If He's Noble

Book 7: Wherlockes

by Hannah Howell

Genres: Historical Fiction; Sagas; Regency Romance

Synopsis

New York Times bestselling author Hannah Howell delivers adventure and instant attraction in this all-new Wherlocke Family novel... For Lady Primrose Wootten nothing has been ordinary since her father the Baron died and his wayward family filled the estate with greed and treachery. Primrose knows if she can just track down her brother, he can send the odious relations on their way. But instead she finds this enormous, powerful stranger, and forgets entirely what she was doing in the first place... Sir Bened Vaughn isn't much afraid of a pistol. But he is a bit afraid of the woman holding it, who stirs up something so primal he's not sure he can shake it off. Vaughn is an honorable man, and he knows he has no right to desire Primrose. Yet he does have an obligation to help her, and as they learn more about her brother's disappearance, he realizes that means staying by her side...wanting her all the while... and wondering how much longer they can resist temptation...

Release date: August 1, 2015

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Spring, Western England, 1791

“Sir Bened Vaughn.” Bened grinned, savoring the sound of the words. “May I assist you, Sir Bened? Would you like some wine, Sir Bened?” He laughed softly. “That will never grow old.”

Bened rode deeper into the woods, deciding to take the shortest route to the village where he planned to rest for the night. If he had known that all he had to do was take a bullet for some spoiled, inept heir to a title to get his own honors, he would have been leaping in front of the fools years ago. Even the few times he had been hired to watch over some young gentry man, he had never considered the possibility that he could end up with more than just a very decent wage for the work. Then again, the previous gentry lads he had watched over had not been as dim-witted or reckless as this last one. Young Lord Percival Dunstan, an earl’s only heir, should never be allowed to leave his ancestral lands again.

Over the last few years of doing such work, he had also become a very wealthy man, or wealthy enough in his eyes and most of his family’s. Now, with this latest largesse, he could settle somewhere, stop making a living chasing foolish young gentlemen around and trying to keep them alive. It would please his mother beyond words. After he took that bullet, a wound that had kept him bedridden for a few weeks, she had decried his choice of work loudly and consistently.

“Smudge! Where are you, you obstinate beastie?”

Bened reined to a halt and stared in the direction of that angry feminine voice. The accent was definitely that of a well-born woman. What was some gentry lass doing deep in the forest with night coming on fast? Aside from making a lot of noise, he thought, as he heard a loud thrashing around in bushes followed by a faintly shocking litany of curses that would make a stable boy proud.

He sensed no threat so patiently waited for whoever was stomping through the woods calling for a horse, the same speckled gray mare he could see calmly grazing several yards away to his left. When a small, bedraggled woman stumbled out of the shadows of the thick trees, Bened actually caught his breath, surprised by the sight of her as well as his reaction. His heartbeat picked up its pace. Something it had never done at the sight of a woman. Certainly not for one like her. She was not the type of woman who usually caught his interest or attention.

She was short, delicate of build, yet shapely in a way that would please any man. Her hair was a mass of long, thick blond curls now cluttered with twigs and leaves. A look of angry frustration did nothing to dim the innocent beauty of her heart-shaped face. The flush of anger coloring her cheeks actually looked good on her fair skin. She was the perfect example of a gentle-bred Englishwoman except for the pistol she held aimed at his heart.

The pistol looked too big for her small, long-fingered hand but that hand did not tremble. Bened still experienced no sense of a true threat from her; saw no dangerous enemy before him. He supposed it made sense for the woman to have a pistol while running around in the woods and to point it at some stranger she met. It was, in truth, the only indication that she had recognized the precarious position she was in. He frowned at how fiercely she squinted at him and realized her eyesight might not be very keen.

“Do you intend to use that?” he asked as he very carefully dismounted.

“Do not move.”

“I mean you no harm, m’lady.”

“How do you know I am a lady?”

Bened bit back a smile as she growled softly and rolled her eyes.

