Suzanne Robinson (24 page)

“If what?”

“If you’ll let me take another ride.”

“Another ride?” Her voice was strained and disbelieving. “You want to go riding with me?”

He put his lips close to her ear. “No, love. I want to ride you. Think of the engraving.”

She gave a shriek that nearly destroyed his hearing. Nick gasped and covered his ear as she shoved him aside and ran from the room. He went after her, catching her at the sitting-room door. Placing his arm against it, he held it closed with his weight while she twisted the knob. Her chest heaved, and he loved the way her eyes darted from side to side like a trapped creature. He knew she was trying to keep her composure from completely evaporating. She was nearly aflame with her outrage, his majestic Georgiana. No more reserve, just pure, distilled, enticing passion.

“There is no word for you,” she ranted. “You’re some kind of lewd monster.”

“Then the ride’s off?”

“Ohhh.”

“You forgot your candle,” he said with a mean grin. He watched her stomp back to the bedroom and return with the light. “Well, not much has changed, then, I guess.”

Her teeth grinding, Georgiana said, “Get out of my way.”

“Yes, I guess I’ll just have to stay here and find the murderer and protect you from Lady Augusta, and from yourself. Want to make a bet on who finds the real murderer? I say it’s Evelyn bloody Hyde, or Ludwig.”

Georgiana had been glaring at him, but as he watched, her furious expression vanished, as if wiped by a cloth from her face. She was again the cool, regal duke’s daughter.

“Yes, I do wish to make that wager, Mr. Ross.”

“You do?”

“Indeed. Whoever has chosen the real murderer wins a forfeit from the loser. I shall choose Lady Augusta or Prudence. You’re a fool if you think a woman couldn’t have done it. If I win, you must take yourself back to Texas and never come near me again.”

Nick chuckled, crossed his arms, and leaned against the door. “We’re even more high-and-mighty than usual. We’re sure of ourselves, aren’t we, Your Majesty?”

“Nonsense. As you’ve mentioned, I’m a sensible, practical woman, Mr. Ross. Are we agreed?”

“Just a minute, Your Royal Highness. We ain’t settled on your forfeit.” He let his gaze wander over her figure and settle on her breasts for a long, insulting moment. “If I win, you marry someone suitable—”

“Done.”

“And just to make up for all my trouble, you decorate my bed until the engagement.”

“Absolutely not. The wager is off, and I have no intention of going near your bed.”

“No? Suit yourself. I’ll just have to content myself with making you miserable until you see reason. Come on, Your Royal Highness. Let’s search Prudence’s room, and I’ll describe the other engravings in Evelyn’s collection. There was one with a lady on her hands and knees, and this chap with a huge, huge—er—member, was behind her, and he was—”

Georgiana covered her ears again. “Be quiet, you animal.”

“You see, if you’re on all fours,” he said as he pulled her hands down. “Listen, this is the good part. If you’re on your hands and knees, a chap can come up behind you and slip it in from behind. Want me to show you?”

“All right!” Georgiana threw her hands out before her as if to ward off the assault of words.

“Bleeding hell, that’s ripe, that is. I didn’t think you’d want to do it. Just get on the floor and I’ll lift your skirts over your head.”

By this time Georgiana was sputtering and had covered her ears again. “No, no, no, no, no. I agree to the wager, you perverted beast.”

“Aw, are you sure?”

“Yes,
yes
, I’m sure. Now, shut up.”

“Too bad. Some ladies I’ve known really liked it like that. Course, while I’m doing it, I make sure I keep them hot and ready. That’s the trick.”

“There’s no need to be vulgar anymore, Mr. Ross. I’ve agreed to your wager.”

Nick opened the door, bowed, and said, “Sorry, Your Majesty. Must be the St. Giles in me, like you said. Kept it bottled up too long, and now it’s got to escape. No telling when that’s going to happen. So you’ll just have to endure it, unless you want to do this search separately.”

“And have you come upon the answer before I do? I’m not a fool, sir.”

