A Dangerous Love (14 page)

Daniel stopped to fix Griff with a blistering stare meant to fry him where he sat. “Well, you see, m’lady—”

“Knighton,” Griff interrupted, setting down his wineglass, “remember that fellow you think should be paid two-hundred pounds? I’m beginning to agree that’s probably a fairer sum. Or even two-hundred and fifty. What do you think?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Rosalind bit out, then stared imploringly at Daniel. “Mr. Knighton?
Was
Mr. Brennan lying about his parentage?”

Daniel looked from her to Griff in sheer frustration. Finally, to Griff’s vast relief, he sighed and threw himself back into his chair. “Does it matter? If I say he’s lying, you won’t believe me. You’ll think I’m only covering up the follies—and loose tongue—of my man of affairs, won’t you? Especially when his words reflect badly on me.”

Daniel’s comments seemed to surprise her. “I don’t see how any of that could reflect badly on
you
. You aren’t responsible for the sins of Mr. Brennan’s parents, if indeed there were any. You didn’t know him when he was in the workhouse. And from what he told me about how you met, you can be excused for hiring a man who saved your life, even if he was—or claims he was—a smuggler.”

Daniel’s gaze swung back to Griff, slightly mollified. “You told her that? About how we met?”

Griff nodded.

Rosalind looked confused now. “Are you saying it’s…all true? What he said?”

Wearily, Daniel leaned back in his chair. “Yes, it’s all true. But believe me, it’s far in the past, and Mr. Brennan wouldn’t—”

“Don’t mistake me, Mr. Knighton,” she broke in, an odd remorse softening her face. “I-I wasn’t
accusing you of anything, or implying that you’d erred in hiring him or bringing him here or—”

“Then what
were
you doing, Rosalind?” Lady Helena spoke after remaining so silent all afternoon. A disapproving frown rippled her smooth brow. “It seems to me you meant to embarrass someone—if not Mr. Knighton, then Mr. Brennan. You’d do well to remember they’re both our guests, no matter how you feel about it. You’ve exceeded the bounds of courtesy this time, and you know it.”

Griff relished Rosalind’s clear discomfort at the rebuke. He’d begun to think nothing shamed the brazen creature.

“You misunderstand me, Helena,” Rosalind answered. “I assumed Mr. Brennan was lying, or I would never have brought it up. He’s been telling falsehoods to…tease me, and I had thought this to be one of them. Indeed, I’m surprised to hear I was mistaken.”

She spoke with such dignity he felt like a cur for exulting over her embarrassment. Ironically, he
had
been lying—at least about himself. She’d been astute enough to realize that.

Daniel, the other liar, took up her cause. “It’s not Lady Rosalind’s fault,” he remarked to Lady Helena. “Knowing Griff, I’m sure he did something to rouse your sister’s temper. Lately he’s had an unhappy habit of alarming young women with stories of his days in the smuggling business. Apparently your sister doesn’t alarm so easily.”

He shot Griff a warning look. “You see all the trouble you’ve caused for nothing, man? How you’ve gotten my fair cousins into a miff? They’ll want nothing to do with me now that my man of affairs has proved disreputable.”

“That’s not true!” Juliet protested feebly.

Griff stood abruptly and clapped his hat on his
head. He’d had enough of this. If he stayed here another moment, he was liable to expose the entire masquerade with his quick tongue. “I’m sure you can soothe all the ruffled feathers in the henhouse, Knighton. It’s what you do best, isn’t it? Meanwhile, I have work to do, so I’ll take my leave of you all and spare you my annoying presence for a few hours.”

Rosalind jumped to her feet, obviously intent on keeping to her threats to shadow him. “But I have more of the estate to show you.”

He was in no mood for another of her tours. “Show your ‘cousin’ Swan Park’s delights if you wish, Lady Rosalind, but leave me out of it.”

When he stalked off toward the house, he heard the damnable woman’s boots clicking on the granite as she hurried after him. “If you plan to work in the library,” she said imperiously behind him, “I’ll keep you company—”

“No!” He halted and turned on her. That was the last thing he needed—the suspicious Rosalind draped over some chair, watching over his shoulder, unwittingly tempting him to try her resolution not to “succumb” to his advances.

