“And you, Lord Trenton, are suddenly willing to dismiss me on account of my gender. Well, suffice it to say that you are the most arrogant and despicable man that I have ever encountered.” She held her ground; she was so angry her blood practically boiling in her veins.
“Alex,” Ryan cautioned her in a low voice. “Ashford has every reason to be vexed by all of this.”
“By the fact that we deceived him, yes. But he has no right to insist that I will get us all killed, just because he has suddenly discovered that I am a woman. I dare say he’s a bigot.”
Ryan groaned, apparently acknowledging that it would be hopeless to try and reason with his sister and that there was nothing left to do but ride out the storm.
Michael frowned, but he didn’t take her bait. Instead, he must have decided to make an attempt to explain himself, for when he next spoke, his voice seemed overly calm. “All I know is that we’re likely to face battle. In that event, you will be nothing but a liability to us,” he said as if he were explaining a potential danger to a child. “You are a woman, Lady Alexandra—a stunningly beautiful woman, as it happens. Ryan and I simply cannot afford having to stick our necks out on account of you. We shall have enough trouble keeping ourselves safe.” He settled back against his chair with a rather pleased look upon his face, as if she’d certainly be able to see the logic behind his reasoning now.
But Alexandra just gaped at him. Ryan looked as if he might throttle him.
Michael’s gaze shifted from one to the other, then frowned, his lips parting in dismay. “Please excuse my candor,” he told him smoothly. One had to give him credit for maintaining his composure. “But I would rather if we didn’t beat about the bush in this instance.”
“Point taken,” Ryan muttered with an edge of annoyance.
Alexandra paid them no mind. All she could think about were Michael’s words. Nobody had ever remarked on her looks before, and she couldn’t help but be pleased by it. And that such a compliment should come from a man as dashing as him, was . . . well . . . she dared not even think of what it made her feel.
She shook her head and made a desperate attempt to focus on the matter at hand. There just wasn’t room for this kind of distraction. Besides, she now definitely disliked the man. Intensely.
Or so she kept telling herself.
“I do not need for you or Ryan to protect me,” she protested.
Michael groaned. “I realize that, but what you don’t seem to understand is that you shall be faced with far more danger than either one of us.”
Alexandra paused. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. “If I can fight as well as either of you, perhaps even better, then why should I be in more danger than you or Ryan on this assignment?”
Michael threw up his hands in exasperation. “Because you’re a woman, Lady Alexandra. A rather lovely Englishwoman who’s about to walk right into the midst of Napoleon’s army—an army full of men who would gladly give their right arm to bed you.”
Ryan drew a sharp breath while Alex’s jaw dropped open once again. She had to stop doing that. The implication of what Michael was saying began to dawn on her as she thought back on the encounters she’d had over the past two days with men who’d discovered she was female. Alexandra felt a rush of heat coloring her cheeks. She cast a quick glance in Ryan’s direction. He was white as a sheet.
Oh dear.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to embarrass you,” Michael apologized.
Alexandra drew a deep breath. “We have indeed shocked one another, have we not, Lord Trenton?” The edge of her mouth drew upward to form a partial smile.
“We have indeed, Lady Alexandra, though I am merely being honest.” His eyes did not budge from hers. She knew he intended to intimidate her, but she would have none of it. How dare he? What right did he have?
“My lord, do I perhaps owe you something?” she asked, her voice now laced with ice. “Anything at all, in fact? No, I don’t believe that I do,” she said, answering her own question. “I do however owe my brother everything, and I will do whatever I must in order to help him.” She crossed her arms and gave him a venomous glare. “You have no authority over me. Please don’t make the error of presuming that you do.”
To her brother she said, “I will be in my room if you need me.”
She got up to leave.
“Shall I ask Mrs. Bell to send in a tray for you?” Ryan asked.
Alexandra paused in the doorway. She glanced back at the two men. “No need to bother,” she remarked. “As it happens, I have completely lost my appetite.”
What the devil is wrong with this woman? Michael wondered as he watched Alexandra saunter off, her blonde curls spilling down her back. Has she no common sense whatsoever? Is she completely devoid of all reason?
She clearly had no idea of the perils that awaited her . . . a lady of breeding heading into enemy territory . . . it was preposterous. Then again, the fact that she was dressed in men’s breeches was enough to send any respectable person’s head spinning. There was a carelessness about her, coupled with an attitude that spoke volumes about her character. It seemed to Michael that Alexandra Summersby was a very unique young lady indeed.
He couldn’t help but wonder how the stringent rules of society could possibly have allowed for such a creature to flourish.
Well, it’s unlikely that society has any clue of her existence.
