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eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: The Earl of Stone and Hammer has always led a peaceful and undisturbed life. That is until a gorgeous young French woman shows up on the doorstep of his home. She brings news that his brother, who has been missing for years, is dead in the streets of France and that the young boy in front of him is his nephew. Cozette has brought the young boy all the way from France to save his life, for the French Revolution has seized Paris and virtually everyone is in danger. From that day on, the Earl has had to put up with this saucy young Frenchwoman who so tempts and torments his heart. But as the two grow closer, Cozette reveals her real reason for having so desperately escaped from France: she bears a message for the King of England himself! As Cozette comes closer and closer to danger, like a fly being tempted toward a spider, she and the once icy Earl become entangled in a web of their own making, one of mounting desire for each other.

eBook Publisher: E-Reads, Published: 1985
Fictionwise Release Date: October 2001

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [191 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [161 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [160 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [567 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [182 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [172 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [210 KB] , hiebook (KML) [400 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [211 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [150 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [187 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [222 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [242 KB]
Words: 53447
Reading time: 152-213 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Dibble, butler to the Right Honorable Earl of Stone and Hamer, strode impatiently toward the massive front doors of Milord's great London townhouse. He was more than a little annoyed as he swung back one panel of the door in response to the peremptory battering of the knocker. At this hour--dusk of a cold, rainy afternoon in March--the third footman, a gauche but earnest youth, should properly have been in attendance in Milord's great hallway, ready to receive or discourage any visitor ill-advised enough to brave the wretched weather at such an unfashionable hour. But the third footman, Batty by name, had reported to his superior with an inflammation of the nose and throat so obviously putrid that Dibble waved him away to the servants' quarters before he infected his elders and betters.

Dibble had, perforce, to man the door himself until Batty could send down the second or even the fourth footman, both of whom were enjoying their regular four-hour respite. The Earl, Dibble decided grimly, was far too lenient with his staff. Four hours free per diem, for every member of the staff of the townhouse! Unheard of! And all to be arranged, of course, by Dibble! The timekeeping alone imposed another burden upon an already heavily laden Majordomo, Dibble grumbled, and resolved to give the importunate upstart who was belaboring the door knocker what for, and send him off with a flea in his ear!

But when he swung the huge portal open, his mouth followed suit. The disturber of the peace of the Earl of Stone and Hamer was a slight, unimpressive figure just over five feet tall, draped theatrically in a black, hooded cloak far too long for it. Dibble eyed the mud-splattered garment with extreme repugnance. He was struck in the face by a gust of icy-cold rain, and his exacerbated temper flared.

"Wot d'ye think yer playin' at?" he growled in plebeian accents his master had never heard from his pursed lips. "Get t'ell ahta 'ere before I shifts yer ballast!"

As he began to shut the door, the bedraggled creature dared to address him. In a voice whose odd yet cultured accent startled him, the creature announced, "I am the émigrée whom Milord is expecting. You may lead me to him, if you please!"

The name, which sounded like Amy Gray, gave Dibble pause, but only momentarily. It was quite unthinkable that His Lordship should have scheduled an appointment with any person so obviously not of the ton. Dibble peered over the intruder's shoulder--not a difficult feat--to check that no great carriage waited for the visitor. The street was empty, soaking wet, and miserably cold. With a feeling that banishment to such an icy hell was no more than the intruder's due, Dibble prepared to shut the door. To his surprise, the creature thrust its way past him in one decisive, writhing movement, and turned to face him in the huge, warm, well-lighted hallway. Placing a small basket upon the white-and-black marble tiled floor, the bedraggled little figure thrust back the shrouding hood, revealing a dirty, female face with masses of matted hair and a pair of huge amber eyes that blazed at the butler like molten gold.

"You would deny me entrance?" snapped the intruder, with impeccable English faintly accented, and very evident anger. "You will take me at once to your master, sirrah! I have not come this far to be put off by the impertinence of a servant!"

"Indeed?" A cold voice sounded from somewhere above the heads of the antagonists. "Perhaps you will deign to tell me what it is you have come to do?"

