The Reckless Bride Read Free Page A

lost to the cultists from the moment they’d ridden out of Bombay’s northern gate. He doubted the other couriers had been so lucky.
    Nearly a month into his mission, yet it had yet to truly start. Impatience niggled; he was a man of action—of facing enemies he could see, meet, and defeat.
    Around him lay nothing. Not even a hint of a threat on the wind.
    How long would it be before this hiatus ended and his final battle at last began?
    November 3, 1822
Villa in Trieste, Italy
    “We need to start for home—for England—now.” Loretta folded her arms, her gaze on Esme’s face. “You said you’d promised we’d be home for Christmas. If we don’t start now, we’ll never make it, and the weather will assuredly turn against us, too.”
    Reclining on a daybed before the windows of the drawing room of the villa she’d hired for their extended stay, Esme arched her brows. Consideration seeped into her otherwise relaxed expression, then she wrinkled her nose. “You’re right. I do so hate traveling in slush.”
    Relief shot through Loretta; her trial was nearing an end. “So we’ll head back to Venice, then via Marseilles to Paris?”
    Frowning, Esme studied her, as she often did, assessingly. “Hmm … I’m not quite finished with you. You’ve learned to be more forthright, and we’ve rectified your wardrobe, thank heavens.”
    By “losing” all the demure and decorous clothes she’d brought from London. Loretta didn’t bother glancing down at the periwinkle blue gown she wore, the color matching her eyes, the delicate fabric clinging lovingly to curves she would prefer remained hidden.
    “And you can now laugh, converse, and dance with the best of them—not that I ever doubted you could.” Esme wagged a finger at her. “But your flirting needs work, andyou’ve declined to indulge in even one small fling. Your overall attitude still leaves much to be desired.”
    “Nonsense. There’s nothing wrong with my attitude. If I happen to meet a man I find interesting, you may be sure I’ll pay him due attention.”
    “Yes, well, therein lies the rub. You need to be interesting first, enough to make him draw near. Gentlemen—certainly those of the sort you’ll find interesting—are like elusive game. They have to be tempted to draw close, so they can fall into the pit.”
    “You make it sound like hunting.”
    “Good gracious, girl, that’s precisely what it is. You can’t expect them to know what’s best for them—they need to be persuaded to take the bit. But before we start bandying further metaphors, the fact remains that my work with you is not yet done. I have, therefore, decided that we will return to England by a different route. We’ll head to Buda—Richard and I spent a pleasant few months there before the Treaty of Vienna. From there, we can take the rivers back to the Channel—much less chance of our plans being disrupted by the weather.”
    The latter consideration stilled any protest Loretta might have made.
    Esme sat up and swung her feet to the floor. “Different cities—fresh fields.”
    That was what Loretta feared. However…. “If we’re traveling to Buda, now that we’ve lost Phillipe we’ll need to hire outriders as well as a coach ourselves.” The courier-guide Esme had hired in Paris to see to their party’s needs through the journey had fallen victim to a local contessa. The contessa had captured him and whisked him off to her isolated castle; Esme had confirmed that Phillipe would not be traveling on with them. Loretta frowned. “Or should we try to find another courier-guide?”
    Esme considered, then shook her head. “If we’re to go by boat from Buda on, we’ll have no need of one.”
    “In that case"—Loretta straightened—"I’ll go into town now and make the arrangements.”
    And send off another
Window on Europe
vignette to her agent. The readers of the
London Enquirer
had, apparently, become quite addicted to her latest reports.
    November 20,