Yankee Earl by Shirl Henke

Author:Shirl Henke [Henke, Shirl]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Shirl Henke
Published: 2012-01-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“So, sir, have I passed your inspection?” Rachel asked Drum as they sipped their libations. She had called for one of her father's best bottles of port, feeling the need for its restorative powers to face Jason's compatriot. Their conversation had been most…enlightening, for want of a better word.

Drum could feel her studying him with the same keen intelligence Joss possessed. “You have passed with colors flying, m'dear.”

They had taken each other's measure, at first awkwardly, then as both natural wits flared and clashed, laughingly. It was apparent to Rachel that Alvin Francis Edward Drummond wanted to make certain that she was worthy of Jason Beaumont. At his pronouncement, she felt oddly relieved…and yet disturbed. After all, she and Jason were scarcely making lifelong commitments. At least, Jason was not. Rachel knew that if she succeeded in seducing her husband on their wedding night, there would be a lifelong commitment on her part, especially if she became pregnant.

Drum interrupted her troubling ruminations. “In spite of superficial differences, you and my friend Jocelyn Blackthorne have much in common…including a well-concealed tendresse for your roguish males.”

Rachel almost choked on her port. “As you already know, our marriage will be scarce a day's duration.”

"Time enough," Drum replied dryly.

Rachel knew her cheeks had heated and cursed Jason Beaumont for causing her to react in such a missish fashion. Drummond cannot know what I plan…can he? The deadly duelist had not been what she expected. He was a dandy, yes, even a bit misogynistic as were many of his ilk, but he was fiercely loyal to his friends and altogether too shrewd. She met his level gaze without flinching. How much could she tell Drummond? How much had Jason already told him?

Her swift calculations were interrupted by the sound of distressed voices coming from the foyer. Excusing herself, she opened the door to see what the commotion was about. Drum was immediately behind her, and they both recognized Ames, one of the Cargrave footmen, as he argued with the viscount's butler.

“I say, Ames, why are you raising a breeze?” Drum asked, crossing the floor with a grim expression on his face. He knew this had something to do with Jason.

“ ‘Is lordship, sir, the earl, 'e went out, to Brook's, but then 'e give Jemmy 'n Seth the slip. Took a 'ackney from the side door.”

Drum cursed, then started to apologize to Rachel, who brushed such niceties aside and asked the footman, “Do you have any idea where he went?”

The jarvey wot Jemmy talked to, 'e said 'e took 'im to the wharves.”

Now Rachel muttered a most unladylike oath. “Does the fool Yankee have a wish to die!”

“I shall find him, never fear, Miss Fairchild,” Drum reassured her, although he felt not half so certain as he let on. Just as he turned to go, he felt her hand on his arm.

“I’m coming with you. Only wait a moment while I fetch my pistols.”

He stood in amazement as she raised her skirts and sprinted up the stairs with unseemly haste.

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