A Perfect Gentleman (29 page)

“Then you should have told me, and let me decide for myself if I wished to meet him. You should have asked me about those other men, and Sir John. Instead you had them all angry and upset.”

“They will recover. In fact, I'd wager a guinea that Blanchard finds a way to be introduced before the end of the week.”

“Then I shall get rid of him myself. Without your interference. And I shall treat Sir John as I see fit. Without your insults. Is that clear?”

As clear as the window beside Stony, fogged with his breathing. “You do not know men,” was all he said.

“I know that I did not hire you to watch over me like a mother hen with one chick. You were supposed to help me meet people, not frighten them away. For that matter, you were not supposed to make arrangements with Mr. Lattimer on your own, either. We were supposed to deliberate together, if I recall. You never discussed visiting the jewelers with me, or hiring the additional Runners.”

“Are you worried I am overspending your account?”

“Of course not. I am concerned that you do not consider me capable of managing anything.”

“I took you to the Wellstone Home, didn't I? You have already made a difference there, I understand.”

“That is not what I mean. Your patronizing attitude is. Even now, you relegate me to doing good deeds, while you decide the course of the investigation, the course of my London sojourn, and the course of my friendships. I will not have it, I say. I shall not be treated as an inferior being by one who….” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes? One who what? One who believes in protecting womenfolk? Or one who sells his soul for the price of a meal? One who cannot afford to keep his dependents in silk and furs and jewels? Just how inferior do you consider me, Miss Kane?”

“I was going to say one who spends his days and nights among the pleasure seekers of Town.”

“Like hell you were. You consider me as dirt beneath your feet. You always have. You respect no man who cannot match your income.”

“That is untrue! I admire what you have done with the home for girls, and how kind you are to Gwen.” He made a snorting sound, like Atlas having a bad dream, or downing a good cucumber sandwich.

“Well, I do. I believe I have shown you more respect from the very beginning than you have shown me.”

Stony's patience was wearing thin. “If I did not respect you, Miss Kane, I'd have your skirts up to your ears right now and your hair down to your rear. And that is the honest truth.”

Ellianne's imagination was wearing silk garters, to her dismay. That was his fault, too. “How dare you! You are exactly what Aunt Lally said, a lewd and licentious, good-for-nothing lordling!”

“Aha! She does speak!”

“That is not the point! Your superior attitude is reprehensible, and your rakish thoughts are repugnant.”

“As opposed to your holier-than-thou airs?”

“I do not have airs,” she said, her chin so far in the atmosphere she might have bumped it on the carriage roof if they hit a rut.

The carriage interior was only dimly lighted by the lanterns and the street lamps as they passed, to Stony's regret, because a redhead in a rant was a magnificent sight. Next time he'd make sure to aggravate her in the afternoon. She sure as Hades was ruining his night, going on about respect and evil thoughts, as if a man could control his mind. Stony had enough trouble governing his body, when he could hear her breath coming in quick rasps, as if she were in the throes of a different kind of emotion. Her chest was heaving, as it would if she were making love. Her words were making as much sense as the hungry murmurings of a woman at pleasure. He could almost see her vibrating with anger—or passion. He fought to get those images out of his mind while she raged on, condemning him for everything since Adam got Eve thrown out of Eden by eating the apple.

He lost the battle. “Oh, hell.” Before Ellianne could say another word, or raise her hand—or her knee—he slid across the seat, pulled her closer, and kissed her. At first it was as if he were kissing his cane. She was stiff and bony and cold. What the deuce had he been thinking? But he held her tighter, pressing her body against his until he could feel lush femininity against chest. He used his tongue to soften her lips and his breath to warm her. “Please,” he whispered, or perhaps pleaded.

Tentatively, reluctantly, but inevitably, Ellianne brought her hands up to wrap around his shoulders, to touch his firm back, his neck, his wavy hair. She tilted her head to a different angle, sliding her lips against his even as her body leaned into his. She stopped thinking, stopped breathing, stopped being Miss Ellianne Kane. She was a cloud, a river, a rainbow. She could fly; she could float.

She would pass out if she did not get air. Ellianne pulled back, and Stony's arms instantly released her. He was breathing hard, too, with a sheen of moisture on his brow. He put more distance between them, eyeing her cautiously, as if wondering if he should leap to his death from the moving carriage or wait for her to shoot him. When she made no move toward violence, he reached up to straighten his cravat.

His neckcloth was not the only thing askew.

“I….” she began, but had to wait for her heart to stop pounding louder than her voice. “I shall not be needing your services any longer.”

“You need me,” he stated unequivocally. “A lot of other men would not have stopped there. Do you wish me to apologize?”

She shook her head, completing the damage to her hairdo that his eager fingers had begun. She tried to gather some of the loose pins. “No, I would not trust your sincerity. How many times have you sworn that I was safe from your blandishments?”

He tried to make her smile. “One kiss is not exactly a blandishment. A minor beguilement, maybe, but definitely not a blandishment.”

She saw no humor in the situation. “I do not need you or your lust. That was not part of our agreement.”

“My lust? Am I the only one with fevered blood? I distinctly recall hearing some tiny mews of pleasure during our little embrace.”

Little embrace? Ellianne did not think she could survive anything bigger. “You must have heard the carriage springs. But that is irrelevant. I am not paying you for sexual services.”

Now he grew angry. “My ‘sexual services,' as you say, are not now and never have been for sale. Or did you believe I put a price on my kisses? How much do you think your sighs were worth? Forgive me, Miss Kane, the carriage springs. A pound? I wonder what you would be willing to pay for completion. Perhaps I could retire after a night of total satiation.”

“Stop that! You are being vulgar and hateful, as if you were the one who was offended.”

“I was. I am. I thought you knew me better than that, dash it.”

