How to Tame a Lady

“I wouldn’t say that, miss. We could be quite dastardly, I’m sure, if we just put our minds to the thing,”

Fletcher said, winking at Lucas, who believed his friend was enjoying himself entirely too much.

“Ashurst Hall, you said?” Lucas pursued, turning back to the young beauty, whose luscious skin was now lustrous with the misting rain. She was fresh as a strawberry just plucked from the fields, yet the intelligence evident in her eyes told him she might be young, but she was neither shallow nor silly. “Then I may assume that the Duke of Ashurst is known to you?”

“You might assume that, yes. Rafael is our brother. And now that you have the advantage of me…?”

“A thousand pardons,” Lucas said as the beautiful young blond woman who’d been addressed as Lydia joined them beneath their now trio of umbrellas. Sisters? Yes, he could see the resemblance, but at first blush this one seemed to lack the dangerous fire of her sibling. “Lady Lydia, if I heard the name correctly? Please allow me to introduce myself and my friend here.”

“My lords,” Lydia said moments later, dropping into a graceful curtsy while motioning for her sister to do the same. “And in return may I present my sister, Lady Nicole Daughtry.”

Nicole. From the Greek, Lucas was fairly certain, and meaning “victorious people.” Yes, it suited her. He could see her riding at the front of her own army, rather like Eleanor of Aquitaine. The queen, to inspire her troops, was rumored to have ridden barebreasted.

Lucas shook off that disquieting thought and bowed to the young woman.

“A distinct pleasure, Lady Nicole.”

“Yes…” she said, smiling at him as if she totally agreed that the pleasure was his, the minx. It was difficult to believe that the duke let this one out without a leash. She looked down the length of his body and back up again. “Did you happen to notice, my lord, that you’re standing in a puddle?”

Fletcher gave a bark of laughter as Lucas looked down to see that a drainpipe aimed toward the gutter had been emptying rainwater the entire time they’d been standing here, and a dip in the flagway had served to collect quite a bit of that rainwater around his new boots.

“Why, yes, Lady Nicole, I did know that. I’ve made it a point to always stand in puddles. They’re rarely crowded, you understand.”

The dimple appeared, and that small, quick bite at her lower lip came and went almost before Lucas could see it. Almost.

“But I’m standing in it, too, my lord.”

All right. If she wanted to play, he would not disappoint her. “Which now makes it our puddle, doesn’t it, Lady Nicole?”

“I’m not sure. As my twin here could tell you, I have never been all that comfortable with sharing. You might wish to step back, my lord.”

She was giving him a warning? Him? He was the Marquess of Basingstoke, and she was a young miss fresh from the country. He should be warning her, although of what, he couldn’t be sure.

Fletcher nervously cleared his throat. “Yes…ah, um, yes indeed. Well, stap me if I haven’t just remembered something. We have that appointment, Lucas, as I recall. Going to be late, and you know how his lordship frowns when we’re late. And the ladies will take a chill, there’s that, as well. We shouldn’t keep them.”

“Indeed, no, we shouldn’t,” Lucas said, agreeing with his friend’s fib, as he already had a plan in mind to see Lady Nicole again. He turned to Lady Lydia, who might not have much influence over her sister, but who probably could be relied upon not to scramble his brains and tie his tongue into knots. “It would be our distinct pleasure to wait on you ladies tomorrow, if your brother will give his permission for the four of us to drive out to Richmond. Would you be amenable to such an arrangement, Lady Lydia?”

“If she knows what’s good for her, she will,” Lucas heard Lady Nicole whisper under her breath as she covered her mouth with one gloved hand, and once again Fletcher cleared his throat, this time to cover a laugh, no doubt.

“I should imagine you will have to apply directly to our brother, my lord,” Lady Lydia said, earning herself a weary shake of the head from her sister. “We dine at home in Grosvenor Square this evening, and if you and Lord Yalding are free, we would be honored if you’d join us. You can ask him then.”

Lucas glanced toward Lady Nicole, who was now looking at her sister in some astonishment. He quickly agreed, thanked Lady Lydia and then escorted the ladies to their waiting coach, the one with the ducal crest on it.

“What a mischievous piece of work that one is,” Fletcher said as they watched the coach pull off into the light afternoon traffic. “And what was all that ridiculousness about puddles? Not that it wasn’t all innocent, I suppose, but I was beginning to feel like a voyeur, listening to the pair of you. She’s nearly a child, Lucas. Not your usual sort at all.”

