Proper Scoundrel (5 page)

Just a minute more. Another.

“Put me down,” she said on a sigh, still closely nestled against him, enjoying his spearmint scent that somehow enhanced her body’s unusual reaction. “I have things to do.”

“In a dithering rush, are you?”

She dare not smile outwardly at his wit.

His breath warmed her face, warmed other parts too.

She had never been held by a man. Hard and strong, but surprisingly soft and ... gentle? An enigma that should serve as a warning.

“I am in a hurry. Truly. I have dinner plans.”

“I’m sincerely sorry to hear it.”

Jade gazed at the growth of whiskers shadowing his face, making him look both dangerous and enticing. With her index finger, she touched the indentation on his chin that dimpled when he nearly smiled.

He chuckled and her fingertip fell in.

“It’s deeper than I thought.”

The devil stared down at her with fire in his eyes.

“We have work to do,” she said in token protest. “Put me down.”

He sat on the chair still holding her. “Whatever has to be done, we can, neither of us, remember what it is at this moment; you know that as well as I.” He wiggled his index finger as she had done with hers before burying it in his chin dimple. “May I claim a bit of exploration in return?”

Jade’s heart and body skittered and tripped. “I don’t have a dimple.”

“Must I explore a dimple? Are there rules?”

She tried to speak but needed to clear her throat first. “There should be rules.”

“Fine then,” he said. “We’ll invent them as we go.”

Marcus began to trace the air above Jade’s bodice, scalloping slowly around the line of buttons marching toward her waist, while hovering less than an inch above.

Then he scalloped back up again to hover above a breast.

Smaller and smaller became his circles in the air, closer and closer to the source of her tingling anticipation, until her nipple stood as if reaching.

Jade gasped.

Marcus regarded her then, his eyes bluer and deeper, waiting for her to stop him, she sensed, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. She could only wait as anticipation thrummed in her centre.

His touch, less than a stroke, came so fast, she must have blinked because she didn’t see it happen, but her body knew, and sparked, and arched an unconscious invitation for more, but Marcus was too much the gentleman to accept.

Instead, he pulled her close, crushed her achy breasts against his coat, giving her a measure of relief. “I should not have,” he whispered, warming her ear, melting her. “You’re bad for me, my Lady Scandal, but I will not take advantage. Neither will I succumb to your allure, until I have been specifically, verbally, invited to do so. You have my word. I will never hurt you, Jade.”

“You’re bad for me as well,” she said, heat infusing her. “Let me go. I have things to do.”

He released her, giving her the freedom to escape to ponder the shocking interlude.

Marcus went to splash cold water on his face, determined to avoid another intimate encounter with the siren, and then he went looking for Ivy and distraction. At Ivy’s invitation, since Jade would be away for dinner, Marcus decided to eschew the society of Jade’s charges for the easy fellowship in the Manor kitchen. Though the ladies may not all be afraid of him, they were downright closemouthed in his presence, and he needed to learn as much as possible about Jade and her grandmother, and their mutual aversion to the railroad.

Ivy slapped Marcus on the back when he arrived. “Glad you decided to join us. Sometimes the hens can be noisy.”

Marcus laughed. “Jade ever hear you call them that?”

Ivy winked. “Never. I’d rather live.”

Beecher chuckled and poured Marcus a glass of plum wine. Jade’s retainers, for all they were supposed to be men being shown their lowly places, lived well. Marcus knew the Attleboro servants did not drink wine with their dinner.

Beecher introduced the cook.

“They call me Winkin,” the jolly old man said. “Because when I come here, I cooked Winkinhurst Cakes and nothin’ more.”

“You were not hired for your cooking skill, then?”

“Nah, but I learned.”

Marcus grinned. “This house is rife with fascinating stories.”

Beecher gazed at the men around the table. “Between the lot of us, we’ve been smugglers, wreckers, excise men and tired old salts, like me. What else would you be expecting to find on the Sussex coast?”