Down the massive carpeted stairway advanced the imposing figure of Lord Alexander Christopher Deeth Stone, twelfth Earl of Stone and Hamer. In the light of the thousand candles he was an impressive figure indeed, and the presumptuous intruder drew a breath and stared at his magnificence for a moment without answering his question. He was a big man, well over six feet and broad in proportion. Light gleamed from the pristine white of his freshly powdered wig, and glinted from the cold silver of his remarkable eyes, fringed round with black lashes and accented by heavy black eyebrows. His costume was a quelling black brocade, cut formally, and relieved only by a white silk waistcoat and knee breeches above silk stockings and black, silver-buckled shoes. A single fob hung from his waist, and a heavy crested ring was the only adornment upon the white hands. As he waited for a reply, one black eyebrow arrogantly raised, the Earl took out a white handkerchief and touched it to his lips. A pleasant scent of spice wafted to the nostrils of the two standing in the hall below him.

At this moment, the butler's nose wrinkled. In the warm air of the great hallway there was beginning to be apparent a most unexpected odor. The basket that the cloaked female figure had placed upon the floor had a divided lid, the two flaps of which began to move disconcertingly. It was from this basket that the unpleasant odor seemed to be emanating.

"Milord, there is something alive within the basket," began the butler, moving toward it and stretching out a hand.

"You will open that basket at your own risk," advised the female in a tone of considerable anticipation. "I have a ferret in it. Jille is not happy with her present situation!" She then had the effrontery to laugh. Dibble stared at the ragamuffin with acute distaste. Then he turned to his master. "Milord, shall I call a footman to evict this creature?" he asked humbly.

"I am surprised that you permitted it to enter the house," said the Earl repressively.

At once the golden eyes were ablaze. "I have done you and your house a signal service, at great hazard to my own life and purpose," came the cultured and charming voice in purest Parisian French. "I had considered your dignity, sir"--the lack of title emphasized her scorn as she continued in impeccable English. "However, since you refuse to permit me the courtesy of a private hearing, I shall tell you, in front of your servant, that I am returning two things which belonged to Your Lordship's brother!"

At this remark, a sudden glacial chill seemed to strike the men. Dibble's ample form froze in an attitude of acute embarrassment; only his eyes moved, under lowered brows, to see how his master was taking this home thrust. The Earl's large figure merely stiffened slightly, and his black lashes concealed for a moment those silver-cold eyes.

After a minute he said softly, "Perhaps we should adjourn to the library, Mademoiselle. Dibble, see that I am not disturbed."

The butler bowed, happy to have escaped a severe reprimand for permitting the little French troublemaker to enter the hallowed precincts of Stone House. The other two went down the huge hallway, past several inset doors under heavily carved lintels. The girl, following the Earl, paused to regard these appreciatively.

"Rather fine," she conceded.

Milord, glancing back over his shoulder, raised his eyebrows.

When they were both inside the well-lighted library, the Earl strode over to stand in front of a glowing fire. As he faced his uninvited guest, he said, in a voice from which all warmth had departed, "What is this you bring me?"

The girl placed her malodorous basket on a small side table, and cooed, in a tone so seductively sweet as to raise Milord's eyebrows a second time, "Come, ma petite Jille, good little mother, let Cozette take from under you that uncomfortable object which has so disturbed your rest!" Fishing in some hidden pocket, she brought out a scrap of meat and, opening one half of the divided lid, offered the tidbit to the long narrow head that was tentatively poking, snakelike, from the depths of the basket. While her pet consumed her treat, Cozette put her hand into the dark interior, lifted up a piece of worn, tatty fur, and drew out a rag bundle from the bottom of the basket. This she tendered rather haughtily to Milord.

That nobleman found a quizzing glass in one coat pocket, and raised it to inspect the dubious bundle coolly.

"Take it!" snapped the disrespectful child.

Milord did so and, laying it upon the top of a leather-covered desk, prodded it open gingerly with a pen and the shaft of the quizzing glass. And then suddenly there was a glorious shimmer of light, and from the dirty rag Milord drew forth a diamond necklace of such purity and magnificence that even Cozette's eyes widened, and she forgot to give the ferret its next bit of meat.

