What an Earl Wants
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“We could bed him down in the stables. If we had stables. So we’re keeping him?”
Jessica shot a quick look at Seth, who reminded her of a woodcut she’d once had, that of a gentle-eyed dragon spreading its wings to protect a group of children lost in the woods. “I don’t suppose we really have a choice, do we? And it will add to my arguments to have Adam here, if we’ve got a…protector. It’s a wonder his lordship didn’t think of that.”
“I doubt there’s much his lordship doesn’t think of,” Richard said, escorting her out to the street. “It’s not too late to reconsider, Jess. Don’t do this. I know he’s your brother, but you haven’t lived in his world for a long time. He could break your heart.”
“I’ve told you, my heart broke long ago. It can’t break again. But having Adam with me might help mend it.” She patted Richard’s plump cheek as a liveried footman opened the coach door and put down the steps. “Think good thoughts while I’m gone, and don’t let Seth loose in the kitchens unless it’s to help Doreen pare vegetables.”
“We’re really going to keep him? I thought you were just being nice until you can think up an excuse to send him on his way.”
Jessica had one foot on the coach step when she turned to her business partner. “I’m being amenable. I will continue to be amenable until Adam is residing under my roof. Besides, it might be a good idea to have a bit of enormous muscle to point to if anyone becomes a problem.”
“Pointing would be probably be enough,” Richard agreed as he stepped forward and shut the coach door behind her. “I know it would be enough for me. But until we see if he’s anything more than big, I’ll keep my wooden club beneath the table, if you don’t mind. It has served me well so far.”
Jessica smiled until the coach moved off, but then allowed her true feelings come to the surface.
Gideon Redgrave had sent her protection, had he? From everyone but him, considering Seth was in his employ. Perhaps the youth’s true purpose was to spy, which would make perfect sense to her…and if it made perfect sense to her, his lordship undoubtedly had already thought of it.
But, mostly, Seth was an insult, a reminder that she might have James’s pistol, she might consider herself quite a good shot, but she had not been able to bring herself to do more than threaten with it.
Well, of course she hadn’t shot him!
She would have been hanged in any event, as blowing a hole in an earl was frowned upon by the courts. She wouldn’t have been able to rescue Adam from the man, because she’d be locked up and then executed. Too many people had seen him climb the stairs with her; it wasn’t as if she and Richard could have hidden the body somewhere and then hauled it to some alleyway and left it there.
She’d thought of all those things in the few seconds she’d had to reach into her pocket and close her hand around the pistol before the earl had swooped down and taken the weapon from her. A pity she hadn’t thought of them before she’d so blatantly offered herself to him. It simply had seemed prudent to have it in her pocket, that’s all. The weapon had given her courage, she supposed. Too bad it hasn’t given me brains, she thought, pulling a face.
It was seeing that damned golden rose in his cravat. She’d seen it, and something had seemed to go snap in her brain.
She still didn’t know how she felt about his refusal. Relieved, definitely. Not that she wasn’t willing to make any sacrifice in order to gain custody of Adam; although the gesture had been rather melodramatic, hadn’t it? My body for my brother. She’d been offering the man a bite of candy when he already had bought up half the stores of sweets throughout London.
And yet, ashamed as she was now, in the clear light of day, she felt insulted, as well. He hadn’t even seemed interested. If anything, he’d seemed amused.
She’d been too blatant. Even now, she felt hot color racing into her cheeks as she thought of how she’d behaved. Misbehaved. Her body for her brother? How stupid! The man could have any woman he wanted just by cricking a finger in her direction.
And, according to Richard, he already did.
Two mistresses? And a pair of ton ladies to boot? That seemed excessive. The man was more his father’s son than he might wish people to think. And again—he wore the golden rose.
“I have to get Adam out of there, no matter what I must do to best the man!” she exclaimed aloud, punching her gloved fist into her palm, refusing to consider she might be sounding very much like some overwrought and probably hare-witted heroine in a melodrama.
Still, her determination lasted throughout the quarter-hour journey to Portman Square through the heavy midmorning traffic. But when the coach halted, and she was helped down to the flagway in front of the imposing facade of the Redgrave mansion, a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered less confidently, “How do you propose to do that, exactly?”
