Wildfire Kiss (Sir Edward 1)

“And do you miss the wilds of America?” Sir Frederick asked Miss Bretton, as he had just learned from Lady Jane that Corry had spent most of her years there.

Corry eyed the newcomer. A certain attractiveness characterized his boyish smile. She recognized him at once as the gentleman Babs had pointed out when they were in the park the other day. There was a scandal attached to his name? She fleetingly wondered what it could be—he seemed so very pleasant.

He asked the question, but she couldn’t help but notice a distant, vagueness in his light blue eyes, a sure sadness. She was a bit weary of the subject, as she had had to answer this question so many times; however, she smiled kindly at him and answered a bit differently this time, going into more detail than she had been wont to do. “Sometimes, yes, when I think of hunting …”

His gaze sharpened. “Hunting? Fox hunting? In America?”

She laughed. “Why, yes. My father kept a kennel on our plantation in Virginia, and I loved helping him take the hounds into the field and train them off deer and onto fox.”

“Virginia? Red fox?” Clearly, Sir Frederick was amazed.

“Indeed, marvelous red foxes and grays as well. Crafty and full of sport.” She leaned in and whispered, “We never allowed it to go too far … we weren’t in it for the blood, simply for the chase.”

“Ah, you let the fox get away? Not good for the hounds, you know …”

“Well, most of the time the fox would run to earth, and we didn’t keep a Jack Russell to dive in after them, you see.” She eyed him. “I take it you are an avid fox hunter?”

Otto overheard and joined in. “Fox hunting? What’s this? What are you arranging, Freddy … we ain’t in season yet.”

Corry laughed. Otto had very quickly adopted her along with Babs and treated her very much like a sister. “No … no …”

***

Babs looked their way and was drawn into the conversation, though she was still thinking about the duke’s last remark. He was warning her off himself. And she knew why—because he simply was not in earnest.

“How you can switch in midstream from the prime minister’s murder to fox hunting is beyond reason, Count,” Lady Jane said, shaking her head.

“What is murder—even the prime minister’s—when compared to the only worthwhile sport ever discovered by man!” Otto responded with feeling.

“I feel I should say, ‘Amen’,” Sir Charles said with a laugh.

That was all that was needed. Babs laughed to herself as she sat back, watched, and listened. It was a room full of fox hunters all ready to embark upon the sport’s merits, its flamboyant extremes, its disadvantages, and its glories. So the conversation went until Otto, who knew only vaguely that Babs enjoyed scribbling of sorts, surprised her and said, “That would make a good story, Babs. You should write it.”

She blushed; she hadn’t realized he had retained that bit of information. She also felt the duke’s blue eyes appraise her, and she returned quickly, “Oh, Otto. Why me? I only dabble with the pen, after all.”

“Nonsense—there was that piece you did not so long ago for the Chronicle, and it was very entertaining. I’d wager a monkey you would have the readers splitting their sides if you recounted some of our hunting adventures on paper.”

Babs never thought she would be thankful for Sir Edward’s interruption, as he had quite worried her the other night, but it was at this juncture that he silently did indeed win her thanks.

“How cozy you all look,” Sir Edward Danton said from the open doorway. “I do hope I am not interrupting a private party.” He smiled lazily as though thoroughly bored. “There was a crisis of sorts in the nether regions of the house, and I told your poor housekeeper that I would show myself in.” He had already bent over Lady Jane’s proffered hand and turned to give Babs’ father a respectful greeting before he even acknowledged Lady Babs’ presence.

Lady Jane looked him over with mild disapproval and said, “Private party? Nonsense, and do stop quizzing us with that glass of yours! What sort of crisis?”

“I am sure I do not know,” Sir Edward said, dropping his glass as he approached Babs, who stood a bit apart from the duke and eyed him warily.

He approached, and she did not want to be rude so she allowed him her hand. He bent over it. “My lady …” he said softly.

She felt as well as noted the hard look in his eyes. She rather thought he intended mischief because of her refusal to accept his courtship, and she frowned as she worried about it for a moment.

The duke moved closer to her, but it did not deter Sir Edward as he unbent and said, “Ah, my lady Babs, you are as ever, exquisite and have quite made my day.”

“You are … too kind,” she said carefully.

“I suppose you all are aware that the Prince Regent is in a thither over poor Spence’s murder,” Sir Edward remarked nonchalantly.

“Well,” Otto said gruffly, “I don’t blame him in this instance. Everything must be in a muddle. Whigs and Tories at each other’s throats … the Hartfords moving in …”

Sir Charles clapped Otto on the back and frowned darkly. “As you say, ol’ boy. Everything is in mass confusion, and there is the third coalition to think about.” He turned to Lord Waverly. “Do you come with us then, my lord, for Nick and I must trudge over to Carlton House.”