“That was not what I meant to say,” she grumbled. “I meant how did you know who I am?”

“I do not. I but assumed your rank because of how you speak and the fine quality of your clothing. I am Sir Bened Vaughn.” He stepped closer to her.

“You are moving again.”

“I know.” He took one swift, large step and snatched the pistol from her hand.

“I told you to stop moving!”

“And I told you that I mean you no harm but I do prefer not having a pistol pointed at me.”

“Fine. I quite understand that but I need you to hold still. Considering your size, I suspect you have large, booted feet and I have lost my spectacles around here somewhere. I would rather you did not find them by stomping on them.”

Suppressing a sigh, Bened stepped even closer, ignoring how she tensed, plucked the spectacles caught in the button loop of her coat, and gently put them on her. They made her dark blue eyes look even bigger. She was adorable, he thought, as she blushed and arranged her spectacles as she obviously preferred on her small straight nose. Adorable did not usually stir his interest but it appeared to be making an exception for her.

“Thank you for finding them,” she said in a prim voice. “Where were they?”

“Caught in the button loop on your coat.”

“Oh.” She blushed even more. “That is somewhat humiliating.” She held out her hand. “I am the Honorable Primrose Anabelle Matilda Dunmore Wootten of Willow Hill.” She grimaced. “Long name, I know. Had to honor the paternal aunties.”

“Ah.” Bened nodded. “Understood. ’Tis why I was saddled with a second name as well—Madawg.”

“Ma-what?”

“Mah-dawg. My maternal uncle’s name. My brothers were given it as well.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Six. I think my parents hoped the man would feel honored enough to will his cottage and land to one of us but, five years ago, even though the man was fifty, he had the bad manners to wed a much younger lass and now has three sons of his own.”

“Oh.” Primrose saw him grin and had to smile. “How very rude of him. Well, a pleasure to meet and speak with you, Sir Bened, but I must be on my way. As soon as I can find my horse,” she added in a soft mutter.

“That horse over there?” Bened pointed toward the dappled gray and almost laughed at the way she blushed and scowled in the direction of the animal, then muttered a few curses he pretended not to hear.

“More humiliation,” she grumbled as she walked toward her horse.

By the time she reached her horse, intensely aware of the big man walking by her side, Primrose began to try to think of the best way to leave. This man had been very helpful so she did not wish to offend him in any way. Since he made no move to leave, she then began to worry that she may have stumbled into some more trouble. There had been a lot of it on her journey, much more than she would have considered normal and it had begun to rouse her suspicions. Yet, even as she thought that, she could muster no fear, felt no threat from him at all.

He was a big man, something that did stir a trickle of alarm, but it was easily shrugged aside since it was the only thing about him that did. He was quiet, even moved quietly, and being near him calmed her. His features were somewhat harsh, but he was handsome despite that. His silvery blue eyes encircled by thick black lashes were spellbinding. Primrose noted that his clothing was not the height of fashion but it was well made, the cloth of very good quality, and the fit well tailored. Those eyes and that deep, smooth voice with the faintly musical lilt of Wales in it were his best features, she decided. Neither, however, explained why she was drawn to him, comfortable around him, and intrigued by him. She decided that was a puzzle best saved for solving later.

“May I have my pistol back?” she asked, silently cursing her own stupidity for letting him get hold of it.

Bened studied the pistol he still held and then looked at her. “Why? And exactly why are you riding about the forest all alone?”

“I am in search of my brother. He needs to know that our father has died.” She stuck out her hand, sighed with relief when he placed the pistol in it, and carefully put it back into her coat pocket.

“You could not just send a message to him?”

“I did but never got a reply. He loved Papa and would never have missed his funeral. Yet, he did and that was when I decided to go after him. He was not where he said he would be, so I suspect he does not know about our father’s death yet. His friends said he had abruptly left their house with no true explanation why and that they have heard nothing from him since then.”

“How do you know where to look for him then?”