Shaking off the question, she reminded herself her brother was behind that large black door with the lion’s head knocker. She put out her chin as a mental battering ram and headed inside as if she was accustomed to being welcomed in the finest London houses.
“Mrs. Linden, to see his lordship,” she said imperiously as she stripped off her gloves and untied her bonnet, even as she belatedly realized Doreen should be standing just behind her to take possession of the things. Stupid! How could she have forgotten she was to be chaperoned at all times? This was what living her catch-as-catch-can life for the past five years had done to her; she kept forgetting she wasn’t supposed to be able to fend for herself. She should have brought Seth, that’s what she should have done. Protection, indeed! She’d never needed more than Richard and his heavy club at the gaming house. Here in Portman Square, an entire regiment of Seths probably wouldn’t come amiss!
She shoved both bonnet and gloves at the footman. “His lordship, young man. See to it.”
“If you was to wait here, ma’am,” the fairly astonished-looking footman said, indicating the open door to what had to be the ground-floor room reserved for tradesmen and those petitioners seeking interviews.
Her fingers still at her throat, as she’d been about to untie the closing of her pelisse, Jessica looked through a dull red haze of anger to the curving staircase that led to the first floor, and then to the small room. “Oh, I think not. I’ve reconsidered my visit. Kindly inform his lordship I have been and gone.”
So saying, she retrieved her bonnet and gloves from the clearly relieved footman, and quit the house. She stood on the top step of the portico as she retied her bonnet and pulled on her gloves, realizing that the coach was now slowly circling the square, so that the horses should not be forced to stand while she was inside.
Well, that presented a problem, didn’t it? Not to mention putting quite the crimp in her grand exit. She wasn’t about to go running after it, crying yoo-hoo, waving it down. Besides, she’d had just about enough of his lordship’s courtesy for one morning. She had two feet, and she knew how to use them.
She looked to her left, and then to her right. Two feet, yes. Now if only she knew what direction in which to point them… .
“Ma’am?”
Jessica turned about slowly, to see that the footman had opened the door behind her, probably to warn her to take herself off, as loitering on his lordship’s doorstep was not allowed.
“I’m going,” she said tightly. “You don’t have to apply the boot.”
“Oh, but, ma’am, you’re to come inside. Please.”
She whirled about in her anger, skewering the footman with a look meant to set him back a step, which it did. “I am, am I? You’d be wrong there. I don’t have to go anywhere. That might be something you could tell his lordship. I’m not his to command.”
“No, ma’am. That is to say, ma’am, it was me what thought to put you in the…that is to say, his lordship is awaiting your pleasure in the drawing room. Ma’am?”
All the anger in Jessica drained away. The footman had made a valid assumption. She wasn’t dressed in the first stare, Lord knew. She’d arrived unaccompanied. What else was the man to think but that she’d been summoned, perhaps to interview for some domestic position? Ha! If the earl were to do the interviewing, a position would definitely be involved!
“Very well.” She reentered the mansion, feeling slightly abashed, which was enough to bring back her anger. She’d no idea she was so prickly; she’d always believed herself to be a pleasant person at the heart of the thing. “What is your name?” she asked the footman kindly as, yet again, she handed over her belongings.
“Waters, ma’am,” the youth said, bowing as he laid her pelisse over his arm. “I’ll be taking you upstairs now and turning you over to, that is to say, where Mr. Thorndyke will announce you to his lordship. And thank you again, ma’am.”
“You did as you were trained, I’m sure,” Jessica told him, handing over a coin. “The error was mine. Was his lordship that rough on you?”
Waters bowed again, not quite fast enough to hide his relieved smile. “His lordship could blister paint with that tongue of his, ma’am. But not on me, ma’am. Not this time. It was Mr. Thorndyke what explained how I was wrong. He’s not half bad.”
Jessica shot a look up the staircase, to where she could see a tall, gray-haired man, most probably Thorndyke, waiting for her. She was being passed along to the Upper Reaches. How fortunate she was.
“Really? In other words, Waters, he’ll be escorting me into the lion’s den. Lucky for me, then, I’m no lamb.”
“Ma’am?” the footman all but squeaked, looking nervous once more.