Milord bent over the necklace with the first trace of interest Cozette had observed on his countenance. "My mother's necklace," he breathed. Then, looking sternly into her face, he said, "Where did you get it?"

Cozette started, not because of his tone, but because Jille, impatient for her supper, had gently nipped her finger. Hastily passing out the next small bit of meat, Cozette explained, "Your brother took it when he ran away with the daughter of the French ambassador." She frowned. "I had thought you knew of this?"

The Earl said noncommittally, "We missed it after he had gone, but we hesitated to connect him to ... the theft."

Cozette frowned at the pale, arrogant face. Then, shrugging, she continued, "Did you know that Charmaine's Papa forbade her to marry your brother, and, in fact, disowned her? They were much in love, however, and set up housekeeping in a cozy attic in Paris. Your brother worked as a translator, and taught English to anyone who could pay his fees."

The Earl cocked his head arrogantly. "So Neville had something worth selling," he commented. "My father and I wondered how he would manage to provide for himself. To say nothing of the little French baggage--"

"I think that is not very convenable of you, to speak so of any lady, but especially of your brother's wife," said Cozette severely.

"Wife?" The Earl's black eyebrows rose in sardonic disbelief.

"Oh, yes, they married. Some poor priest evidently thought it better that they marry than burn--as Saint Paul told the Corinthians."

A glint of what might have been laughter flashed for a moment in the cold gray eyes. "So they married? And now they are sending back the necklace? Well, what do they want to buy with it?"

Cozette's expression became closed and guarded. "They are not offering to bargain," she said tersely. "They are dead, both of them. They were caught up in the street into a mob fleeing from the King's soldiers. Both were killed under the mistaken impression that they were part of the mob of revolutionaries." She eyed him somberly. "Fortunately, their son was not with them that day."

"Their son?" snapped the Earl. "Are you trying to foist some gutter-bred brat off on me as my brother's son?"

"I am not going to foist anyone or anything on you," Cozette snapped back. "I notice, however, that you displayed little of this reluctance in acknowledging the ownership of the diamond necklace, accepting it as your own." She patted the ferret's head, put it gently back into the basket, and turned to leave the library.

"Wait!" said the Earl coldly. "I have not given you permission to go."

The small dirty face tilted up to his with as much arrogance as his own. "I am not, thank le bon Dieu, under any compulsion to obey you," she said haughtily. "You are a monster, cold and unbending, and insensitive as all the English! I would not permit le pauvre petit Alexandre to come to you now if you begged me! You would freeze le bébé with your hauteur du diable!"

"Did Neville name the boy after me?" said the Earl, his icy demeanor momentarily dissolving into interest and something more.

"How should I know whether they named the poor child after so bitter and unloving an uncle?" sniffed the small, grimy female. "In any case, I do not think I shall give him to you and your pompous Dribble."

"Dibble," corrected the Earl absently. He was evidently uncertain of the good faith of this very articulate urchin. The girl shrugged and turned again to the door. A hand on her shoulder swung her around abruptly. The Earl, with more animation than she had yet seen on his face, was glaring down at her from his superior height.

"Where is my nephew?" he demanded. When she did not answer at once, he shook her roughly. "I intend to have him in this house tonight if he is hidden anywhere in London," he warned the girl. "You will harm only yourself by defying me! Unless--Is it money you want for bringing him to me?"

Cozette shook his hand from her shoulder. Her small face was aflame with rage. "Money? You would ask such an insulting question of me? I have brought that poor child out of a France gone mad, disrupted by civil war! We have hidden, and slept in barns, and once even a pig sty! We have never had food enough to satisfy hunger! Had it not been for Jille, that well-trained and loving friend, we should surely have starved! She caught the rabbits and--and other small game that kept body and soul together during those terrible weeks when I struggled to bring your nephew to the safety and comfort--as I thought!--of his father's home! And your wretched baubles! Poor Jille had to rest upon them in the bottom of her bed, lest some sans culotte should find them and take them from me! And now you have the ... effrontery to suggest that I did this for money!"

