Disarming the Baron (Courting a Curious Lady #3)

Chapter One

The Belinda School for Curious Ladies

Silver Meadows, Northampton

Late October, 1817

M ademoiselle Lissette Fontaine could see Lady Eleanor was confused even before her classmate spoke. “I don’t understand how this formation could possibly keep the soldiers safe. Wouldn’t Alexander the Great’s enemies simply ride between them on their horses?”

“They couldn’t because the soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder.” At Ellie’s frown, Lissa tried to think of an instance in astronomy, Ellie’s favorite subject.

Unfortunately, she was rather ignorant about that subject, having only used the stars to guide her on her way home at night after foraging for food during Napoleon’s wars.

“Lissette, surely you can explain. You know so much about these weapons.” Ellie crossed her arms over her ample bosom, which was far larger than Lissa’s, and raised her brows in expectation.

Lissa glanced around the sectioned area of what was once a very grand ballroom, but was now a library and the heart of the Belinda School for Curious Ladies’ studies. Her gaze lit upon a shield hanging on the wall to remind students to focus on history.

Rising from her chair, she pointed. “I’ll demonstrate.” She walked to the wall and unhooked the shield. It was far smaller than what Alexander the Great used, as it was more modern, but it would do. The shield was well balanced, the straps feeling good on her arm, though it was heavy, as it should be. “Come, stand next to me.”

Ellie rose and joined her.

“Stand right by my side. Now can you see how the enemy couldn’t come between us?”

Ellie shook her head, sending her bright red curls swaying.

It would help if they had two shields. There were no other shields on the wall, but there was a painting. “Wait here.” Lissa set down the shield and strode to the painting, lifting it off the wall. It was a bit larger than the shield, but it would do. She returned to Ellie again. “Now think of this as your shield. Hold it in front of you like this.”

Ellie took the painting and held it before her. “It’s heavy.”

“Most weaponry is heavy so as to protect the bearer. Besides, Alexander’s men were strong. Be careful not to catch the frame in your dress. You said that one was your favorite blue.”

Once her classmate had adjusted the painting, Lissa stood shoulder to shoulder and overlapped the painting with the shield she held. “See? The enemy couldn’t get between us. Plus, the soldiers would have spears in their other hands, so even before the enemy made it to the shields, they’d hit the spears.”

Ellie’s blue eyes rounded. “Oh, I understand now. But what about my other side?”

“You’d have a soldier there too, and if you were on the end, then”—Lissa moved to Ellie’s other side but perpendicular to her—“you’d be protected by this soldier. It would be a large square of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder that the enemy would have to face. That’s the phalanx.”

The painting came to the floor with a thud before tipping over as Ellie lost her grip. “Oh, dear.”

“Oh dear, indeed.” At the sound of the duchess’s voice, they both looked up, startled. “I thought you two were reading Plutarch.”

Lissa shooed Ellie away, not wanting her to do any more damage. “We were. I was demonstrating what a phalanx is.” Lifting the artwork, she returned it to the wall, though it didn’t hang straight. “We were reading about Alexander the Great.”

The duchess eyed the shield, and Lissa quickly picked it up to return it to its place on the wall. Lady Joanna Northwick was not a harsh teacher by any means. In fact, she welcomed them all with open arms, expecting open minds in return.

For Lissa, the school was a haven…of sorts. It was a relief to not go to bed with a rumbling stomach or the fear of soldiers interrupting her sleep. But as her grandmother’s plans moved forward, it put her in a difficult position. If anyone discovered her middle-class origins, they would be appalled.

Her ability to mimic her betters had brought her this far, but even so, she was quite sure the duchess sensed she wasn’t gentry. Fortunately, her grandmother had saved the life of Lord Blackmore, the man they called the Captain, back in France. And since Lady Blackmore was the duchess’s sister, Lissa found herself at the school.

Making sure the shield was secure, she returned to her seat at the table to join Ellie. “Did you wish us to change books?” She hoped not. She enjoyed reading about battles and weapons. She’d practically grown up with them.

“No. I need you to come to the parlor. You have a caller.”

A caller? Could it be the young merchant she met in the Northampton village? But even as the thought came, it evaporated. It would not be him. He had mentioned he would be sailing out on his next ship. Oh, to travel the seas to exotic lands. The thought made her wish she could have gone with him, not that he would have asked her.

No, the only people who called on her were Lord and Lady Blackmore or her grandmother. Except for the Curious Ladies past and present, she knew no one else in England except Anthony Taylour, Lord Blackmore’s lieutenant, whom she hadn’t seen since he’d left France three years ago.

