Never Beguile a Bodyguard (Fortune's Brides: Guarding Her Heart Book 1) Read online

  “Then I am very glad you came to me,” Lady Belfort said. “I intend to find the four Imperial Guards positions here in England. They will be joining me tomorrow at my estate in Surrey, Rose Hill, in the guest cottage next to my home. As my husband is currently out of the country, traveling with the Batavarian delegation to Württemberg to ratify the agreement between the countries and England, I would benefit from having a lady companion, like you.”

  Miss Winchester’s lower lip trembled. “How kind, your ladyship.”

  How kind indeed. And how fitting. With Lady Belford her patroness as well, he would not have to concern himself with Abigail Winchester’s safety. He could move into the future with no fear of losing his heart again. It had never fully healed from the last time he had been assigned to guard a lady.

  “A temporary position only, you understand,” her ladyship continued, “but it would allow me to assess your skills and find you a more suitable position when it is finished. In the meantime, to ensure our safety, I will ask you to act as her bodyguard, Mr. Huber.”

  Chapter Two

  A bodyguard? Abigail knew she was grinning and carefully schooled her face. But how could she not grin? Those who thought to punish her for her father’s mistakes would certainly think twice at the sight of Finn Huber beside her. That lean, powerful body, those golden brown eyes, like a lion’s in their ferocity. Even Preston Netherfield, who she had thought the epitome of gentlemanly valor, would have swallowed hard.

  But was it fair to involve him in her troubles? Hadn’t enough people been hurt?

  “I would not wish to be a burden,” she said to Lady Belfort.

  Somehow, she thought her ladyship also subscribed to the view of composure being a lady’s best defense. The only indication of amusement on her face was a slight arch of her dark brow.

  “No burden,” she said. “It is best to keep Mr. Huber busy while I find him a permanent position.”

  Lady Belfort hadn’t asked his permission, merely given him an order. But he seemed to have mastered the art of composure as well, for he inclined his head, giving Abigail no insight into his thoughts on the matter.

  “Can you be ready at half past eight tomorrow?” Lady Belfort pressed.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she’d approached the lady—perhaps a governess position in a remote corner of Cornwall? But she could not doubt this assignment would be better. Rose Hill was near the duke’s holdings along the Thames, if she remembered correctly. The area had seemed thin of Society. Surely few there would have invested in the far off country of Poyais, and fewer still would know the connection of one Arthur Winchester, her father, in the scheme that was still unfolding in England, France, and the South American countries. And Mr. Huber for her own personal bodyguard?

  A shiver went through her. It wasn’t fear.

  He was watching her with that stillness she admired. Like a boulder, unscathed by wind or rain, undaunted by ice or heat. A rock a lady could lean upon when her strength failed her.

  Funny how all the rocks in her life—her father, Preston—had crumbled. Even Cornelius Benchley, her father’s dearest friend, who she’d considered an uncle, had distanced himself from her, claiming she would be better off without another millstone around her neck. Did she dare take a chance on Finn Huber?

  Composure. She was not offering him her life. She was accepting a temporary position that might secure her a better future.

  She rose, then held out a hand to prevent him from doing likewise.

  “Yes, your ladyship,” she said. “Thank you for the opportunity, and thank you, Mr. Huber, for agreeing to look out for my welfare. Until tomorrow.”

  She dropped a curtsey, but he was at her side as she straightened.

  “Since I am to be your bodyguard,” he said, “I should see you home.”

  “Very wise,” Lady Belfort said before Abigail could argue.

  And truly, did she want to argue? How glorious to know she need not look over her shoulder. She could feel her lungs expanding at the thought.

  “Thank you, Mr. Huber,” she said again, and he fell into step beside her.

  When they reached the ground floor, he held up his hand. “Stay here. I will tell my colleagues to continue to the palace. I can call for a carriage to join them later.”

  She nodded.

  He left, shutting the door carefully behind him. Mr. Cowls must have been busy elsewhere, for there was no one in the entry.