“I’ll make my own way up the stairs,” she told him. “Just don’t put my things too far away, as I might be needing them again quite shortly.”
So saying, she lifted her hem a fraction and her chin a fraction more before heading up the staircase, her gaze already locked with that of the butler, or majordomo, or whatever the man considered himself, and by the look of him he considered himself at least two social levels above that of his lordship’s visitor.
And all for the lack of a maid, or a maiden aunt, or some paid companion. Really, society was a set of ridiculous rules. She was well out of it. Were she a man, none of this would apply, and she’d already be sitting in the drawing room with one leg draped over the other, sipping wine instead of the tea she’d be offered, if she was offered anything at all.
And from the looks of Thorndyke, she wouldn’t be.
“Mrs. Linden to see his lordship, who already knows I’m here, so that we’d all three of us be wasting our time pretending he doesn’t,” she announced before Waters, who had quickly divested himself of her belongings and was hurrying up the stairs after her, could open his mouth. “Just point me in the right direction and you can go back to polishing the silver, or stealing it, whichever pleases you.”
The butler opened and closed his mouth a time or two before drawing himself up even straighter than before and motioning to the pair of closed doors to the left of the wide hallway.
“Good. At least we’re done with foolishness,” Jessica declared, her head positively spinning, and knowing she was being ridiculous. But as ridiculousness seemed to be the order of the day, why should she attempt to put a stop to it now?
Of course, that left her with either throwing open the double doors in some dramatic gesture of defiance or knocking on one of them and waiting to be admitted. She probably should have thought of that. She probably should give some thought to the embarrassing realization that she hadn’t been thinking at all since first encountering the Earl of Saltwood, devil take his hide.
CHAPTER THREE
“ALLOW ME, MA’AM,” Thorndyke said, stepping ahead of Jessica. He opened a single door and stepped inside. “My lord? I’m happy to say, sir, Waters caught her for you.” He then stepped back out and bowed her in, his smile and rather knowing wink nearly causing her to trip over her own feet as she entered the drawing room, only to be stopped again, this time by a pair of sniffing, tumbling dogs.
“Brutus! Cleo! Withdraw!”
The dogs, large puppies, really, and of some indeterminate breed, immediately turned their backs on her, to take up positions on either side of the Earl of Saltwood, who was standing in the very center of the enormous room, looking for all the world as if he’d only lately crawled out of bed.
Gone was the impeccable attire of the previous evening; this was a gentleman at home, and making himself very much at home, indeed. Clad only in buckskins and a white lawn shirt, and minus waistcoat, jacket and cravat, his hair a tumble of dark curls, he held a glass of wine in one hand and something rather limp and filthy in the other.
“I was led to believe I was expected,” Jessica said, staring at the limp and filthy thing. “Is that dead?”
Gideon held up the object in question, which proved to be a crude cloth replica of a rabbit, half its stuffing gone. Both dogs, still sitting up smartly, began to whimper piteously, one of them wagging its tail so violently its entire back end shook. “This? I’m merely training these two young miscreants to avoid temptation.”
Jessica eyed the back-end-wriggling dog. “I see. It’s always good to avoid temptation. And how is that going?”
“It could be better.” He tossed the rabbit in the general direction of the windows as two canine heads whipped about to follow its arc of flight. The whimpering increased. The dog on the left, the back-end wriggler, began to inch across the carpet on its rump. “Brutus! Stay!”
The dog looked to its master, its brown eyes eloquent with pleading, before scooting sideways another inch.
“St-ay,” Gideon warned again, dragging out the word.
“It’s late for a wager, I know, but a fiver the male gives in and the bitch stays put.”
“Your blunt really just on Cleo, as that idiot Brutus probably won’t last more than another ten seconds,” Gideon said, nodding.
“Less. Ten seconds is an eternity. And the bitch resists. That’s the wager.”
The earl nodded. “All right. Done.”
Brutus tried, he really did. His agony was palpable, his need immense. He actually made it for another four seconds (Jessica counted them off aloud), before he gave in to temptation and pounced on the rabbit.
Cleo watched, yawned widely and then turned in a circle before settling herself in front of the fireplace.
Jessica approached his lordship, her hand extended, palm up. “That’s five pounds you owe me, my lord. Men always give in to temptation, and for the most part, sooner rather than later.”