Rising, she pulled on her gloves, secretly hoping it was one of the Blackmores. She pushed the book toward her classmate.

“I’ll just read ahead a little.” Ellie’s shoulders slumped forward, most likely because she didn’t truly understand war and there was quite a bit in the book.

As Lissa walked toward Her Grace, the woman smiled oddly. “I should perhaps be clearer on who was requested. This caller actually asked for Dague.”

Lissa halted, startled, and looked over her shoulder at Ellie. Only the Curious Ladies called her that.

Ellie clapped her hands and smiled warmly. “It must be Dory or Elsbeth, then.”

Of course. Lissa turned back to the duchess and followed. It had to be Dory, as she had been such a good friend before marrying Lord Harewood and leaving the school.

As they approached the parlor entry, the duchess halted. “I will announce you.”

Lissa frowned. “Why?” It was unheard of for a duchess to announce anyone.

“Let us just say it is appropriate in this instance.” With that, Her Grace entered the parlor.

Something was afoot, and it made Lissa nervous. She examined the entryway for clues and noticed a top hat, but as it was not yet very cold, there was no coat to give away the caller’s identity. Still, it was a man’s hat, and he’d asked for Dague.

A thrill went through her. Only one man that she knew had been told her nickname, and only because Dory told her husband that Dague was a weapons expert when he mentioned that Mr. Taylour needed one.

Her Grace stepped into the doorway. “As you requested, Mr. Taylour. Here is Dague.” The duchess swept her arm toward the hall.

Lissa stepped through the doors, the skirts of her white day dress swishing when she stopped. It only took a moment to be sure the man with the strong jawline, blue eyes, and blond streaks in his hair was Anthony. Even as she smiled, memories assailed her of their scouring the countryside for food and valuables, she dressed in her usual trousers and shirt, he eschewing his uniform for her deceased father’s farmer clothes. He refused to enter houses with locked doors, so she’d slip in through windows and open the doors to let him in, circumventing his gentlemanly ways.

His gaze roamed over her, no recognition in his eyes, though there was plenty of appreciation. How could he look at her so? Disappointment filled her. It was the stupid muslin dress with the sage ribbons that she wore. Never did she miss her masculine clothes more.

“Anthony!”

His eyes widened. He was clearly startled by her familiar address.

Striding forward, she took his face in her hands and kissed each cheek, silently urging him to remember her. She let go and stepped back, but not before inhaling his clove scent, which threatened to conjure up more memories.

“Lissa?”

Relief flowed through her, and she lifted her chin. “ Oui . Do you not recognize me in a dress?” She held the dress out with her hands to emphasize the oddity for him.

“The truth be told, I don’t recognize anything but your face. Last I saw you, you were dressed as a boy, and were not as, hmm, as grown. You have…changed.”

She smiled warmly and took his hand in her gloved one, wishing the glove gone. “Come. Her Grace said you need my help.”

She pulled him to the settee, but as she tugged on his hand to sit, he balked. He stepped away, and she let go.

“Your help?” He looked to the duchess, who still stood in the doorway grinning.

Lady Northwick strode in. “Yes, her help. You requested my weapons expert, Dague. This is she. You two obviously have much to catch up on. I will be over here in the dining room.” The duchess waved toward the dining area that opened onto the parlor through a large archway.

There, Lady Northwick could keep her eyes on them without overhearing their conversation. Not that they needed a chaperone. They were old friends, bonded by the experience of war.

Anthony seemed to gather his tattered composure, and he gave a slight bow. “I thank Your Grace for your kindness.”

“It is no special kindness. After all, I’m sure Lissette will tell me everything after you leave.” The duchess winked before turning her back on them and strolling toward the connecting room.

Lissa shook her head, so he would know she had no intention of telling the duchess everything.

His shoulders relaxed, and he finally consented to sit next to her. He gazed at her in silence, making her uncomfortable.

She cocked her head. “What is it?”

“I’m trying to equate the urchin who rode double with me on my horse, crawled under a fallen barn wall to gather fresh eggs, and who reminded me daily that life was made to be enjoyed, with the beautiful woman before me.”

Non , she would not accept such talk from her Anthony. “I am that same person, mon ami . Oui , a bit older and wiser, but no different inside. It is only the clothes that are different.” She touched her chest above the neckline of her dress. “It is still me. I’m still Lissa. Please do not treat me as a lady. You know more about my life than anyone here in England.” Which was true, except for her grandmother.