Strolling down the hall to Prudence’s room, Nick glanced back at her. “Suit yourself, but we’ve got a bet, lady, and nobody goes back on a wager with me. If I win, I’m going to collect, and you’re going to pay.”

Georgiana had never been more miserable. This evening hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. Nick Ross had ruined everything by appearing in Evelyn’s room like a curse and hectoring her until she agreed to that sinful, disgusting wager. How could she have consented to it? She wouldn’t have if he hadn’t fogged her brain with his lewd and lascivious suggestions and language. Dear God, she’d never imagined some of the things he’d described!

And he knew it. He’d embarrassed her on purpose, to make her commit herself to this horrible wager. Now she had to prove her judgment correct about the identity of the earl’s murderer or suffer even more terrible humiliation.

They had already searched the family rooms and found nothing. Nothing related to the murder, that is. In Augusta’s rooms they’d found dozens of high-waisted gowns, as many different reticules, and, of course, her musket. In Prudence’s chambers Nick had located her secret wall safe in which the lady had
secreted her jewels. Nick had hesitated over them until Georgiana had firmly closed the jewel case and the safe as well.

A search of Ludwig’s room yielded nothing more sinister than a model of an ancient Egyptian funeral boat. She’d been gratified when the life-size black-granite statue of Ramses II had given Nick a start. He’d backed into it and whirled around to face what he thought was a real man, his body crouched to meet an attack.

It was growing late. They were in the midst of searching the rooms used by the servants. It was during this exploration that Georgiana realized anew that Nick could get into any locked room he wished. So far they’d inspected the butler’s pantry, the knife, plate, and lamp rooms, the wine cellar and stillroom. None of these had taken much time, because neither of them believed that a murderer would be foolish enough to leave nightshade in them where it could be found by servants.

Now they had reached the kitchen. Georgiana found the bins used for rubbish and pointed to them. Nick strolled over to glance down at them, holding the candle she’d brought so that the muck within was revealed.

He bowed and swept his arm. “My lady.”

Scowling at him, Georgiana came forward and looked into the smelly interior of the first bin. Wrinkling her nose, and using her fingertips, she picked up a broken piece of crockery splattered with food.

“This is the right one, the food bin,” she said. “You may proceed.”

“Not bloody likely. Food is women’s work.”

“You’re a foul creature—”

“We ain’t got all night, Your Graciousness.”

He wasn’t even going to help. He just stood there smirking. Wishing she were a man so she could bash that superior sneer from his face, Georgiana began searching through the decomposing food using the broken piece of crockery. Long minutes of nauseating work produced nothing.

Georgiana dropped the crockery into the bin and brushed her hands. “If there was any stew left, it’s gone.”

“Well, my, my, what’s this?” Nick tipped the bin beside the one she’d searched, and Georgiana caught a whiff of old rabbit stew.

She thought her head would explode from rage. “You knew that was there all the time, and you let me root around in that muck!”

“Why, George, how suspicious you are.”

“Oh, shut your mouth and help me find a bowl.”

Nick produced one he’d been holding behind his back, grinning all the while. “This ought to do, Your Royal Perfection.”

Snatching the vessel, Georgiana scooped up a gob of congealed stew, turned, and marched out of the kitchen through a mudroom. Nick slipped past her to unlock a door, and they stepped out into the night. It was some time in the early morning. An icy chill had set in, and Georgiana immediately regretted not having brought a mantle. She thought of going back, but she couldn’t imagine Nick’s waiting for her. They were supposed to search the game larder. She would just have to be cold.

Georgiana led the way across the kitchen yard, past the stables, and down a small gravel path to a copse of trees. In their midst sat the game larder, a
little building faced with white stone. It was mostly windows fit with screens and framed with vents. Nick made quick work of the lock, slipping a slender, hooked tool into the hole and working it neatly until the mechanism snapped open.