The Earl took her arm, this time less roughly. "I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle," he said. The girl could not read any real warmth or, indeed, regret at his callous behavior, into that apology. "You must admit that you have given me surprising news--shocking information! I will ask you now where my nephew is. When we have him safe in his father's home, there will be time for discussion and ... appreciation."

Narrow-eyed, the girl glared at the imposing figure so close to her. "I do not trust you, Milor', and I only hope that poor infant will be treated tenderly in this cold, dark mansion! From what I have seen of you and other of the English, you are a race of heartless monsters."

"At least we have not threatened to kill our King," said the Earl sternly.

But the chit had an answer. "Not this one, at least!" she riposted. "I believe that your Charles the First was beheaded, was he not?"

The Earl glared his dislike at this presumptuous little ragamuffin. Very few of his male acquaintances and none of his female friends would have cared to tempt his disapproval by correcting him so summarily. He set his teeth and gritted out, "Where is the child--if you please?"

Sniffing her disdain, the girl led the way out into the hall. "He is outside, hiding in your shrubbery. I dared not bring him in until I was sure your household was suitable to receive him. And I am not yet convinced of it," she added darkly.

"This house will be suitable," snarled the Earl. "At least we shall not have to depend upon a ferret to feed him."

"It is obvious," said the maddening little female, "that you have never had to escape from a country torn by civil dissent!"

Setting his jaw against reprisals, the Earl followed the girl outside his imposing front doors, attended at a safe distance by Dibble and the two footmen he had summoned. The girl went at once to a rather handsome clump of shrubbery that served to mask the front windows from the gaze of the common folk who might have business upon the street. There, with a coaxing, gentle tone the Earl remembered from her conversation with the ferret, Cozette wheedled forth a very small, weary, and exceedingly dirty little boy. When he would have staggered getting out of the bushes, the Earl was beside him instantly, and caught him up into his arms. The boy did not cry out, only stared hard up into the face looming above him in the dusk.

"He is made of good stuff," exulted the Earl, who would not have been surprised to have a screaming, writhing child in his arms. Quickly, he took the boy inside.

The girl followed, and when Dibble would have shut the door in her face, she sailed through it with all the airs and grace of a duchess. In fact, she caught up with the Earl as he was about to take the boy into the library.

"He needs food first, then a bath and a clean bed," she said firmly. "This is neither the time nor the place for questions and ... intimidation."

The Earl found himself, for the first time in his adult life, glaring at another human being. "I did not intend to intimidate the boy," he said, between his teeth.

"Perhaps," the infuriating female said patronizingly, "you are not aware of how--formidable," lapsing into French, "your manner is?" She shuddered too elaborately.

Risking a glance down at the small boy he held in his arms, the Earl was first surprised and then delighted to catch a knowing little twinkle of laughter in those wide blue eyes so much like Neville's. His breath caught in his throat. Nev had always been a merry little fellow, amused by the weight of their family's consequence rather than impressed by it. It had been, in their father's stern opinion, a fault in him that must be rigorously rooted out. Perhaps, thought the Earl in a rare flash of insight, it had been that constant harrying that had finally driven the gentle, laughing boy to run off with the charming little Frenchwoman. So this was Nev's son!

"Parles-toi l'anglais?" he murmured.

The child's smile flashed--Neville's smile! "Coco has made very sure I speak Papa's language with an accent of high tone," he said in impeccable English.

"And who might Coco be?" murmured the Earl.

Alexandre's glance sought out the girl's rumpled, dirty figure. He pointed, his own small finger grubby. "Cozette de Nullepart," he explained with his endearing grin. "It means Cozette of Nowhere."

The Earl's elevated eyebrows emphasized his opinion of that designation. Huge amber eyes challenged his judgment.

"It was better to teach him to say that, when we were stopped and questioned," she explained quietly.

The Earl felt a frisson over his skin, the merest touch of emotion, as he considered the plight of a small girl and child being stopped by soldiers or ruthless members of the mob or even wandering rogues preying on the devastated countryside. She seemed to catch his feeling of unease.

