Bodice Ripper

"No, sir."

"Well, there are going to need to be some changes around here, looking at these papers. I only have another couple of days' shore leave. I came to pay my respects—to your father, you see. In the absence of a will, all of this belongs to me."

She wondered at that comment, the way he sounded so sure that there was no will, but she didn't question it.

"I think I understand."

"Good girl!"

He was watching her, she saw. Not just once or twice, not after key comments. Everything she did was being carefully scrutinized. Everything in the room, everyone in the hall behind them—that had been his choice. She was the only variable left for him to worry about.

If this was a test, then she wasn't sure if she was passing it, or even what was being tested.

"Now," he said, his voice softening, "I don't mean to be rude, of course, but about the matter of your eligibility."

She didn't want to talk about it, least of all with her uncle. Less still with the man that she was certain had killed her father.

"Sir?"

"Well—I apologize for my frankness, but I've been a soldier for near forty years now, and I don't know another way—you've been staying alone in a house with a young man, nearly seven days now. That's not going to look good to most people of your stature, you know."

Mary didn't answer. She tried to keep her face neutral, but as he continued she realized that it was getting harder and harder. She blanched as he continued, and hoped that she appeared mortified by the entire subject, rather than afraid.

"Well, I've got some good news in that regard. I happen to know a young Earl, Earl Scarborough, a few years older than yourself, who just put in a transfer request. Now, normally I'd refuse, of course. Too much complexity to deal with some landed boy's problems."

Mary gave a noise to show she was listening, but the truth was she wasn't hearing everything he said, just bits and pieces. Enough to make her stomach churn.

"I could get the word to him that I would do him a favor, if he did me a favor—tit for tat, if you will." He smiled, as if she would appreciate the gesture. "I'm sure that with the craziness going around about soldiers back home on leave, if I told him how much you... appreciated His Majesty's soldiers, he'd be willing to overlook any indiscretions."

It took every fiber in her being not to lose her control right then and there. But if she did that, then she'd have lost already. She needed to give James time, as much time as she could give him. Until he got back to Dover with something they could use, she needed to play along. Not that it made her feel any better. She took a deep breath to steady herself before she answered.

"Can I have some time to consider it, sir?"

22

James

The train ride had been slower than he could have imagined. By the time on his watch, it took the same, but James decided that he must have forgotten to wind it; it had felt considerably longer.

The cab was small, but he didn't need much space. Just enough for a change of clothes and his own broad shoulders, that touched on both sides. The driver got the horses going at a clip, and for that at least, James was thankful.

His jacket was wrinkled from the long days of near-constant travel, and he was afraid that if he did much more then it would tear. He leaned forward and struggled to get it to slide off, and then laid it out across his lap.

"Where you going, sir?"

"The Geis estate, do you know the place?"

"Outside of town, I'll have to charge you extra, sir."

"That's quite alright," James said with a wave of his hand. He didn't have time for these sort of distractions. He needed to get back immediately. They started to trundle along the street, bouncing with the bumps and pits in the road, and for a moment James tried to turn off his brain. It would be easier that way, if he could manage it.

When he came back to the world, he wasn't immediately sure where they were, but they weren't outside of town yet. The cab turned down another street, and he started to recognize buildings again. No, they weren't outside of town yet. But they were close.

He laid his head back and examined the awning that made up the roof of the cab. He'd almost expected it to be grimy, but the wood had either been recently replaced, or else had been carefully polished.

James made a mental note to tip the man handsomely, and then a loud wail went up. German bombers were on the way, and everyone had better get to a shelter. The cab slowed, and then stopped. James stepped out and looked up at the driver.

"I don't suppose I could offer you extra to go the rest of the way?"