She would have long since become the talk of the town if it did, since this was precisely the sort of thing that all the gossip mongers would positively drool over—a lord’s daughter dressing as a boy and prancing about with loaded pistols and swords. Surely nothing could be more absurd.
“I dare say I need a bit of fresh air on top of this,” Michael told Ryan. “I believe I shall take a walk.” Michael strode from the room, still unable to comprehend what he’d just learned—or to quite get Alexandra’s beautiful face out of his mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alexandra was so furious she was practically shaking, balling her hands into tight fists and pacing about her room. Michael had done nothing but patronize her. He didn’t care how adept she might be—that she might even be as capable if not more so than any man when wielding a sword and pistols. But no . . . Michael Ashford had simply decided, based on her gender alone, that she would become a liability, and she absolutely hated him for it. She hated him for making her realize she’d been hoping for his approval . . . his admiration.
Perhaps a tiny part of her did, but it was such a tiny part that she chose to ignore it. In fact, Michael Ashford ought to be completely ignored for the foreseeable future. He had proven himself to be just as she’d feared and had swiftly become a thorn in her side. And when she factored in her unexpected reactions to him, well . . . it would simply be best to try and avoid Ashford altogether.
She set her mind to the task at hand instead. William was in trouble and needed her help. Was it possible that he might have turned? That he might be assisting Bonaparte?
Surely not.
She would bet her life on William’s loyalty. But given what she now knew of Michael’s opinion of her gender, she would need concrete proof. Alexandra groaned as she flopped down onto her bed. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be a very unpleasant assignment indeed.
Michael returned to the apartment two hours later still angry, but most of all at himself. Being made a fool did not sit well with him at all.
Though there had been plenty of signs. They were so easy to recognize now—in hindsight. But he’d ignored every single one of them—the eyes, the voice, the constant need to wear that damnable scarf. He muttered a series of oaths as he yanked the front door open and slammed it shut behind him.
The most vexing thing of all of course, was that feigning indifference toward Alexandra Summersby would, in all likelihood, prove to be a task of monumental proportions. It was true that she was without a doubt the most annoying female he’d ever met. She cursed like a sailor, dressed like a man, ran about like an unruly child. She was opinionated—insufferably so, in fact. But in spite of all her flaws, he was drawn to her. She didn’t seem to care about what people thought of her and to top it off, she didn’t seem to be at all intimidated by him, as women—indeed, most everyone—oftentimes were. She was refreshing. There it was. He’d never met anyone like her, and it intrigued him. He simply couldn’t help it.
Returning to the parlor, Michael spotted Ryan reclining in one of the armchairs with a book in his hands. He looked up the minute Michael walked in. “Look . . .” he began. “I owe you an apology, Ashford. Indeed, we both do. It was wrong to deceive you, but we had our orders, just as you have yours.”
Michael nodded thoughtfully. “I know,” he said with some reluctance. “Perhaps, it might be wise for us to start over.”
A smile began to tug at Ryan’s lips. “That is awfully big of you,” he said. “And greatly appreciated.”
Again Michael nodded, then gestured toward the book that Ryan still held. “Anything interesting?” he asked.
“Just a bit of Shakespeare,” he said, and then gave a wide grin. “The Taming of the Shrew as it happens. You ought to try it.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Is she always like that?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” Ryan told him.
“I know that Sir Percy must have had a damn good reason for allowing her to come along, but really . . . I do believe that something must have clouded his better judgment.”
“He has known us our whole lives, you know. He’s watched Alexandra grow up. In fact, he’s approached Papa before about recruiting her for The Foreign Office. He would not have done so unless he thought she was the very best.”
“Then why didn’t she join? Something must have stopped her, and I can’t imagine that it was her lack of interest.”
Ryan grinned. “No, it was not her lack of interest—far from it. It was Papa. He simply wouldn’t allow it.”
“And she listened to him?” Michael asked with much surprise.
“She has a great deal of respect for him. In fact, he’s just about the only person that she does listen to.”
“Well, he was right to forbid her from joining,” Michael said. “I wonder why he changed his mind.”
“I suppose he must be worried that you might act rashly. He decided to send Alex along as counter balance.”
“Why not simply send you?”
Ryan looked momentarily embarrassed. “She’s a better swordsman, shot, equestrian . . . indeed a better soldier than I could ever hope to be”—he paused for a moment—“I don’t begrudge her for it. In fact, I’m very proud of her.”
She really must be something, Michael thought, if her brother is willing to admit that to someone he has only just met.
“I admire your honesty,” Michael told him. “Most men would deny that any woman might be better than them at such things. Tell me though. Has she always been so difficult to handle?”