No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(108)

“Please don’t. I’m merely saying that whatever my accomplishments might be and however pleasing my looks to other women, they do not seem to appeal to Miss Fournay.”

“Beaumont, are you telling me the woman is not interested in you?”

Rafe didn’t answer.

“Are you saying she rejected your advances?”

Rafe winced. “Not exactly.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Draven bellowed, losing his patience.

Rafe had lost his about three days ago. “I wish I knew, sir. She stares at me, blushes when I look at her, and is all but speechless and flustered when I speak to her. And yet she doesn’t try to catch my attention. She never even asked for an introduction! Finally, tonight I approached her and the woman all but swooned when I held her hand, but then she excused herself and walked away. She’s not like any other woman I have ever known.” Rafe gave Draven a bewildered look, hoping the man could understand the situation because Rafe sure as hell couldn’t. “But I will try another tactic. Perhaps it’s my approach…”

Draven stood, walked across the room, and then began to laugh. At first Rafe thought perhaps he hadn’t heard correctly, but no. Draven’s shoulders were shaking and the sounds he made sounded unmistakably like laughter. “You find this amusing, sir?”

“God help me, but I do,” Draven answered, laughter in his voice. He turned, and Rafe was annoyed to see tears all but streamed down his cheeks. “It’s about time you experienced what the rest of us mortals do.”

Rafe didn’t bother arguing that he too was mortal. “And what is that, sir?”

“Rejection by the female of the species.” Draven began to guffaw again, and Rafe had the urge to punch him.

“I am pleased you find all of this so very amusing. I’m certain you and the Foreign Office will have a good laugh.”

Draven sobered. “No, we will not. The Foreign Office won’t be told of this. You will complete this assignment, Lieutenant. You will just have to work a little harder.”

Rafe did not like the sound of that. “This is a woman, not a profession.”

“See, there’s the problem.” Draven pointed at him. “You will have to approach this woman differently. You must woo her, seduce her, court her.”

Rafe balked. “Sir, I have never done anything of the sort, and I do not intend to do so now.” Court a woman? What was next? Marriage? Rafe felt perspiration break out along his forehead.

“This isn’t a suggestion, Lieutenant. This is an order. You will find a way to bring yourself into the young lady’s confidence. The safety and sovereignty of your country depends upon it.”

Rafe closed his eyes. When Draven put matters in that light, how could he argue? “Yes, sir.”

“Very good. What is your plan?” Draven sat and placed his arms on the table, locking his hands together.

“My plan? Right.” Rafe had come in order to form a plan. “Now that we have been introduced, I suppose I will try and speak to her again or perhaps dance with her, although there are precious few balls scheduled.”

“You must find a way to speak with her alone. That will be difficult with the horde of females who follow you to and fro.”

“What do you suggest?” And so it had come to this. He, Rafe Beaumont, was asking for advice on a woman.

“Call on her.”

“Call on…” Rafe felt his throat close. “Call…with a calling card?”

Draven nodded.

“During the hours she is at home?”

“If you would like to be admitted, yes.”

“But everyone will think I am courting her.”

“Exactly. Bring her flowers or a poem you’ve composed. That will make matters very clear.”

“A…a poem?”

Draven burst into laughter. “I was jesting about the poem, but the look on your face. Priceless.”

Rafe scowled. He was half tempted to board a ship for the Continent to escape this mission. But he was weary of traveling. He’d seen enough of the Continent to last him a lifetime.

“If you need more advice, ask Lord Phineas. He knows what to do. Or Lord Jasper. He could tell you.”

Rafe did not believe for a moment Jasper, the man they all called the Bounty Hunter, knew anything about social calls.

“And don’t look so glum.” Draven stood. “There are worse assignments than wooing a woman.” He crossed the room and opened the door.

“Then why don’t you do it?” Rafe called after him.

“Too old and too ugly,” Draven called back.

“Old and ugly,” Rafe muttered. “He’s far too clever to agree to this.” But Draven wasn’t the only one who was clever. Rafe wasn’t one of the Survivors without reason.





Three


Collette stared at the letter in her hand. She’d stared at it many times before. Her father had pressed it into her hand just before he’d been taken away. “This will clear my name,” he’d said. Collette did not understand what he could have meant. He was Bonaparte’s assassin. How could he be cleared of that? Unless the letter proved that he had no choice but to work for Bonaparte? That might help his cause.