Lord Fool To The Rescue Part 1

Lord Fool to the Rescue.

By L. L. Muir.

ABOUT THE BOOK.

She has an excellent escape planned...

Lady Tempest MacIntyre has been offered, by her stepfather, as an item up for auction! But she has an excellent escape planned...if she can keep from tripping over the good intentions of the Duke of Stromburg, sometimes referred to as Lord Fool.

Lord Fool to the Rescue has at least one hero, a heroine, and an a.s.sortment of characters who may or may not be villains. The fun is in the discovery.

DEDICATION.

To Mother.

Wish you were here...

CHAPTER ONE.

Dear Heavens, he'd abandoned his horse and was coming up behind her. Though she dared not turn to verify it, Tempest could almost feel each step he took. Why approach her, if not to point out her error in walking about the park unaccompanied?

She willed her face not to burst into flame.

"Miss? I beg your pardon, but I believe you dropped this."

She couldn't very well ignore him, could she? It was not as if anyone else might have spoken, her dastardly stepfather having left her-abandoned her-to walk about the fountain alone.

Determining to hide her mortification, she affixed a polite smile on her face and turned to find the handsome horseman she'd been discreetly admiring, holding out a decidedly masculine handkerchief. The gentleman's smile was a mirror of her own, but he appeared intent upon holding his brows unnaturally high on his forehead.

Over his shoulder, she could see his missing mount tethered on the far side of the cobbled walkway.

She realized, in the wicked recesses of her soul, that she should savor such a handsome man's attention since her unaccompanied state would preclude her from ever again showing her face in public, let alone the social circles of this gentleman. He was the tallest creature to whom she'd ever stood near, and his athletic form was in no way ambiguous beneath the cut of his clothes. However, she did not care to be made to look the fool.

She raised her brows to mimic his own and reached for the proffered cloth. Her hand paused, hovered.

"Of course, Mister....Hercules, is it? I often carry about a man's handkerchief and drop it in hopes of some gallant begging my acquaintance." Instead of taking the token, she folded her hands and tilted her head. The sound of her own voice made her bolder still. She was fully prepared to laugh aloud in his wake, but he took a quick step toward her.

Perhaps she'd chosen the wrong man with whom to meddle. But then again, they were in a public place. Surely he would not harm her.

"Lady...Aphrodite, is it? Take the kerchief. I a.s.sure you, the entire morning's population watches you at this very moment." He held her attention as if in an iron fist. "Good girl, don't look away." He'd dropped his voice along with his formality.

She laughed at his soothing tone. She couldn't help it, and d.a.m.ned if she was able to take her gaze from his.

"I suspect you are surprisingly successful at training dogs, sir."

And for the first time, his smile seemed true, but was quickly transformed back into the same polite smile he'd started with.

"I fear I am not here to flirt with you, my lady. I am simply compelled to warn you of your guardian's intentions to dishonor you. Take the kerchief. And quickly."

With the help of his fingers, the small white flag jumped closer. All she had to do was to reach out and take it. Again, she felt like she was being trained, rewarded for doing what she was told. More likely she was walking straight into a trap. And what a lovely blue-eyed trap.

She took the handkerchief and felt it slide through his fingers.

"I am sorry to inform you, sir, that the morning population has already witnessed my dishonor at my stepfather's hands. He hurried away to speak with an important acquaintance, supposedly near the Wellington Arch, and sent me to walk about the fountain unescorted. I a.s.sure you, I do not need your warning. I am fully aware of my own embarra.s.sment."

Little did her guardian suspect this would be his last chance he'd ever have to humiliate her. She had been formulating plans to escape the man long before that morning unraveled.

The gentleman stepped even closer and she was forced to retreat a bit to avoid tipping her head back to see his face. Dear heavens!

"My lady, do you notice the unusually high traffic near the fountain today? Especially the number of men gravitating in this direction?"

She took a deep breath and refused to look about her. Of course she had noticed. She'd merely credited it to her imagination.

The stranger blushed and cleared his throat, both actions seemingly unnatural to him, and she suddenly felt her stomach plummet to her knees. What could her stepfather have done to her now?

Her stepfather, Baron Ledford, had been suspiciously kind to her all morning, but the memory of it had quickly vanished when he'd abandoned her, his lack of concern for her reputation as expected as the sunrise. Today's insult had been the first she'd born in public, however. She should have known better than to accept a new dress and an invitation to stroll in the park from the man she knew to be the devil incarnate. But her freedom was so close that taking the new yellow gown to start a new happier life had been a temptation she could not resist. She should have refused when accepting the dress also meant accepting his invitation for an outing. Ledford never sought her out without a motive.