He shook his head, even as his gaze roamed over her once again. “That is difficult, but I will try. It is more than your clothing. This is a very different setting as well. We are not in the partially destroyed farmhouse where you lived because your family’s mansion had been gutted by fire. You do not have to steal for your dinner, and your grandmother isn’t out searching the dead for valuables she can trade.”

“No, it is an easy life we live now. Though I will tell you I much prefer the freedom of male clothing. I would do much for a new pair of pantaloons.” She smirked, as she had enjoyed being disguised even if it was to keep out of the hands of the soldiers. She looked far too young to be pressed into service like her father and older brother had.

He shook his head, clearly trying to remember how she looked back then. “It was a simpler time in France, when all that mattered was staying alive. I will honor our friendship and endeavor to treat you as the Lissa I first met, but you must understand, it’s not easy. You are much older and no longer a boy.”

She chuckled, beyond pleased to be conversing with him again. “My poor Anthony. I was never a boy, but a woman all along. But tell me, are you well? Her Grace told me you almost died.” She swatted his arm with the back of her hand as she often had. It felt good to be on familiar terms with him again. “How dare you put yourself in such danger.”

He leaned away and lifted both hands up. “Peace. I didn’t know I was in danger. I was attending the wedding of Captain Blackmore.”

“Well, you should have known. You always know when danger is lurking.”

He grimaced and looked away as if embarrassed. “Obviously, not always. The man who shot me came out of the wood as I rode to the church.” His gaze returned to hers. “But what of you? Are you enjoying your studies here?”

She looked over her shoulder to see the duchess reading the news sheets. “I suppose.” She faced him again. “The lessons are interesting. It’s the manners I do not like so much. That and the inactivity.”

“But the other students treat you well?” His voice had lowered as if the duchess could hear them, but his concern was clear.

That he did still care about his old friend warmed her heart. “They do. Do not worry. All the ladies are very friendly. Lady Dorothea was my very good friend, and I miss her though she’s barely been gone a fortnight, but Lady Eleanor decided that she must step in as my confidante.” She wiggled her nose. “One does not naysay Lady Eleanor.”

“Then I’m very pleased you are here and everyone has taken you in. I know it can be difficult learning the ways of the peerage.”

She barely kept from wrinkling her nose again, a habit Ellie said would make her old before her time. Since she was already older than everyone thought, she had to overcome that urge. “It is, and that is why it is so good to see you. I have missed your company. I thought you avoided me purposely.”

“No, of course not. Please do not think so ill of me. I have been busy helping Lord Blackmore, and then the duke, and now Lord Harewood.” He leaned in and lowered his voice again. “It is quite interesting how little these high peers know about each other and those they do business with. It is as if they expect all will act honorably with them. They do not understand that everyone they encounter does not have the exact same background they do.”

She smiled knowingly and kept her voice low as well. “I see it among the ladies, too. That is why it is so refreshing to talk to you.” She lowered her brows. “And yet you have not come to visit me, but to see Dague. I am quite angry at you.” Folding her arms, she let her pique be known as she met his gaze with her own.

A flush ran up his neck. “Yes, I must humbly beg your forgiveness for not making time to visit you and see that you were well. Can you forgive me?”

She didn’t let her gaze waver, knowing how charming he could be, but he was here thanks to Dory, and he could be of great help to her. She continued thinking in silence, pleased that he grew uncomfortable, which proved how sincere he was for his neglect. “I suppose I must. But you must promise not to forget me again. You and Grand-maman are the only two people I can speak with freely. Do not make me wait so long to see you next time, or I will refuse you.”

He laid his hand over his chest. “I promise.”

Though she continued to study his face, she did not wish to hurt their friendship after so long a time apart. Finally, she nodded. “Very good. Now why do you need Dague?”

His brows lowered as he frowned. “Do you mean to say you are truly Dague?”

“Of course. Dague is French, is it not?”

He took a moment, probably to make the connection. “You mean you are known as ‘Dagger’?”

She set her hand upon his arm. “Only to the ladies here. Dory said I needed a nickname.”

“So she decided upon a weapon that is sharp and deadly?”

He was clearly insulted on her behalf. It was charming but hardly needed. She gave him a knowing smile. “But is that not me?” She lifted her hand from his arm and held it out in question. “Dory says I’m quick to understand. Ellie says my wit can kill an unwanted suitor in a trice. And Her Grace assures me my expertise in weaponry has opened her eyes to new knowledge.” She glanced over the settee to look at the duchess again before turning back to him. “To be truthful, I’ve learned far more from the books at my disposal since landing on England’s shore than from my use of the weapons available to me back home.”

