Desired Read Free Page B

Rothbury, even if we had to pass an Act of Parliament to make you so.” He drummed his fingers on the cartoon. “Need your help against these traitors.”
    “Yes, my lord,” Owen had said, a little grimly. The irony was not lost on him. Once, not so long ago, Sidmouth would have had no hesitation in branding him a renegade and a criminal. As an American he had been an enemy of the British state when the two countries were at war. That was before he had inherited a British peerage and turned into a slightly unlikely pillar of the establishment. He owed it to his family to uphold their honour now. Once before he had disgraced the family name under the most appalling circumstances. He would never do it again. Accepting his responsibilities now was his chance to atone.
    Tess Darent shifted within the depths of the carriage, drawing his attention back to her as she pulled the peacock feather cloak more closely about her. Owen could smell her perfume, a crisp light scent, tart but sweet, rather like Tess herself. It was perfect for her, pretty and provocative, another element of her charming and flirtatious facade. Owen wondered what it was that she was hiding. Her wide-eyed pretence would fool nine outof ten men into believing her to be every inch as superficial as she appeared. It was a pity for her that he was the tenth and did not believe a word.
    He had no grounds on which to arrest her, however. Visiting a brothel was not illegal and nor was carrying a pistol, and if she was a secret radical then he was the Queen of Sheba. The idea was absurd.
    “Good night, Lady Darent.” He kept one hand on the carriage door. “I wish you a safe journey home.”
    “And I wish you good luck in catching your miscreants.” Tess’s eyes were very wide and innocent. “What did you call them—madrigals?”
    “Radicals,” Owen said gently.
    “Whichever.” She made a little fluttering gesture with her hands. Her expression was blank. She even yawned. Owen wondered if she could possibly be as vacant as she seemed. If not, she was certainly an extremely good actress.
    “Pray give my best wishes to Lord…Sidmouth, was it?” She paused. “Is he rich? Married?”
    “Not at the moment,” Owen said.
    Tess smiled. “Rich or married?” she queried.
    “Yes, Sidmouth is rich and, no, he is not currently married,” Owen clarified.
    Tess’s smile deepened. “Then I should like to make his acquaintance.”
    “You’re looking for another husband for your collection?” Owen said ironically.
    “Marriage is my natural state,” Tess said. “Is Sidmouth old?”
    Owen laughed. “Probably not old enough to be relied on to die anytime soon.”
    “A pity,” Tess said. “I always find that a useful attribute in a husband.” Her blue eyes mocked him, sweeping over him from head to foot in knowing appraisal. “What about you, Lord Rothbury?” she asked. “Are you seeking a rich wife to go with your pretty title? I hear that your coffers hold nothing but moths.”
    “The gossip mongers have been busy,” Owen said shortly.
    “It is their function,” Tess said. “Just as it is the job of every matron with an eligible daughter to parade her under your nose.”
    “I don’t seek a wife at present,” Owen said. His feelings felt raw. Odd that Tess Darent’s clear blue gaze should, for a moment, strip away his defences. It was common knowledge that he had no fortune to go with his title. Only that morning he had had an awkward interview with his great-aunt by marriage, one of a host of elderly relatives his inheritance had also blessed him with. Lady Martindale was obscenely rich, eccentric and fearsomely opinionated. She had told Owen that if he wed, she would give him sufficient money to put his estates in order and would make him her heir. Owen knew he had reacted to her commands like a small, obstinate child; he had no wish to take a wife simply because Lady Martindale demanded it, and the alternative, to seek a rich heiress, was