The quiet of the country ate at his nerves and Ashe
Blackwell had to force himself not to pace. Bellewood, his
family’s home was less than a day’s ride from Town, but it
felt to Ashe like it sat on the furthest edges of
civilization. His grandfather’s library had always been his
least favorite room as a child, with its gloomy colors and
dusty shelves. It was here he’d been brought if there was a
punishment to be determined or a stern reprimand was to be
given. Gordon Walker Blackwell was not a man Ashe had ever
wanted to face after he’d been caught at one childhood
misadventure or another.
Damn! How is it a man can live for more than three decades
and then suddenly feel like an eight year old in short
pants? Hell, it’s not like I’ve recently been around to
break vases or get caught snogging the—
“Is that the style in London these days or did you not
change your clothes after arriving?” His grandfather’s voice
was edged in familiar icy authority but the years had robbed
the older gentleman of the power of volume and Ashe winced
to hear it. It saddened him to see the dear monster losing
his teeth. “Your coat is rumpled, Ashe, like a man who takes
no care of himself.”
Ashe managed a half-bow, and tamped down on his habitual
sarcasm out of an old love for the codger. “I only just
arrived, and meant to change after a muddy ride, but your
butler brought me here and indicated that your business
could not wait.”
“Nor can it! I’ve no time to waste as you seem to have.”
“I make the most of every day, Grandfather,” Ashe countered
gently.
“How dare you, sir! You make the most of your nights and I
suspect you haven’t seen much of a morning ever since you
returned to England! You are a disgrace, Ashe. I hear report
after report of your carousing in London and I marvel that
you can stand before me without hanging your head in shame.”
Ashe’s spine stiffened, not enjoying the lecture. “I’m
flattered that you would follow my pursuits so closely. But
the gossips may exaggerate my—“
“Do they?” his grandfather stepped closer cutting him off.
“Is it all wrong? Am I misinformed? Are you a moral example
of what a gentleman should be, my boy?”
Ashe hesitated at the strange new tone in the older man’s
voice. Was that desperation? But a lie wasn’t possible. “No,
Grandfather, you are not misinformed.”
Silence strung out between them and Ashe’s chest ached at
the stirring look of raw disappointment in the old man’s eyes.
“Which brings me to the reason that I summoned you out of Town.”
Here it comes. Lecture finished and now we’ll get to
whatever is troubling him.
“I’m dying.”
Shock froze Ashe in place at the unvarnished announcement.
His grandfather was older, yes, and looking a little
slighter, but on the verge of passing? Finally, he managed
to reply, “Is this Dr. McAllister’s opinion as well? Are
you…ill?”
An impatient gesture cut off the awkward sympathetic line of
Ashe’s questions. “I hate doctors and of course, I’m not
ill! Don’t be daft! Do I look desperately ill to you?”
“You just said you were dying. I’d say that was a logical
inquiry.”
“We are all mortal, and don’t give me that knowing look. I’m
sharper than a man a fraction my age and I’ve not gone soft
in the skull.”
“A relief to hear,” Ashe struggled not to smile.
“Mind that wit of yours!” He straightened his shoulders and
Ashe caught a glimpse of the formidable younger man again.
“I’m closer to the end of life than I care to contemplate!
And who do I have before me to carry out even the saddest
parody of a legacy?”
Damn. The lecture hadn’t even gotten started.
Ashe’s smile faded. “No one could match your legacy, sir.”
“You could at least try!” The old man turned away, moving to
the great marble fireplace over which his own
great-grandfather’s portrait looked down on them both. “When
I lost your father—when your parents were killed, I took you
on and never thought that all the promise and potential you
held would be squandered before my eyes.”
“I’m not an opium addict, Grandfather, and I’m certainly not
squandering—“
“You had your moments of mischief before, but I was never
alarmed. But ever since your return from India… I’m not even
begging you to marry. Although, God knows, it’s not a
ridiculous thing to ask you to make a good match and provide
us all with a healthy heir or two.” A sigh rattled through
his slender frame, and he leaned against the carved Italian
marble mantel. “Give me some hint that you’re not completely
lost, my boy.”
“I am not lost.”
His grandfather turned back, the same odd intense light in
his eyes that had made Ashe wary at the start of their
conversation. “You are so far into the dark woods, I don’t
think you remember who you are. It’s whatever that India
business was, but it’s no matter. I have the solution, Ashe.”
“Do you?”
