Free Her Favoured Captain by Francine Howarth

etched
upon his visage. Her reason for being there must never come to light, and to
that aim, she said, “In the latter you are mistaken. I have no inclination
whatsoever to delve into your past.”
       “I beg to differ, and the
former caused a flush to your cheeks.” He leaned closer, lowered his voice to a
whisper. “Did you not question Lady Hamilton as to my past, and whether I had a
wife at home?”
       Damn him, damn him to hell
and back for causing a second flush to cheeks .
       “I asked the very same of
Colonel Barton.”
       “ Fatty Barton?” he said,
clearly taken aback.
      “I think him a fine officer, and
highly respectful of young ladies, unlike some men I can think of within this
very room. His red tunic is very fetching, and his legs set him solid to deck
when at sea I shouldn’t wonder.”
       He leaned closer still, mouth
almost brushing her ear. “ Liar ,” his whispered rebuke. “You said yon
Royal Marine officer was gross in manner and drools when lusting after young flesh.”
       As he backed away their eyes
met and clashed in combat, and his of such a teasing manner as to necessitate
rapid fluttering of fan to cool her cheeks and calm her fast beating heart. It
was nothing short of a stand off, each attracted to the other, but she would
not engage further, such would be folly.
       “My jewels , my beautiful jewels,” came a scream of anguish and despair, which broke the moment, a
decidedly awkward moment in time. “My necklace. It has gone. Stolen from around
my very neck,” declared a woman of mature years and rotund stature. “Diamonds
and rubies, no less.”
       “How could that be?” said
another, rushing forward to offer condolences at the lady’s loss of valuables
of great merit.
       Several more ladies gathered
around, and Emma Lady Hamilton struggled to make her way through an
ever-amassing throng of guests, hers and Lord Hamilton’s guests. “When did it
go missing?” asked Emma, much concern essayed to the woman, now blubbering with
tears streaming.
       Therese moved closer, intrigued
by it all and a little amused. She had hoped the disturbance would afford the
chance to escape Lt Herne’s attentions and observations, but she sensed a
presence behind and knew it to be him before he said in hushed whisper,
“That’ll teach her to canoodle with a young stranger in dark corners.”
       “Stranger?”
       “Some gigolo and young enough
to be her son.”
       Her heart dived. “You witnessed
the pair?”
       “I did, and dare say the
vagabond is the very same notorious Venetian thief who became the topic of
conversation over supper last evening. In my estimation a trip from Venice to
Naples has proved profitable this night, as on previous nights from within the
grand social whirl of Naples.”
       “How positively daring to steal
away a necklace when the residency is overflowing with guests.”
       She sensed his eyes upon her,
and dared not reciprocate as he said, “Similar occurred in Vienna a year past,
if the stories are to be believed. And numerous jewel thefts have occurred the
last three seasons of the Venice carnivale.”
       “ Talked about? A Venetian thief?”
       “You seem somewhat alarmed,
Countess.”
      “Only, in as much I have upon my
person a very valuable pendant.”
       “What pendant?”
       She thrust her hand to throat,
a sigh of relief escaping. “That was such a cruel trick to play.”   Heart at odds with head, Lt Herne’s daring
was slipping beneath her shield, and she couldn’t let that happen. “Who is this
thief so talked of? I have not heard mention of him before. A Venetian you
say?”
       “Him? Who is to say the thief
is a man?”
       “But you said . . .Oh, I see .
. .”
       He chuckled, his oh so husky
deep in the throat chuckle, his gaze having drifted to the distressed lady now
besieged within a sea of faces. A smile flickered on Lt Herne’s face. “Can we
be absolute