“And I thought you knew me better than to think I would enjoy being mauled in a carriage!”

“I did. And you did. Enjoy it, that is, until you remembered to be the prim and proper Miss Kane, with everything under your cool command, as if you had one of your lists in hand and emotion was not on it.”

“There is nothing wrong with being prim and proper, or organized, or in control of one's emotions.”

“Except that it is a lie. You are a living, breathing woman, not a marvelous counting pig, not a beautiful glass figurine, not a blasted army general.”

“You dare accuse me of lying? You with your clumsy cane? You don't even have a limp!”

“Well, you don't have a parrot.”

Miss Kane hopped out of the coach before he could assist her down. She opened the front door herself, without waiting for either Stony to knock or Timms to hobble to the front hall.

She did not slam the door in Stony's face, which he took for the best invitation he was going to get. They had to finish their discussion, which meant, he supposed, another apology. He followed her into the parlor, trying to decide which sin to apologize for first. Lying was bad. Calling her names was worse. Kissing her was….

“Snake eyes!”

Timms was on his knees, but he was not praying. Ellianne's aunt and the butler were throwing dice in front of the sofa. When they heard the arrivals at the parlor door, Timms crawled to his slippered feet and kicked the dice cup and some coins under the furniture. Mrs. Goudge snatched open her tapestry workbag, stashed the wine bottle inside, and took out some knitting.

Adjusting his spectacles, Timms begged Miss Kane's forgiveness. “Tempted by the devil, I was.”

Ellianne glared at both of them, but especially at her aunt. “The devil does not wear silk petticoats.”

Aunt Lally glared right back, her lips pursed shut. Ellianne could feel Wellstone's presence right behind her. The dratted man was most likely laughing at her and her household. Without looking in his direction, she told her aunt she might as well speak, for his lordship knew they had no parrot.

“And not above time, I'll have you know,” Aunt Lally said. Once started, she intended to have her say, company present or not. “As for Timms, he promised you he'd stay away from the racetrack and the pubs. By Saint Aloysius's swive-sacks, what more do you want? The bloke's too old for the sheets, so what's he supposed to do for fun?”

Stony was grinning until Mrs. Goudge raised her knitting needle like an épée and advanced on her niece. Before he could step in front of Ellianne as a shield, the older woman lifted a lock of red hair on the needle's tip. That lock was trailing down Ellianne's shoulder, not tucked into the neatly pinned arrangement she'd worn when she left the Sloane Street house.

“As for you, missy, you're a fine one to talk, coming home from some swell's do looking like you've been done, all right. I warned you to watch out for silver-tongued toffs, didn't I?”

Stony looked around. He was the only toff, or titled gentleman, present. He thought of running, but he was too late. That knitting needle, with half an unfinished glove dangling off one end, was poking into his midsection.

“As for you, you Romeo for rent”—the needle jabbed an inch lower—“we don't have any parrots.” Another inch. “And we don't have any soiled doves here, either.” One more inch and his manhood would be wearing a mitten. “Understand?”

How could he not, when Mrs. Goudge was so eloquently persuasive? He glanced at Ellianne, whose turn it was to smile. He stepped back, out of danger, bowed, and said, “It will not happen again.”

“Damn well it won't. We don't need your kind around here. Tell him, Ellianne.”

“I already did, Aunt Lally. I already did.”

Stony bowed again and left, following behind the butler, who was shaking his head in sorrow. Stony felt he had to say something. The old man was more part of the family than a mere servant. “I am sorry if I have disappointed you too, Timms. I meant no disrespect to Miss Kane.”

“Oh, I'm not worried about my lady. She can take care of herself. It's Mrs. Goudge what has me disheartened. Tell me, my lord, do you think I am too old for sex?”

*

They didn't need him, like hell! Miss Ellianne Kane needed a man's protection more than any woman he knew. An infant would be safer on the streets of London than the heiress would be in the parlors of polite society. Why, the girls at his home had more sense than that ninnyhammer. At least they recognized the dangers.

With flaming hair, a fortune in the bank, and a standoffish manner, Miss Kane was nothing but a dashed challenge to a man with shifting principles. Hell, his own scruples were solid as rock, and he couldn't keep his hands off her.

She didn't need him? Didn't need a man's escort or affection, didn't need a husband or a lover or a friend? What, did she think her diamonds and her dividends would keep her warm? Dratted, dunderheaded woman!

Stony had half a mind to let her see what would happen without a trustworthy gentleman's presence at her side.

Unfortunately, the other half of his mind had a different problem. He didn't know if he could be all that trustworthy anymore. Having tasted her lips once, he worried that he could not live without tasting them again. Need? He needed a cold bath.

*

Aunt Lally was right. They did not need him. Ellianne did not need him. The entire world did not need an insolent, overbearing, immoral churl. Well, Gwen needed him, to be fair, and the young girls he rescued needed him.

Ellianne most assuredly did not. Bow Street could expand its search for Isabelle. For herself, she had her thoroughly satisfactory life waiting for her at Fairview, where she was the one who was needed. No one likened her to a performing pig there, or a statue, or an army officer. No one made her melt there, either, and that was as it should be.

Unfortunately, if she went home he would think she was running away, that she could not stay in town without his support. Worse, he'd think that his kiss had her in such a quake that she had to flee to save her virtue. He was wrong, of course. She was never in danger of succumbing to his charm and his practiced skills. No, never.

Ellianne decided to stay in London, just to prove him wrong. She'd stay as long as it suited her, becoming the darling of society Gwen thought she could be. She would have a different gentleman for escort every night, and, yes, she might even sample a few more kisses, just to prove that Wellstone's were nothing out of the ordinary. She would enjoy herself, by heaven, even if it killed her.