His smile had something clenching deep in her belly. “With women more apt to follow orders. Obey.”
She rallied at this suggestion, clenching belly ignored. “Hardly. She’s merely waiting for a better offer, one she doesn’t have to share.”
“And now we’re not speaking of dogs,” Gideon said, waving her to the nearest sofa. “Please, be seated.”
She waited for him to say something about his attire, some sort of offhand apology for appearing without jacket or waistcoat, at the least. But he looked so at his ease she didn’t really expect it. Rather, it was as if he was saying, this is my home and I do what I want, when I want, where I want, up to and including tossing filthy cloth rabbits in this splendidly appointed drawing room.
“Comfortable, Gideon?” she finally asked as, still holding his wineglass, he took up a seat on the facing sofa.
Once again he smiled, and once again, that certain clenching feeling took hold in her belly. “I was wondering how long it would take until you had to say something. All I can answer is to quote you, I suppose. I dislike encumbrances.”
“Loathe. I believe I said loathe.”
He shrugged. “A female word. In either case, let it be said we both enjoy being comfortable. There’s a reason gentlemen stand so tall in their finery, you know. Mostly it’s because we can’t bend, or even remove our own jackets, and risk slicing off our earlobes with our shirt-points if we turn our necks independently of our head and shoulders.”
He’s trying to make me like him, Jessica thought angrily. He’s saying without words: Look at me, I’m a simple man. I may be Earl of Saltwood, but at the heart of things I’m only a man, one who loves his dogs and his comforts. I’m not who you think I am, your brother is safe with me.
Either that, or he was returning her favor of last night, already half stripped and ready for seduction. There was also that. Was that what Thorndyke’s wink had been all about? Did the servants think she’d been sent for, only surprised when she’d shown up at the front door? The thought had already occurred to her downstairs. Good God, yes, that was it! He was about to take her up on her offer. Here. Right here. Probably on the floor, just to double the insult. After all, he was a Redgrave, and above nothing. And she’d come here today like a dog called to heel. She’d obeyed.
She had to know. She felt horribly certain she was right, but she had to know.
“My brother, Gideon. He’s here? He’s not, is he? You’ve sent him away. You haven’t even so much as told him about me.”
Brutus had finished with the rabbit, that hadn’t put up much of a fight in any case, and was now sitting beside Gideon, his head on the man’s knee. The earl scratched him behind the ears, clearly all forgiven. “Hmm?” he said, redirecting his gaze to her. “I’m sorry?”
“No, you aren’t,” Jessica said, getting to her feet. “I don’t know what sort of mean game you’re about, my Lord Saltwood, but I am not playing it. My brother, sir. Or else I’ll find my way to the door.”
The dark eyes, moments earlier open and amused, narrowed to dark slits. The friendliness was gone, leaving only the man. The menace. The reputation.
“Not if I don’t want you to,” he said, rising, as well. “You do perceive the difference between now and last night, I’m sure. That is what you’re thinking of, isn’t it? You, without a chaperone, clearly a knowing woman, appearing as requested at a bachelor establishment—worse, at the domicile of one of those rascally reprobate Redgraves. Even that lunkhead of a footman saw the way of things. But, please, continue this belated show of astonishment if you must. I’m amenable either way, actually, although I would prefer you don’t prolong the pretense until it becomes tiresome. In other words, I’ll play, but I will not lower myself to halfheartedly chasing you around the furniture. It might upset the dogs.”
Oh, God. He was big. He was so big. Handsome into the bargain, yes, but mostly, he was so big. She couldn’t outrun him. His servants would be of no help to her. He was right. She’d come here of her own free will. She ran a gaming house. She was no lady, disowned by her own father. She was nothing, nobody, not anymore. No one would care… .
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said even as she backed up a step, shot her gaze toward the doors. The closed doors.
“I wouldn’t? Very well, I did agree to play. I’ll oblige you, if that’s how you like it. Let’s see, how shall I say this? I suppose I’ll simply say the expected.”
