Sins and Scandals Collection: Whisper of Scandal / One Wicked Sin / Mistress by Midnight / Notorious / Desired / Forbidden

“I came to try to find myself a bodyguard to accompany me to Spitsbergen,” Joanna said. She gestured Brooke forward. “Lord Grant, this is Daniel Brooke, a former prizefighter. Brooke, Lord Grant.”

Brooke bowed politely to Alex, but there was a steely light in his eyes, as though he was spoiling for a fight.

Just say the word, his demeanor seemed to suggest.

Joanna saw Alex’s gaze sweep over Brooke with the same look of shrewd appraisal that the prizefighter was giving him. Many men would be intimidated by Brooke’s raw aggression, Joanna thought, but Alex held his ground. He was at least half a foot taller than Brooke, leaner and less bulky, but in his own way he had a dangerous edge. Perhaps it came from having knocked about those corners of the world where only reckless adventurers chose to tread. A man had to be strong, resourceful and courageous to survive in such places. But this was perilous ground. Joanna gave herself a little shake. Those were the kind of thoughts she had had about David when first she had met him. David Ware, the hero.

The two men measured each other and Joanna felt something elemental in the air, then Brooke stepped back and nodded once, and the tension diminished.

“A bodyguard,” Alex said, and he, too, nodded, and Joanna saw the tight muscles in Brooke’s shoulders ease a little more.

“Good gracious, Lord Grant,” she said. “Do I discern approval from you?”

A smile lifted the corners of Alex’s mouth. “A journey of the type you plan to undertake is full of surprises, Lady Joanna,” he said, “and not all of them pleasant.”

“So I thought,” Joanna said. “Unfortunately, Brooke has turned me down because he does not like the cold. It is bad for his joints.”

“A hazard of the profession, I suppose,” Alex said.

“May I offer you a drink, sir?” Brooke inquired courteously.

“Thank you, but no,” Alex said. “I am here only to speak with Lady Joanna.” He turned to her. “You are aware that prizefighting is illegal, my lady?”

“The Dukes of York and Clarence are watching, as are three London magistrates,” Joanna said. “I do not think we shall be troubled by the law.”

Alex gestured to the armchair across from hers. “May I?” His gaze fell on the glass of stout. “Is that beer?”

“Stout,” Joanna said. “I enjoy a glass of malt beer.” She waited for the inevitable condemnation.

Alex turned to Brooke. “Perhaps I shall take a drink after all, thank you, Brooke. Brandy, please.”

Brooke bowed and went out.

“You are extremely polite tonight,” Joanna said.

“No sane man would be otherwise with a prizefighter in attendance,” Alex said. He looked at the glass of stout again. “Are you foxed, Lady Joanna? Dark beer is the strongest.”

“I know,” Joanna said. “It is delightful.”

“You are foxed.”

“There are so many things about me that you can disapprove of,” Joanna said sweetly. She slewed around in her seat to look at him. “Why are you here, Lord Grant? And how did you know where to find me, for that matter?”

“Owen Purchase told me,” Alex said.

“Ah. Then he will also have told you that Lottie and I have commissioned him to take us to Spitsbergen.”

“He did.” Alex frowned. “Mrs. Cummings plans to go, too?”

She thinks it will be an adventure,” Joanna said. She sighed. “I suppose that you tried to dissuade Captain Purchase from accepting our offer?”

“I did. I failed.”

Joanna smiled a little at his honesty. She was beginning to see that one would never get Spanish coin from Alex Grant, no matter how uncomfortable the truth. It was a quality that would have made her like him under normal circumstances, but his mistrust of her, those poisonous seeds that David had sowed, would always stand between them.

“Captain Purchase is very loyal,” she said. “Or perhaps it is just the money I offered him.”

Alex laughed. “Purchase is, as you so rightly point out, an adventurer.” His look changed, became keen. “Though he does appear to hold you in esteem. Do you know him well?”

“Not in the way that you are implying,” Joanna snapped, sensitive to the implication in his voice. “Lord Grant, your opinions are offensive. I can see that to you it is unaccountable that anyone might think well of me if they are not my lover!”

“I beg your pardon,” Alex said mildly, taking the wind out of her sails. “I meant to imply no such thing. Brooke appears to hold you in esteem, too.”

“The prizefighters are devoted to me,” Joanna said. “I am a Lady of the Fancy.” She laughed as she saw his expression. “Oh, dear, Lord Grant-that moment of approval really was brief, was it not?”

“I do not care for prizefighting,” Alex said stiffly, “nor for the sort of celebrity it bestows on you, Lady Joanna. To be acclaimed by the boxing fraternity is not my idea of success.”

“Of course it is not,” Joanna said, her temper fraying. “One would have to paddle up the Ganges in a canoe to gain your appreciation, Lord Grant. Oh, but I forgot—” Her tone was scornful. “That does not apply if one is a woman.”

She saw that his face had set into its customary stern lines. “It is true,” Alex said, “that I prefer women to stay at home.”

“In their place,” Joanna said. “Of course.”

There was a cold silence between them whilst Brooke delivered Alex’s glass of brandy and slipped out of the room again as discreetly as the best-trained butler. Joanna could feel Alex’s gaze on her face, intense and thoughtful. Despite the friction between them it made her feel prickly and hot. There was something about Alex’s quiet appraisal that stripped away all pretense and defense and left her emotions naked. She wished it were not so. Alex Grant was a man who distrusted and disliked her and as such he was the last person for whom she wanted to feel this disturbing current of attraction. It pulled and pushed her in contrary directions, provoking her, arousing her against her will.

“You have not answered my question,” she said abruptly, breaking the sharp sense of awareness between them. “Why are you here?”

“To beg you to allow me to accompany you to Spitsbergen,” Alex said. His tone was ironic. “Purchase tells me you have the final word. If you turn me down I shall have to work my passage as a cabin boy.”

Joanna gave a spontaneous burst of laughter. “A cabin boy? You?”

“Indeed. Even Devlin would be giving me orders.”

“That would be a terrible waste of your experience and expertise.” Joanna considered him. “You offered to pay Captain Purchase for your passage?”

“I did. He still maintained that it was your decision.”

“How very gratifying that he cannot be bought,” Joanna said. “The answer is no.”

She saw a faint smile touch Alex’s lips and knew he had been expecting her blunt refusal.

“Let me try to persuade you to change your mind,” Alex said. He shifted. “It is not too late.”

“Change my mind about going to Spitsbergen?” Joanna said.

“About the entire business,” Alex said. His dark gaze slid over her thoughtfully. “You live very much at the whim of society, Lady Joanna. There will be those who not only disapprove of you going to Spitsbergen but of you rearing your husband’s bastard child. I suspect that John Hagan, for example, will be appalled. What happens to you if the ton withdraws its favor from you?”

There was a hush in the room. Outside the door the tumultuous roar of the boxing crowd swelled and fell like the flowing tide.