A sudden brilliant idea seized him. He lowered his voice so only she could hear his words. “As it happens, I won’t be working in the library, but in my bedchamber—sitting on my bed.”

He let his gaze rake her body with the utmost insolence, stopping deliberately at the point where her shawl half hid her full breasts. “If you wish to keep me company there, I’m more than happy to oblige.” He brought his gaze back to her face very, very slowly. “There’s plenty of room in my bed for both of us, I’ll wager. Just say the word, and we’ll go upstairs together.”

To his fierce satisfaction, a blush began in the
vicinity of her breasts and crawled rapidly up her neck to her face. “You know very well I’ll do no such thing!” she hissed under her breath.

“What a shame. At the moment, I can think of nothing more satisfying than stopping your mouth—and so far I’ve found only one effective method for it. I think you’ll agree it has its…pleasures. For both of us.”

She trembled from head to toe, but her eyes were alight with anger. “I’ll
die
before I let you kiss me again, you…you cad!”

Well, well—he’d finally raised a reaction out of the woman. She was obviously
not
immune to his kisses. “‘The lady doth protest too much methinks,’” he quoted in gleeful delight. “And if you keep following me around like a bloodhound, I may decide to prove that you do enjoy my kisses. Only next time I won’t stop at kissing.”

Ignoring her rage, he pivoted on his heel and strolled into the house without a backward glance. Let her stew for a while. He knew the truth now—she was not unaffected, and kisses
could
drive her off. So until she stopped accompanying him everywhere, he would insist on kissing her…everywhere.

He glanced back toward the earl’s apartments in the east wing. Rosalind might bedevil him, but she no doubt bedeviled her father even more with her nonchalant refusal to save Swan Park by marrying. A bitter smile crossed his face. How ironic that his enemy should have to rely on his daughters to hold on to his estate. He hoped that stuck in the old man’s craw.

He strode down the hall to the west wing, climbed the two flights of stairs, and had nearly reached his bedchamber on the second floor when
he heard footsteps behind him again. Surely after all his threats Rosalind wouldn’t persist in following him. Grimly, he turned to look back. But it wasn’t Rosalind approaching.

It was Daniel. And the giant was not happy.

With a sigh, Griff waited for him. As the man drew near and started to speak, Griff held his finger to his lips, then gestured to the door of his bedchamber.

As soon as they’d entered, Griff closed the door. “Daniel, I—”

“Don’t try any excuses on me,” Daniel snapped. “I had good reasons for asking you to keep silent, but you didn’t care. You behaved as you always do, without a thought for anybody but your bloody self and your bloody Knighton Trading. Well, I put up with it most of the time, but today…”

He trailed off with a shake of his head. “You shouldn’t have told them, and you know it. It ain’t wise.”

“
Isn’t
wise,” Griff instinctively corrected.

Daniel’s cold gaze held a warning. “And don’t be telling me how to bloody talk either. I do it right most times, as you well know. You’re in the wrong, Griff, and for once have the decency to admit it.”

“I don’t think I am,” Griff retorted.

“That’s because
you
don’t have to live with my reputation—
I
do. Goddamn it, I’ll be the one dealing with them, the one trying to convince them we mean them no harm. Even pretending to be you, I’m not liked. I frighten the youngest girl out of her wits half the time, and the eldest may be beautiful but…” he snorted. “She’s a real lady, so she despised me even before you told them all that rot. Bloody haughty wench, makes me want to take her over my knee. If you don’t get me out of here, I’m
liable to do it one day, too.” He held out his hands as if in the act of squeezing and added, “Her backside makes a man just want to—”

He broke off at Griff’s laugh, then said stiffly, “She’ll drive a man crazy is all. She’s nearly as bad as Lady Rosalind. And what the devil am I supposed to do with
her
?”

“I can handle Lady Rosalind,” Griff reassured him.

“I’ve seen how well you handle her. What do you want to wager that the she-devil is standing outside your door right now waiting for you?”

“She wouldn’t dare,” he ground out.

“You think not?” Daniel strode to the door and laid his hand on the knob. “Five quid says she’s out there waiting for you.”

“Five quid it is,” Griff snapped as he stalked up to the door.

Daniel swung it open for him, and Griff stepped out into the hall. Then groaned. Standing in the hall were Rosalind and a footman.

