Chapter 10

Fast obeyed the voice of wisdom for almost two weeks before he threw common sense to the wind and asked Miss Fontenot for a dance.

“Is that a new gown, Miss Fontenot?” he asked as they took their positions for a waltz.

She looked amused. “I suppose it is a bad sign when even a man who sets Runners on me notices when I get a new dress.”

“Will you never forgive me for that?”

“No.”

He laughed.

“I can’t believe you noticed my new gown, my lord.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“You are more a Corinthian than a tulip of fashion. I cannot believe you waste a moment’s thought about what most people wear.”

“In the main I don’t pay much attention to other people’s clothing, but I make the occasional exception.”

She fluttered her eyelashes with mock coquettishness. “Why, Lord Severn, are you flirting with me?”

“I would never presume.”

She snorted. “I was surprised when you asked me to dance after ignoring me these past weeks.”

Fast was flabbergasted when he felt heat creep up his neck. Why the cheeky little minx had embarrassed him! Perhaps he’d be lucky and she’d not notice. After all, he was still darkly tanned and—

“Why, Lord Severn! I do believe you are blushing.”

“Nonsense,” he said gruffly.

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Why did you suddenly decide to acknowledge me again? And don’t tell me that my new gown is responsible for the gesture.”

Fast could have told her that he’d asked her despite the frumpy new gown. But he suspected that even a woman with little regard for her appearance wouldn’t care for that comment.

So instead, he said, “I got tired of waiting for you ask me again.”

“Has it really been so long?”

“You are cruel woman, Miss Fontenot. Here I’ve been counting the minutes, and you didn’t even notice.”

She laughed again. “I can understand it now.”

“Understand what?”

“Your reputation as King of the Rakes. You are dangerously charming when you’re not threatening a woman with Runners.”

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I’m disappointed that you’ve managed to bring that up twice in less than as many minutes.”

“Not nearly as disappointed as I was the day those two hulking men showed up on my doorstep.”

“You do hold a grudge, don’t you Miss Fontenot?”

“I’m dancing with you, aren’t I?”

“So you are,” he said, dropping the subject. “Tell me, why have you been ignoring me these past few weeks? I’ve not seen you peering in my bedroom window, and the servants at Grandon House and those at The King’s Purse have not spotted you rooting through the rubbish bins.”

She pulled a face but did not look especially guilty. “I suppose Mr. Gregg told you about that.”

Fast didn’t tell her that he, too, had watched her climbing around in the big wooden dustbin behind Grandon House on one memorable occasion.

“It’s making me nervous that you’ve become so scarce of late.”

“Have you considered that I’ve not been scarce at all? That I’ve merely honed my skills and you haven’t noticed that I’ve been lurking outside your window?”

“I can’t imagine ever not noticing you, Miss Fontenot.”

She gave another of her disbelieving snorts. “Oh, do leave off, my lord. Save your pretty words for somebody who might be taken in by them.”

He grinned. “Tell me about yourself, Miss Fontenot.”

“Why should I?”

“You know so much about me.” He cocked his head. “Please don’t make me come dig through your rubbish bin.”

She laughed. “No, I wouldn’t want that. Our housekeeper would chase you off with a broom and a few choice words. What do you want to know about me?”

“Where are you from? Do you have family? How is it that you came to be living with Lady Sedgewick? There, that should be enough to get started.

“I’m from a small village outside Liskeard. My parents died when I was very young, and my older brother raised me. He is a vicar and is married to a lovely woman and they have five daughters.”

“Tell me about your brother.”

“What about him?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“So suspicious! I am just making pleasant conversation, Miss Fontenot. That is what people do when they dance.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but said, “His name is Jeremy and he is older by more than ten years. I was an afterthought to my parents.”

“But one I’m sure they were very grateful for.”

“How gallant you are, my lord.”

“You make that easy, Miss Fontenot.” He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a hard look. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“You earned it. Tell me about your family, my lord.”

“I would have thought you ferreted out all my details in your visits to my grandfather’s estates. Yes,” he said at her startled look, “I know you visited both our family seat and the property in Scotland. Tell me, did you find what you were looking for?”

“If you know of my visits then I daresay you know the answer to that question, too. Your people are very loyal to you.”

“They are my grandfather’s people.”

“The loyalty I encountered was directed toward you, not your grandfather.”

“Do I detect a note of surprise that I might engender loyalty?”

“You’re so suspicious , my lord. We are just conversing. It is what normal people do when they dance,” she said, mimicking him so accurately it made him smile.