“I could threaten to cut you off, naturally. I could tell my
solicitors that your name is to be struck from the will. I
could do it, Ashe.”
“It’s your right to do so. And since I’ve disappointed you,
not even I would dare argue against that decision,
Grandfather.” Ashe spoke as honestly as he could. “I would
rather forfeit ten fortunes than earn your disdain. And I’m
sorry for it.”
“Ah, hell!” His grandfather drew closer. “Enough! I know
that even if I removed every farthing from the will, it
won’t leave you destitute since you clearly made some sort
of fortune on your misadventures—but there is more to an
inheritance than money, my boy.”
“True.”
“So…” he circled Ashe, as if assessing a new racehorse. “I
understand you are a gambling man.”
Ashe nodded slowly. “I’ve been known to take a risk or two.”
“Then hear my proposal.” His grandfather gestured toward two
waiting chairs by a small side table, and the men settled
in. “I want some reassurance that if you truly wanted to,
you could rein yourself in. My fear is that you’re beyond
the call of discipline, my boy, and while I love you beyond
measure, I will not leave our family’s fortunes, land and
holdings in the hands of a jack ass who can’t keep his pants
buttoned.”
Ashe leaned back in his chair. “Some reassurance? Are you
asking me to reform in a religious flash of fervor? Join a
monastery? Or did you just want some kind of vow that I
could, as you put it, rein myself in, if and when I wished to?”
A black look answered his questions. “I’ll take a simple
demonstration.”
“What kind of demonstration?”
“A single social Season in which you don’t cause a solitary
scandalous ripple in the wide and murky pond that is
London.” The older man leaned forward, “It’s not much, Ashe,
in the greater scheme of things, but I’d be hard pressed to
think you’d admit that you don’t have the spine to behave
for the briefest span of a few months. Or have you grown so
weak that you’re sitting over there wondering how you might
possibly survive such an ordeal?”
“Not at all. I was wondering why you’d set the bar so low.”
“Oh, it may not be as easy as it looks. After all, with a
reputation like yours, a single unremarkable Season may not
truly be possible. And I’m not going to allow you to hide in
the country and wait it out, either. You’ll be in Town with
all your demons. But,” he sat back, shifting as if to feign
indifference, “if you managed it, then all threats of
cutting you out would forever be gone. I’ll face my final
years knowing that when the crisis comes, you still have the
potential to live up to your lineage.”
“And if I fail?” Ashe asked, aware that no dare was without
consequences.
“Not only will I cut you out, but I will hand all things
over to your second cousin, Mr. Yardley, who by the way, has
been less than subtle in expressing his desires to improve
the house and make a better show of it.”
Yardley? Elton Yardley is a sniveling excuse for a human!
He’d met the man a scant three times and even so, the memory
of the ferret-faced man made his skin crawl. Of all the
people to stand in the wings, Yardley was the last person on
earth that Ashe wanted to see benefiting from a great man’s
passing. “Like hell he would!”
His grandfather’s smile held no hint of mirth. “But that’s
not the last of it. For you see, Ashe, I would then see your
name published with infamy and make it publicly known on
both sides of the Atlantic that you are a scoundrel and
irredeemable in your family’s eyes.”
My God, he’s serious.
He went on before Ashe could respond. “I’ll take an article
out in every paper of note on this globe warning every woman
of quality to shun you and every man of name to reconsider
his friendships.” The threat was quiet, but Ashe didn’t
think a gunshot would have resounded any harder.
“So, let me understand your meaning. I take this challenge, or…”
“Or the worst unfolds, just as I’ve described it.”
Ashe hated feeling cornered, but it was difficult to think
of a soothing argument that would divert his grandfather
now. Once the old man was set on an idea, he was notoriously
stubborn.
But this? What trap is this?
“One Season of impeccable behavior and all is forgiven?”
Ashe asked. I’m missing a step here, but if it means keeping
Yardley’s clammy hands off of my grandfather’s silverware…
“And it didn’t occur to you to just ask without all this
posturing?”
“I’m fairly certain I’ve already attempted simple
requests—to no avail, Ashe.” He shook his head. “I can’t
face seeing you drag our name through the mud and while you
may think your activities have gone unnoticed, I can assure
you, they have not.”
Ashe clenched his jaw, feeling defensive and impatient.
“Have no fear, Grandfather. I’ll be the consummate gentleman.”
“You’ve agreed then?”
“Yes, but not because of the inheritance.”
