“No, thank you. I prefer my face free of bruises.”
“Let him land several blows. Then, when he’s feeling confident, when he thinks he has you beaten, you pummel the hell out of him.”
Rafe stared at Ewan a long time. Ewan started moving away again. “You can thank me later.”
“Not likely!” Rafe called after him.
He let out a sigh and began to follow, quite slowly, the progress of Miss Fournay and her chaperone. Give her something. Let the opponent land a punch. “Then pummel the hell out of him,” he muttered.
Was pummel a metaphor?
Was he really trying to read something into Ewan’s words?
Not that he had any better ideas.
Miss Fournay was lonely. Rafe would give her something without asking for anything in return. He’d give her friendship. He’d take her around London, call on her, and…and whatever else friends did. Then when she trusted him, when she counted him as her friend, he’d take advantage of that trust and pry the information he needed out of her.
Rafe frowned. And some men accused him of being manipulative. Ewan’s methods were cold indeed. But with his country at risk, Rafe couldn’t afford scruples.
“Mr. Beaumont?”
Rafe looked up. He’d been so lost in thought, he’d practically run into Miss Fournay and her chaperone. Lady Ravensgate looked at him quizzically, while her charge pretended he did not exist. “Lady Ravensgate.” He bowed. “Miss Fournay. What a pleasure to encounter you both here.”
Miss Fournay snorted and looked away. She was decidedly unfriendly.
“The pleasure is all ours,” Lady Ravensgate said. “How is your ankle? Should you really be walking on it?”
“My ankle?” He glanced at Lady Ravensgate, then Miss Fournay, in confusion.
Miss Fournay rolled her eyes. “You sprained it at Lord Montjoy’s ball, monsieur. You had to leave early.”
“Yes. I did. I sprained it.” He lifted one foot as though his weight on it pained him.
“It was the other ankle, monsieur.”
Miss Fournay had a smug look on her face. Rafe wanted it gone. “Imagine that. They both feel as good as new.”
“I wish I could say the same.” Lady Ravensgate moved toward a bench and sat, arranging her skirts carefully. “I tire easily these days.”
“Shall I sit with you and keep you company?” Rafe asked.
“No, no. You two young people continue to stroll. I will wait here for you.”
“But I can’t leave you!” Miss Fournay protested.
“Oh, I am tired, not dying. Go ahead.”
Miss Fournay opened her mouth, obviously struggling to think of another excuse to avoid his presence. Rafe didn’t give her the opportunity. He offered his arm, and she had little choice but to take it. “I will bring her back shortly, my lady. I promise she will have no better friend than me.”
When they had walked a little distance, Rafe commenting on the trees and the sky and the weather, they finally paused near a small pond, where ducks swam. The pond was somewhat sheltered from view by the low-hanging branches of trees, and Miss Fournay snatched her arm away immediately.
“I meant what I said, you know,” he told her.
“About the summer breeze or the oak trees?”
“About being your friend. I’d like to be your friend.”
She glared at him, her dark eyes wide and full of fire. “My English may not be as good as yours, monsieur, but even I know friend is what men often use to refer to their paramours.”
“Actually, the term is usually special friend, and that is not what I had in mind at all.”
“I am not that na?ve.”
“Good. Then you will understand that there are times when men and women might simply be friends.”
She crossed her arms over her ample chest. “And why would you want to be my friend? Have you no friends of your own?”
He had plenty of friends of his own, but his popularity was not the issue. “I don’t have any women friends, and Montjoy’s ball showed to me that a woman friend, like you, might prove valuable.”
“How so?”
“If I am walking in the park with you or dancing with you or speaking with you, I am safe from other women.”
“Safe?”
“Yes, safe. You think I enjoy constant pursuit?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” he said, surprised at his honesty. “I grow tired of it, and since you’re the first woman who is not related to me who seems completely immune to my good looks, my unparalleled charms, my witty conversation—”
“Your mammoth arrogance.”
He grinned. “I thought you and I might be friends. You could help me stave off the female population, and I can help you.”
“There is only one problem, monsieur. I do not need your help.”
“Yes, you do. You must be terribly lonely with only that old bat to keep you company.”
“Not at all,” she protested, rather unconvincingly.
“You have been in London a month? Two?”
“Just about.”
“Have you seen the Tower? The British Museum? Vauxhall Gardens? The Thames?”
She didn’t reply, and her silence spoke for itself.
“Or have you only seen the inside of stuffy drawing rooms and assembly halls? Why not let me, acting as your friend, show you all of London? There’s Bond Street, Covent Garden, ices at Gunter’s—”
“I couldn’t possibly agree to any of that. I must have a chaperone, and Lady Ravensgate has not the strength for a full schedule in the morning and another in the evening.”
“Then bring a maid, or if Lady Ravensgate feels up to it, she may attend. What say you to a play tonight at Drury Lane? I believe they are performing a new comedy.”
She shook her head, but not before he saw a flicker of interest in her eyes. Her arms had dropped as well. Hell’s teeth, but Ewan was a genius. It had only been a few moments of this friendship nonsense, and she was already lowering her guard.
“I couldn’t possibly accept.”
“You have plans tonight?” He knew she did not. He had paid one of Lady Ravensgate’s servants to provide him with their schedule.
“It is Lady Ravensgate’s decision.”
Rafe did not miss how she answered without giving him an answer to his question about her plans. She was cunning. He held out his arm again. “Then we shall ask her. No, I shall invite both of you.”
“You have that many seats?”
“I am the son of an earl. I have a box at my disposal.”
On the way back to her chaperone, Rafe couldn’t help but steal one, or two, more-than-friendly looks in Miss Fournay’s direction. She wore a bonnet that hid her face when she looked straight ahead, but he could still see the graceful column of her neck before it dipped under the spencer she wore. And he had better not linger too long on the rise of her breasts beneath the spencer. This friendship scheme was just the thing, but he would ruin it all if he didn’t keep himself in check. He’d never before worried about his attraction to a woman who was part of a mission. If he was attracted to her, it made his job easier. Now his attraction could present a problem, especially as he was more attracted to her than he’d like to admit. Rafe wouldn’t have thought he could have much interest in a woman of so little experience, even if she was physically the type he preferred. But there was something thrilling in the knowledge that he might be the first to kiss her, the first to touch her, the first to take her…not that he would do any of that. He was only her friend.
Still, it was annoying that now that he had what amounted to state approval to seduce a virginal miss, he had decided not to. And this, just when he, who had never had any interest in untried females, had discovered what other men found so alluring about them. But virgin or not, Miss Fournay would have attracted him. And like the old saying went, now that he couldn’t have her, the more he wanted her.