“Do not underestimate your past skills, Lissa. They were of great value and served you in good stead. It is simply that now your extended knowledge through reading is of more value and more in concert with your new life here. You are in England now, with no war to threaten you. Did you not wish to study something else?”

She frowned that he could so easily dismiss her past. “You sound like everyone else here. I thought you, of anyone beside Grand-maman, would appreciate the skills I acquired at home. I am sorely disappointed. I had hoped you could still care for me as I was, and not as I’m made to be.” Why must her clothing determine her life? She wished she could go back in time, back to France, where she was simply the daughter of a lady’s maid and farmer. She looked down at her gloved hands, barely holding back the urge to whip them off.

*

Lissa’s words hit a familiar chord in his heart. He’d spent his life being who he wished, doing what he wished, but much of his family simply dismissed him as unimportant. He couldn’t do that to her.

He held out his hand, palm up. “I do care for you as you are. I fear it is this dress you wear that has played with my perception. I will endeavor to remember the person within its confines and not be swayed by the appearance of you now.”

Though it was incredibly difficult, since she looked so beautiful, like a porcelain figurine of the most delicate mold. The only difference being that the cold porcelain figure would be pale white and cold to the touch. Lissa, as always, had sun-kissed skin, though much lighter than when they were in France, and she was warm with anyone she considered a friend.

It was not easy to equate the rough, young boy she had appeared to be, though he’d known her a young lady, with the beautiful and tantalizing woman sitting next to him now. When she’d first stepped into the parlor, he’d been stunned at the exquisite beauty of what he thought a new acquaintance, every part of him appreciating the view. Her black, silky hair, no longer short, was caught up behind her head, so it framed her delicate face, accentuating her high cheekbones, small, sharp nose, and dark-brown eyes. But now he couldn’t see her eyes, as she stared at her hands as if she’d hadn’t heard him. He resisted the urge to lift her chin, as he would have never done so in the past.

She finally lifted her head of her own accord, her dark eyes filled with sadness. “I appreciate your effort. I tire of being what I am supposed to be. I wish desperately to put on pantaloons and live my life in the country somewhere.” She shook her head. “But I know that cannot be.” Her gaze drifted away, as if she dreamed often of such a place.

He did not like seeing her spirits so low. Even in war-torn France, he’d never witnessed her in such melancholy. Her vibrancy was dampened here, and it was difficult to accept. “Then perhaps you could help me with my current investigation.”

Her gaze snapped back to his and her eyes lit with the old fire he remembered. “Oh, oui . I would like that very much.” She grabbed his forearm. “Do tell me how I can be of assistance.”

Pleased that she’d overcome her despondency at his suggestion, he glanced at the duchess to see that she’d taken up a book and was happily reading. He leaned toward Lissa, the scent of apple filling his nostrils, reminding him of their close friendship. “I have seen an odd weapon and need to identify it, so I might ascertain what it could be used for.”

She cocked her head and squeezed his arm. “This is in regard to your work for Lord Harewood, no? Is it important to the safety of Dory?”

He stiffened at how quick she was in her deduction. Not necessarily pleased by it, but also not surprised. He answered carefully. “I am not sure yet how this weapon weaves into the threads of my investigation. Knowing more about it may help.”

“I see.” She let go of his arm. “Do you have a drawing of the weapon?”

“I don’t—I can tell you what it looked like, though my glimpse of it was not long, as it was transferred from one person to the other in a clandestine meeting.”

“Then it was not meant to be seen for some reason.” She paused as she thought. “Either it is to be used for nefarious purposes or it is not legal.”

“Or it could have been obtained without the owner’s knowledge.” He nodded, pleased at how quick she was to see the many facets of the situation.

“Tell me about it.” Her eyes seemed to darken with the intensity of her gaze.

Happy to have assistance, he held up his hands about a foot apart. “It was a long dagger, about this length, but not like any I’ve encountered before. There were large notches on one side of the blade about a finger width apart. There was some kind of pattern to the notches, but the lighting was faint. I wasn’t able to see it clearly. I’m postulating that the opposite side of the blade was sharp. The weapon had a cross guard and one side ring at the hilt. Does that sound like anything you know of?”

Lissa didn’t answer immediately, but she did roll her lips in as she thought, something he’d seen her do dozens of times in France—but this time it was different. He wasn’t sure if it was the dress or her age, but the movement had him waiting anxiously for her to release them, knowing her lips would appear redder. Finally, she let her lips return to their resting position, making her look like she’d just been thoroughly kissed. Unfortunately, it put the idea of kissing her into his head, an act that would probably horrify her.