“Fair enough. To answer your question, only Percy and I survived. My mother had numerous miscarriages before we were born, but there were no attempts afterward as my father had done his duty and produced his heir and spare in one go.”

“ His duty? How arduous a man’s part is in childbirth! What about her duty?”

He barked a laugh, the noise loud enough to be heard over the music. Several other couples glanced their way. One of them was Moreland, who was dancing with the lovely young Miss Pascoe.

Bevil gave Miss Fontenot a significant once over and then smirked, evidently unimpressed.

Good. The last thing Fast wanted was for Bevil to guess just how much he liked Miss Fontenot. The other man was not above adding something new to the betting book at White’s.

By dismissing Miss Fontenot so summarily Bevil had, yet again, proven what a shallow, unobservant man he was. While her gown was an unattractive shade of blue and fit her like a shapeless sack with long sleeves—something Fast had never seen on a ballgown—her vibrant beauty still shone through.

The woman didn’t need pretty clothing to be stunning, but Moreland was too much of a snob to look past an unflattering garment.

“I’ve heard you are in the lead in that particular race,” Miss Fontenot said, interrupting his thoughts.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know what race I’m talking about—the one for Miss Pascoe’s hand, as well as the rest of her, including her money.”

Fast laughed. “Do you just say whatever comes to mind, Miss Fontenot?”

“Do you always evade direct questions?”

“Oh, was that a question? Because it sounded like an observation. Or an accusation. What makes you think I’m even in the running for Miss Pascoe’s delectable person and heaps of money?”

“It is well-known you came back to marry.”

“Strange that I didn’t know it.”

“Are you denying it? I know your grandfather is soon coming to London for the first time in over a decade. What else could bring him to the city but to arrange the betrothal of his heir?”

She was right about that—or at least partly right. His grandfather was trying to use guilt to force Fast into doing his duty. But the last person in London he would confide any information in—not to mention personal information—was the woman across from him.

“What a fertile imagination you have, ma’am. You should be writing fiction rather than slaving away a David Parker’s dreadful rag.”

“Miss Pascoe will make a lovely bride.” she retorted smoothly, ignoring his dig.

Fast chuckled. “You are a treasure, Miss Fontenot. Indeed, I can’t recall when I’ve been so diverted. Or enjoyed a dance more than this one.”

For a moment she looked flustered, and her lovely cheeks misted with pink.

Interesting. The little gossip monger could be disarmed by a compliment, whereas threats and Runners failed to disturb her cool, calm facade.

But the moment of shyness passed in the flicker of an eyelid and the hard-nosed newspaperwoman returned with a vengeance. “Why do you think somebody would accuse you of giving aid to mutineers, my lord?”

Again, he laughed. “You are relentless .”

***

Even though Lord Severn had laughed, Lori thought it sounded a bit forced.

He shook his head. “Astounding.”

“What is astounding?”

“You are always the newspaperwoman, even on the dance floor.”

“Those of us who work for a living must spin hay into gold while they may.”

“Ah, work. Something I wouldn’t know anything about?”

“Are you saying you were forced to earn a living as a privateer, my lord?” she asked, not bothering to keep disbelief from her tone. “That’s not really the same, is it? After all, you could always come home to grandpapa if you tired of playing at hard labor.”

His eyes, which had become wary at her mutiny question, now glittered with genuine amusement. It appeared the man enjoyed being baited and insulted. How…odd.

“I should dearly love to set you straight on the matter, my dear.” His lips flexed into a faint smile. “Alas, I am going to strenuously resist the urge to do so.”

Lori cocked her head and stared up at him, desperately wishing she could see beyond Severn’s mask to the man who lived behind it. “Why are you so resistant when it comes to talking about your past?”

“Why do I feel like anything I say to you will end up on the front page of The Mercury earning money for David Parker?” he countered.

She ignored his question. “Your ship operated under a letter of marque, so you are well-known to the government and the Vixen has been mentioned in newspapers—even respectable rags such as The Times —on more than one occasion, so what you’ve done is hardly a secret.”

“The Vixen was never my ship; I merely captained her for the true owner. It is he you should interrogate.”

She laughed. “Come now, I think we can drop that pretense. Everyone knows that the so-called owner of record is just the figurehead, that you are the real power behind the Vixen. ”

“What a shame we cannot continue this conversation, Miss Fontenot.”

“Why can’t we?”

He gave her an oddly gentle smile. “Because, my dear girl, the dance is over.”