The Beast's Bluestocking (The Bluestocking War), Eva Devon [e textbook reader .TXT] 📗

back under his simple, yet elegantly cut black wool coat. His eyes shone with a strong intelligence but also. . . They were merciless as they penetrated her.

And they did penetrate.

They looked as if they were assessing her for any possible weakness, for any possible way he could manipulate and maneuver her to his advantage. It was a look she was all too familiar with. . . Except there was a particular ruthlessness she had not seen before.

This man had lived by the sword and was clearly prepared to wield it if necessary. His eyes bespoke a certain propensity to do violence. And to enjoy it.

His hands were clasped behind his back, and his legs were braced slightly apart as if he was attempting to maintain his balance like one did aboard a ship.

His breeches clung to strong legs, and white stockings shone like snow as they descended into polished black shoes with silver buckles. He was a man of distinction, certainly, but not a nobleman.

She could tell he was not a lord.

He didn’t have quite the right manner for it.

Oh, he could command, but there was still something missing.  He cocked his head to the side. “Lady Phillipa?” he asked in clipped but perfectly gentlemanly tones.

And yet, there was a hard edge to his voice she could not deny.

No doubt, he was used to barking above the wind along the deck of his ship. She did not bother to incline her head or to curtsy. Instead, she merely acknowledged him with a simple, “Yes.” She paused, arching a brow. “And you, I presume, are Captain Adams?”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I see my reputation precedes me.” Captain Adams’ lip curled into a sneer. “He denigrates me to anyone he possibly can.”

“Denigrates?” she repeated, scoffing. “I think, considering what you have done, he was rather charitable.”

“What I have done?” Captain Adams growled with surprising restraint. Likely, he did not wish to draw attention by raising his voice. “Girl, you know nothing of life at sea. How can you judge me?”

She straightened, doing her best to maintain her stoic calm. “I can judge you, in that you are cruel,” she replied. She lifted her chin, defiant. “And I can tell from your very demeanor, you’re also a liar and someone who uses false representation to make introduction to a young lady.”

“I won’t deny it,” he said with a shrug. “But I am shoved into a particularly difficult corner, and I am going to make the Duke of Grey pay for it.”

From the wild glint in his eye and the way his muscles now strained under his cravat, there was only one thing to surmise.

Captain Adams was clearly unhinged, and she was in a very dangerous position.

It was tempting to scream for help, but she wasn’t certain that was a wise idea. From the tension humming through him and the fury he’d expressed when spitting out Grey’s name, he looked like he might cross the room in a few short strides, grab her, and throttle her to within an inch of her life.

She didn’t like the idea of having her neck broken in an instant, so she held her tongue, at least for the moment. Oh so carefully, she crossed farther into the room, speaking to him with care, delicately. There was but one avenue for a young lady as herself with a man like Adams. Now? She would have to massage his male ego, something she was accustomed to doing.

For she had had to do it many times with her father.

Men of power did need to be maneuvered because, sometimes, when they did not get their way, they would strike out and not care whom they hurt.

She knew full well from experience, and so she was particularly prepared to deal with a man like Adams.

“I am sorry you have been through so much,” she said, pulling back from her accusatory tone. She tilted her head to the side, doing her best to look as if she was truly considering his position. “I understand you have a disagreement with the Duke of Grey and you feel as if he has maligned your reputation.”

“Feel,” Adams echoed. “I do not feel; I know it. That man does not have the stamina nor the strength to be captain of a vessel.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed with disdain. “Look at him: wounded, and then running back to England. He’s physically capable. He could have come back to the command of my ship, but because he’s a duke, he does not have to be under my domain any longer, and now he thinks he is above and better than me.”

She did not reply that as one of the sons of the greatest families in the land, all England thought Grey better than him and higher than him and more important than him.

Such a comment would no doubt only drive the man farther down his path of rabid madness. How did people go down such paths, she wondered, with such delusions of importance? And how did they decide to wield that power like a cudgel against those less important? It was beyond her, and yet she had been exposed to it more than once.

Slowly, she approached the desk across from the fireplace. She trailed her fingers along the mahogany wood until she spotted what she was hoping to see.

The letter opener.

The most useful thing about men like Adams and her father? They’d never, ever see a young lady as a threat or capable of outthinking them.

She prayed she could hold herself steady and continue to fool him.

The engraved silver letter opener was as good as a knife in a trice, and though she did not like the idea of having to physically defend herself, she had seen the way a man like Adams could lose his wits.

Her father had never caused her or her sisters physical harm, but there had been moments when she was certain he would, and she’d never been one to want to have to flinch