"My lady," the horseman demanded her attention again but could not seem to clear his throat.

She took pity. "I a.s.sure you, sir, that whatever my stepfather has done, it will come as no surprise to me."

He looked doubtful, so doubtful in fact she worried that this time, it might not be the case.

"What is it?" She couldn't help but grab the horseman's forearm for balance. He was so near to hand, and there was nothing else to support her if the news was as grave as this man's behavior suggested.

"You are being auctioned off," he growled. "Even as we speak." He put one hand over hers and held tight. "Don't look around, honey. Few of these men would do something as dishonorable as to bid for you, but are here out of curiosity. Don't embarra.s.s them by noting their foolish attendance."

"Auctioned off?" She should pull her hand away, but couldn't until she knew the whole of it. "I don't suppose they are bidding for a wife, are they?" How she wished she could keep the hope out of her voice, but marrying anyone would get her away from her monstrous guardian. Finding a husband, however, would necessitate leaving one's home on occasion and she hadn't so much as soiled a slipper since being brought to London.

None but she was near enough to note the subtle shake of the horseman's head.

"A mistress? He thinks I would agree to become some man's mistress?" She kept her voice down as the pedestrian crowd began pus.h.i.+ng into her awareness. Perhaps they believed this man was about to check her teeth and wished to hear his a.s.sessment. Perhaps glancing their way might push a well-dressed mob past restraint.

What a relief that she would not be around long enough to be used so by the man her mother had been unfortunate enough to marry two years before. Now Tempest was the unfortunate one to be left in his care after her mother's luck had changed. The woman had died of a fever six months after the wedding. Would to G.o.d her stepfather would have caught the same illness, but he'd run to London to prevent just that.

The horseman's hand tightened over her own, and he looked to her toes before giving his head a single imperceptible shake.

She laughed and pulled her hand away.

"Forgive me for embarra.s.sing you, sir. You quite had my imagination running rough shod over us both. If I am not to be auctioned off as a wife or mistress, pray tell what might men bid for? My slippers? My mother's ring?"

As soon as she'd finished, she wished the question back. Off to the side, his horse shook its head as if warning her she wouldn't want to hear the answer.

The rider held his painful smile while brus.h.i.+ng at the shoulder of his elegant coat. "Pray take a wider turn about the fountain with me, my lady. The water seems to be splas.h.i.+ng a bit far a-field today," he said boisterously. He held out an elbow then whispered, "Take it," through clenched teeth.

She dared not disobey, but padded alongside him like the puppy she felt. She took note of the flowers planted no doubt to distract one from the ugliness of the fountain. The path exaggerated the shape of the pool-octagonal, but elongated. Not once could she remember carriages on that path, but they were there today. The horseman's animal swung its hindquarters out of the way just in time to avoid the wheel of an antique barouche packed with women. Tempest wouldn't have looked up had the horse not screamed.

The horseman took a step in the poor beast's direction, but it quickly settled. The conveyances ebbed away, though the southeast section of the park remained popular. Her puppy-training friend seemed equally loathe to give their audience any attention in return, so they walked on, looking from their shoes to the fountain, and back again.

"Can you...really...be so...naive, my lady?" He asked it cheerfully, as if he were asking her opinion on the weather. They were clipping along quickly enough that even though some of the crowd could hear a word or two clearly, no one would have time to hear more. "Can you not think...of something...more valuable...to a gentleman...than your...pretty slippers?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But did you not indicate that I was not being auctioned off as a man's mistress?" she murmured.

"Understand me, my lady. That would naturally be the next logical step in your life. After. After the deed was done." His hand once again covered hers where it lay on his arm. "Your despicable guardian has offered only a part of you for a price. No doubt a man like that would also require fees from your future patrons as well."

Tempest looked up to find the man's jaw about to snap although he held her hand in all gentleness. Poor man. She would just have to let this stranger in on her little secret.

"My dear Mister Hercules. How brave you are to risk scandal by bringing me such a warning. However, I must tell you I will not be a party to my stepfather's little arrangements."

He closed his lovely blue eyes and took a deep breath. When he exhaled she thought she could nearly taste him. Soap and cinnamon.

"My dear Miss Aphrodite, I'm afraid your willingness has nothing to do with the blackhearts plans."

"Oh, but Mister Hercules, I will not be around to find out. I had planned to leave my stepfather's loving home in but two days. I will have to adjust my schedule a bit, but rest a.s.sured, sir, I will be gone by morning."

He stopped and turned to her, his brow smoother than it had been since they met.

