Page 11 of Submitting to the Widow
“Does he have family?”
Stephen swiped at his chin and frowned. “Not that I know of. Just me. And I don’t know how the devil I’m going to subdue this beard without him.”
Jane couldn’t stop the heat of a blush spreading from her face to her neck.
He gave her a wolfish smile. “That might cause a problem for you on our next, um, adventure.”
Instead of giving her time to digest his words, he rose suddenly and took one of her hands in his. He smoothed over her entire palm before tracing the longest line there with his index finger. He circled over her lifeline for a few moments before turning over her hand and kissing the back. He took both of her hands in his, drew her near, and moved so close to her face, she could feel the heat of his breath. Just when she feared he was about to smother her in one of his mesmerizing kisses where she’d lose control of all her senses, he instead brushed his lips on the top of her head and pulled away.
“Now show me where you’re keeping my misguided valet, and I’ll sort him out and take him back to the inn.”
Mr. Forsythe paused for an intense moment where she swore he was going to pull her back into his arms but he briskly moved away again. He tentatively moved one of his long legs to the side with a puzzled look on his face before reaching down and pulling a midnight bit of fluff from the cuff of one of his trouser legs.Amelie. What in the name of Kali did that spoiled cat think she was doing?
* * *
Stephen wantedto howl at the injustice of his own body. This second encounter with the blackmailing Indian temptress had not gone as he’d planned. He’d lost control of his carefully suppressed urges.
Taking the moral high ground would have been a better negotiating move. However, instead of apologizing for his valet’s pig-headed trespassing and begging for forgiveness, he’d ended up falling into the dark pools of her eyes and precipitously touching her again…and again. Thank God her annoying cat had intervened.
Her butler, James, reminded him more of a pugilist than a civilized English manservant. He didn’t particularly care for the scathing looks the man kept throwing his way while they walked down a long hallway to a distant wing of the havey-cavey excuse for an English manor.
“I say. You do realize I mean your mistress no harm. I’m here at the behest of the woman from whom she, um, has a circulating library agreement.” At the impudent look he got in exchange for that lack-witted explanation, he hastened to elaborate. “They stole my journal pages I never wanted…expected anyone else to read.”
“That’s not the story I heard.”
Stephen’s only recourse was an exaggerated eye roll which did little more than set off a blazing headache.Wonderful.
Without another word, James stopped at a heavy oak door and fetched a key from a chain inside his waistcoat pocket. The heavy door creaked on opening as if not used frequently.
Murray reclined in the center of a silk-covered mattress, propped up by mounds of overstuffed pillows, and covered with a thick, silken quilt. The only sign he might have suffered any privations was the swath of bandages covering the crown of his head.
The eager, sloppy smile he turned on Stephen reminded him of his pet mastiff back at his family’s country estate. “Well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, sir.” The man actually had the temerity to give him a judgmental frown along with his ridiculous pronouncement.
Stephen wondered whether he could murder his valet and then argue his own case in court.
6
Stephen stepped into the luxurious bedchamber where his valet was ensconced and now gingerly sat on an overstuffed settee upholstered in a deep purple silk.
“Murray—since I happen to know you are vaguely acquainted with the law of the land, having served some of your military time on policing work with the 52ndin the Midlands back in eighteen with Lieutenant Colonel Rowan, I would appreciate your return to reality.
“You were caught literally with your shirt off, unlawfully entering Baroness Trevellyn’s conservatory. What have you got to say for yourself?”
“I told you something was havey cavey here, and I found out just what’s really going on.”
“Wait a minute. What did you find out?”
“That Raj fellow ain’t what he seems.” At Stephen’s puzzled look, his valet plowed on. “He’s a she, and I don’t mind sayin’ it’s glad I am she’s a she.”
Stephen did not trust himself to comment on Murray’s garbled explanation, so merely closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
At his employer’s silence, Murray eagerly continued his tale. “She’s Lady Trevellyn’s aunt, what came here from Rajasthan to watch over her.” At Stephen’s bland look, he continued. “Handles herself with the best of ‘em with that curved sword. You don’t need to worry about the baroness, not while her aunt’s on duty.”
“Please tell me that silken boudoir I found you in isn’t Raj’s bed.”
“Of course it is, but she wasn’t in it, I mean we didn’t…well, you know…”
Stephen raised his palm toward Murray, hoping to stop the river of nonsense gushing forth from his valet’s mouth. He mentally thanked the gods he’d had his coffee before venturing forth to find the man. This was going to be a long morning.