vixen had believed him quite smitten with her charms. Instead, she had given him more reason than ever to keep his distance from the fair sex.
“I suggest you get back aboard your vessel.” Sir Robert stabbed his forefinger toward the ship and spoke in a ringing tone of righteous authority. “Then set sail with your cargo of strumpets for some other lonely colony, where that manner of vice is tolerated. You, and they, are not welcome in Nova Scotia!”
The dazed look fled Jocelyn Finch’s attractive features. An indignant glare took its place. Unfortunately, it did nothing to detract from her beauty.
Sir Robert wished it had.
“How dare you?” Mrs. Finch wrenched the glove off her impossibly delicate fingers.
Before Sir Robert could anticipate what she meant to do, she surged up on the tips of her toes and struck him across the cheek with the glove. For such a small scrap of soft kid leather, it stung like the very devil.
“I demand satisfaction for that vile insult, sir!” she cried. “How dare you sully the reputation of me and my charges with your disgusting accusations? How dare you order us away from this colony?”
Before Sir Robert could rally his composure sufficiently to answer, she fired off a final question that struck him dumb again. “And, pray, when did the estate of holy matrimony become a vice in Nova Scotia?”
Her words rocked Sir Robert back on his heels with far greater force than the blow from her tiny glove had done. “Matrimony?”
Mrs. Finch gave a nod of grim, defiant triumph.
“Ma-tri-mony.” She spoke the word again, her tongue and lush lips lingering over each syllable with provocative enjoyment. “Perhaps you have heard of it? A man and woman living together in the state of holy wedlock, having vowed their mutual lifelong devotion?”
Oh, he knew about matrimony. Had he not studied to avoid it ever since he’d grown old enough to contract such an alliance? Marriage distracted a man from his duty while saddling him with further responsibilities. Sir Robert told himself he did not envy Mister Finch his singular distraction of a wife.
Jocelyn savored the bewildered air of the odious man before her. To think her first glimpse of him had made her question whether her heart had truly died upon the battlefield with her darling Ned! The man’s dark good looks and air of distinction had drawn her to him immediately. The modest gallantry of his initial addresses had quickened something inside her that had long lain fallow.
That very favorable first impression had only made his subsequent behavior all the more vexing. She’d been buoyant with pride to proclaim her mission in the colony, foolishly hoping her announcement might provoke a smile from him.
Instead, he’d stared at her as if she were a bit of filth he was anxious to scrape off the bottom of his immaculate boots. No man had looked at her with such contempt since the day her father had cut her off without a farthing for marrying against his wishes.
Then, in front of half the male population of the town, he had denounced her as a bawd-mistress! Recalling the strenuous efforts she had made to protect Vita Sykes’s virtue during their voyage, Jocelyn might have laughed of that preposterous accusation. If she had not been boiling with indignant fury, instead!
Her glove came off almost before she knew what she was doing. If she’d had a male escort with any gumption, he would have called her slanderer out for such an insult. Since she had vowed to make her own way in the world, without the assistance or hinderance of any man, she would have to defend her own honor—and, more importantly, that of her charges.
Just then, she could have cheerfully put a bullet through…
Who was this man, anyway? It seemed indecent, somehow, that he should inflame her emotions to such a pitch in so short a time, without bothering to introduce himself.
While he stood there, momentarily stunned by her counterattack, Jocelyn seized the opportunity to press her advantage. “Furthermore, what gives you the right to declare our ship is not welcome in Nova Scotia?”
Before he could answer, an anxious-looking young man detached himself from the crowd on the quay.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am.” He bowed to her. “This gentleman is His Excellency, Governor Sir Robert Kerr. He does have the authority to order your ship out of Halifax Harbor if he chooses.”
The governor? Jocelyn stared at Sir Robert Kerr in horror. She had just challenged the governor of Nova Scotia to a duel. Could her mission to the colony possibly have gotten off to a worse start?
Chapter Two
S ir Robert’s dream was rapidly turning into a nightmare!
He had publicly slandered Mrs. Finch and all the young women in her charge with the worst insult a man could make regarding a lady’s honor. She had responded by slapping his face and challenging him to a duel in front of half the town. The ugly gossip would set tongues wagging all over Halifax before the town clock up the hill struck another hour!
Would there be any other topic of conversation over local tea tables that afternoon? Sir Robert could picture his opponents consuming such morsels of damaging tattle as though they were rich little cakes iced with gleeful malice.
Worst of all, while the crowd gawked and snickered behind his back, and Mrs. Finch regarded him with a mixture of dismay and disdain, he froze in a way he had never done in the heat of battle.
Had he been a fool to take up this post? The Duke of Wellington’s personal recommendation had touched and flattered him. He wanted to acquit himself well to justify the duke’s faith in him. And to confound certain Whitehall factions who carped at the number of “Wellington’s Waterloo Warriors” being given plum colonial appointments.
But he was a military man, not a diplomat.
Fortunately, young Duckworth rallied to his support. “It would seem explanations are in order, Mrs. Finch, but this is hardly the proper time or place for them. Is it, Your Excellency?”
That was all the prompting Sir Robert needed. “No, indeed,” he snapped. “This is not a matter to be debated on a public wharf.”
He turned to the sentry he’d brought from Government House. “Disperse this crowd at once. Surely some of them have duties they ought to be attending.”
How Sir Robert wished he’d issued that order the moment he had arrived!
Under cover of the soldier’s enthusiastic bellows for everyone to move along and their buzz of annoyance at being deprived of an amusing spectacle, Sir Robert addressed himself to Mrs. Finch. “I think you had better come along with me to Government House, madam, where we may review your situation in private.”
His invitation came out sounding like an order, which he was far more accustomed to issuing.
Mrs. Finch turned back toward the ship. “May I bring the girls along? After the rigors of our voyage, they are anxious to get dry land under their feet again, poor dears.”
Sir Robert could not afford to let their plight arouse his sympathy. “I’m afraid that will not be possible.”
If he let them disembark before he’d decided how to deal with the situation, what was there to stop them from melting off into the town and getting up to unthinkable mischief? “Until this matter is settled, the young ladies and your crew must be confined aboard.”
“Confined?” Jocelyn Finch spun to face him again, her fine dark brows drawn together in an indignant frown. “As if they were a pack of criminals? I have never heard of such a contemptible lack of hospitality!”
“May I remind you, madam,” Sir Robert warned her in a tone he had often used with subordinates who questioned his orders, “you are not guests in this colony. You have arrived unannounced and uninvited. I have only your word as to your business in coming.”
Perhaps her mission was not as