He took another sanity-destroying step toward her. “Ah, Mrs. Linden, as you very well know, there is little I wouldn’t dare. And, out of your own mouth, little you wouldn’t offer. I’ve considered that offer rather pleasantly overnight, deciding a month of your services to be sufficient to my needs, six weeks at the outside, before you bore me. But in the cold light of day I realized I would be remiss if I were to agree to such a bargain without first tasting the wares. For all I know, you might not be very good at pleasuring a man of my peculiar tastes.”
She grabbed at the fragile straw that he was only trying to frighten her, pay her some of her own back for the pistol, if nothing else. The odds weren’t in her favor, but she had no options, none. She’d have to stand her ground. Bluff, knowing she held the inferior hand.
He took another step toward her and reached out, trailing his index finger from the base of her neck to the modest bodice of her gown, hooking that finger inside the fabric and tugging on it. “Is that red hair a promise, or a tease? Is your willing body lying beneath mine a proposition worth my consideration? Tell me, Jessica. Are you any good? Convince me.”
“I’ve only to scream for help.” Her voice shook with the fear she was trying so hard to conceal.
“Be my guest. But remember, my staff is loyal to me. And, being a Redgrave staff, they are doubtless used to all sorts of noises, including feminine shrieks.”
Then she was nudged from the side, nearly losing her balance before looking down to see Cleo had roused herself from her nap and somehow insinuated her body between them. The bitch had the rabbit between her jaws and was nudging at Jessica as if asking her to come away and play with her.
Or was the dog attempting to save her? It was a highly unlikely yet lovely thought.
“Does she attack on command?” Jessica said, putting her hand atop Gideon’s and pointedly removing it from her bodice. “If she were to feel I were under some sort of duress, you understand?”
Gideon looked down at the hopeful dog and smiled, shook his head. All the dark menace was gone, replaced by that insufferable smile. “A good question. You’re a cool one, aren’t you, Jessica? Although Cleo here apparently sniffs something amiss. Fear, perhaps? That would be disturbing and quite puts a crimp in my assumptions, doesn’t it? No matter what, it would appear you’ve been granted a reprieve. You wanted to see your brother. I’ll have Thorndyke fetch him.”
“What?” All that talk, those threats and then…nothing? Damn him.
She watched in astonished relief as he walked over to the bell pull, blindly stepping back until the backs of her legs came in contact with the edge of the sofa, at which point she sat down with a thump. Cleo deposited the fairly damp rabbit in her lap and then lay down, her head on Jessica’s feet.
Jessica bent down to rub behind the dog’s ears. “He may have been all bluster and having some of his own back, you know. Males are like that, always wanting the upper hand, or at least to make sure we females think they’ve got it,” she whispered to the animal. “He only did what I would have expected from him. Yes, that’s it. I don’t believe he actually would have done anything…possibly. Perhaps. But thank you.”
Thorndyke entered the room a few moments later, doing a fine job of pretending he wasn’t looking at Jessica, and then retired with a bow after being ordered to produce young master Collier, who had been last seen by his lordship slopping up eggs in the breakfast room.
Jessica considered this. Did a man, even a Redgrave, seduce a woman while that woman’s brother was in the same house? No, he did not. He’d merely, meanly, meant to frighten her, give her some of her own back (sans pistol, thank goodness, not that the man wasn’t a weapon unto himself). And he’d succeeded, admirably. Again, damn the man!
“Then you did tell him I would be here this morning?” she asked as Gideon picked up his wineglass once more and retook his seat.
“I warned him to get his backside out of bed before two, which is not his custom. I doubt he’ll be pleased to meet anyone less than a scantily clad harem girl wishing to have him recline against her lap whilst she fed him sugared figs.”
“Don’t measure others by your own yardstick, Gideon,” Jessica warned tightly. “He’s not a Redgrave.”
Gideon chuckled softly. “Oh, yes, we Redgraves are mightily high on sugared figs.”
Jessica glared at him. “That wasn’t the part of your description I was alluding to, my lord. It’s a well-known fact the Redgraves are prone to excesses of a…of a…” She was at a loss as to how to finish that statement. “You’re prone to excesses,” she finally ended, lamely. After all, if she had ended with “of a carnal nature,” he would most probably have laughed so hard he would have fallen off the sofa. She believed she was beginning to get a sort of figurative handle on the man now, understand him better. In short, he was a menace!