Written on Your Skin (39 page)

Mina pulled away, stung. “Yes, tears! I thought you were dead!”

“But Mr. Ridland found us very promptly. Didn’t he tell you?” When Mina shook her head, her mother made a brief sound of annoyance that won a muttered apology from Ridland, eavesdropping from just out of sight. “How very bad of him,” she said more loudly. “But”—her voice lowered—“he did do away with Collins, dearest, so you will grant him pardon.”

“Pardon!” Mina gaped. What a talent her mother had for forgiving rascals! “You’ve been missing for weeks—and I was being hounded at knifepoint for your stupid locket!”

“I know. That was a surprise to me. And here I’d thought it was simply a very lovely piece.”

A noise escaped her—anger, disbelief, amazement, she didn’t know. “It was a cipher disk! To Collins’s documents!”

“Shh!” Mama laid a cool hand against her cheek. “Darling, calm down. What need to worry? I knew you were clever. I knew you would figure out my letter. And so you did. And I knew”—her glance flicked to the doorway; turning, Mina found Phin watching them impassively—“you’d handle it brilliantly. You always land on your feet. Remind me, who is this gentleman? I feel sure we’ve met before, although I’m afraid I can’t quite recall…”

Phin cleared his throat to speak, but Mina was feeling the beginning of a very ill temper and did not see the need to reassure Mama of anything. “He’s my lover,” she said. “It’s utterly scandalous. I seduced him.”

“Her fiancé,” Phin said, with a dark look for Mina. Mina scoffed, but he lifted his voice to override her. “Phineas Granville, Earl of Ashmore. How do you do, Mrs. Collins.”

Mama looked briefly puzzled. “Ashmore,” she murmured. Then, with a shrug, she gave him a smile that, as it shifted toward Mina, became smug and unduly vexing. “Yes,” she said, “you always do land on your feet, darling.”

“He hasn’t asked me to marry him,” Mina said. “He’s lying.”

“Not for long,” Phin said.

“Always lovely to meet a man who will give you a push when you hesitate,” Mama said serenely. Her eyes strayed past Phin, and to Mina’s horror, her smile landed on Ridland, who had inched into the doorway. Worse yet, he was smiling back.

“That reminds me,” Mina said sharply. “I ran into Robbie Thompson. I believe he’s a widower. He sends his most tender regards.”

A blush colored Mama’s face. “How very…interesting.”

With an urgent, apologetic glance to Phin, Mina pulled the door shut on Ridland’s dawning scowl.

“It’s perfectly nauseating,” Mina said to Phin.

They were lying in his bed. Now that the danger was past, Mama had remembered propriety and had insisted on removing herself and Mina to a hotel. Mina had waited until she was asleep to slip away.

Privately, though, she hoped Mama woke before she returned. A bit of scandal might restore her good sense. Currently she languished in the most vexing and giddy of contentments, delighted as a schoolgirl at the prospect of two men vying for her hand.

“Nauseating,” Phin agreed, too mildly for Mina’s satisfaction.

“Really, though! For her to have sat there flirting, in the house where I was held prisoner! Where I made myself sick with worry over her. And did you see her thank Mr. Ridland for the clothes he supplied her? As if a hundred Worth gowns would make up for her daughter being used as bait to expose a traitor! She has no head when it comes to men.”

He laughed and sat up. The sight of his well-muscled chest briefly distracted her from her pique; she ran a finger along the edge of his pectoral, which had pressed against her own so splendidly only twenty minutes before. “Perhaps the difference here is that she was never worried about you,” he said.

She dropped her hand. “Well, yes, that’s my point exactly!”

“Because she knew she didn’t need to be,” he said. “You heard her. She knows better than anyone what her daughter is capable of.” When she began to protest, he added with a grin, “I don’t mean to argue, Mina. I have no intention of making Ridland part of the family. Mr. Thompson, on the other hand, can set up a camp in the lobby to wage his campaign.”

She exhaled. “Yes,” she said. “We’ll give him every aid.” The thought encouraged her; what could she and Phin not do, when they set their minds to it? They had bested each other, after all. In comparison, her mother was no large challenge.

The thought made her warm. She leaned forward to kiss him, and he pressed her back against the bed. For a long moment their tongues tangled, and when he pulled away, she sighed. “I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered.

“Excellent, since I intend to marry you. Beware—in a moment, I’m going to ask.”

She felt her pulse trip and a blush spread across her face. “But I love New York as well. Not as much as you, but nearly, I’ll confess it.”

His lips took on a teasing quirk. “I suppose New York is bigger.”

She laughed. “Oh, did I hurt your pride?”

He came up on one elbow, looking more serious. “We have choices, you know. I don’t need to be in England year-round.”

She paused. “I could acquire a taste for London in the spring.”

“And a motive,” he said. “The title comes with a great deal of land in the south. I hear lavender grows very well there.”

Here was news. She lifted her brow. “High-quality lavender?”

“Nothing but,” he said.

“Would that be your dowry, then?”

“Dowry?” He fell back onto the pillow. “Dowry? Miss Masters, I will have you know that I’m a man.”

She put her hand between his legs, and felt his interest stir. “So I’ve noticed,” she murmured. His head turned toward hers, his eyes dancing. “But reminders are always welcome. One might mistake you for a girl, with these.” She reached out with her free hand, very delicately, to touch his lashes. They fluttered beneath her fingers, and she laughed again. “Especially if you bat them.”

He rolled on top of her, pinning her arm very neatly. “Then you should know your place,” he said. “It’s your role to bring the dowry.”

“Oh, yes?” He had not tried to knock her away from her main objective, she noted with amusement, and her effort was yielding a very firm result. The harder he grew, the weaker her limbs seemed, and the stronger she felt inside, where it counted. Together they were more brilliant than anyone she knew. She felt very proud of them, and rather gleeful. “And what would you request of me, your oh-so-fearsome lordship?”

“You,” he said gently, and kissed her mouth. “Forever. Will you marry me, Miss Masters?”

She deliberately withheld her reply, waiting until he frowned and laid his lips against hers again. “On one condition,” she said into his mouth.

“Name it,” he breathed.

She smiled. Excellent. “I keep all the keys.”