Page 37 of Rose and the Rogue
“I think it was sweet of you,” Carlos said. “Anyway, Norbury is careful about not getting caught for such things—doubly so now.”
“Why doubly so now?” Poppy asked, puzzled.
Carlos looked briefly chagrined, but then said, “I just meant that because Miss Blake is…unable to be as aware as other young ladies might be. Norbury doesn’t want her to be hurt.”
“I should hope not! But even so, it’s a terrible risk. I ought not allow it in the future.”
“Certainly don’t allow other men to be alone with Miss Blake. Not for a moment.”
“Oh, I’m to trust the rake over all the gentlemen in London?”
“In this case,” Carlos said, looking very serious, “yes. I cannot explain why, but I promise you that Norbury is a far safer bet when it comes to Miss Blake’s reputation.”
“Is it true that he’s won every duel he’s fought? How many has he fought? Rumors exaggerate.”
“Oh, there have been plenty. I’ve been his second at some of them, so I’d know.”
“Lots of aggrieved husbands, are there?”
“And brothers, and fathers…”
“All defending the honor of the ladies he seduced.”
“To be honest, they were mostly defending their honor and reputations. Especially the husbands. No one likes to be thought of as a cuckold. But Adrian—I mean Norbury—insists on first blood only. He’s not a killer.”
“Is it their lives he’s truly concerned about?”
“He could have killed every one of them. He’s a swordmaster, did you know? As in, he’s been recognized as a master, a title very few have earned.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. He’s practiced since a boy.”
“But what about pistols? It doesn’t take a master to hit a target at twenty paces, does it?”
“No, but again, he’s trained, and he’s known to be an excellent shot and absolutely without fear. Not many men choose pistols, knowing the odds.”
“You sound as if you’ve been in a few duels yourself.”
“Now and then,” he agreed, rather evasively. “In Santo Domingo, where the rules about such things are somewhat…looser.”
“And you come to England to do business? I thought Hispaniola was a French possession?” Wasn’t England technically at war with France, and thus all its territories?
“At the moment, the Spanish crown has control,” he said. “But don’t feel that your ignorance is your fault. The flag changes quite frequently, as the powers that be shuffle their chess pieces across the board.”
She sensed the frustration in his words. “You prefer it to be French? Or British?”
“I’d prefer it to be Dominican,” he replied. “But that is easier said than done. The kings and queens of Europe don’t like giving up even the smallest piece of rock. And my island is one of the largest, hence the scuffling.”
“Your island, as if it’s your private domain?” Poppy asked, amused.
He smiled at her. “Trust me, I know it better than anyone who’s claimed it thus far.”
“And why is that? What does your family do that you have such knowledge?”
“Oh, we’re in the business of imports and exports, and as such, I’m quite familiar with many little ports around the coast,” he answered. “But I shouldn’t bore a lady with talk of grubby trade.”
“I’m not a lady,” Poppy informed him, “and as it happens, my stepfather is in trade. I’ve grubbed in offices and warehouses myself.”
