The Kiss of a Stranger Read Free

warning, without provocation.
    “Where was your woman?” Mr. Thorndale demanded of his niece.
    “I thought she was with me.”
    Crispin reached out to touch her arm, intending to both ascertain the extent of her injury and to offer his support.
    “Miss Thorndale?”
    The poor lady was trembling.
    “Just what is your name, sir?” Mr. Thorndale’s tone turned to a sneer on the last word.
    “I am Lord Cavratt.” Crispin kept his tone civil. He would not let this man get his hackles up. He turned back toward the lady standing stoically silent beside him. “Miss—”
    “Lord Cavratt, I expect you to do what honor requires of any gentleman who has compromised a young lady’s reputation.”
    “You believe her compromised by a simple kiss?” The man truly was mad.
    Mr. Thorndale looked down his long, overly hooked nose. “That, my lord, was no simple kiss. A true gentleman would not kiss a lady that way without intending to make an offer. Unless of course your intentions were not honorable.”
    How utterly ridiculous. To force an engagement over one kiss, and one with virtually no witnesses. Society would never require such a thing. Yet Crispin couldn’t honorably refuse, not when Miss Thorndale’s own uncle considered her reputation tarnished.
    Miss Thorndale appeared as shocked as Crispin felt. She would never insist he go through with her uncle’s demands. A brief and entirely foundationless engagement ought to allow the man time to cool off and regain his head. Crispin could endure a day or so of absurdity. He and Philip could laugh about it after the fact.
    Crispin bowed and bit back an exasperated sigh. With as much grace as he could muster, he said, “If she will have me.”

Chapter Two
    Have him? Catherine didn’t even know him!
    He was apparently titled and probably wealthy. She’d certainly noticed his copper-brown hair and broad shoulders and the second and third glances he’d received from every female in the garden. More likely than not, Lord Cavratt was a complete cad. Just thinking of his kiss made her face burn hot again.
    “Of course the chit’ll take you,” Uncle sneered. “Even she is not that brainless.”
    Catherine let her hand drop to her chest, trying to regain control of her breathing. There had to be a way out of this. Lord Cavratt was looking at her, quite intensely, actually. Did he expect her to say something? Thank him for the offer, perhaps? Declare herself fortunate or pleased? Cry off, was more like it.
    Uncle could not force the poor gentleman’s hand in this way. It was unconscionable.
    “Uncle, you mustn’t—”
    Another resounding blow interrupted her plea. He hit her with enough force to split her lip. The radiating pain wasn’t new, but it never hurt any less. How many times in the last eight years had she prayed for a means of escape from this tyrant?
    “Maybe your husband will teach you to mind your place,” Uncle growled.
    Catherine held her hand tight to her face, trying to keep the blood off her dress. If she remained very still and remembered not to speak to her uncle, he might not strike again. No one should ever have to learn those sort of life lessons.
    “That will be quite enough, Mr. Thorndale.” Lord Cavratt stepped between her and Uncle, offering her a clean linen handkerchief and a look of obvious concern. Catherine lowered her eyes, uncomfortable with the pity she saw in this stranger’s face.
    Uncle ignored Lord Cavratt’s reprimand and walked toward the door. “I’ll go seek out the vicar.”
    Vicar?
    “Vicar?” Lord Cavratt sputtered, sounding as shocked as Catherine felt.
    “We’ll have this mess settled tonight.” Uncle gave Lord Cavratt the once-over. “Then you can’t run.”
    “I haven’t a Special License.” Lord Cavratt stepped toward Uncle. She didn’t realize until he’d left her side how much calmer she’d felt with him there.
    “ I have one,” Uncle said.
    He had a Special License? In his possession?
    “You