Her Mad Baron (21 page)

“I don’t.”

She sighed and flopped back down. “Bloody hell, you are harder to climb than that wall of yours. The one in Derby.”

The strong curse and the comparison between him and a wall made him want to laugh. When she wasn’t driving him to despair, she nearly always made him want to laugh or smile.

He’d force himself to admit as much to her. “Florrie, if I am not so easy-going…” He paused, trying to collect the right words. They eluded him. “I pray I don’t offend you with a lack of affectionate responses. Please believe it is never because I dislike being in your company. I sincerely appreciate our time together.”

There. That wasn’t so terrible. And it wouldn’t be enough to stir her heart. He desperately wanted her body, so much so he was ready and willing to marry her. And he appreciated her mind, but God knew he didn’t want responsibility for more.

She rolled her eyes. “Nathaniel, it’s a good thing that actions speak louder than words.”

That was unfair; his words were fine. He wondered which actions exactly she meant.

She straightened  her clothes, and he supposed now she’d leave. He also got dressed, ready to escort her home. Perhaps he’d get back to work in the silent library.

But she didn’t leave nor did she talk about going. Instead she ran her fingers through her hair, shoved the hairpins back in place and walked to the drinks.

The collar of her dress was rumpled, and for some reason, that struck him as infinitely appealing.

She held up a decanter. “This label says sherry. That’s a sort of wine, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, she poured herself a large glassful and returned to her chair.

“I had not thought you could be right about your uncle, but now that I’ve met him… Maybe he would do something like hold you prisoner.” She tipped up some of the drink. “When shall I break into his house?”

He laughed, but she only peered over the tumbler at him as she sipped her sherry.

“I don’t think you should break in.”

“Then why did you suggest it a few days ago?”

He’d been frantic to keep her near him that evening he’d found her, and the ridiculous plan to employ her as a climber had come to him. Now he wished he’d never mentioned the idea to her.

He flung himself into a chintz chair and considered the matter. To be truthful, it would be good to get more on the old devil. Bessette himself had taught Nathaniel that information was power.

Nathaniel had to devise with a plan that wouldn’t put Florrie in jeopardy. He tapped his lip and thought. “Perhaps we can pay him a return visit and I’ll excuse myself. You keep him entertained while I search his office. That will be peril enough, even for you.”

“Doesn’t he go out? What about trying then?”

“Yes, but he has a great many servants. They’d stop me from entering his office.”

“They won’t stop me, if they didn’t even know I was in the house. Not if he was out in the middle of the night or perhaps gone for several days and I went directly into an empty room. We’d have to visit to make sure the window was open. I’ve always wanted to do a night climb.”

“Florrie, we are engaged to be married.” He drew in a deep breath. “We can use that fact to gain entrance to his domain. But climbing into unlocked windows.” He shook his head.

She took a long sip of the sherry and sighed. “Yes, you’re right. Lord Felston’s affianced shouldn’t be breaking into houses. But will you be able to be alone in his office long enough to search it thoroughly? I imagine a man such as he has vigilant servants.”

“Yes,” he reluctantly admitted. “But anything else is foolhardy. Climbing is too dangerous.”

She drained her glass. “That’s why I like it.”

He’d known this, of course. He’d gotten himself engaged to a woman whose idea of fun was more than unconventional; it was lunatic.

He should have been dismayed but discovered he smiled instead. “Fine. We’ll try my way first, and if I find nothing, then perhaps we’ll wait until he visits one of his estates. He does leave London on a regular basis.”

She stared at him. “Truly? You don’t object?”

“Florrie, recollect that you agreed to marry me because I knew the truth about you.”

“Yes, the truth about my past. But… No, no, wait.” She grinned and flapped a hand at him. “I’m not arguing with you.” She went to the table and poured more sherry. “All right, Nathaniel. We’ll make plans. We’ll flush out the person who imprisoned you. What evidence shall we look for?”