“No, of course not, but I am pleased to know that some small
part of you cares enough about your reputation and the
future of our family to give me the demonstration I need.”
His grandfather stood, and Ashe reflexively did the same.
“Take my hand, Ashe, and swear to me that this Season, you
won’t so much as twitch off the respectable path of
invitations and activities I’ve laid out for you. No
gambling and no whores, my boy, or I’ll prove that one of
us, at least, is a man of his word, and I’ll make good my
threats. ”
Invitations and activities he’s laid out for me? I think a
part of me is twitching already, but there’s no out now.
“I swear it.” Even as he spoke and shook his grandfather’s
cool dry hand, Ashe felt the weight of his words for the
first time. He was vowing to genuinely behave for a Season,
which would have been challenging enough, but this Season
had promised to be particularly wild and exciting—and the
temptations that abounded in London would be hard to resist.
Well, at least Josiah and the others will get a chuckle out
of this ironic twist of Fate.
“Good.” The elder Blackwell moved over to a sideboard to
pour himself a small measure of port. “Oh, I forgot one
small caveat.”
Ah! Here’s that missing piece. “And what was that?”
“You’ll understand if I cannot simply take your word for
this good behavior. Not that I don’t trust you,” he lifted
his glass in a token salute, “but I don’t trust you, Ashe.”
“Will you be accompanying me for the Season then?” Ashe
asked, praying the answer would be ‘no’.
“Hardly! I’m too old for Town and frankly, too old to try to
keep some sort of watch on your person at every hour!” he
scoffed, then downed his port to set the small glass aside.
Thank God. Not that I’m off to cheat this wager, but—
“No,” he continued smoothly. “I’ve arranged for a chaperone.”
Ashe blinked twice. “A what? You arranged for a…” He
couldn’t say it. It was too unbelievable.
“A chaperone.” His grandfather’s smile was far more genuine
now, as he openly enjoyed his grandson’s discomfort. “I have
arranged for someone who will be at your elbow and accompany
you at every event to guarantee that you don’t forget what’s
at stake.”
“You’re serious! I’ll be damned if I’m walking about like
some virginal debutante with a dragon in tow!”
“Nonsense! Look on it as my way of showing support for your
new moral effort. By providing a chaperone, you’ll be less
likely to stumble. And no one need know of the position
you’re in! Your chaperone won’t declare their role openly or
the nature of our arrangement.”
“Well, there’s one thing we agree on. I’m not about to
announce to my peers the reason I’m playing choir boy and
tooling about with a chaperone!”
“Mind your manners!” his grandfather said, his stern looks
returning. “All this protesting makes me think you had every
intention of botching this wager from the start! Well, if
you want out, and your word means nothing, then say so now.
Because if you meant your oath honestly, then it shouldn’t
matter if I hire a legion of chaperones and spies, should it?”
Well, there’s a point of logic I should have anticipated…
Oh, well. I’m already in up to my eyebrows, so why complain
about the temperature of the water?
Ashe let out a long slow breath. “You’re right and I have no
intention of backing out. I just—I have never heard of a man
with a chaperone, so you’ll have to give me a moment to
accept the notion.”
His grandfather nodded and moved over to the bell pull by
the fireplace to give it a firm tug. Within seconds, the
butler materialized in the doorway.
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Frasier said with a curt nod.
“Bring in Townsend, Frasier.” He walked back to Ashe, his
hands behind his back. “Try to be polite when you meet your
chaperone, my boy.”
Ashe felt a twinge of confusion. Why wouldn’t I be polite to
the chap? Hell, if he thinks we’re the best of friends, I
may actually get to take a deep breath this Season without a
dispatch flying back here and setting off cries of alarm. “I
am always polite to your friends.”
His grandfather said nothing, but gave him an arched look
full of skepticism. Within seconds, the library doors opened
again, and Ashe turned to see what flavor of windbag his
chaperone would be.
A petite woman in a pale grey gabardine dress that was
several seasons out of fashion came toward them, and Ashe’s
first impression was that his grandfather’s new housekeeper
was a good bit younger than he’d have expected. But as she
drew closer, a new and more startling idea occurred to him.
He wouldn’t! She cannot possibly be—
“Allow me to introduce you to your chaperone and companion
for the Season. This is Miss Caroline Townsend. A relation
to my very best friend and American business partner, Mr.
Matthew Townsend, now sadly passed away. I have invited her
here to attend this very serious and delicate matter and
after a week in her company, I am convinced that she is
entirely suited to the task at hand.”
