Free Dangerous to Kiss by Elizabeth Thornton

here. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, so to speak, and Lord Kendal’s presence would be in the nature of a coup for me, if I can persuade him.”
    Her ladyship eyed her frozen companion with no little curiosity. Deciding that she had thrown Miss Weyman into confusion with her muddled explanation, she started over. “I was alighting from my carriage at the White Hart, when Gray, that is, Lord Kendal, passed me on horseback. That is, he was on horseback. Oh, you know what I mean. So I gave my coachman the order to follow your carriage. I know Gray is here somewhere because Jupiter is in the stable. However, the landlord knew nothing of Lord Kendal, but when I described him, he directed me to this parlor. I say, Miss Weyman, are you sure you are all right? Sit down, why don’t you, and I shall fetch you a glass of wine.”
    “What description?” demanded Deborah. She was debating inwardly, telling herself it couldn’t be true. Lord Kendal was tall, dark, and handsome. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she knew that she did. He looked nothing like Mr. Gray.
    Lady Becket sighed. “Oh dear, I really am making a muddle of this, aren’t I? Well, you know—tall, blond, and with the face of an angel. Lord Kendal, I mean. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to fetch you a glass of wine?”
    Deborah was already reaching for her cloak. Though her brain was reeling from the shock of discovery, she forced herself to act naturally. “I’m a little shaken after the ride in the carriage,” she said. “It’s of no consequence, really. Pray be seated, Lady Becket, and I shall undertake to find Lord Kendal for you.”
    Lady Becket’s eyes were fixed on the cloak which Deborah was clutching to her bosom. “Oh, is he not on the premises, then?”
    “I believe he is in the stable block,” answered Deborah, and without more ado, she whipped herself out of the room.
    As her momentum carried her to the top of the stairs, she flung her cloak around her shoulders. Her brain was churning as it made connections of trifles that had puzzled her. But they weren’t trifles. They were indications that all was not as it appeared to be. She could have wept for her gullibility.
    She had just begun to descend the stairs when she heard the tread of footsteps ascending and the word “Gray.” Doing a quick about-face, she hared off in another direction, praying that she would come upon the back staircase. She was in luck. Without looking to left or right, she clattered down the wooden stairs and did not stop till she was outside the building. Here she hesitated, taking her bearings.
    Gray, meantime, had ascended the stairs and was striding along the corridor to the parlor where he had left Deborah. Having conferred with Nick and Hart in the taproom, he had made up his mind to forgo the small repast and remove Miss Weyman forthwith. He was right about the Beckets. They were hosting a house party, and when their guests were at a loose end, they sometimes made forays into Wells. He wasn’t going to chance meeting up with any of them.
    He knocked on the parlor door and waited for Deborah to unlock it. The moment it swung open and he came face-to-face with Pamela Becket, he knew the game was up.
    “Gray! Well, I must say that was quick.”
    “Where is she?” His tone was imperious and not at all friendly.
    Lady Becket peered up at him in some uncertainty. This was not the reception she had anticipated. “Oh dear, I knew Miss Weyman was upset. Was it something I said? You see—”
    “Dammit, woman, just tell me where she went.”
    “She went to look for you, to—”
    With a violent expletive, Gray spun on his heel and took off at a run. He found Nick and Hart in the taproom, in the act of settling with the landlord. “Hart,” he said, “pay for my shot and meet me out front. Nick, fetch the horses and follow us. The bird has flown the coop.”
    Nick and Hart exchanged a startled look, then quickly complied with Gray’s