“I do know of a couple of weapons that fit that description, but they are old, and not used anymore. If you could allow me to review my papers, I can sketch out the possibles, and perhaps you can identify which it is?”

He snapped his gaze from her lips to her eyes at her question. “That would be very helpful. You can send the sketches to Ravenridge. I visit with Lord and Lady Blackmore regularly.”

She shook her head. “ Non . We meet in the forest between the estates. I want to see you again. Either we meet, or I cannot aid you.”

His gut tightened, but he wasn’t sure if it was with excitement or a warning. He had no doubt the limited physical activity at Silver Meadows was Lissa’s motivation. He could not in good conscience deny her. Besides, it did not appear he had another option, beyond requesting Her Grace to allow him to comb through hundreds of books on weapons, which would take far too much time. It had taken him months of following Lord Leighhall to finally discover the man had other activities beyond bedding married and unmarried women. If there were more to be discovered, he did not wish to wait. “I am quite pleased to meet with you again, but you must be chaperoned.”

“ Mon Dieu , not you too, Anthony. Do not speak to me about such idiocy. It is you and I. Friends. We need follow no such rules in the woods. We had no such chaperone when we looted the Grand Manse or filched the jewels from the Comte de Gondrin’s broken-down coach. Do not insult me so.”

As usual when she felt strongly, her French revealed itself. As much as he understood how hard her new life was for her, it was still best that she continue to live according to English Society decorum. “Very well, but you must bring a groom. I would not want anything to happen to you, or for you to fall and have no one about to aid you.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and he held up his hand. “No. I will not be gainsaid on this. Those woods housed the very man that shot me, and though he is gone, it only proves that no area can be deemed safe for a young, unmarried woman.”

Her bottom lip protruded a bit farther than her top as she met his steady gaze. “Very well. I shall bring a groom for appearances’ sake.” She shook her head. “There is so much more to life than appearances, but these English make them a priority. There are some things I will never understand.”

He frowned, not a little disturbed by her conclusion. “Surely before the war, you followed the dictates of the French gentry.”

She looked at him blankly as if she had no idea what he meant.

Understanding came to him. “Of course. I forgot that before the war you were most likely far too young to understand. Do not judge us English so harshly. We are not so far different from your French society.”

“I will try.” Though she didn’t smile, she did appear to relax. “It will take me a couple of days to thoroughly research this weapon. I will meet you at eight in the morning in the woods on the path that connects the two estates two days hence. We will solve this mystery.” Her shoulders straightened as if she were ready to vanquish any foe, which made him grin.

Though surprised by the early hour, he reminded himself that she was often out and about in France before the sun had even risen. “I very much appreciate your help.” He stood, prepared to take his leave.

Lissa jumped to her feet. “Do you not wish to stay for tea?”

Her eagerness to have him near touched him. The only other person to wish him near in the last decade had been Lord Blackmore, but now he had a wife, with a child soon to come. “I would very much like to stay in your company, but if we are not to meet for two more days, I must resume my investigation.”

Her shoulders, held so high just moments go, slumped.

He laid his hand upon her shoulder as he had so often done, not a little surprised by the warmth beneath the thin fabric. “I promise I will share with you any other information I have on weapons, should I discover more. I know you will be invaluable to my investigation.”

A cough from the duchess reminded him where he was, and glancing over, he found her watching him. Quickly, he removed his hand.

Lissa gave him a short nod. “I will. I look forward to our next meeting.”

He smiled at her, pleased that he would be seeing her again soon. Turning, he gave Her Grace a short bow. “I must take my leave, but I thank you.”

The duchess rose and walked toward him. “I’m very glad that we were able to assist. Please tell my sister I will be calling on her tomorrow.”

“I am happy to be of service.” With another short bow, he turned and left.

By the time he’d descended the long steps from the doors of Silver Meadows to the ground, his horse was brought around. Mounting, he set off at a leisurely pace toward Ravenridge. He would give Lady Blackmore her sister’s message, change into clothing more appropriate for following the Viscount Leighhall, and head back to the inn where he’d been staying.

Leighhall was visiting a young widow in the area, but could leave at any moment, and Anthony planned to be there when the viscount departed. Part of him wished the man would obtain another interesting weapon, just so Lissa’s eyes would light with excitement again. But even as the thought was born, his instinct smashed it down like a nut beneath his heel. Though Lissa was indeed a very good friend, she was now a lady, and despite what she might wish, their relationship must change, for her sake.