“And those two?” He motioned with a nod toward the mastiffs flanking Nicholas and spooling huge amounts drool onto the elegant Turkey carpet and any nearby furniture.
“Max and Fleur.”
“And is there a reason they’re on such high alert to protect your family?”
“Yes, I’m afraid there is, but that is a private matter with which you should not concern yourself. I deeply apologize for the dog’s actions, and I hope you do not hold it against us. We are so grateful you ensured my grandmother returned home safely. The innkeeper at the Green Dolphin told me how you stood up for our Nana and how abusive she was. She…she has not been herself for the last several years. We try to keep her here, but she keeps getting away and re-living her years on the London stage. She was quite famous many years ago before she married my grandfather.
“But you don’t care about all that. I’m probably making your headache worse. We want you to rest and mend your broken head before you return to your rooms in Falmouth.”
Fleur unexpectedly chose that moment to destroy Harriet’s strained formality with introductions. Moving far faster than one would think possible for a creature of her size, she advanced to the lieutenant’s bedside and gave his hand lying above the sheets a generous lick after which she placed a heavy paw on the bed next to him.
“Fleur—.” Harriet was mortified.
When one of the footmen moved to extricate the dog from the bedside, Lieutenant Bourne waved him away. “Finally, a friendly face. She’s welcome here any time.” He smoothed back the fur on her head and scratched her ears, eliciting a look of devotion, or perhaps something more carnal, from the creature. She let out a small moan, and her tail thumped rhythmically against the side of the bed.
Harriet shook her head, willing the vision of the lovestruck Fleur from her mind. Waving a hand frantically at a footman, she added, “Please, take them away so Lieutenant Bourne can get some rest.” The minute she caught the look on her son’s face, she saw disappointment and something more in his eyes. He was gazing longingly at the officer on the bed. She would have to nip that hero worship in the bud.
Richard leanedback against the pillows and marveled at the mess he’d landed in now. After fighting for a barmy old woman’s honor in a seaside tavern, not twenty-four hours later, here he was sleeping in a duke’s bed and getting an apology from a -haired lass who’d nearly run him through with an arrow the night before. He’d seen worse mornings-after.
And the mate of the monster dog who’d tried to bash his head in was literally trying to eat out of his hand this morning. None of this made sense, much less why a woman like the Dowager Marchioness would hide away in this crumbling old hunting lodge high on a cliff in Cornwall instead of being the toast of society in town.
At a soft tap at the door, he gave out a gruff “Come.” A footman appeared with a nightshirt also belonging to the duke. Her ladyship would like for you to have some cover, since one of her neighbors wants to make a bedside visit.
After the door snicked shut behind the servant, Richard grinned. Seeing him without his shirt was unsettling to Milady Amazon? He gave a chuckle. He’d begun to think of her that way. This detour from recruitment was going to be entertaining if nothing else.
He braced himself against the dizziness and pain and then gingerly swung his legs out from beneath the sheets and over the side of the bed. Gazing down at the cockstand evinced by thinking about the lady of the manor made him realize he had no idea where his trousers were.
3
“Two sugars and little milk?” Harriet prepared a hot cup of tea for her neighbor, retired Captain William Thorne.
“You remember?” He gave a hearty laugh. “You warm an old sailor-turned-lubber’s heart.”
“Of course I remember.” She finished off his cup the way he liked and tucked two chocolate biscuits onto the saucer before handing over the tea.
“So tell me, why am I here?” He took a long sip and placed the cup and saucer on the rustic table next to his overstuffed chair. “And this time, the truth. Your life is way too busy with that growing son of yours, not to mention watching over your grandmother. Why would you invite an old man like me to tea in the middle of the morning?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
He sat back, surprise etched on his sea-weathered face.
“There is a man…”
He quickly interrupted. “If someone is bothering you, say no more. I will attend to the bully straight away.”
Harriet’s mouth dropped open, and she stared a bit too long.
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” She tended to her own tea—a little sugar and two thick slices of lemon. “There is a gentleman, a Royal Marine officer actually.” She paused to sip at her drink.
Her neighbor’s brows rose sharply.
“There was a bit of an incident yesterday with Nana, and he tried to help. However, one of the dogs mistook him for an intruder when he returned her late last night, and…” She trailed, off unable to finish.
“You patched him up,” he finished for her, “but he’s still here, and you’re worried about what sort of man he might be?”
“Did one of the servants pass gossip?”
“No, no. Your son. He seems quite taken with the officer in the duke’s bed.”
