Page 29 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

Blythe and Calhoun shoehorned the gargantuan Myrle.

“How did you know I needed assistance?” Stephen asked as the three soldiers escorted their prisoners up the stairs.

“Madalene Spencer sought us out,” Calhoun said.

Blythe sent Stephen a glare containing shrapnel. No other reprimand was needed. Stephen knew he had disobeyed orders by being alone with the woman.

“When we left, Hugo Adams was raising holy hell with Sir Saxton about it,” Calhoun whispered.

“That pretty miss causing you problems, Captain?” Diggins asked.

Stephen socked him in the shoulder blade, and Diggins stumbled forward, grunting, “Bloody hell.”

“Dupont arrived about twenty minutes ago,” Calhoun said. “He has an entourage of at least a half-dozen traveling with him.”

Myrle halted and swung around. “Twenty minutes ago? Fuck a duck.”

Blythe shoved him forward.

Although the remainder of their trek to the castle was quiet, an unsettling feeling crackled about them.

Once the prisoners were locked in the dungeon, Stephen sneaked into the empty library and folded himself into a large wingback.

What in the hell did Myrle and Diggins want from him? Who had freed them from prison in the first place? Why was Myrle upset that Dupont had arrived? And what was Sir Saxton doing with a traitor like Dupont?

In the morning, Stephen would march down to the dungeon. The imps might be willing to cease their nonsense and divulge their purpose once they had spent a night with rats.

The dinner bell rang three times.

Stephen was almost to the dining parlor when he hunched forward, gasping for breath. When he had sent Madalene to Hugo Adams to keep her safe, had she kissed him? Was she in the solicitor’s arms at this very minute?

Hethunked his forehead with the heel of his palm. What was he doing? What in the hell kind of sick perversion was watching a couple rut in the garden? Madalene Spencer was a bad addiction. She was off limits! He was done.

He exhaled, forced his convivial grin, and headed to the dining parlor.

Chapter twelve

October 4th, 1817

Althoughtardy,StephenEatonsauntered into the dining parlor, looking calm and spectacular. No one would be the wiser that earlier he’d held her in his arms, his pupils clouded with desire. And there was no evidence that he’d had to deal with dangerous men. At least, Maddie suspected they were dangerous.

As her aunt promised, Stephen sat beside her. Unfortunately, his brilliant smile faded the second his gaze met Maddie’s. The man was impossibly difficult to figure out.

“Lady Saxton, please forgive me for being tardy,” he said.

Her aunt leaned across Maddie to whisper to him. “Sir Saxton explained that the imposters returned, and you caught them. I hope that we can keep this news to ourselves. I do not want the other guests to worry.”

Well, then Aunt Henrietta probably shouldn’t have mentioned anything in front of the Beaumonts. Hopefully, all of the gossipy guests were seated farther down the table, as were the major and second lieutenant, who had helped lock the men up and still managed to arrive at dinner on time. So what had held Stephen up?

The baroness crooked her finger, encouraging Maddie to lean toward her. Then she tapped her husband on the forearm. “Captain Eaton and your niece do make an agreeable couple, do they not, Elias?”

Her uncle growled.

While praying Stephen hadn’t heard her aunt, Maddie willed her breath to steady.

A newcomer named Pierre Dupont laughed so loudly that his cackle echoed. Maddie looked in his direction.

His gaze traveled from her eyes to herdécolletage, back to her eyes, and then his grin twisted.