Page 3 of One Night with a Prince

Draker nodded and left the room with Iversley. Only a minute passed before Lady Haversham herself marched in. Up close, she was prettier than he remembered, despite her awful widow’s weeds and lopsided coiffure. She also looked quite fierce for a woman who came up only to his chin—a little spitfire with snapping green eyes and an impudent nose.

He stubbed out his cigar, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered. Despite her title, Lady Haversham was no lady. She was a soldier in skirts.

“Good evening, Mr. Byrne.” She thrust out her black-gloved hand as boldly as any man. Gavin took it in a firm grip, then in one quick motion, jerked her around so he could clamp an arm about her waist and hold her still from behind while he smoothed his other hand down her starched wool gown. She began to struggle. “What the devil—”

“Be still,” he growled. “I’m making sure you didn’t pack a pistol in some pocket.”

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“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered, but stopped fighting him. After a moment of enduring the indignity of having his hands on her, she snapped, “My pistol is in my reticule, which is sitting in Lord Draker’s drawing room. All right?”

The woman was a walking arsenal. “All right.” He released her, not because of what she’d said, but because running his hands over her petite but surprisingly womanly figure had perversely aroused him. He didn’t want her to know it, however—the female was liable to shoot off his cock for its impertinence. She faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well? Will you help me?”

Nothing like going to the heart of the matter. “Why me?” he countered. “The last time we met, you weren’t exactly impressed with my credentials.”

A small smile touched her lips. “You mean I nearly put a hole in your credentials. I suppose I should apologize for that.”

“That would be a good start.”

She lifted her chin. “I was only trying to save Philip from certain ruin.”

“Ruin! Your husband paid off his debt easily enough.”

A weary sadness passed over her face. “Yes, he did. He gained the money by selling to Lord Stokely something belonging to my family.”

Suddenly, things began to make more sense. “That’s why you want an invitation to Stokely’s. To retrieve your property. Or more accurately, to steal it.”

“If I couldbuy it back, I would. But Lord Stokely won’t sell.”

“You asked him?”

“His Highness asked him.” When Gavin’s eyes narrowed, she added hastily, “On behalf of my family, of course.”

Not bloody likely. Prinny didn’t have a philanthropic bone in his body. Whatever her property was, Prinny clearly had a vested interest in it. Otherwise, he would never offer Gavin a barony to help recover it.

“How can you be sure it’s at Stokely’s estate? He has a town house. He might even possess a special vault at a bank.”

“He would never let it that far out of his sight. Besides, his town house has only a couple of servants in residence; it would be too easy to break into. He wouldn’t take that chance.”

“Yet you think he’d take the chance of inviting you to attend his party, knowing that he has something you want that he won’t sell to you.”

“He doesn’t know that I know he has it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

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“My husband told Lord Stokely that he’d received it from Papa, when in reality, Papa had given it tome, and Philip had stolen it without my knowledge. I didn’t even realize it was gone until Lord Stokely wrote to His Highness about it and the prince summoned me to London.”

“Why in God’s name would Stokely write His Highness?”

She blinked, as if realizing she’d said too much. “I-I have no idea.”

Liar. For the moment he let it pass. “And how does this tangled web concern me?”

She arched one eloquent eyebrow.

“Ah, you’ve decided I should help you steal your property back because your husband sold it to payme