Wildfire Kiss (Sir Edward 1)

Their own lodgings were within walking distance, and both Corry and Babs got out and took the walk to stretch. They told their aunt, who indulgently allowed it to be a very good thing.

They reached the front door and found Maudly flinging it wide. “Oh, pleased I am you be here …” She looked past them for the coach, saw Lord Waverly helping his sister alight, and sighed. “Come in … come in … there has been a gentleman caller who was very insistent. Sir Edward—and he said he would return later in the day …”

Corry and Babs exchanged looks, and Maudly eyed them knowingly. “Ah, as I thought. Shall I tell him you are abovestairs sleeping when he calls?”

“No, Maudly, I had better receive him,” said Babs grimly.

Thus, it was that they had only been installed in the lodgings for an hour when Sir Edward did indeed call and request to be taken to Lady Babs.

Maudly pulled a face but led him to the sitting room, where Corry and Babs were poring over some fashion magazine.

Sir Edward entered the room in his usual style. His curls were all in place, and his cutaway of blue superfine fit his trim figure, as did his embroidered blue on white waistcoat.

Corry appeared to be on high alert and determined to snub Sir Edward. “Ah … Sir Edward,” she said in a tone that discouraged any welcome. Babs turned an anxious look to her, for it wouldn’t do to goad him just then.

He seemed, however, unaware or unwilling to note the coldness in the air from both her cousin and herself. He bent over Corry’s hand, which she reluctantly allowed.

“Miss Bretton, what a delight you are to the sight. Blue becomes you,” he said, referring to her pretty muslin day gown.

She inclined her head and said quietly, “Thank you, Sir Edward. Would you join us for tea? I can have Maudly bring in another cup.” The words were polite, but they held no warmth.

His eyes seemed basilisk to Babs as he turned to her. She could see Corry watching him and bolstered herself to be brave.

His voice was hard when he answered Corry, and he was already moving closer to Babs. “No, thank you. As a matter of fact … I was hoping to convince your cousin to come for a ride with me in my phaeton.” He bent over Babs’ hand, and his lips lingered on her wrist, which she pulled sharply away. He eyed her, and she felt the warning in those eyes. “I know how much you enjoy the sea …” He turned to Corry. “And of course … you are welcome to join us.”

“No,” Corry shot back a bit more stiffly than was polite, and Babs watched the two stare at each other. Corry had made no secret of the fact that she thought Sir Edward the greatest villain on earth, and Babs half expected something awful to come out of her cousin’s mouth.

Hurriedly she interjected, “I fear my cousin is tired from the journey today … as I am.”

“The salt air will do you good, and I shan’t keep you above an hour …” Sir Edward coaxed.

Perhaps she should go with him? It would afford her an opportunity to show him what he was doing was ill fated.

“Yes … perhaps the salt air will clear the mind,” she said as she made up hers. She got to her feet. “I’ll just be a moment—must fetch my spencer and bonnet.”

“I’ll wait for you in the hall,” said Sir Edward, bending stiffly to Corry, who was giving him an awful stare and one that Babs could see made him uncomfortable. She almost giggled as she went off.

A few moments later, Babs sat quietly in the open phaeton while Sir Edward chatted about the scenery and recent literary works in his droll and unalarming manner. She was thankful that he seemed determined to be pleasant. Perhaps … perhaps he could be dissuaded from the course he had set for her?

However, when he quoted something she found absurd, she looked at him sideways and remarked, if only to bring up the subject uppermost on her mind, “Well, if you are going to quote the Quarterly’s review on poor Rodgers, then you must remember what they wrote about my work.” There—it was out, and she meant to tease him with it. She wanted a reaction.

He looked at her as he wielded his high-stepping team through the light traffic along the coast road and said, “By God, woman! You have a knack of catching a man unawares.” With that he burst into laughter.

She hadn’t wanted to entertain him. She had wanted to show him that scandal could follow him if he aligned himself with her and she was ever found out. She rather thought it would matter to him.

He sobered as she glanced at him and tried to think what next she could use. Then he said gravely, so much at variance with the laughter she had just heard, “The Quarterly did not realize they were reviewing a female’s work when they looked kindly on Passion’s Seed.”

Ah, she thought, here we go. “No, they did not know, but the words are out—they have been read. They wrote that it was an elegant piece—a wonderful love story that depicted our Prince Regent’s set in all its glory.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “As I recall, Papa told me that the Regent was very flattered.”

“And I repeat, they did not know that a woman had penned it. The Regent did not know it was written by one of his own. One does not spy on their friends and then put it to paper.”

“Unless it flatters the Prince Regent,” she said. “Which I was very careful to do … I wonder if he would mind, that it was penned by a woman …?” she mused out loud. “I have a mind to apply to him and confide my secret …”

He pulled the horses to the side of the road and turned on her. “You will do no such thing!”

“And why not? Would that make things awkward for you, Sir Edward? You wouldn’t want a wife who is whispered about … would you?”

He eyed her. “You are bluffing.”