  No, that wasn’t true. She felt the brush against her skirts a moment before she looked down at Fortune. The cat’s tail was high, like a flag, as she made another pass.

  “I suppose I should thank you too,” Abigail said. “Apparently your blessing was required for any of this to happen.”

  Fortune glanced up as if she was surprised Abigail would have thought otherwise.

  The door cracked open, and the cat skittered closer to freedom. But Mr. Huber must have been expecting her, for he maneuvered the door to block her path, then held out his free arm to Abigail. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she said, moving around the cat. Fortune appeared to be pouting.

  “I think we spoiled her fun,” she told him as they started down the street toward busier Park Lane, where he likely meant to hail a hack.

  “Lady Belfort warned us she tries to escape,” he explained. “We have been careful to prevent it. A small cat would not fare well in all this.” His nod took in the passing carriages, the lorry waiting at one of the houses down the way. “Where are we going now?”

  “A lodging house off Covent Garden,” she said.

  She waited for surprise or disdain, but he merely nodded. Perhaps he wasn’t cognizant of the areas of London. He’d know as soon as the carriage turned onto Leary Street.

  “I didn’t realize you were staying in England,” she said as they passed out of the square. “I read in the newspaper that the king’s delegation was returning to Batavaria.”

  “Many of the guards chose to go home,” he said, one hand on her elbow as if to steer her through any storm. “Prince Otto Leopold will come back to England after the agreement is signed, to serve as ambassador. His brother elected to stay with his wife in Surrey and take up dog breeding.”

  The tone in his voice told her the occupation shocked him.

  “And what about England made you decide to stay?” she asked.

  “I met many people here I could admire.” His gaze brushed hers, warm. But surely he hadn’t stayed in England because of her. Until she’d appeared at Lady Belfort’s, he would have had no way to meet her again. A governess did not spend a great deal of time in Society.

  And they generally did not require bodyguards.

  They had reached Park Lane, and he raised a hand to signal a passing coach. A few moments later, she had told the coachman her direction and was safely inside. Belatedly she realized that she would be sharing a closed carriage with a gentleman. What secrets might be spilled? Another shiver went through her. Composure!

  Mr. Huber shut the door and looked through the window at her. “I will ride with the coachman and look for trouble.”

  Well!

  At least that took care of her reputation. Mr. Huber obviously excelled at his work.

  But the narrow space felt terribly empty as the coach headed off.

  {♥}

  Meredith, Lady Belfort, rose from the sofa after Miss Winchester and Mr. Huber had departed. What an interesting development. Miss Winchester had been such a blessing at the house party this summer that it would be a pleasure to assist her. Meredith knew what it was like to have to start over. And after her earlier struggles in life, she had vowed to help gentlewomen and gentlemen in similar situations.

  And then there was Mr. Huber. She had yet to discover why he was so determined to remain in England now that his king, the royal family, and its courtiers had been given the right to return to their native Batavaria. He had not mounted the least argument about guarding Miss Winchester, even though a governess was a far cry from a member of the royal court.

  “Mr. Cowls?” she called, and her butler materialized in the doorway as if he had been waiting for any word.

  “Your ladyship?” he acknowledged.

  “Would you send word to Sir Matthew that I would like to speak with him this afternoon before we travel to Rose Hill? I know how he and Charlotte like unraveling the little mysteries we give them. I believe I have one that is sure to please.”

  {♥}

  “Well?” Roth demanded when Finn arrived at the Chelsea palace later that afternoon. “Did you find the man stalking the governess?”

  Finn had explained the situation when he had briefly met with his comrades in the park across from Lady Belfort’s residence on Clarendon Square. Now Roth and the others were gathered in the room they had been using as quarters while the king, his sons, and their courtiers had been leasing the palace. The four of them had been given leave to stay until the lease ended, which was only a week away. Most of the servants had already been dismissed. It hadn’t been a bad posting, but the walls held far too much gilding for Finn’s taste, and the beds were entirely too soft.

