AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It is not my weapon of choice,” McCrae deflected, “but I believe Field here is a rapier man. You might want to test your skills upon him.” While McCrae sauntered off leaving Nathan to deal with the Spaniard, Lucinda took the opportunity to excuse herself and return to her duties.
A little while later McCrae sought her out, ostensibly to fetch some ale. “Is there somewhere we can meet in private?”
She swept her hand around to take in the room. “What do you think? It is so very private in here.”
“It is imperative we talk. There must be somewhere we can converse unseen.”
“There is my grandmother’s tonic mixing hut out the back, as you know, but I would have to tell her why I wish to use it, so she does not come barging in.”
“It would be best if no one else knew we were meeting.”
“It might be best, but it is also wildly impractical. My grandmother knows all, sees all, and is sharp as a sabre. She has always been thus. It is one thing to meet you secretly at night, or somewhere away from Whitefriars, but it is nigh on impossible to keep anything from her if it is going on right under her nose.”
“I will see what I can do, but I cannot agree without approval.”
“Very well. “ Lucinda nodded curtly and went to turn away, but McCrae nudged her elbow, prompting her to stay.
“Thank you for last night.”
“My pleasure,” she said, wincing inwardly when she thought how those words might sound to listening ears. “Perhaps you might speak a little softer? I am the target of enough speculation.”
“So I am aware,” he said, “and exceedingly popular.” The old twinkle of mischief was back in his eyes.
“And kindly refrain from leaping to my defense. I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
“So I have heard. Apparently, you have a talent for shouldering your way out of trouble.”
“My point exactly.”
“Touché,” he said beginning to turn away, then changing his mind and turning back to tell her his latest thought. “Since we will need to meet discreetly and often, I have an idea about how we might do so without raising suspicion. Tis a little unusual, but it might just work. I shall keep you informed.”
On that cryptic note he finally left her alone, if a room full of sweaty rowdy fencers counted as being alone. It may have been his use of the word “unusual“. It may have been the twitch of speculation about his lips. Whatever it was that set her thoughts into motion, her mind was now circling on an endless wheel of worry, looping eternally and relentlessly. Raising theories only to discard them. Diving into myriad mole-holes of possibility. Round and round and round. It was all of no consequence really in the wider scheme of things, for while she pondered and fretted, and McCrae and Cavendish schemed and plotted, a ravager of women was getting away with his awful crimes.
“I have asked your father’s permission to court you,” McCrae said without any preamble.
Lucinda was so taken aback that she could not form a sentence and could barely construct a coherent thought. All she could do was echo his words. “Court me?”
“Yes. You are familiar with the concept?”
She was closeted with Robert McCrae in the small confines of Grandma Jones’ tonic mixing room, the sail-cloth shades drawn, a candle flickering on the bench top, the last of the fencers finally gone. As far as she was aware this was meant to be a simple meeting for her to pass on what she knew, and now she was ambushed with this preposterous notion. “Why is it you take such delight in making a mockery of me? You cannot be serious. What manner of fool do you think I am to believe such an outrageous proposal?”
“I would never jest about something as serious as this. I have asked your father, and he has agreed, as has my Uncle.”
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“Have you not seen yourself in a mirror?” McCrae said.
“I do not possess a mirror. Why is that relevant? We are meant to be discussing how to solve a heinous crime.”
“Are you really so unaware of how magnificent you are?” What manner of answer was that? She had a desperate urge to pace the room, but it was only two steps across in any direction, the rest of the space being occupied with benches and shelves, leaving her trapped in more ways than one. McCrae was so close she could see the individual pores of his skin. She used her hands to push herself up backwards to sit upon a bench, thus providing a little more distance between them, a little space to breathe and think.
Instantly she regretted changing her position. In one large stride he closed the gap between them and now stood directly in front of her, pressed so close to her knees she could feel the hard muscles of his thighs. A slow heat erupted inside her, starting in her belly and spreading southward, as he put one hand on either side of her, his fingers latching firmly to the bench. She crossed her legs underneath her skirts and turned her head away. Why did he send her insides into such a churning frenzy? Why could he not leave her alone? She ran through all the possibilities of how to fight him off: a knee to the solar plexus, an elbow to his neck? A blow with enough force to wound and inflict some temporary incapacitation, giving her ample time to escape. He took her chin in one hand and turned her head to face him.
“Shall I make this clearer?” She went to nod, but he had her by the chin. “Courting couples may go about together without fear of gossip in their wake. An intention to marry is as good as the real thing. So a courtship is the perfect cover to conduct the investigation into the crimes.”
“So the courtship is a sham!”
“You sound disappointed.”
