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Authors: A Most Devilish Rogue
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the memory. “He does not need his true father. His true father was a scoundrel.”
Upperton stepped closer until he blocked even the sky. A salt-laden breeze ruffled his hair, standing it onend and giving him a roguish look. “He needs a man in his life nonetheless.”
Sudden laughter bubbled in her throat. “Are you volunteering?”
The color drained from his wind-reddened cheeks, and he retreated. “No.”
“Then why broach the subject? Why put your nose where it clearly does not belong?” She strode off again. Jack had disappeared down a side lane, after the mint. Ahead, the first cottages loomed closer. Her cottage, up the street from the vicarage, past the inn. Her refuge.
“It’s only …” He caught up with her once more. “The devil take it. Wouldn’t your life be easier with someone else to help you look after him? He’s going to be getting into more and more scrapes as he grows older.”
“Speaking from experience, are you?” She sent a pointed glance in the direction of the bruises fading about his left eye.
“If you must know, yes. But besides that, he’s lonely.”
“Did he tell you as much?” An odd burning roiled in her stomach. Could it be jealousy that her son had confided in this stranger rather than his own mother?
“Not in so many words, but I could see it. A boy his age needs companions.”
She nodded to a matron emerging from the apothecary. “He has me.”
“You’re his mother. Someday he’ll want a man to tell him about—” He broke off, but the color fast rising to his cheeks filled in the rest of his notion easily enough.
“He’ll want to know about seducing innocent girls into ruin?” That stopped him. Bluntness generally did.
He opened his mouth and closed it again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. At the same time, a speculative glint in his eye told her he’d taken her point.
“I’d prefer my son not learn such lessons.”
“Then he needs some sort of father even more.”
“And where do you propose I find such a paragon? He’d have to take me into the bargain, ruined as I am.”
His gaze traveled down her body, heating everything it touched, from her face to her breasts to somewhere deep, deep within—somewhere forbidden. And here she was, standing in the middle of a public thoroughfare, letting him ogle her. Time to shut him down here and now.
“That, Mr. Upperton, is precisely the sort of man I intend to avoid.”
CHAPTER FIVE
G EORGE STALKED up the dusty road toward a promising-looking establishment. Precisely the sort of man she intended to avoid, indeed. He hadn’t intended to imply anything. As if he could take on another woman’s problems when he had enough of his own.
He eyed the inn—it must be an inn, given its size. An inn meant refreshment might be had. Lord knew a quaff of ale would go down nicely after the morning he’d had. Rejected by an equine and a female. Not that he wanted anything to do with either. Oh, no.
“I say, you’ve come a rather roundabout way.”
George squinted in the direction of the masculine voice. Leach led his horse from the opposite end of the village. Revelstoke followed, along with several of his male guests, each holding a set of reins.
Revelstoke approached and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do I want to know what you’ve done with Buttercup?”
“Who’s Buttercup?”
The wretch fairly smiled. “I recall lending you a horse this morning.”
So the beast was female, too. He might have known. “That was no Buttercup. That was an ungrateful nag that decided to have a lie-in rather than take me on an outing. I’m certain the blasted beast is back at the stables, stuffing itself with oats.”
Revelstoke burst out laughing.
“And don’t you dare point out the last rider that foul creature threw was a child of six,” George added. “I shall have to demand satisfaction.”
“You can call Buttercup out if you’d like, but you’ll have to ask someone else to stand as
Upperton stepped closer until he blocked even the sky. A salt-laden breeze ruffled his hair, standing it onend and giving him a roguish look. “He needs a man in his life nonetheless.”
Sudden laughter bubbled in her throat. “Are you volunteering?”
The color drained from his wind-reddened cheeks, and he retreated. “No.”
“Then why broach the subject? Why put your nose where it clearly does not belong?” She strode off again. Jack had disappeared down a side lane, after the mint. Ahead, the first cottages loomed closer. Her cottage, up the street from the vicarage, past the inn. Her refuge.
“It’s only …” He caught up with her once more. “The devil take it. Wouldn’t your life be easier with someone else to help you look after him? He’s going to be getting into more and more scrapes as he grows older.”
“Speaking from experience, are you?” She sent a pointed glance in the direction of the bruises fading about his left eye.
“If you must know, yes. But besides that, he’s lonely.”
“Did he tell you as much?” An odd burning roiled in her stomach. Could it be jealousy that her son had confided in this stranger rather than his own mother?
“Not in so many words, but I could see it. A boy his age needs companions.”
She nodded to a matron emerging from the apothecary. “He has me.”
“You’re his mother. Someday he’ll want a man to tell him about—” He broke off, but the color fast rising to his cheeks filled in the rest of his notion easily enough.
“He’ll want to know about seducing innocent girls into ruin?” That stopped him. Bluntness generally did.
He opened his mouth and closed it again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. At the same time, a speculative glint in his eye told her he’d taken her point.
“I’d prefer my son not learn such lessons.”
“Then he needs some sort of father even more.”
“And where do you propose I find such a paragon? He’d have to take me into the bargain, ruined as I am.”
His gaze traveled down her body, heating everything it touched, from her face to her breasts to somewhere deep, deep within—somewhere forbidden. And here she was, standing in the middle of a public thoroughfare, letting him ogle her. Time to shut him down here and now.
“That, Mr. Upperton, is precisely the sort of man I intend to avoid.”
CHAPTER FIVE
G EORGE STALKED up the dusty road toward a promising-looking establishment. Precisely the sort of man she intended to avoid, indeed. He hadn’t intended to imply anything. As if he could take on another woman’s problems when he had enough of his own.
He eyed the inn—it must be an inn, given its size. An inn meant refreshment might be had. Lord knew a quaff of ale would go down nicely after the morning he’d had. Rejected by an equine and a female. Not that he wanted anything to do with either. Oh, no.
“I say, you’ve come a rather roundabout way.”
George squinted in the direction of the masculine voice. Leach led his horse from the opposite end of the village. Revelstoke followed, along with several of his male guests, each holding a set of reins.
Revelstoke approached and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do I want to know what you’ve done with Buttercup?”
“Who’s Buttercup?”
The wretch fairly smiled. “I recall lending you a horse this morning.”
So the beast was female, too. He might have known. “That was no Buttercup. That was an ungrateful nag that decided to have a lie-in rather than take me on an outing. I’m certain the blasted beast is back at the stables, stuffing itself with oats.”
Revelstoke burst out laughing.
“And don’t you dare point out the last rider that foul creature threw was a child of six,” George added. “I shall have to demand satisfaction.”
“You can call Buttercup out if you’d like, but you’ll have to ask someone else to stand as
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