Page 42 of The Lady is Trouble
Julian thumped the saddle. “I’ve taken this route a hundred times.”
Humphrey pushed off the door with a growl. “Not with them on our tail, you haven’t. Finn’s dreaming every night, telling us they’re getting closer. You think to ignore that?”
“I’ll watch my back. It’s not me they’re after. Danger doesn’t place us on ice, Rey, unable to move. The League is always going to be vulnerable, and I need this information.”
“My advice, take some time to think about this.” When Julian failed to respond, Humphrey blew out a tense breath. “I can’t leave today. We have someone arriving from Whitechapel. Blackmon. Clairvoyant. Worked on the docks. Good head for figures and likes children.” He gestured in the direction of the house. “I may have him tutor Simon, the squirmy little bastard.”
“I assume Blackmon can shoot straight?”
Humphrey waved the question away as if it were a fly in his face. “What choice is there on the docks? Someone gets gutted every day.”
“A clairvoyant steward sounds enchanting as the position is currently vacant.” Julian yanked gloves from his coat pocket and tugged them on, tucking between the fingers to tighten the fit.
“Can’t be worse than anyone else we’ve placed in a job they’ve never in their life undertaken.” His lips canted, the topic a familiar argument between them. “Since you insist everyone employed here be able to make magic, shoot fire from their eyeballs or something.”
“I do insist. We’ll be lightly staffed until we’re not.” Since they’d been talking crack shots and protection, Julian checked the pistol in his boot, the cold metal caress relieving a little of his tension. “You’re the only ungifted person I’ll ever trust in this lifetime.”
“Oh, ah, thank you very much, too,” Humphrey snarled as he kicked aside a pile of hay littering his path.
“For?”
“Leaving it to me to tell Scamp you went running to London with your tail between your legs.”
“I don’t care what you tell her, you just keep her in your sight everyminute,” Julian said between gritted teeth as he led his horse from the stable. In the yard, he grasped the pommel and swung into the saddle. The black danced to the side, and Julian reined her in with a deft shift. “Her pattern is to rebel when denied.”
“Denied, huh?”
“She followed me right into the vision, Rey. I looked back, and there she was.” He drew a gloved hand down his face, still panicked to recall her entering the otherworld. His hell, not hers. “I don’t want her there, but I don’t know if I can leave without her. How disturbing is that?”
“It’s a damned mess any way you play it.” Humphrey squinted as he looked up at Julian. “Who knew she was going to end up being such a beauty?”
“Are you listening to me? I’m talking aboutprotectingher.” In any case, her beauty wasn’t the main draw. It was her wit. Her nimble mind. The way she challenged him; the way she kept him off-kilter. And, if he must admit, how she’d always approached him charmed him right down to his toes, like cracking him open and looking inside was the most essential quest she’d ever undertaken.
Humphrey grabbed the halter as Julian tried to trot past before anything he was thinking tumbled out of his mouth. The black nickered in response and danced on the lead. “I saw her, Jule. I sawyou. The chit about took my head off on the ride to the house when Minnie was the one at fault. Her idea to intrude!” He stepped back in disgust. “Did you ever consider that you’re exactly what that reckless girl needs? She’s exactly whatyouneed? And maybe, just maybe, the earl, that old fool, was wrong about everything?”
She is not yours.
Julian dug his thigh into the horse’s flank and wheeled her around. Torment to be fascinated by the one woman you couldn’t have. Why, when London was full of women ripe for the plucking, did he only wanther?
Had never wanted anyonebuther.
Dirt and grass flew as he galloped from the yard without a backward glance.
As he crossed the windswept field, a phrase he’d learned at university circled his mind:fuoco nelle vene.
Fire in the veins.
Piper Scott was fire in his veins. And as he was about to consider, fire was a ruthless power best left undisturbed.
The crickets in the ragged bush edging the portico were screeching, their chirp shattering an otherwise hushed night. Even after years spent in the country, whether here or one of Julian’s estates, Humphrey wasn’t used to the sound, as unpleasant as a streetlamp’s glare cutting through a crack in the draperies.
He rested against a column, his cheroot an orange glow across his fingertips, smoke drifting about his head and mixing with what hehadcome to appreciate about country living: air so clean and clear you could drink it. Layers of smells that made a body want to fall into them like they were a feather mattress. Flowers, grass, and something—he rubbed the cheroot between his fingertips, deciding maybe it was just good old dirt.
He sighed, tempted to leave his station and track Piper down.
Keep her in sight. Blast, what a bitter pill this girl and the calamity that followed her was to swallow.
Taking a final drag, Humphrey lifted his leg and stabbed the cheroot out on his boot, then slipped the stub in his trouser pocket with a grimace of equal parts amusement and embarrassment. Minnie complained something fierce about the things littering the ground. He didn’t need two harping females, that was certain.