He was grateful to sit down with her to talk about matters unrelated to the heart. As he pulled his chair near the fire and close to hers, he ruefully noticed he didn’t like being physically distant from her.

They argued about what could work as evidence against his uncle or anyone else.

“Lists of medications would be good,” he told her.

He stopped in midsentence when she absently reached over to stroke his hand. She played with his fingers and kissed his wrist in a most distracting manner.

“Florrie,” he finally said. “We have planned enough, don’t you think?”

“Mmm.” She nibbled on his thumb and then gave it a suck. Her wet tight mouth encompassing his skin startled him and was enough to rouse his body. He leaned forward to taste her mouth.

She got up to refill her sherry, and he watched her walk to the tray and thought about her sneaking through his uncle’s library.

Danger. God, no, that was too hard to think about. They’d have to tell Peter or leave a note so that if they went missing… Hell. His heart lurched. If Florrie was harmed...

He blurted out, “I have another plan. You teach me what you know and then I’ll carry out the job.”

She sat in the chair near him and sipped the sherry. “Not enough time. Two of us have a better chance than you alone. And Nathaniel, Nathaniel. You know who I am. You know. Every single thing. Not like Jimmy.” She gave him a dreamy smile.

He wondered if the smile was directed at a memory of Jimmy. “Who is he?”

“We were engaged.”

“Ah.” There was so much he didn’t know about her. He felt a twinge of annoyance. “How long were you engaged?”

“Not long. Not long ago. He is like a gentleman. Certainly more like a gentleman than you.”

Nathaniel didn’t need to ask her what she meant by that. He asked, too sharply, “Do you miss him?”

“No. No. No.” She drew in a deep breath and swallowed the rest of her sherry. “You act entirely silly after we, um… After. Once it’s over.”

With an effort he held his tongue. He wondered if he should have physically stopped her from drinking so much alcohol. He suspected a stern word wouldn’t have made a difference.

“But with Jimmy, there was no after. No before or during because he was exactly like a gentleman and knew what was due a lady. And, Nathaniel, that’s what I’m saying. I am not a lady. I am not even like one.” Her dreamy smile was sad. “Oh, dear. This job at your uncle’s is very important. We could just hire Jimmy. That would be funny, now, wouldn’t it? He’d do it to oblige me. Though he didn’t want to do Papa’s blades.”

He’d been caught up wondering about this Jimmy. No doubt she’d broken off her engagement because she didn’t want her gentlemanly fiancé to know about her habit of climbing into other people’s houses. “Hire him? What would he do?”

“Break into your uncle’s house.” She raised her shoulders and gave a little shake as if trying to fend off the effects of the sherry. “He’d be good at it too. Never was caught. Ever.”

“Do you mean to tell me you were going to marry a thief?” So much for that theory of the broken engagement.

She nodded. “Yes, and he made a good living because he knew what to take. He was like a gentleman. Hold on, I said that. But he’d educated himself. Knew all about art and things. Jewels.” She frowned at the glass in her hand. “I think I’ve accidentally fulfilled one of my things. Ambitions.” She giggled. “That must be what is wrong with me, yes?”

“You’re feeling the effects of alcohol,” he said.

“Yes. Indeed. I don’t drink.” She enunciated each word carefully. “I don’t like the taste usually, and my father was quite adamant. But this is good.” She put down the glass with a clunk. “No more.”

“Why didn’t you marry Jimmy?”

“He didn’t want me,” she said, and the smile faded.

“I find it hard to imagine,” Nathaniel said. “I take that back. I find it impossible to imagine.”

When it returned, that smile of hers lit her face, and he had trouble drawing a full breath at the sight. He had to kiss her, and then the kiss went deeper and deeper. The sweet flavor of sherry and Florrie drew him.

He was not a gentleman, after all, not like her thief, and he was willing to seduce a woman worse for drink. And why would a sober, abstemious man break the habits of a lifetime?