“This is preposterous!” Ashe turned to his grandfather,
rudely ignoring her and cutting her out of the exchange. “I
might have managed to accept this if you’d sailed in some
granite faced old dowager, but you cannot possibly think
that a—how in God’s name were you thinking that this might
work?”
“It will work because a young woman gives you the perfect
excuse! It will work because you will present her as a
family friend and you will take the role of guardian! It
will work because with her at your side, you may actually
get admittance into respectable houses and decent company!
It will work, because no one would suspect the truth!” The
years dropped off his face as he spoke, and Ashe had to
remind himself not to take a step backward as the old
intimidation began to work its magic. “It will work because
I’m telling you to make it work!”
For long seconds, they faced each other, until at last, Ashe
was forced to blink. He reluctantly stepped back and barely
spared a quick glance back at the woman, before closing his
eyes in frustration. A plain drab little pony of a thing,
but the old man’s probably guessed correctly. If I’m to have
a dreary Season, she’ll provide the perfect dreary excuse. Damn!
“My grandson will apologize for his rudeness,” the elder
Blackwell said, his voice full of warning. “And I, too, Miss
Townsend, for not preparing him and raising him properly to
mind his manners in the presence of a lady.”
“Not at all,” she spoke, and the strong silk of her voice
and strange flat American accent caught Ashe’s attention
immediately. “Your grandson is a grown man and old enough to
do and say what he pleases. And if it pleases him to be rude
and boorish, then that’s no reflection on you, Mr.
Blackwell. You’ve been nothing but kind, sir.”
Rude and boorish? Ashe clenched his jaw in frustration, but
managed to growl out his words. “I apologize, Miss Townsend.
But as you’ve pointed out, I’m a grown man, and hardly in
need of a chaperone, despite what my grandfather believes.”
She tilted her head to one side, a small bird openly
unafraid. “What you’re in need of, sir, is not for me to say
for fear of seeming equally rude, but I’ve promised your
grandfather I’d do what I could to assist you, so we’ll just
have to make the best of it, won’t we?”
Ashe forced himself not to sputter in astonishment at the
woman’s cheekiness. She’d openly insulted him, and then
stood there as calmly as if they were discussing the
weather. He looked at her more closely, his first impression
of a grey dove giving way only slightly. Her brown eyes were
large and framed with impossibly long lashes that gave her
an inquisitive countenance, but not an owlish one. Her gaze
was far too direct for an English woman of breeding, but the
intelligence there made it difficult to look away. Her
features were balanced and pleasing, but her color was far
too high for the current fashion. Ladies were encouraged to
look as porcelain like as possible, hinting at a lofty
station that allowed them to shun the sun and all excesses
that might put a permanent stain on their faces. Instead of
dainty curls and a lace headdress, her dark blonde hair was
pulled back with a simple fall of waves down her back
without a single ornament.
She was plain but for those mesmerizing eyes... But the Ton
will tear her to pieces—an American! With the manners of a
rough and tumble Colonial, no doubt, to match that saucy
tongue of hers!
His grandfather laughed, and the surprising sound of it
arrested the dark vein of his thoughts. “I’ll leave you to
get acquainted for a few moments.”
“I hardly think that’s necess—“ Ashe started to protest.
“Nonsense! You’ll talk and make amends to the lady.” He
turned to take Miss Townsend’s hand. “I will see you both
for a cordial dinner and then you may both take your leave
in the morning in my carriage. Ashe will take you into Town
and see you settled at his home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blackwell.”
He left without another glance at his grandson and Ashe let
out a long sigh, before attempting another start with his
“chaperone”. “I am genuinely sorry, Miss Townsend, for my
behavior. But I am also sorry that you seem to have been
thrown to the wolves without your knowledge. I’m having
trouble understanding why my grandfather thought to put you
in such an untenable position, but as you seem to grasp, I
have little say in the matter.”
“Are you the wolf in question?”
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Then I fail to see the difficulty, Mr. Blackwell.”
His brow furrowed, unsure of how realistic a portrait to
paint for her. After all, if she refused to proceed with the
plan, he could hardly be blamed. But if she went into it
without any idea of the obstacles ahead, he wasn’t sure he’d
be able to live with himself. “Are you well versed in the
etiquette of a London Season, Miss Townsend?”
Ashe watched a flash of fiery temper alight in her eyes, and
knew the answer before she supplied it.
