The Rake's Irish Lady (Scandalous Kisses Book 2) Read online

  “Don’t forget to post my letter to Mr. Warren,” she told Jed, and they drove away.

  Mary Joan burst into tears at the news that they were going not to Bath, but to America. “I don’t want to!” she sobbed. “I want to stay in England.”

  So did Bridget, but there was no help for it. “I daresay it won’t be so very bad.” She suspected that Mary Joan had developed a tendre for the apothecary’s assistant, but they wouldn’t have stayed in London regardless. “If you dislike it there after a year or so, I’ll send you home.”

  Mary Joan dabbed at her eyes. “Can I write to—to my mum from America? She’ll fret about me, she will.”

  “Of course you can write to her,” Bridget said, adding diplomatically, “or to anyone else you wish.” That seemed to comfort Mary Joan. She ceased weeping, except for dabbing her eyes and the occasional soft sob.

  Sylvie, on the other hand, was excited at the prospect of going to sea. “Truly, Mama? A big ship with sails?”

  “Yes, darling.” She explained what she knew about ocean voyages (apart from seasickness, which they would experience firsthand soon enough) during the painfully long drive to the docks.

  At last they arrived and found the captain of the Annabelle, a grizzled man with a hard but not unfriendly face. “Wait over there with your baggage, ma’am. Once the other passengers arrive, we’ll row you all out to the ship.”

  She thanked him, and they stood watching the bustle of lighters, rowboats, and sailing ships of all sizes, loading up in hopes of catching the tide. Mary Joan had begun to weep again. The stupid girl would just have to adjust to her new life.

  “Mama! Look! It’s Mr. Warren!”

  Bridget whirled.

  A scowling gentleman approached the ship’s captain, two burly footmen gripping him by the arms. They were followed by an elderly manservant groaning under two valises. Behind them strolled Colin Warren and another gentleman. Colin raised a hand and came over.

  “Good morning, Sylvie, Mrs. Black.” He eyed their baggage. “What the deuce are you doing here?”

  “We’re taking ship for America,” she said as confidently as she could, considering that her heart had begun to race. Why, she had no idea. He couldn’t stop them from leaving.

  Mildly, even rather pleasantly, he said, “You promised to keep me apprised of your plans.” And yet, there was a hint of steel behind his words.

  She couldn’t afford to fear him. “And so I have. Jed posted a letter to you this morning.”

  “Much good that would do me with you already on the way to America.”

  A glance told her that the party with whom Colin had arrived were speaking to the captain. In a few moments he would call them over and they would be rowed out to the ship, away from Martin and from Colin Warren as well.

  She held out her hand. “Once again, thank you for all your help. Pick up your valise, Sylvie. It’s time to go out to the ship.”

  “Which ship?” Colin didn’t take her hand.

  “That one,” she pointed. “We’re sailing on the Annabelle.”

  Chapter 5

  “Oh, no, you’re not,” Colin said, his blood running cold at the thought of Bridget and Sylvie on the same ship as Toup.

  Bridget grabbed Sylvie by the hand. “We are leaving, and leaving now, and you can’t stop me.”

  “Not on that ship.”

  “How dare you interfere?” Bridget cried. “She’s my daughter, my responsibility, and I have every right to take her to America if I choose!”

  Infuriating woman. “I’m Sylvie’s father. I am responsible for her well-being.”

  “All of a sudden you’ve decided you’re her father? What nonsense. Yesterday you just wanted to make Martin Fallow look a fool. It has nothing to do with being her father.”

  “As a matter of fact, that’s not true.” Not that he was about to explain about Emma—neither the facts of her life and death, nor his bizarre conversations with a ghost.

  “Listen here.” Bridget jabbed his chest with a finger. “She’s mine. I bore her, I have fed and clothed and cared for her for the last five years, and I don’t need your help.”

  “You’re making a scene, Mrs. Black. Calm down and discuss this rationally.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.” The captain was beckoning. She picked up a valise. “Come, Sylvie. Come, Mary Joan. The ship will miss the tide if we don’t go now.”

  He laid a hand on her arm. He wouldn’t use force—yet. “I didn’t say you can’t take her to America.” This was a half-truth. He wasn’t saying it this minute, but he would soon enough. Why shouldn’t she stay in England? Surely they could make suitable arrangements.

  For now, he had to calm her down. “But not on this ship. You see that fellow we escorted here? He’s the one who tried to have me murdered outside the gaming hell. He also assaulted my cousin and stole from his wife. I wouldn’t put my worst enemy on board with him.” He paused. “Actually, he probably is my worst enemy.”

  Bridget’s breast heaved. Up, down, up, down, distracting him. But at least she’d shut her mouth.

  “He’s a vile fellow, so we’re getting rid of him. You and your maid will be in constant danger if you sail with him. He’s bad enough ordinarily, but let him see that I care about you and Sylvie, and he’ll do his best to destroy you.”

  The nursemaid, who was already red-eyed with weeping, burst into terrified sobs.

  Bridget glanced over at Toup and slumped. “But I have to leave,” she whispered. “I have to get away.”

  “Why?” Colin demanded but immediately tempered his tone. “You will get away, just not this instant.”