  “No,” he reported as Roth paused in his packing and Keller and Tanner lounged on their beds. “I watched from Clarendon Square to Miss Winchester’s lodging, then stayed in the area a quarter hour. I saw nothing and no one suspicious.”

  Tanner chuckled. “What did you expect playing bodyguard to a governess?”

  Finn refused to stiffen.

  “It is a suitable occupation,” Roth mused, stroking his clean-shaven chin as if he had considered the matter himself. “And I suppose Lady Belfort’s provision of room and board is sufficient pay for the moment.”

  “Do you think it will be as nice as this?” Keller asked wistfully as he glanced around. Apparently some liked gilt.

  “That does not matter,” Roth told him. “It is more important that we find positions here to support us. Come, help me carry these trunks to the door so we are ready to leave in the morning.”

  Keller climbed to his feet and went to oblige.

  Tanner watched them go, then tipped up his chin to Finn. “Do you really think Miss Winchester is in danger?”

  “She believes so,” Finn said, going to finish his own packing. There wasn’t much. When the Congress of Vienna had awarded the kingdom of Batavaria to its neighbor, Württemberg, the king, his family, and many of his courtiers had gone into exile. The majority of the Imperial Guards had gone as well. Finn had lived in Italy, Germany, and now England following his king. He had learned to pack light.

  “So you would lower yourself to serve as her bodyguard on a whim?” Tanner demanded.

  A sharp retort pressed against his lips. Patience won. He had had to cultivate it over the years. The boy who had been sent to school to learn to serve his country had only wanted to run back to the alpine meadows where he had been raised. But there was no one and nothing there for him. Then, as now, he must look to the future.

  “Lady Belfort asked it of me,” he said as he tucked his spare pair of boots, shined to Roth’s approval, into the trunk. He decided not to mention that he had come to admire the lady’s work at the house party.

  “Makes you wish you’d returned to Batavaria, eh?” Tanner teased.

  “No.” Finn turned away to pull another coat from the wardrobe. He had needed only two and a set of evening wear when he’d been a guard with dress uniforms. Now, he supposed, he’d need more.

  “No?” Tanner was obviously unwilling to let the matter lie. “You never told me why you did not return to Batavaria. I had thought you a loyal son. You can certainly rhapsodize about the snow, the rivers, the trees.”

  A wave of longing swept through him. Oh, for one more glimpse of that crystalline sky, one more breath of the crisp, clear air. In London, the buildings crowded so close he struggled to see the clouds. And too often the air was tainted by smoke and other smells.

  “I have no future in Batavaria,” he told Tanner. “None of us does. That’s why we stayed in England.”

  “True,” Tanner allowed. “Though I, for one, was hoping for a little adventure. Perhaps I should ask Lady Belfort to find me a position of bodyguard as well, to such a lovely lady.”

  Finn eyed him. “And her husband and children.”

  Tanner barked a laugh. “Very likely. Just my luck.”

  His luck as well. For the lady he had once loved had been far above him, and no position he could hope to fill would ever have made him a likely suitor for her hand.

  {♥}

  Abigail nearly lost her nerve that evening. She’d lived in London all her life. What did she know about the country? It might be sparsely enough populated to keep others from associating her with her father, but wouldn’t a sparse population also mean there were few children in need of a governess? She had only viewed Lady Belfort in passing at the party. Could she truly be counted on as an ally? And what of Finn Huber? A bodyguard, like a lady’s maid, might be privy to her secrets. Did she want him that close?

  Her thoughts were in such turmoil as she stepped outside the lodging house to procure a meat pie from a local vendor for dinner that she didn’t notice the man until he stopped directly in front of her. He was short and slight, silvery hair partially covered by a battered cap.

  “Wherever you’re going,” he said, voice as sharp as his narrow-set eyes, “you’d be wise to keep your trap shut.”

  Abigail blinked, and he darted down a side alley. She stood for a moment, shaking. Keep silent? About what? Everyone knew her father’s shame. Why did they insist on making it hers?