"Happy I am to hear it, my lady. Happy, indeed."

They resumed walking albeit at a slower pace about the fountain. Her companion's steps were lighter than before, the silence filled with a decidedly off-tune whistle from his lips which drew only laughter from her.

"I doubt she had strawberry-red hair, my lord."

"Pardon?"

"Aphrodite. I doubt she had strawberry hair."

"Oh, my dear. Of course she did."

That earned him yet another laugh.

A black horse stepped into their path and Tempest looked up to find a man blocking the morning suns.h.i.+ne from her eyes. She smiled in appreciation until she realized why another man might have come to get a glimpse of her. She hoped the brim of her hat concealed her blush. Surely this man was only there out of curiosity. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she raised her gaze to his.

"Wescott," he said, greeting her companion but not taking his attention from her. "Pray introduce me, man."

Hercules couldn't be Leland Wescott, the Duke of Stromburg. He couldn't! She released her hold on his arm, but he seemed not to notice, holding her hand just as firmly as before.

She was guided around the horse and rider and swept away by her possibly notorious companion before he tossed his response over his shoulder.

"You already know who you are, Redmond."

This time they strode around the fountain in deafening silence. If she were not losing her wits, she had just been party to the Duke of Stromburg giving the cut direct to the Duke of Redmond. And as much as she wished they had changed their course, she was being guided full circle to face the snubbed man once again.

The dark horse remained in their path, the man now standing next to it, and the Duke of Redmond didn't look as if the snub had done more than amuse him, thank heavens.

This time Hercules lead her in a wide circle out around the man and his horse and the crowd, no longer pretending ignorance, roared with laughter. She was grateful the Duke of Redmond was laughing along. The Duke of Stromburg smiled politely as they rounded the south end of the fountain and much to the delight of the crowd, he slowed their pace to that of a belligerent tortoise as they made their way back to the other duke for the third time.

Tempest was about to pull her arm free to avoid another turn around the water feature when her horseman gave her hand a squeeze and halted a few paces before the other man's horse.

"Odiferous? Is that you, ol' boy?" he addressed the animal.

"That's Oth.e.l.lo, as you well know," said Redmond, removing his gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his rich green riding jacket. "Now will you introduce me to this lovely lady, or would you like to finish your conversation with my mount?"

"Impossible," Hercules said flatly. "I have not yet been introduced to this fair lady, so I cannot pa.s.s on the favor."

"And yet you walk with her? Pray tell what has he been telling you Miss...?"

"Miss MacIntyre, Your Grace." At least she had the presence of mind to curtsy, though Stromburg pulled her up from it rather quickly.

"Of course. A Scottish la.s.s. Perfect," the man purred and chills originated in the center of her spine and exploded in warning as they often did when her stepfather asked to speak to her in his library.

She was no longer able to smile, sincerely or otherwise.

"Well, Miss MacIntyre, his grace has certainly been talking at great length to a lady with whom he is not yet acquainted. What topic of discussion could he possibly have used for entertainment? What excuse to bend your ear?"

She could feel her horseman stiffen beside her, but she answered before he could interrupt.

"We discussed the best methods for training dogs, Your Grace."

The eyebrows on both men rose, but now it was the horseman who smiled broadly.

"Indeed?" Redmond looked over her companion.

"It should come as no surprise, Redmond, that I would choose such a topic. You know how much I like animals." Stromburg patted Oth.e.l.lo on the cheek.

"Too right. Well, Miss MacIntyre, it was good to make your acquaintance. I'm sure we'll meet again. I'm absolutely sure of it." With only a slight bow that could be attributed to the speed at which he backed away, The Duke of Redmond turned and mounted. Once the animal was in his control, he urged the beast far too close to Stromburg, but the latter held his ground. Redmond leaned toward Tempest. "Don't believe half the things he tells you, Miss MacIntyre." He straightened. "And Stromburg, I'm certain you cannot afford to...accost this lady again. And pray do not bore her with tales of your bravery. It's likely even Miss MacIntyre is aware-well, never mind."

The Duke of Redmond kicked his mount and was gone. In his wake, the on-lookers hung their heads in disappointment and wandered away. Finally, she looked at the man who still held her hand to his arm.

"Once again, allow me to tell you how happy I am that you will be escaping your stepfather's clutches, Miss MacIntyre." His artificial smile was back, but with even less feeling behind it. His eyes darted away from her.

"Oh please, Mister Hercules, call me Miss Aphrodite. I rather liked it."

To her complete joy, his gaze and his smile returned, only this time with sincerity.