  “I can’t afford to lose the money I paid for our passage.” The captain’s beckoning had become more urgent. “He told me yesterday that once I’ve paid, I can’t change my mind.”

  “I’ll repay you for it,” Colin said. “How much was it?”

  “I don’t want your accursed money,” she hissed. “That’s tantamount to being your whore.”

  But if she didn’t take Colin’s money, what would she do? She couldn’t afford to pay their passage once again. If she did, she might not have enough to keep them comfortably in America until her man of business sent more money.

  She felt the eyes of too many men on her—the sea captain, Toup and his servant, even the footmen—and the other gentleman, who must be Lord Garrison, another notorious rake. The attention—no, appraisal—made her slightly ill.

  Colin rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it back from the blasted captain, then. How much?”

  Furious, but because she couldn’t afford to lose a penny, she told him.

  “Stay here.” He strode over to the captain. They had a short, low-voiced discussion which she couldn’t hear. Colin handed the captain some banknotes. The captain counted them and promptly returned them to Colin, who waved them at Bridget. Lord Garrison gave Colin an amused glance.

  “We’re not going?” Mary Joan squeaked. “Oh, thank God, thank God.”

  Now Sylvie burst into tears.

  “Hush,” Bridget said. “We’ll take another ship.”

  The captain and a burly sailor escorted Mr. Toup and his servant down a set of steps that led to the water. Bridget had to admit—leastways, to herself—that she’d much prefer not to be on the same ship as such a murderous man.

  But she didn’t want to owe anything to Colin Warren.

  She didn’t have a choice. Soon he strolled over and handed her the banknotes. “Here you go.”

  Reluctantly, she accepted them. “You gave him money and he gave it back. In what way does that qualify as returning my fare?”

  “I bought your passage from him so Toup’s man could have his own cabin.”

  “Oh,” she said, abashed. “That was kind of yo
u.” And quick-witted too, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d done it to help her.

  “I’m a kindhearted sort of man. So is my cousin; he promised to pay the servant’s return passage if he chooses not to remain in America. It’s not his fault he works for a dastardly fellow.”

  Lord Garrison approached. He had a hard face and didn’t smile. His kind heart, if he had one, was well hidden beneath that cool exterior.

  Colin introduced them as, “My friend, Mrs. Black, and my natural daughter, Sylvie.”

  Lord Garrison’s eyes widened a fraction. “Delighted, I’m sure.” His voice was icy cold, his gaze haughty and indifferent.

  “Curtsey to his lordship, Sylvie,” Bridget said, sketching the barest curtsey herself.

  She refused to show embarrassment before these two well-known rakes. They’d both bedded countless females and had far more cause to be ashamed.

  Sylvie curtsied obediently, but her thoughts were elsewhere. “May we go get more ices, Mr. Warren?”

  Lord Garrison gave a snort of laughter. Colin shot him an annoyed look. “Indeed we may. I’ll take you tomorrow.”

  Sylvie clapped her hands and danced about. “I’ll have raspberry first this time, and then chocolate.”

  Without so much as a nod of farewell, Lord Garrison moved away to watch the boat carrying Mr. Toup make its slow way to the Annabelle.

  “How could you promise her more ices?” Bridget demanded. “We must leave London immediately.”

  “To go where?” Colin asked, and when she didn’t have an answer, he said, “I’ll put you up in a decent hotel, and we’ll sit and discuss it, and—”

  “I will not allow you to put me up.” She already owed him too much. “I’ll go back to Jed’s.”

  “Very well,” Colin said. “I’ll escort you.”

  Colin didn’t trust her. If he let her go on her own, she might wait till he was out of sight and direct the jarvey to go God only knew where. He had to talk some sense into this pigheaded woman. He hailed a hackney and bundled them into it. “I’ll see you later,” he told his cousin.

  “You surely will.” Lord Garrison didn’t bother to contain his laughter. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Let Garrison enjoy his mirth at Colin’s expense. After dealing with Bridget Black, it would be a relief to have a rational person to talk to. “Grub Street,” he told the jarvey. He was about to climb in when Bob, clutching his red hat, ran panting and blowing toward the coach.

  “Sorry, guv.” He doubled over, heaving. “She tricked us. Pretended she was taking the stage to Bath, then took another hack here.”

  Anger simmered within Colin. “Luckily, I came here for another reason. Get into the hack.”

  Bob twisted his hat. “’Twouldn’t be right to ride inside with the gentlefolk, sir. I can walk back.”

  “Nonsense,” Colin said. “That will take an hour or more. I may need you again.”

  The driver took pity on Bob’s uneasiness. “The lad can sit here with me.” Bob climbed up beside him and they set off.

  “You had that boy following me?” Bridget demanded. “How dare you?”

  “How else was I supposed to know what foolish notion you would take into your head next?”

  “I shall never forgive you.” Bridget pressed her lips tight together. She probably had a great deal more to say, but not in front of a child and a servant.

  Fine. She could rant all she liked, but he intended to take charge from now on.

  They rode to the Bellowing Bull in almost complete silence. The nursemaid dozed in her corner, and after whining and being twice admonished to hush, Sylvie fell asleep, too.

