Page 6 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

The footman opened the carriage door and helped the baroness out first. He grinned and extended a hand to Maddie. Since it would be rude not to smile back, she beamed at him.

Her aunt frowned and shook her head in an almost imperceptible do-not-make-eye-contact-with-the-young-servant-again warning.

Maddie cringed. She had to do better to show her appreciation. Her aunt had plucked her from her dull life and placed her in a heavenly village. In Hertfordshire, she was a carriage ride from the bustle of London and had a fresh start where people might not see her as “Madalene Spencer the Black Widow.” Meanwhile, she would enjoy everything her new life had to offer. Although she would watch how many pastries she consumed and how many men she smiled at since those things always led to trouble.

She linked elbows with her aunt, and side-by-side, they climbed the stairs to the castle entrance.

Their first stop was in Sir Elias Saxton’s study.

After a convivial greeting of, “Good day, Madalene. It has been too long since we have seen you. Lady Saxton is highly pleased that you are here,” her uncle returned his attention to the stack of papers on his desk.

Maddie did not intend to read and memorize the list on top. Unfortunately, her brain did what it wanted, and this information was particularly boring since it was a list of things. Dates, bullets, tobacco, cotton, lumber, weapons…

Her aunt leaned close to whisper, “My husband never stops working.” She frowned. “Especially since he lost two ships to pirates this past year.”

“How terrible,” Maddie whispered back. “I know one of them transported lumber from Spencer & Baker.” The newly acquired list that bounced around her brain was probably inventory from the ships. She pushed the useless words and numbers to the back of her brain.

Sir Elias lifted his gaze from his task. “I suppose your husband was quite distraught.”

Maddie did not respond. Her curmudgeon of a husband had passed before the ship was overtaken. However, her greedy father had thrown a terrible vase-breaking tantrum.

Her aunt guided her into the hall and closed the study door behind them. “I say the thieves were probably French pirates.”

Swashbuckling Frenchmen on ships. How delicious.

Lady Saxton squeezed Maddie’s forearm affectionately. “Tomorrow, we have guests arriving for the sennight. My husband has been obsessed with one of his innovative business ideas and has invited men of influence to invest in his plan. He even has some highly esteemed soldiers coming as ambassadors for the Crown.”

Brave men in red coats? How exciting.

“Hopefully, you will not find our guests tedious,” Lady Saxton said.

Would the guests be lords and ladies who invited her to fancy balls? “I am sure I will enjoy myself. I love to meet new people.”

From there, the first hours in her aunt’s home were a blur. There were curtseying maids and a tour of a house so large she was unsure if she could find the way to her chamber without assistance. Although the grand structure had to be hundreds of years old, the interior was pristine shades of white, cream, and beige, resplendent with gilded everything, and dripping crystals.

Luckily, her chamber was brilliant colors. The turquoise and royal blue wall coverings and bedding were adorned with pink roses and were warm and inviting. The room was so immense that she could entertain a dozen friends in the space comfortably. Not that she had friends anymore. But she once had, before her father had forced her to marry his business partner. The unlikely marriage assured that Spencer & Baker did not fall into a disreputable nephew’s hands when his ancient business partner passed. Unfortunately, it also cinched her status as an outcast because a twenty-year-old girl married to the oldest man in New York made everyone but her father uncomfortable.

Maddie tried not to hold a grudge against her father, even though he had sacrificed every bit of her happiness and pride for money and status. But holding grudges cast the world in black, and she craved color. She had no interest in partnering with her father, so she had handed over her share of the company to him, then left New York with an overflowing purse and her precious freedom.

Well, she was as free as any woman could be in a world run by men. Although she understood men. And if left to her own devices, she found them quite malleable.

Unfortunately, her powers of persuasion had been taken from her—again—unless she planned to embarrass her aunt and uncle with her overly-friendly personality.

No. She would not humiliate them. She would simply enjoy walks through scenic St. Alban, trips to London, the week of guests at Herald Hall, and her lovely chamber.

Out with a gray eighty-six-year-old husband and brown and white lumber. In with green pastures and rainbow-colored English gardens.

Chapter three

October 3rd, 1817

Beingthesecondsonof the late Earl of Trent, Stephen was accustomed to extravagance. His grandmother, Louisa Eaton, the Dowager Countess of Trent, organized balls so grand they set trends with theton. And still, the opulence of Sir Saxton’s gathering defied anything he’d experienced. The cost of the crystals in the twelve-tiered chandelier glittering above him could feed his regiment for a month.

Unfortunately, with a host this intent on proving how much wealth he possessed, the uneatenhors d’oeuvreswould find their way to a rubbish bin. If she were present, his twin sister would loudly declare to everyone present that the display was “vulgar and wasteful” right before she packed up the food and delivered it to those in need. Despite her obstinate nature, his twin was truly remarkable.

Stephen sighed. Where in the blazes was Dupont? If he’d begged to spend this week at Saxton’s for nothing, he’d…well, he’d have to swallow his anger no matter how frustrated he was. He swirled his Port. The liquid caught the light and shimmered beneath the ostentatious chandelier—rich burgundy, aged perfectly, and the best part of the evening.

Since Stephen was trying to be polite, he shoved his annoyance to the side and listened to Ian Miller drone on and on about his profitable construction business. Oh, and he drank that Port. Well, guzzled, was a more apt description.