“Simeon is the sort of man people notice.” She frowned when he shook his head. “What?”

“That is a poor way to track a person down.”

“It has been working well enough thus far.”

“But it will fail if your brother takes even one short route where no one sees him.”

“Then I will need to find the trail left by his horse.”

“You know how to look for that?”

“I do and Simeon’s horse leaves a very distinct trail.”

“Distinct in what way? An odd gait?” Bened could see that she was reluctant to tell him and wondered why.

“Simeon can be whimsical and he had his horse shod with shoes that have stars on them. So his trail shows stars in it.” She nodded at his look of astonishment. “I know. I told him it was such things as that which made people think him a lack-witted dandy. He knows that and finds it amusing. Papa was much the same.”

Bened did not like to think that a young woman with poor eyesight who set out alone to hunt her brother down was the most sensible one in the family. “You cannot continue riding about the countryside alone looking for people who may have seen your brother or for a trail of stars in the dust.”

When the man put it just that way, it did sound idiotic, which annoyed her. Primrose searched for a mature, sensible way to defend her actions. It was, by all the rules of society, indefensible. No lady of good birth should ride about England unaccompanied, unchaperoned. The need to find Simeon and to flee her aunt’s many plots had allowed her to ignore all that. Facing this big, calm man who expected her to explain herself, it was suddenly not so simple.

“Someone had to find Simeon. He is needed back at Willow Hill. Badly needed.” She turned to her horse, intending to mount and ride away before he could press her for more answers.

“Then we will find him.”

“We?”

Primrose watched him smoothly mount his large black gelding. A part of her wanted to thank him for offering to come with her, repeatedly and loudly, but she resisted the urge. This concerned her family and her future. It was not right to place her burdens on the shoulders of a complete stranger, no matter how broad those shoulders were.

“Yes,” he said, looking down at her with those calm silvery eyes and then nodding toward her horse. “Mount up, m’lady, and we shall hunt down that brother of yours.”

“This is not your trouble, Sir Bened,” she said, even as she mounted her horse. “This is all part of a familial contretemps and you must not feel compelled to get tangled up in it just because you have a chivalrous nature.” She frowned at him when he laughed.

“Chivalrous, am I? That opinion would amuse my kin. Nay, m’lady, I am but a man who has too long worked at watching over others. You need watching over whether you wish to admit to it or not. I am also very, very good at following a trail and need no stars in the dirt to do it.” He leaned toward her to add quietly, “I am also very good at knowing when danger and an enemy draw near. I have a strong feeling that you may be in need of those skills, m’lady.”

“I truly want to say I do not need them but”—Primrose sighed—“it would be a lie, I think. I have not much enjoyed traveling about alone, either. ’Tis not accepted anywhere. And, I am not Lady Primrose, you know. Just an honorable, so you do not need to keep saying m’lady.”

“Easier than saying m’honorable.”

Primrose laughed. “True, so just say miss.”

He nodded and took the lead as they rode back to the road. Bened would have preferred riding through the woods but he hoped he might find her brother’s trail on the road. What he really needed was more information from her and a sedate ride along a road would make talking easier. Bened was certain there was more to her hunt for her brother than a need to tell him about their father’s death.

“You say your brother is very noticeable,” he said. “In what way?”

“He dresses in a way to catch the eye. Some would call him a fop or a dandy but he never goes quite that far. Simeon does love color though and lace. He is also, well, pretty. Women would notice him were he to dress in rags. He has a face that looks both softly beautiful and yet manly. Brilliant blue eyes and what some call guinea gold hair, which is long, thick, and has soft waves in it. I have watched perfectly sensible women go all foolish over him more times than I can count. If I did not love him so much, I would probably want to kill him for so outshining me.”

Bened laughed. “I have kin like that.”

“I do not understand why he left his friends as he did, not even telling them where he was going.”

“One does not always tell one’s friends everything. Mayhap it concerned a woman.”

