Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

"This is a mistake."

That sounded like he might relent. "The mistake is delaying our departure."

He gestured toward her yellow gown with a contempt her modiste's best efforts didn't deserve. "You'll need to change."

He'd yielded, although he was yet to admit it. She hid a triumphant smile. She faced hours in this mercurial man's company. Silly to get him offside. Or more offside. "I'll be quick."

"You'd better be."

The smile at last proved unstoppable, although she hoped it wasn't as smug as it felt. Extraordinary to smile at all. Defying Mr. Townsend bolstered her courage. "You'll take me, then."

His sigh was long-suffering. "Not if you're more than five minutes getting ready—and very much against my better judgment. God help us both."

Chapter Two

* * *

Anthony stared helplessly at the ravishing blond sylph in blue who imagined she could stand up to him. And against all expectations, seemed to have prevailed.

His family was respectable. His father had been a mine manager, so he'd been brought up with a modicum of decency. He'd never gone hungry. He'd had a good education. He'd had an adventurous life, discovering the world and its wonders.

But never in his travels had he seen anything to match Lady Deerham.

Since he'd made his fortune, many a lordling had been eager to take advantage of his business acumen. But ladies remained an unfamiliar breed. Especially ladies like this, as fragile as a new rosebud or the Venetian glass he imported to such great profit. When he'd stopped shouting long enough to notice what she looked like, his mind had immediately turned to custard.

When his brain resumed working, all he knew was how huge and clumsy and unrefined he was compared to her graceful perfection. It was like Caliban yearning after Ariel, if Caliban was a great bear of a blockhead with a booming voice, and hands like dinner plates, and the manners of a stevedore. By rights, she should shrink from his uncouth presence.

But this creature of air and light possessed surprising courage. No common sense at all, of course, or else she'd see that her plans were totally unsuitable.

He definitely knew one thing about gentlewomen. Rules hedged them about, tighter than the strapping on a bale of fine merino wool from New South Wales.

But somehow despite being a foot shorter and half his weight, she'd forced an agreement from him. Another item to add to his list of facts about the nobly born female. They were damned slippery customers.

"Mr. Townsend?"

He must be gawping at her as if she'd clouted him on the noggin with a cricket bat. Which was a fair description of his state. "Aye, you can come. But cause any trouble and I'll unload you at the first inn we come to and send a carriage to collect you when everything's over."

"That's a bargain." Her smile intensified the sensation of having been hit with a blunt instrument.

Dear Lord above, but she was pretty.

She was completely out of his sphere and pointless to want, but nobody could stop a man from taking pleasure in a bonny lass.

When he was alone, he lifted her untouched brandy and downed it in one gulp. Even though he was a fellow of generally abstemious habits.

The liquor hit his throat with a hot burst and shocked him back to the current moment. But as he went outside to check the horses, he could swear he wasn't the same man he'd been half an hour ago.

* * *

Anthony had to give Lady Deerham credit. She was downstairs in not much more than the unreasonable five minutes he'd specified. Thank God they delayed. As they descended her front steps toward his curricle, a horseman raced into Curzon Street and flung him

self down before them. In the torchlight, he looked filthy and frantic and travel-weary. All the sudden activity made Anthony's highbred horses shift restlessly in their harness and the footman holding their heads spoke in a low voice to calm them.

"I'm looking for Lady Deerham," the man gasped as another footman ran down to catch the sweating horse. "I've come from Eton College."

Hell, don't let this be more bad news. The rider's manner immediately discounted any chance that the lads were safely back at school. "What is it?" Anthony automatically stepped nearer to Lady Deerham.

"I am Fenella Deerham," she said with admirable dignity. Between the torches and the full moon, Anthony couldn't miss how the blood drained from her porcelain complexion.