  The meat pie no longer sounded the least appetizing. She returned to the boardinghouse and attempted to focus on packing.

  But everything reminded her of what she’d lost. Three day dresses and a dinner dress were all that remained of her once fashionable wardrobe, and none would be of any use in the coming winter. She’d commissioned the two wool gowns, one grey and one navy, since becoming a governess.

  “What need will we have for wool in Poyais?” her mother had said happily as they’d bundled their warmer clothes and coats to be donated to the poor. “The tropics call for cottons and linens. And the wife and daughter of the Royal Banker must look their best.”

  The Royal Banker. How her father and mother had preened over the title. They had had no way of knowing there was no Bank of Poyais, no royal city, no city at all waiting on the balmy shores, only disease and death.

  Composure. She had work to do. She pushed through, as she had been doing for the last two years, and stepped out of the lodging house at eight the next morning, juggling two large satchels and a bandbox.

  Only to find a familiar figure on the pavement.

  “Mr. Huber?” Before she could do more than state his name, he was moving to take her luggage to store in the hack that stood waiting. “How long have you been here?”

  “Shortly after first light,” he admitted, returning to fetch her. He was wearing the navy coat again, though his trousers were a serviceable brown and his cravat simply knotted. “I was uncertain when you intended to leave for Lady Belfort’s, and I wanted to be on hand to assist. The area is secure. If you will?” He motioned toward the coach.

  Bemused, Abigail let him hand her up into it, and they set off. Once more, he rode on the bench with the coachman. She could have wished for his company. Anything to stop the frantic hammering of her heart, which seemed to prefer the confines of London, even with its threats, to an unknown future.

  Three coaches were standing before Lady Belfort’s door when Abigail alighted on Mr. Huber’s arm a short while later. One was a green lacquered affair with silver appointments, surely the family carriage. The other two looked more worn, likely hired for the occasion. She sighted Mr. Tanner peering out of the second carriage. The guards must be taking it. A portly lady and older gentleman were climbing into the third. That must be the coach for the servants. Perhaps she would be expected to ride in it. She must remember she was no longer the daughter of a prominent banker. She was a governess turned companion.

  The elderly butler, Mr. Cowls, was issuing orders in his wheezy voice.

  “Miss Winchester,” he said on spying her. “You will be riding in the coach with her ladyship and Mr. Huber.”

  A tingle of pleasure went through her. Silly. Lady Belfort had asked her to act as companion, and Mr. Huber was only attending them because his patroness expected it of him.

  But as he saw her things stored in the boot, she allowed the waiting footman to hand her in. She had just arranged her skirts on the rear-facing seat when Mr. Huber set the coach to shaking as he climbed up.

  “You’re not riding with the coachman?” she asked, chiding herself with how breathless she sounded.

  “No,” he said with a frown. “I can better protect you and Lady Belfort from inside as we leave London. However, that is my seat.”

  Abigail blinked. “Shouldn’t you ride next to her ladyship?”

  “And leave you riding backward?”

  He made it sound as if she’d asked to journey to Surrey flying on a raven’s back.

  “I am a servant,” she reminded him. “It is our place to ride backward.”

  “You are a governess,” he corrected her. “And a lady who is acting as Lady Belfort’s companion.” He reached out, seized her by the shoulders, and hefted her up and onto the forward-facing seat.

  “Well,” Abigail said, righting herself as he plunked her down. “You might ask first.”

  “I did ask first.”

  “You ordered first,” she pointed out, smoothing down her skirts with hands that persisted in trembling.

  He inclined his head. “You are correct. Forgive me. But I will not allow you to inconvenience yourself for me.”

  “Yet you would inconvenience yourself for me,” she protested. “A bodyguard for a governess, of all things!”

  “A bodyguard for a lady,” Lady Belfort corrected her as the footman handed her in. She settled beside Abigail, arranging her purple-blue redingote around her, then opened her arms, and a maid offered her Fortune. The cat’s tail swept back and forth, and her ears were not nearly as high as usual.