“A child, Fletch?” Lucas turned to head to his own coach, for he needed to go back to Park Lane, spend some time alone to consider all that had just happened to him. “That one has never been a child.”

“No, I suppose some females are like that. But they aren’t usually sister to a duke, if you take my meaning and no offense intended. And I’m supposed to be keeping the other one occupied so that the two of you can keep on speaking whatever private language you were spouting back there?”

They both handed their umbrellas to the waiting groom, who would return them to the nearest umbrella shop to be dried and refolded and be supplied with replacements. Umbrella shops were probably the most prosperous enterprises in the city this year.

“If you wouldn’t consider it a hardship, yes.”

“Absolutely not,” Fletcher said. “Lady Lydia is a beautiful young woman. Such a contrast to her sister, though, don’t you think? It would take a special eye to see her quiet beauty when matched up against the fire and flash of Lady Nicole.”

“And you have a special eye?”

“Hardly,” Fletcher said as they settled into the coach. “As you well know, I can’t afford one. Although I have observed that your mood has improved by more than half since our encounter with Lady Nicole. I thought you said you weren’t chafing about that business at White’s.”

“I’m sorry. Although I will admit that I am rather disappointed in my fellow man at the moment. Nobody wants to hear anything but good news. We’d rather close our ears and eyes and go on repeating the same mistakes over and over again.”

“Well, I agree with you there, I suppose, at least with that business about making the same mistakes. For instance, m’father might have thought to learn that a Faro bank in a gaming hell is a harlot’s tease. We all could have benefited if he’d taken that particular lesson to heart. But that’s not what you mean, is it? You’re angry with the way we’re treating the populace.”

“More than I thought I could be, yes. An iron fist is never a good ruler, Fletcher, when a helping hand benefits us all in the end. Why can’t our fellows in the House of Lords see that?”

Fletcher shrugged. “Perhaps because they’re in the House of Lords, and not scratching out a meager existence on the fringes of Society? Still, perhaps you should drop the subject now? You’ve said what you felt needed saying, and nobody seems to care.”

Lucas considered this for a moment, and then shook his head, deciding not to tell his friend about his early morning visit from Lord Nigel Frayne, a contemporary of his late father, and what that encounter might mean if Lucas chose to throw in his lot with the man.

“You’re probably right. But I wish I could do more,” was all he said.

Fletcher was silent for some moments, until the coach slowed and finally stopped outside his rented rooms in Upper Brook Street. He had his hand on the inside latch of the door before he turned to his friend and said, “If you’re set on finding ways to help the downtrodden, and much as I’m certain I shouldn’t tell you, you probably want to hear this.”

Lucas, suddenly lost in thoughts of his dead father, merely lifted an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

Fletcher sank back against the squabs. “I didn’t think so, to tell you the truth, not when I heard it. Perhaps you’ve softened my heart? At any rate, I happened to overhear something about our dear friend Lord Sidmouth at my club last week.”

“Our illustrious Home Secretary is no one’s dear friend, Fletcher. I doubt his own mother enjoyed him.”

“True enough. Do you want to know what I heard, or not? Because after you surprised me with that passionate defense of the common man yesterday, I haven’t been all that hot to tell you. After all, it was only rumor, and I overheard no more than snatches, at that.”

Lucas gave a small wave of his hand. “Go on. I promise not to launch into another hot-blooded speech anytime soon.”

“And thank God for that. What I heard was that, between them, lords Liverpool and Sidmouth are determined to introduce new punitive laws and sanctions against those unhappy with the government. You know, those persons you were so staunchly defending in your magnificent but probably ill-timed comments.”

“I see. And did you happen to hear how they plan to get the whole of Parliament to agree to these new laws, considering that we’ve been introducing reforms this term, not new sanctions?”

Fletcher shook his head. “No, sadly, I did not, but I suppose they know. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” He took hold of the latch once more. “Should I be ready by six, do you think? Or is that too early?”

Lucas was once again deep in thought, lightly tapping the side of his fist against his mouth. “Excuse me? Oh, yes. Too early by half. I doubt the duke sits down much before eight.”

“Then seven it is. Perhaps the lovely Lady Nicole can serve to take your mind off what I’ve just told you?”

“Fletcher, that young woman could take a man’s mind, period.”

Fletcher laughed and exited the coach, at which time Lucas’s smile disappeared as he thought about his strange encounter with Lady Nicole.

She had knocked him off balance, not physically, as a result of their small collision, but mentally, muddling his brain in a way that had never happened to him before that moment.