Inside were two rooms floored with slate. The first was equipped with a high ceiling rack constructed like the spokes of a wagon wheel. From this hung smaller game. Shivering, Georgiana reached up and spun the rack.

“There,” she said, pointing to a small carcass amid those of ducks.

Nick grunted and walked past her to the inner room. Larger carcasses were hung from rails—venison, chiefly. He searched among the marble shelves in several alcoves that provided cold storage and came back with another rabbit.

“Bloody hell,” he said as he glanced around the ornate little structure with its abundance of freshly killed game. “When I think of all the tykes going hungry in London.”

Georgiana stretched to reach the hanging rabbit but failed to touch it. “Precisely. That’s why Aunt Livy and I are going to buy a house like this. It will come with a large park and wood, and the children can learn all sorts of skills—gamekeeping, butlering, cookery.”

She tried jumping but missed. Nick snorted and plucked the carcass from its hook.

“Right. And just what would Your Almighty Majesty know about any of them things?”

“You seem to have lost every bit of your counterfeit gentleman’s accent, Mr. Ross, and your gun-slinger’s grammar as well. I’m sorry to disappoint your
preconceptions, but I know quite a bit about such things. How do you think ladies manage large households without knowing the intricacies of domestic arrangements?”

Georgiana nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Do you know how to stock a housekeeper’s storeroom? One lays in provisions several times a year to take advantage of seasonal prices. Rice can be kept more than three years if stored properly. Pickles and preserved fruit should be stored upside down. Tea, sugar, and spices must be placed in a locked cupboard with folding doors. Coffee has to be stored separately so that it doesn’t contaminate the tea. Would you like to know what brushes and soaps one should provide for the laundry maids?”

Nick dangled the rabbit from his fingers. “All that proves is you’re just like all the other spoiled ladies, good at getting other people to do all the work, Your Imperial Laziness.” Shaking the carcass at her, he said, “I got to pack up this lot and send it to my doctor friend in Harley Street. Get the bowl of stew, Miss Housekeeper.”

Fuming, Georgiana picked up the bowl and followed him. Teeth chattering, she locked the game larder as they left, then stomped after Nick. Soon they were in the house again and climbing the curved staircase. Georgiana grew uneasy when she realized they were headed for Nick’s rooms. She halted on the threshold while he disappeared inside. He came back empty-handed to grin in that knowing, evil way of his.

“Afraid to trust yourself in my bedroom?”

“Here.” She shoved the bowl at him and turned to go.

He took the vessel but at the same time thrust his arm in front of her, swept her inside, and shut the door.

“Mr. Ross, you’re too familiar.”

Nick set the bowl aside with a chuckle and rushed to her side as she opened the door. He slipped in front of her and placed his back to the portal.

“Move aside, sir.”

Without answering he shrugged out of the old jacket he’d been wearing and dropped it onto the floor. Georgiana saw it land and turned a wary gaze on him. His shirt was open at the throat, and she could see the cords and tendons of his neck, the way they tightened into prominence. He’d placed the sputtering candle on a distant table, but his face was in shadow. She caught the dim gleam of his teeth as he smiled. He moved again, and this time his shirt dropped at her feet. She caught a glimpse of a bare arm sheathed in muscle and smooth skin browned by the Texas sun.

“Come on, love. Let’s put aside our quarrel and have some fun. You know you like it, long as nobody knows you’re opening your legs for a St. Giles thief.”

Her mouth worked, but she couldn’t seem to make her tongue function. He moved toward her, out of the shadows. His hands were on the buttons at his waistband. Georgiana blinked as she noticed the flat expanse of his stomach. Long fingers separated cloth to reveal silken flesh covering hard muscle.

Georgiana shrieked. Nick leaped, grabbed her, and covered her mouth.

“Shhh!”

Enraged, and ashamed of how she’d felt when he’d opened his clothing, Georgiana poked him with
her elbow, then nipped his hand. He yelped and let her go only to brace his weight against the door with one arm. He shook his injured hand.

“Bleeding hell, woman, you almost broke the skin.”