Too Dangerous For a Lady Read Free

deranged.”
    â€œNot at all. Think about it.”
    But instead she was thinking that he just might be, could possibly be, the dashing dance partner, the man who’d almost given her her first kiss, the soldier she’d never been able to forget. Thayne. Lieutenant Thayne. She’d never known his first name. It could be Ned, but if so, how had he sunk to such a state?
    One thing was clear. If there was any possibility, she couldn’t eject him to possible death.
    She forced her mind to clarity. “It won’t work. In the morning servants will come to build up the fire or bring hot water.”
    â€œServants won’t come until you summon them, and no one can enter if the doors are barred.”
    He flipped the latch on the adjoining door, then walked to the chair. He moved it to face the fire and then sat down, presenting his back to her. She could pick up the poker and hit him over the head with it, except she would never do such a thing and apparently he knew it.
    Did he know why?
    That would mean that he’d recognized her just as she’d recognized him.

Chapter 2
    S he’d attended her first true ball in May 1811, aged seventeen and giddy with excitement. She and her friends had spun to even greater heights when some young officers had arrived, having ridden five miles from their billets. Their gold-braided uniforms had sparkled beneath the hundreds of candles, but they’d stirred every lady’s heart because they were soon to sail to Lisbon to join Wellington’s army in the Peninsula. She’d felt their heroism strongly because one of her brothers, Roger, had been a soldier and had died at Corunna two years earlier.
    The six young subalterns had not all been handsome or charming, but their regimentals had made them the stars of the night. One had been splendid, with a dramatic dark-haired, dark-eyed appearance uncommon in England, but so very common in the novels she’d loved back then. Someone had said he had French blood, but that hadn’t shocked her. There were a number of émigré families whose sons fought Napoleon.
    She’d been thrilled when he asked for a dance, and felt queen of the ball when he’d later asked for a second. The waltz had not yet become acceptable, so they’d enjoyed only country dances, but the holding of hands and the occasional turn close together had been enough to sizzle her. After all, it had been her first true ball, and the first time she’d danced with a stranger.
    No wonder she’d allowed him to coax her onto the moonlit terrace. When she’d realized they were the only ones out there, she’d trembled in the expectation of her first kiss and been a little disappointed when they’d only talked. Soon that had become magical. She didn’t know why it had been so easy, but she’d talked with him as she had never talked with anyone before or since, as if they were the oldest, closest friends.
    She’d told him about Roger and his death, and about the trials of being poor.
    He’d spoken of his need to defend Britain from Napoleon and of how his mother’s family had been slaughtered in the Revolution.
    She’d complained of her parents’ fractiousness, her older sister’s temperament, and her brother Jermyn’s dull wits.
    He’d said his mother was an invalid, but that his parents’ marriage was a great love match. That had led to a discussion of the nature of love and whether it was a rational or an irrational force. Dizzyingly deep waters for a seventeen-year-old. No wonder she’d never forgotten.
    He’d been two years older and had lived the typical life of schools and sports, while she’d been educated by a governess and raised to be a perfect lady, yet there had been no barriers between them. She’d willingly let him cut a silk rose off the bodice of her gown to be his talisman, and she’d always treasured the brass button he’d given