“Good manners are common sense, Mr. Blackwell, and I’m sure
I’ll pick up on things quickly enough. We are not entirely
without the social niceties in Boston.”
“No, I didn’t imagine you all in mud covered huts, Miss
Townsend.”
“Yet you seem to look at me as if I’m wearing animal hides,
Mr. Blackwell.”
“Now there’s a wicked picture,” he said, unable to keep from
smiling at the thought of the little terrier of a woman in
front of him wearing nothing but a few furs. He went over to
the side table. “Port, Miss Townsend?”
“No, thank you.”
Why am I not surprised? He smiled, and turned back to lift
his glass in a mock toast. “What kind of woman agrees to
chaperone a rogue, such as myself? What in the world would
appeal to you to come so far for such a ridiculous task?”
Caroline Townsend fought the urge to throw something at his
smug face and did her best to compose a reasonable answer.
He was a rogue, without question, and while he was far more
handsome and imposing than she’d expected, he was also the
more annoying and ill-mannered. So much for the superiority
of an English gentleman!
She stepped forward, tipping her head back to look up into
his face with what she hoped was her sternest and most
unforgiving expression. It had previously brought more than
one pupil to tears, and while she didn’t expect the pompous
wall of a man to crumble, Caroline was determined not to
give any ground. “I see nothing ridiculous in helping my
grandfather’s dearest friend.”
“Your grandfather’s dearest friend may not have considered
all the risks when he asked you for this favor.”
“You repeatedly speak of risk and I can’t help but think
you’re trying to frighten me away, Mr. Blackwell.” Her chin
lifted a defiant inch, and Ashe had a small glimpse of just
how immovable Miss Caroline Townsend could be when pressed.
“And since you are a self-confessed rogue, I don’t believe I
need to defend or explain anything to you. Your grandfather
said you couldn’t be trusted not to disgrace him, and while
I can only imagine what you’ve done to earn his censure, I
don’t care. My life and reasons for being here are my own.”
It galled him a little that his grandfather would have said
such a thing to an outsider, but then his chaperone would
undoubtedly have to know the worst to understand her strange
employment.
“As are mine! I have agreed to my grandfather’s request, but
know this, Miss Townsend—I won’t waste anymore time warning
you away from your noble quest to play my moral guardian.
And you can trust me when I tell you this, since you’re so
determined to have your way, I’ll not interfere. I don’t
need you to keep me from disgrace. Rogue or no, I’m capable
of holding my own without some drab little tight-lipped
American nipping at my heels. Frankly, I would rather haul a
tiger around on a bridle than cart you through a Season.”
Hands fisted at her hips, she faced him squarely. “I’m glad
we have an understanding then, Mr. Blackwell. Especially
since I am the one with the unhappy task of holding your
bridle, which from here makes you look less and less like a
tiger and more and more like an ass!”
She turned on her heels, her spine ramrod straight and
crisply left the room, the sound of the library door
shutting in a most unladylike manner behind her that made
his jaw drop open in astonishment.
Women blushed and fluttered at the sight of him, and
generally yielded to his every whim, he reminded himself.
Hell, and that’s the ones I don’t pay! Damned if my
grandfather hasn’t found the one woman on this planet I
believe I can genuinely confess to loathing at first
sight—and who apparently shares the sentiment when it comes
to me!
Ashe’s eyes narrowed as he considered his petite opponent in
the upcoming game. The stakes were too high to underestimate
her. Whatever his grandfather had promised her, the sooner
he could find it out and match the offer, the better. Not to
break his word, but to eliminate at least one miserable
element from the Season ahead.
Though he had a sinking feeling the petite terrier was not
going to be amenable to a bribe. His grandfather’s business
ventures had been very successful, and he’d heard him
mention Townsend’s phenomenal success across the Atlantic.
The little chit had no doubt inherited enough to make her
impervious to any offer he might make.
If she’s incorruptible, then I’m trapped unless I can find
another way. But no matter what, I’m not going to be outdone
by an upstart American and forfeit my pride and abandon my
family’s honor into Yardley’s sweaty hands. If I have to
cart the chit around, I will—but I’ll be damned if she
doesn’t regret every minute that she thought to hold the
whip hand with me.
He lifted his glass in a quiet salute to the closed library
door. “You’ll wish you’d stayed home, Miss Townsend, for
this is one favor you’re going to beg me to release you from
before the month is out.”