“He’s always lecturing me about the narrow path of righteousness.”
“Oh Lord. He sounds like a bore,” said Marta with a frown.
“Then, you don’t want to be seen with us, my dear Sandrine,” Roslyn said with a cheeky grin. “Our path is crooked as they come.”
“What do you mean?” Sandrine asked.
“Never mind Roslyn,” said Francesca, linking her arm with Sandrine. “Perhaps your cap is set for another gentleman?”
“She did meet a gentleman this summer, a Mr. Danny Smith. Perhaps you know him, Francesca?” asked Mrs. McGovern. “He’s very tall, almost excessively handsome, with dark hair and deep blue eyes.”
“Sounds dreamy,” Marta sighed. “Is he a military gentleman?”
“I don’t think so, though he did have a friend who was a war hero and a duke. I don’t know that much about Mr. Smith, to tell the truth. I’m trying to forget about him since he left Squalton suddenly and never contacted me again. The only thing I really know about him is that his mother died in childbirth, and he likes to race curricles.”
“Race curricles, you say?” Roslyn raised her delicately arched brows. “That’s very odd. We do know a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman who races curricles and has a war hero for a friend, but his name is Lord Dane Walker, and he’s an infamous rake.”
“That can’t be him, then,” Sandrine said. “Mr. Smith was a common man. Very charming, respectful, and honorable. At least I thought he was, until he left town suddenly without even saying goodbye.”
“If he’s in London, we’ll find him and bring him to scratch!” said Marta. “I’m very good at finding handsome men.”
“Speak of the devil and he appears,” exclaimed Francesca. “Here’s Lord Dane now, with his entourage of cocksure rakes and rascally rogues.”
Sandrine followed her gaze, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. It was Danny! In crisp black evening attire, swaggering toward them at the center of a group of equally fashionably attired young rakes, who were joking loudly and jostling one another.
Mr. Danny Smith. Dripping with confidence and animal appeal, staring appreciatively at a woman wearing a scandalously low-cut red gown who was devouring him with her eyes. He was gorgeous, and he knew it.
He looked like a completely different person. His expensive clothing, his arrogant posture. Could it be the same man she’d met at the seashore? She must know.
Her feet set her running toward him before she could think about the propriety of a mad dash through a crowded theater.
She was breathless by the time she reached him. “Danny? It’s me, Sandrine!”
Chapter Nine
A lady must never display her temper in public, no matter how severely provoked.
—Mrs. Oliver’s Rules for Young Ladies
What in the name of creation? Sandrine wasn’t supposed to appear at a theater in Covent Garden. Rushing at him with arms outstretched and eyes lit with pleasure, a vision of beauty in a simple white gown with pink cheeks and tousled sunshiny curls.
“What are you doing here, Sandrine?” he whispered, trying to draw her aside for a more private conversation. The Pink Ladies weren’t far behind Sandrine, with knowing grins and gossip-hungry eyes.
“I’m here with Mrs. McGovern and Miss Hodwell for a fortnight. Why did you leave Squalton so suddenly?”
“I thought you said that your mother would never allow you to visit London.”
“She changed her mind. You’re not... happy to see me?”
For those first moments as she approached him he’d been utterly, deliriously happy to see her. It was as though the crowd had melted away around her, and she’d been the only woman inthe room, her hair glowing in the gas lamps, her eyes the color of a calm sea at sunset.
In those first moments he’d wanted to run toward her, sweep her into his arms, and kiss her. Carry her to his curricle and take her home to his bed. Promise never to leave her again.
But then he’d remembered the fist to his gut, the rough voices, the cold edge of the knife pressed against his throat.Your life is ours now. You’ll do what we say when we say to do it.
His life was in danger, and the lives of anyone associated with him might be in peril as well.
Sandrine must be sent back to safe, sleepy Squalton. She couldn’t be associated with him. Not until he learned the truth of what his brother had done and why these ruffians were blackmailing him. He stepped back, closing ranks with his friends, who were giving him curious looks.