A Scandalous Proposal by Kasey Michaels Page B

very favorite, her appetite having disappeared, perhaps forever. “The dress shop owner believes the countess is...is increasing.” She looked up at Cooper, who was now standing stock-still. “A seamstress can’t know more than the person in question, could she?”
    â€œYou’re asking me?”
    â€œNo, probably not. You’re not as calm and collected as I would have imagined a hero would be, you know.”
    â€œI’m not a hero, damn it!” He held up his hands. “I beg your pardon, Miss Foster. But I’m not a hero. Anything you read in that god-awful chapbook was made up out of whole cloth.”
    Well, wasn’t that disappointing. “None of it? You didn’t rescue any children?”
    He tipped his head to one side for a moment. “Well, that’s true. But I didn’t plan it. It...it just happened. One minute I was standing there with everyone else, and the next I was tossing down my rifle and running. It seemed like the thing to do. And what does any of that matter?”
    â€œI imagine it matters to the children you saved from being trampled or shot, the Englishmen who were then free to defend themselves from a French slaughter. Oh, and to the veiled lady. Was there a veiled lady?”
    â€œA holy nun. A veiled nun, yes.”
    â€œNow you’re lying,” she said, not knowing why she felt so certain, but certain nonetheless. “You’re protecting her, whoever she is. That’s why she disappeared . You took her somewhere safe, and only then returned to the camp, hours after the battle. Even now, you protect her. She must be very important to someone.”
    His green eyes flashed, his eyelids narrowed—just the way his unknown biographer had written. “I don’t like you, Miss Foster.”
    â€œThat’s understandable. I’ve rather bullied my way into your life, haven’t I? I have no shame in that, however, as my sister desperately needs a hero, unwilling hero or not,” she told him brightly. “Inconveniently for you, you’re a man of your word, because you’re still here, when a lesser man would have broken down the earl’s front door in his haste to be gone. He knows who she is, naturally.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOh, I’m sorry. We’re back to my sister and her secret admirer. He knows her because the notes he wrote were delivered here. That’s only sensible. But he also knows her because she foolishly signed her name to her notes. Probably with a flourish, and including her title. Mari can be a bit of a twit.”
    â€œAll right, I think I finally understand. Your sister wants me to discover the identity of her anonymous admirer in order to have her notes returned to her. And how am I supposed to go about that, Miss Foster? Does your sister by chance keep a list of her admirers, as a sort of starting point for me, you understand?”
    â€œNo, and it’s not that simple. I can show you the letters he wrote to her, I suppose. There may be a hint or two there I’ve overlooked. But it’s his final missive—or should I say almost final missive—that is causing all of this trouble.”
    So saying, she reached into her pocket and drew out a folded note, handing it over to him.
    He looked at it, almost as if he didn’t want to touch it, and then suddenly all but grabbed it from her. Opening it, he read aloud.
    â€œFive hundred pounds or the next person to read your love notes will be your husband, just before the collection is published in a pamphlet entitled Confessions of a Society Matron Forced to Seek Solace in the Arms of Another, Rejected by Her Husband, Who Apparently Is Immune to Feminine Charms, Preferring the Company of Others of His Own Persuasion.
    â€œYes, this is blackmail, and I’m quite good at it. Your husband returns soon, my lady, and you have no time to dawdle. I will be in touch.”
    â€œYou can see he is fairly