The Reckless Bride Read Free

do what she ran out of time to.”
    Elsie was Loretta’s late grandmother. Esme and Elsie had been close. “She asked you to … take charge of me?”
    “She asked me to ensure that you turned into the young lady you’re supposed to be—a proper Michelmarsh young lady. To make sure you sloughed off this ridiculous reserve you’ve acquired under Robert and Catherine’s tutelage. As well-meaning as they are—and please note I give them due credit for that—they were entirely the wrong people tohave been given charge of you. Sadly, with your sisters and Chester too young and Robert so serious about taking on the responsibility of the head of the house, there wasn’t any alternative at the time.” Esme considered Loretta. “Now, however, matters have changed, as I made clear to Robert and Catherine. This entire near-scandal, and it is indeed that as Lord Eggles and his family are not at all amused at the implied insult of your abrupt rejection, is a direct and entirely predictable outcome of attempting to impose on a Michelmarsh young lady such an alien regimen as a prim and proper reserve.”
    Loretta eyed Esme with inner disquiet and welling resistance. “I often find a proper reserve very useful.”
    “Has it gained you the husband you wish for?”
    “No.”
    “I rest my case. So now, if you please, you will travel with me and learn to live as a true Michelmarsh. And then …” Esme’s words trailed away. A martial light gleamed in her eyes. “And then we’ll see.”
    Loretta wasn’t at all sure she liked the gleam in Esme’s eyes. “You’ve never done this before, have you—acted as chaperone for a young lady?”
    Esme, her gaze still dwelling assessingly on Loretta, shook her head. “No. No children, no grandchildren. I have to admit that until now I hadn’t seen the attraction, but I do believe Therese Osbaldestone might be right—this will indeed be very like the
facilitating
one does as a diplomat’s wife.” Esme suddenly smiled. She met Loretta’s eyes. “I do believe I’m going to enjoy transforming you into a fitting testament to your heritage, then parading you temptingly beneath the right gentleman’s nose.”
    Loretta frowned.
    Undeterred, Esme flicked her fingers at Loretta’s skirts. “Apropos of which, I can only give thanks that our first stop will be Paris.”
    October 10, 1822
Caravanseri outside Herat, Afghan Supremacy
    Rafe crossed his forearms on the weathered earthen wall and looked out across the desolate landscape eerily lit by the waning moon. Behind him, in the rectangular compound protected by the walls, a large trading caravan lay sleeping, the camels picketed to one side, the wagons staggered across the open gap that provided entry into the caravanseri. Tents and rude shelters lay deeper in the compound, protecting the caravan’s people from the intensifying chill.
    Out across the flat plain, nothing moved. Not robber, not cultist.
    Standing on the narrow walkway hugging the inner face of the walls, Rafe stared out at the emptiness, at the rockstrewn plain unbroken by trees, with barely a stick of brush to soften the stark lines.
    A zephyr whispered past, then faded. Died.
    Rafe heard soft footsteps approaching. Hassan. They’d taken positions as guards with the trader who owned the caravan. It was the best camouflage they’d been able to find for crossing this too open, too uninhabited land.
    “Still no sign of pursuit,” Rafe murmured as Hassan halted beside him.
    “There is no way the cult could trace us in such barren territory.”
    “No. So the next time we see them, they’ll be ahead of us, waiting for us to come along. I wonder where?”
    Hassan said nothing. A moment later, he walked on, circling the compound in the achingly cold silence.
    Rafe drew his long cloak closer, and wondered where his friends, his three brothers-in-arms, slept tonight. Wherever they were, he suspected they’d be warmer than he, but were they safer?
    He and Hassan had been