Need.

A requirement for her that was so strong, it had changed him. The pull of the drugs didn’t tear at his heart the way the craving for her did. That didn’t bear thinking about so he must act. Only touching her would let him escape the fear whispering through the truth of his new addictions.

God. He didn’t want to think about this, or allow the too-astute woman to read the desperation in his face. He’d have to coax her into a similar state.

He put his hand on her breast and even under all the layers of cloth could feel her nipple harden at his touch.

“No.” She pulled away. “It’s time to think. No Jimmy.”

The effect of her on his body made him stupid—it took a full second later to realize she wasn’t calling him Jimmy. “No,” he agreed. “I will take care of this without his help.”

“But with mine.”

He pushed some strands of her hair back. “Your hair is too smooth to take the pins. Why don’t you try another style?”

“What? Aha. I know! You’re trying to change the subject. We’re planning to break into your uncle’s house.”

“I’d rather make plans about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I plan to see you in my bed without a single hairpin anywhere near you. Nothing but you on my pillows.”

She gave him that heavy-eyed smile. “I won’t be distracted.” She tapped the table with her knuckle. “This is what is needed to get in. Take notes, my lord.”

He sighed and allowed himself to be drawn into a discussion of ropes and knots and climbing keys. He liked her enthusiasm and was soon caught up in the description of the physical triumph of a good climb.

After an hour, he drove her home. “I hope you shan’t have a morning head,” he said as he handed her down from the carriage. “I think you should curse me soundly if you do.”

“I shall.” She drew his face to hers for a long fierce kiss then ran across the pavement to her boarding house door.

The next morning as he sat at breakfast the butler announced that a man awaited him. The stranger insisted on speaking to the baron on private business and wouldn’t give his name. Since Thompson hadn’t used the word “gentleman” Nathaniel supposed it was one of Runcle’s cohorts.

But he didn’t recognize the stout man dressed in trousers so old they were shiny at the knees and faded at the seams. His grey hair was plastered to his scalp, and the hands holding the homburg trembled. Damnation, another threat?

He bowed from the doorway and surveyed the man with displeasure. “I understand you did not wish to identify yourself.”

“I apologize for that. My name…” The man’s voice squeaked, and he coughed and tried again. “My name is Wentworth, and I came hoping not to disturb my relation who works for you, my lord, as I am come here as a friend of Miss Cadero’s. It is my half day off, and she doesn’t know that I am visiting you.”

Nathaniel was about to demand what he wanted when the name dropped in place. He was to give this man tea, Florrie had told him. Nathaniel came forth at once with his hand outstretched. “Of course! I am delighted to at last meet you, sir. Please do sit down.”

He thought about ushering his guest into another more comfortable room but decided against it. After reaching for the bell, he sat in a chair near the gaping Mr. Wentworth.

Mr. Wentworth refused all refreshment, and perhaps that was as well for the man looked positively green and still shook. Nathaniel wondered if he was ill.

After some encouragement, Mr. Wentworth revealed the reason for his visit.

He’d heard disturbing rumors about the baron from someone. Nathaniel recalled that the little red-haired maid was somehow related to this man. Perhaps she’d gossiped about Miss Cadero’s visits. In short, Mr. Wentworth coughed and then managed to continue, insisting on understanding Nathaniel’s true intentions.

For the briefest moment, Nathaniel wanted to rise to his feet and demand the presumptuous sales clerk to keep out of the personal business of his superiors. But he recognized that part of him as Bessette.

He scowled at his own thoughts. Poor Mr. Wentworth must have seen his displeasure for the man squeaked in dismay. “I-I understand of course, my lord, that anyone could say it is none of my affair, but sir, my lord, I have met her brother, Mr. Cadero. And I suspect these are not questions he would ask. Someone must, and she has no male relations who...you understand. But I can’t stand by...in short, I am rather...” He coughed and pulled out a handkerchief.