in Greece during your first season. He doesn’t hunt—so he wasn’t with us when we all went up to the riding country and the Quorn.”

“But I was introduced to him last spring, and I can’t remember his succumbing to my many charms then.” She laughed and patted Otto’s arm.

“Obstinate,” he said and tweaked her nose. “A man sometimes has to find his sea legs. No doubt he just wasn’t ready then … but as he saw more and more of you …”

She batted her lashes at him. “He was overtaken and his heart stolen …” she said dramatically.

“Mayhap you just don’t want to see, but remember,” he said, wagging a finger at her, “he means to have you—but what is worse, I think you rather like him.”

“He is ever so attractive, Otto.” She sighed.

“I don’t like him. Dangerous fellow—not for you.”

“Why, do you think he will break my heart?” she asked curiously.

“No … not that exactly, but he won’t make you happy. He is not for you. You need someone who will smile at your antics … perhaps curb you a bit … but never tame you.”

“Oh, Otto … yes, I know, but who may that be?” she asked, sighing again.

“Damn if I know,” he answered, and both eyed one another and laughed.

***

Sir Edward stepped outside and watched the count’s carriage as it was driven off into London’s hub of traffic.

A flower girl waved a daffodil at him.

“Fer yer loidy, sir … a ha’penny will do …” It was a plea.

He eyed her a moment. She was dressed in an ensemble of ill-fitting and mismatched pieces of clothing. Her hair might have been a fair shade beneath the soot and grime, and she appeared a good deal older than what he assumed her age might really be. Thinking of Lady Babs, he reached into his pocket and flipped her a coin a great deal better than the ha’penny she had asked for but refused the flower with a shake of his hand as he turned away.