“It could be as simple as that yet he would have told them enough so that they would have guessed why he was being so reticent. They have all known each other since the cradle, are as close as any brothers could be. They were almost worried by the time I left them for they had begun to realize how little they did know.”

“And they just allowed you to ride away alone? None of them offered to be your guard? Just how old is your brother?”

“Nine and twenty. Six years older than me. Two of the friends he was visiting are wed and new fathers. They could not go off adventuring.” Primrose sighed. “I did not even think to ask the others. They are good enough men to have thought of it after I left but it would have been too late by then. And, to be fair, I am not sure they even considered that when I said I had to find Simeon, that I actually intended to do so myself.”

Bened said nothing but decided Primrose had been surrounded by people who had had little to do with the darker, harsher realities of life. It was often a problem when dealing with the gentry, especially those who spent much of their lives in the country. He studied Primrose as she rode beside him with an admirable skill. He suspected she was naïve but not blindingly so. It was something he was counting on because using his skill to keep her calm and unafraid could not continue indefinitely. It was good now, allowing him to gain information and some trust, but could quickly exhaust him. That would hinder his ability to hunt down her brother, something he believed was imperative.

It was growing dark by the time they reached the village where he had planned to stop for the night. Bened was relieved to find there were still two bedchambers available, side by side, which would help him keep Primrose safe during the night. After washing the travel dust off, he went down the stairs and ordered them a meal as well as a private parlor.

Taking a seat at the table in the private room, Bened sipped at his ale and thought about what he was doing. He realized he was acting just as he did with the lordlings he had watched over for the last few years. That might prove to be the wrong way to behave with a baron’s daughter. A woman who went out on her own to hunt down her brother undoubtedly had a very independent nature. Such a woman would object to him trying to lead her about.

He thought on what little she had told him and frowned. There was something she was hiding from him. Bened was certain of it. Primrose was hunting her brother for more reasons than to inform him that their father had died. That was not enough cause for a gently bred female to set out on a journey on her own. Bened was determined to find out exactly what had made her so desperate. Every instinct he depended upon was telling him that she was in trouble and he needed all the information he could get from her if he was to protect her adequately. It surprised him a little when he realized just how determined he was to do that.

Primrose finished brushing the travel dust from her gown, hung it up, and dug a clean one out of her bag. She pushed aside a pang of disappointment over the fact that she had brought only a few serviceable gowns. The strange urge to look nice for Sir Bened was unexpected. She was not even sure she could trust him. He could be the chivalrous man she had called him but she no longer so readily believed such people exist. Recent events had shown her that her judgment of people was not as sound as she had once believed.

She had certainly misjudged her aunt and uncle. When her father had generously allowed them to move into the dower house when her uncle had lost his money through bad investments, she had soon deemed them both to be foolish, rude, and somewhat mean-spirited. Having had as little as possible to do with them from then on, she had not altered her opinion of them by much. Then her father had died and her aunt and uncle had moved into the manor to, as they told anyone who would listen, care for young Primrose until her errant brother returned. She had quickly decided that her aunt was still rude and mean-spirited but that the woman’s foolishness was mostly an act. Augusta was cunning, coldhearted, and dangerous. Although she had no proof of it, Primrose was certain Augusta had killed her father.

The pain of that loss struck her hard and Primrose nearly collapsed beneath the smothering waves of grief roiling inside her. Her father had been six and fifty years of age when he had suffered his fatal heart seizure. It was not something that should should have raised any questions. Then her brother had not returned home, not even for the burial, and Primrose had begun to grow suspicious. The air of contentment, even smug victory, Aunt Augusta had assumed grew more noticeable as the woman took over more and more of the running of the manor. She had pushed aside all Primrose’s attempts to become the lady of the manor as was her right, and not always with tact or even subtlety. It was all just another good reason to find Simeon as soon as possible.