  “We’ll drop Sylvie and her nurse at the inn, and then you and I will go for a walk,” Colin said.

  “A walk? Why?”

  “Because we need to have a private conversation, which we can’t do with Sylvie listening or Millie disapproving or anyone else for that matter.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, then gave a curt nod. “We do indeed.”

  Bridget intended to give Colin a piece of her mind. She’d seldom been so enraged. Curse the man, he’d had that boy spy on her!

  By the time they reached the Bellowing Bull, she’d calmed somewhat. She realized Colin meant well. He would insist on his way because, being male, he believed he was right. He wasn’t like Martin; she didn’t think he would threaten to take Sylvie away from her. Instead, he would charm Sylvie and do his best to charm Bridget as well. He would persist until she gave in and allowed him to support them both in a far better manner than she could afford. She supposed she should be grateful, but she couldn’t stomach the prospect. Even if she took a new identity and no one knew Colin was helping out, she would know. She would be what amounted to a cast-off mistress.

  She didn’t want that. She wanted her independence. She didn’t want to feel ashamed, but she would.

  Ignoring the bitter taste in her mouth, she shooed Mary Joan and Sylvie into the Bellowing Bull. “We won’t be staying long,” she told Jed. “Just a couple more nights. Mr. Warren and I are going for a short walk.”

  Jed’s gaze traveled from her to Colin Warren and back. “Whatever you say, Miss Bridgy.” He took the valises and went inside.

  Colin offered her his arm. She refused it. Her voice shook. “Even Jed misjudges me now. He thinks you’re going to make me your mistress again.”

  “You never were my mistress.”

  “That’s not how the world will see it.” She clenched her fists and marched along beside him. “This situation is intolerable.”

  “I agree, but you’re not making it any better by fighting me over every little thing.”

  “Little? You call my life, my reputation, my child’s future little?” She paused, fury building. “What do you mean, you agree? All you have to do is ignore me and go back to your good-for-nothing existence.”

  “You know nothing about my existence.”

  She huffed. “Too much money and not a care in the world.”

  He halted and rounded on her. “I repeat: you know nothing about my existence.”

  Startled at the suppressed fury in his voice, she stepped back. She swallowed, wondering at this glimpse of another man beneath the pleasant exterior.

  His composure slipped back into place as if he’d never lost it. “You’re an impossibly stubborn woman, and my life would certainly be simpler without you, but the fact remains that you’re the mother of my daughter. Therefore, I’m prepared to do my best to get on with you.”

  “Noble of you,” she snapped.

  “Yes, it is,” he said, and she wanted to slap him, but curse it, he was right. She was being a shrew, and whether or not she had good reason, he was showing extraordinary patience.

  “I beg your pardon, but having that boy spy on me is the outside of enough.”

  “You are quite right to be annoyed.”

  What an unexpected admission!

  “But—”

  Why couldn’t he just leave it at that? He shouldn’t have been so high-handed, and he knew it.

  “But I felt it was necessary.”

  “Why? I promised I would keep you apprised of our whereabouts, and I did, as you will see when you receive my letter.”

  “I apologize for misjudging you.”

  She truly appreciated that.

  “But—”

  Another but. Of course.

  “I am only concerned for your safety. Watch where you’re walking.” He steered her around a steaming pile of horse droppings.

  “So you say, but you hardly know me, and you only have my word for it that Sylvie is your child. Your excessive concern makes no sense.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “Maybe I want to do something useful
for once.”

  That wasn’t anything like what she’d expected. It sounded almost as if he needed her help. Which was absurd, but he offered his arm again, and this time she took it, well aware that she’d been churlish to refuse earlier. “Very well, what do you wish to discuss?”

  “First of all, I want to know why you’re in such an all-fired hurry to leave—and for America, of all lunatic choices.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with America. Parts of it are perfectly civilized.”

  “I’m sure they are, but you’re a woman alone with limited means. You’ll be all by yourself with no family to support you. What will happen to Sylvie if you become ill or die? Stay in England, for God’s sake, where I can help you out if necessary.”

  She blew out a long breath. He was proving to be so different from what she’d imagined that she couldn’t quite take it in. His reputation, his careless charm, his playful lovemaking, hadn’t prepared her for this practical approach to life.

  “I want to stay in England, but I cannot. You’ll probably say I’m being foolish, but I’m afraid.”

  “Of Fallow?” Colin made a rude noise.

  “That’s all very well for you to say, but he’s not a threat to you. I don’t think he’ll give up on marrying me.”

  “The man must be mad,” Colin said.

  “Thank you kindly for the compliment,” she retorted and took a deep breath. She must stop taking umbrage at everything Colin said.

  “I didn’t mean mad to want to marry you,” he said. “You’re an attractive woman and we both know it. But to persist when you don’t want him? Makes no sense at all.”

  “I know, but I’m sure he will. I thought perhaps he would give up and go home to Ireland, but instead he followed me all the way to London. That’s why I pretended I was going to Bath. I hoped Martin would follow a false trail. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “You’re letting your imagination run wild. It’s not surprising if you’re a little hysterical after all that’s been going on, but—