A Daring Passion. Rosemary Rogers
gentleman in the county lined up at her door if she but offered the least encouragement. “I have requested that Mrs. Stone bring tea. Will you have a seat?”
“You are very gracious, but I have actually come to have a word with your father.”
“Why, Mr. Harper, how can you be so cruel?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Her breathtaking smile flashed again. This time Tom suspected that it was deliberate.
“I was just indulging my vanity with the thought that you rode all the way from the village to pay me a call, and now I discover that your interest instead lies with my father. A very lowering realization, sir.”
“My dear Miss Wimbourne, I am certain you know that there is not a gentleman in the entire county who would not ride far farther than a mere five miles to be granted the privilege of your smile,” he said dryly. “Your return to Knights-bridge has created a greater stir than the rumors that the railroad might reach our tiny community.”
“Most charming.” She waved a hand toward the threadbare settee. “Are you certain you will not be seated?”
“No, thank you.” He was too shrewd to become overly comfortable in this maiden’s presence. She would charm him into insensibility given half the chance.
Moving to perch on the window seat, Miss Wimbourne tilted her head to one side. “I believe that you have only recently moved to Knightsbridge?”
“Yes, I lived in London until three months ago.”
“Ah.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“You must have done something quite terrible to have been sent to such a remote, tiresome place.”
He gave a low chuckle. It was an assumption shared by most of the community. “On the contrary, I requested to come to Knightsbridge.”
“Whatever for? It is home to me, but I would think it the last place anyone else would wish to be. Especially a handsome, ambitious gentleman who could be enjoying the delights of London.”
In spite of himself, Tom experienced a small heat in the pit of his stomach. The woman was a born temptress.
“Knightsbridge has one thing that London could never offer.”
“And what would that be?”
“Actually I should say two things. The first, of course, is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon.”
“And the second?”
He shrugged. “The Knave of Knightsbridge.”
She blinked, as if caught off guard by his blunt confession. “The highwayman?”
“Yes.”
“There are no criminals to be had in London?”
“An endless supply, but none with the reputation of the Knave.” He eyed her carefully. Since arriving in Knightsbridge he had nurtured a suspicion of the charming Josiah Wimbourne. Unfortunately, possessing a suspicion and possessing evidence were two entirely different matters. After last eve, however, he cherished a hope that his search might be at an end—and not even this beautiful angel was going to be allowed to stand in his way. “Surely you have heard the stories of the dashing rogue?”
“Who has not? Not that I believe a word of them.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “What man could possibly appear and disappear like smoke? Or lead entire militias into the bogs? Or so enchant the ladies that they happily hand over their jewels and flatly refuse to give the authorities a description of him? He would have to be one of the fey creatures to possess such unearthly skills.”
“No doubt the gossip has greatly exaggerated the bandit’s skills, but he has proved to be a most cunning cad who has outwitted every officer who has come against him. It will take a man of considerable cleverness to capture him.”
“I believe I begin to understand.” She slowly rose to her feet. “You think to enhance your own reputation by being the one to bring the Knave to the gallows?”
He was caught off guard by her shrewd perception. By God, this was a dangerous woman. And one who was deliberately attempting to distract him.
The question was, why?
“As much as I am enjoying your companionship, Miss Wimbourne, I have many duties awaiting my attention and I must speak with your father. Would you be so kind as to request he attend me?”
“I fear I cannot, Mr. Harper,” she replied, smiling. “He is not at home.”
Tom stiffened, his instincts on full alert. “Indeed. May I inquire when you expect him to return?”
“Not for several days. He has gone to town to deal with some business interest or another.” She gave an innocent bat of her lashes. “No doubt he told me the tedious details, but I must honestly confess I paid him little heed. I have no head for investments and such.”
“He is in London?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tom clenched his hands at his sides. He would bet his finest pearl stickpin the maiden was lying, but they both knew he could not openly accuse her.
Nor could he insist on searching the cottage for the treacherous bastard, damn the luck.
“For how long?”
“He promised to return within the week, but of course, he does tend to be rather impulsive and he might very well discover something that amuses his fancy and remain longer than he first intended.”
“And he left you here alone?”
Her smile never wavered. “I am hardly alone. Both Foster and Talbot are here, as well as Mrs. Stone.”
“It still seems odd he would not wish to take his daughter.” He paused, allowing his suspicion to be revealed in his expression. The fact that Miss Wimbourne was so determinedly attempting to keep him from her father only confirmed Tom’s belief that Josiah was the Knave of Knightsbridge. “Or his favorite mount.”
She moved to straighten a candlestick on the mantel, her face serene, but Tom sensed a tension in her slender form. She was not quite so calm as she wanted him to believe.
“Since we have no town house I would only be forced to remain in some hotel while my father was busy with his solicitor, and as for his mount—he traveled post.” She abruptly turned back to him with a narrowed gaze. “Is there a reason for your questions, sir?”
He briefly considered confronting her directly. It was amazing how often people blurted out secrets when they were nervous.
Then he gave a small shake of his head. This chit might be young, but she possessed the polished composure of a woman twice her age. She would not be teased or bullied into betraying her father.
No. He would have to hold on to his patience a while longer. Sooner or later he would catch Josiah Wimbourne. It was as inevitable as the sun rising.
“I am by nature a curious man,” he murmured.
The dark eyes flashed. “Then you are fortunate in your choice of careers.”
“Yes.” Sensing he had accomplished all that he could on this morning, Tom offered a shallow bow. “I will keep you no longer. I pray you tell your father that I called upon him?”
“Oh, you may be assured he will be told the moment he returns.”
Their gazes locked and held, both of them knowing that the battle between them had just begun.
“Then I bid you good day.”
“Good day, sir.”
Raine sucked in a deep breath as her guest walked to the door and disappeared.
She