She had hesitated even then for she had been afraid of setting out on her own. It had quickly become clear that she had no one she could really trust, no one who could go against Augusta anyway. Only her father’s man of business could still be trusted but she knew he would have done all he could to stop her. Every other person with any power who had been close to her father or worked with him had fallen away over the last year. That had been strange but she had always assumed it had just been because they had all been getting older and traveled less. Now she began to think her aunt had been slowly but surely isolating them. Why the woman would do such a thing was the question, and none of the answers Primrose came up with were good ones.

Shaking off her grief and pulling free of her meandering thoughts, Primrose quickly braided her hair and secured it with a ribbon. Bened had said he would get them a meal and a private parlor and she had already left him waiting on her for too long. Her stomach rumbled to remind her of how long it had been since she had eaten so she hurried out of the room.

With every step she took, Primrose plotted out what she would say to the man. She needed to thank him for his help and then send him on his way without offering any offense. The man had been all that was kind, assisting her when she needed it and clearly prepared to keep doing so. It was tempting to let him continue as she had no wish to keep traveling around alone searching for her brother, an adventure fraught with danger. She would not drag Sir Bened into the middle of it and put him in danger as well. There was also the fact that he was really a stranger to her and every female was told from a very young age that she should beware of any strange men. Before she had a chance to even ask the maid where Bened was, the young woman waved Primrose to the battered door from near the foot of the stairs.

The scent of a rich stew and warm bread scattered her thoughts as she entered the private parlor. Primrose clapped a hand over her stomach when it roared its approval. Sir Bened stood up, pulled out a chair for her, and Primrose was quick to sit down. The maid hurried in with more stew and bread and Primrose silently cursed when her stomach rumbled again. She ordered mulled cider for her drink and turned her full attention on her meal.

“This is very good,” she said when they were alone again after the maid brought her cider. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He pushed aside his empty bowl and sipped his ale. “’Tis but mutton stew.”

“True, but it is hot, filling, and done very well.”

“What are your plans for the morrow? Do you have a destination set?”

Primrose stuffed some stew in her mouth to smother the curse she wanted to spit out. The man was evidently going to ask her every question she had hoped he would not ask. She had to find her brother but truly had no plan beyond that. Even she knew that would sound foolish and reckless. It was certainly the latter but desperation drove her. Since she did not want to tell him the cause of that desperation, she feared he would think her a witless fool.

“I am following the sightings of my brother,” she finally said.

Bened sat back in his chair and studied her as he sipped his ale. He had not known her long at all but, despite the way they had met and what she was doing, he had talked with her enough to know she was not lacking in wits. Just following a trail marked by people who had caught sight of her brother, however, was an idiotic plan. The way she was avoiding meeting his gaze told him she was hiding something. He suspected it was all the true reasons she was riding around the countryside on her own in a desperate attempt to find her sibling.

For a moment he wondered if he should even push for the full truth, getting himself more involved than he was now. His family had stumbled into a lot of trouble and danger in the past few years, mostly when trying to help someone else. This business with Miss Primrose carried the same feel. She hid it well but he could sense her desperation, her worry and fear. The part of him that reacted to such emotions was reaching out to her to calm and soothe. If he did stay with her, offer her his help, he was going to have to learn to rein it in or he would exhaust himself before they ever found her brother.

He watched her nervously glance his way as she helped herself to some bread, spreading a thick layer of butter on it, and he inwardly sighed. There was no chance he would be able to let her ride off alone. There were too many dangers out there for a woman alone, especially a pretty little one like her. Instinct told him he was about to step into a tangled mess but it also told him he would never rest easy again if he turned his back on her and left her alone.

“You are not doing this simply because your brother did not attend your father’s funeral.”

Primrose tried to keep her expression calm with a hint of confusion. “I do not know what you mean.”

Bened leaned forward, set his tankard down, and crossed his arms on the table, determined to get the full truth from her before they went one step further. “You are not some witless twit of a lady so cease acting like one.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“You are not one to leave hearth and home, ride out completely alone, and search the whole country for your brother in some blind, confused. . .