She immediately hurried over. “I was just coming to tell you—I’ve asked John to be your companion: show you the estate, help you with Papa’s ledgers and such.” Her tone grew acid. “Since you made it clear that my company would prod you into…misbehaving, I thought I’d offer you someone else to help.”

Of all the—Damn the woman, did she never give up? “Lady Rosalind,” he growled, “I do not need
anyone’s
help.”

Her expression was suspiciously innocent. “But you did say you were assessing the estate for your employer. I should think you’d wish all the help you could get, considering how little time you might have here.”

He heard Daniel’s barely smothered laughter
behind the door. Damnation! He’d thought himself so clever with his threats to kiss her, but that had merely challenged her to bedevil him another way. He almost suspected she knew what he searched for, except he couldn’t imagine her father telling her the truth.

Now she had him trapped, and she knew it. If he insisted on dismissing the footman, she’d know he’d lied about his reasons for “skulking about,” as she put it. Then she’d be following him again, which presented far more dangerous problems. But a footman might be less suspicious of his motives and might even help him unwittingly.

And a footman would not make him burn.

“Very well,” he clipped out, “when I’m finished with my work in here, I’ll come seek your footman’s help.”

“He’ll wait for you,” she responded with a lift of her impudent chin.

The witch thought of everything. “As long as it’s him and not you. Because if you keep following me, I promise to make good on my threats.”

Her blush told him she understood. With some satisfaction, he reentered his bedchamber.

“Easiest five quid I ever made,” Daniel commented with a smirk.

“Shut up, unless you have other suggestions for how I might rid myself of that termagant.” That fetching termagant, whose aptitude for war—and feminine attractions—rivaled those of the battle goddess Athena. And who already had him itching to taste her again.

Daniel snorted. “The wench should’ve worked for you in the early days. God knows what you could have done with her in your employ.”

Not much, Griff thought sourly. He’d have been too busy trying to seduce her. Within a week she’d
have had him offering her Knighton Trading for a chance at bedding her.

“If you’re worried about that footman,” Daniel went on, “why don’t you use the servants’ stairs?”

“What do you mean?”

“Over there.” Daniel nodded toward a portion of the wall. “See that panel, the ornamented one behind the bureau? It’s a door leading to the servants’ stairs.”

Griff was already heading across the room. “Are you sure?”

Daniel followed him. “I nearly jumped out of my skin this morning when I heard a knocking inside the wall in my room. It was the valet. He said all the servants come and go through those stairs. And the ones in the east wing.”

Griff had heard of such staircases, but never seen one. Then again, he rarely visited estates like this. Once Griff moved the bureau aside, it was easy to find the door handle disguised as an ornament. But when he tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. He felt along the seam. “It’s painted shut.”

“I don’t think they receive many guests. Your room is the only one on this floor being used at present. The servants probably don’t even come up here.”

Griff drew out his penknife, then cut carefully around the door until he’d freed it. It opened into a damp, empty stairwell clogged with cobwebs. He broke them with his arm, then stepped into the stairwell and peered down. Pieces of furniture cluttered the last few feet. Apparently, the stairwell was used for storage now. That’s why the servants who’d entered his room had used the main door.

But he could get around the furniture. If he were careful and avoided the servants, he could come and go as he pleased. All he need do was pretend to
spend a few hours working in his room each day. If he spent the rest of the time with Rosalind’s footman, she might not guess what he was doing for some time. And he could search at night, too.

He came back into the room grinning. “Excellent—Rosalind won’t suspect a thing.”

“‘Rosalind’? You’re calling her by her Christian name now?” Daniel shook his head in disgust. “Why don’t you just bed the bloody woman and be done with it?”

Griff stiffened. “Bed her?”

“You know you want to.”

Had he been as obvious as all that? “That’s absurd.” Pivoting away from his too perceptive friend, he strolled across the room and removed his coat for his sojourn in the servants’ staircase. “As you said before, she isn’t the sort of woman I prefer.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t put your hands all over her in private.”

Griff went still. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw how she looked when the two of you returned from your ‘tour.’ She was all rattled and rosy-lipped, her bonnet askew. Looked to me like some man had been having himself a fine time sampling her attractions.”