Page 81 of The Moonstone Pirate
Draco laughed. “All right, let’s stay in town today.”
Why not spend a day in relaxation? He could watch fishing boats sail in and out of the harbor, perhaps take a boat out himself. He hadn’t been on the water in a while, and missed it. But there was little wind just now, and the harbor was quiet today. No navy frigates were moored, and there were no sloops or schooners of note, other than the ones operated by local men who offered daily excursions for the summer visitorsto this quiet village. He had no desire to sit among a group of Londoners who would not take their eyes off him once they realized he was an earl.
But he was getting restless again.
McTavish would not sail in until tomorrow. Major Brennan already had his men watching the harbor on the chance the Irishman arrived early. Constable Angel had his men on alert for any suspicious strangers entering town.
Draco himself had been stopping by the Kestrel Inn every day for a report on the latest guests to register. Thaddius had taken to preparing a full account of all the comings and goings at the inn.
Well, Draco still needed to check on today’s mail. Some word had to come soon from the Home Office.
William Angel, proprietor of the Three Lions, had been helpful in keeping an eye on all his patrons. He had a few rooms to let above his tavern, but mostly tradesmen stayed there, or men paying for a quick turn with a doxy. It was not something William encouraged, but men were men, and the young proprietor had a business to run.
Draco was lost in his thoughts, feeling a moment’s nostalgia for his days at sea, and absently watching Parrot frolic in the sand, when he felt a lady’s hand slide into the crook of his arm. He turned with a frown, knowing this was not Imogen’s touch.
Bollocks.
His gaze met that of the beautiful widow, Lady Dowling.
“Lord Woodley,” she said in a sultry voice, and cast him her idea of an alluring smile, “we have not seen much of you in the village lately.”
“I have been busy.”
“But you appear to be at leisure now.” He had been around women long enough to understand that look in her eyes. A bit brazen, a bit seductive, and openly inviting.
He did not respond.
“A gentleman would invite a lady to dine with him at the Kestrel Inn. You are not otherwise engaged, are you?”
No, he wasn’t. And he was just about to head over to the inn to see about the mail. The lady would be highly insulted if he made up an excuse to avoid her and then showed up there not ten minutes later.
He gave a curt nod. “Would you care to join me?”
She smiled brightly. “Yes, how lovely of you to ask.”
He hadn’t asked so much as felt coerced, but what did it matter?
Had he walked into the inn on his own, he would have been accosted by matchmaking mothers and their daughters. A bachelor earl was fair game and always in season to be hunted until finally caught in the parson’s mousetrap. Even then, the invitations would keep coming, for a marriage commitment was no impediment to women such as Lady Dowling.
Parrot had been frolicking on the beach, chasing birds and sniffing around rowboats on the sand. Draco whistled for him to follow them to the inn. The dog bounded forward with a happy grin and wagging tail until he realized the woman beside him was not Imogen. He turned his head like a parrot and stared at Draco, who arched an eyebrow and stared back.
Do not make anything of this, Parrot.
The dog gave an indignant snort and trotted ahead.
The best Draco could say of their midday meal was that it would soon be over. The dining room was packed and everyone was staring at him, a consequence of his being the highest-ranking bachelor in the place. Lady Dowling was soaking up all the attention, her expression gloating and triumphant. Yes, it was all about appearances for her. Imogen would never consider using him in this way.
Of course, she was going to hear about his time with the beautiful widow, for Lady Dowling herself would make certain this innocent engagement reached Imogen’s ears. Not that she needed to say anything, since everyone in this village gossiped, and word would spread like wildfire.
Imogen had to know Lady Dowling meant nothing to him, but he would clear up any misunderstanding as soon as they had a chance to talk.
Not that he owed her any explanations. However, she had his heart, and he did not wish to cause her any more pain than he already had because of his assignment.
“I had a lovely time, Lord Woodley. Thank you for inviting me,” Lady Dowling said, her voice loud enough to ensure everyone at the nearby tables heard.
He said nothing, just led her out. “Were you on the high street to shop? Let me not delay you.”
“I was on my way to the dressmaker’s.” She batted her eyelashes and took firm hold of his arm. “Will you escort me there?”