"When they became too brutal, I escaped or diverted their attention by appearing to hear other members of my nonexistent group approaching."

She was smiling slightly, but the Earl could see the bleak memory of fear in those amazing eyes. "Eh bien! Let us get young Lex some food, Milord!" she suggested.

Wordlessly, the Earl moved out into the hall.

"Where do you take us?" questioned Cozette.

"To the dining room, of course," the Earl answered over his shoulder impatiently.

"But no! This is absurd!" As the girl uttered the unseemly contradiction of His Lordship's statement, Dibble was heard to utter an obvious gasp. No one in the household ever contradicted the Earl. It was unthinkable! Yet this grubby little female with her ridiculously top-lofty ways had just done so. Even worse, she had turned and handed the foul-smelling basket to Dibble, and was taking the child from Milord's arms in a most peremptory fashion.

"We had much better eat in your kitchen," she said firmly. "We are both too dirty to eat in a civilized dining room."

Dibble, horrified at the burden he had been forced into accepting, stared at his master in agonized indecision. The Earl was looking at the determined female with a quizzical glance Dibble had never seen upon that hard, handsome countenance.

"Dibble, you may lead us to the kitchen," he said. "And then get rid of that malodorous basket before Chef Pierre leaves us in a Gallic huff." And he grinned at the girl.

"Jille will be fairly comfortable in your stables if we feed her very well. Then tomorrow I shall see about a room somewhere for myself, with a landlord who will not mind a ferret in residence."

Even Dibble was forced to grin at this naiveté. Neither of the men made a reply, however, leaving the chit in blissful ignorance of the absurdity of her expectations. The small procession moved to the kitchen, whence, thanks be, Pierre had already departed to his own rooms, and the kitchen maids and boys were busily cleaning up. To say that they were surprised at the sudden appearance of their master and his unusual guests is an understatement. In fact, one boy had to be sharply nudged by the senior maid before he would close his gaping mouth.

Cozette took charge with a calm air of authority that had the Earl's brows elevating over sharp silver eyes.

"Some warm food for the little one, if you please," she asked pleasantly. "That soup which is simmering on the back of the stove, perhaps, and a piece of bread, buttered? I shall have the same. And you, my friend," she addressed the gaping boy, "will you get me some meat for Jille? She is a very useful ferret who has kept us alive during our flight from France."

Neatly done, thought the Earl. She's told them enough to satisfy their most urgent curiosity, and possibly win their sympathy. Although none of them had ever taken orders from such a ramshackle miss, they did her bidding with a willingness that surprised His Lordship and quite obviously amazed the butler. He had lost no time in surrendering the basket to the kitchen boy, and was now glaring as the latter cut up a nice piece of raw beef into small bits and offered them to the bright-eyed, alert, but friendly animal.

The soup was presented in two bowls, and a platter heaped with crusty bread lavishly buttered joined it on the servants' table. It looked and smelled so delicious that the Earl asked the senior kitchen maid for another bowl for himself, and sat down beside his guests, to the affronted disapproval of Dibble. The girl, who had used the time of serving up the meal to wash her own hands and face and the child's, shot a glinting look at Milord, inviting him to share her amusement at the pompous servant. The Earl did not smile--she wondered briefly what a smile would do to that cold, handsome countenance--but at least his face lost the stern chill that had seemed habitual to it.

The soup was filling and tasty, and all three diners enjoyed a second bowlful. The bread, too, seemed to disappear like magic. Toward the end of the informal meal, young Lex's head began to droop and his eyelids to flutter. The girl observed these signs with satisfaction.

"He will be asleep before I finish bathing him," she said quietly. "Will you have someone show us to a room, Milord?"

"I shall myself conduct you and my nephew upstairs," said the Earl. "Dibble, have someone prepare my brother's old room for his son." He glanced around the ring of staring, wondering faces. "This lady has brought Mr. Neville's son from France at great danger and pains to herself," he said in a low voice. "The child's parents were victims of a mob. He will be staying with me now." He turned and led the way out of the kitchen and toward the front of the house. Cozette came after him, carrying the drowsy child.