Marcus sipped his wine. “I suspect you’ve stories to tell, and I want to hear them, but at the moment, I’m wondering why something I said seemed to upset Lacey.” He regarded Ivy. “She’s different from the rest of Jade’s downtrodden. Is she the one you said you brought here?”

Ivy nodded. “From Arundel, more or less disowned by her aristocratic family. Good woman, strong, but sad.”

Marcus accepted a plate of scotch eggs, some form of meat pie, and a ladle of pease pudding. “Lacey turned snow white when I mistook her for Emily’s mother. I wondered if she’d ever had a child of her own.”

“You’re not interested in Lace, are you, Marc?” Ivy asked. “Because I have to tell you, her heart’s taken.”

Marcus shook his head. “Don’t worry, my friend. Your original instincts are intact. I simply want to visit Emily and I’d rather not upset Lacey further with my ignorance.”

Ivy smiled. “You won’t. Your instincts are as good as mine.”

Ivy as good as admitted to playing matchmaker for him and Jade, and Lacey had surely borne a child. “I guessed as much,” Marcus said, “which brings me to another subject that’s been testing my instincts.” He regarded the others at the table. “How do the villagers feel about the railroad?”

“Some are for, some against,” Beecher answered, sitting straighter, his expression harder. “Why?”

“Jade was skittish when I mentioned it. Made me wonder if hers was the general local reaction.”

“Can’t speak for the whole village,” Beecher said. “Nor my mistress for that matter. She’s been good to me. To all of us.” His subtle warning and candid gaze encompassed the retainers at the table.

Marcus owned Beecher’s measure. Head man. Ruthlessly loyal.

Ivy coughed. “You worried about Jade, Marc?”

“I can’t say, but I can’t help her if I don’t understand the problem.”

“Jade doesn’t have anything to do with the railroad,” Beecher stated, then he went to get another pork and apple pie for the table.

Topic closed, his tone said, but Marcus feared Beecher wouldn’t have thought to defend Jade if she didn’t need defending. Bloody hell.

Ivy raised a warning brow his way. “There’s a supper and ball in Lewes at the Star Inn, the old Southover Priory, in a few days. It’s the last of the season. Go and get in on a card game while you’re there. Sure to get local opinions on everything, including the railroad.”

Marcus nodded and accepted a bowl of bread and butter pudding.

A late arrival sat at the table with them. “Jade’ll be at the assembly too,” the newcomer said. “She’s bringing a few of the ladies who’ve been taking deportment lessons from Lacey. To put them in a social situation, don’t you know. About ready to step back into the world, they are.” The speaker gave Marcus a nod. “Name’s Lester. I’m the nanny.” He grinned. “Jade’s grandmother hired me starvin’ off the street twenty odd years ago.”

“As a maid,” Jock, the stableman put in. “But he never got any cleanin’ done ’cause the little ’uns were always crowded ’round for stories.”

Beecher chuckled. “Before long, they wanted Lester tucking them in and taking them for walks and such, so Constance—” Beecher cleared his throat. “Jade’s grandmother—made him the nanny.”

“And you?” Marcus asked Beecher. “How long have you been here?”

Beecher scratched his white beard. “Almost fifty years now. I was another gutter rescue. Not much call for a ship’s surgeon with no ship. No, nor for a drunk doctor, either. Jade’s grandmother sobered me up. I tended her more often than anybody, because the bastard she married beat her bloody once a week, at least.

“When she started taking women in, she hired me on. I get a town case now and again, but mostly, I doctor this crew. Some of Jade’s women are in bad shape when they arrive. Sometimes I bring one back after a call. With all the children around here, there are always scraped knees and sniffles to tend.”

“Interesting,” Marcus said. A cook who’d needed to learn to cook, a man who’d been starving and a drunken doctor. Constance Smithfield had saved more than downtrodden women. He wondered if Jade realized it.

He could hardly wait to find out.

After dinner, he set out for a walk and saw Lacey chasing Emily, both of them laughing. Emmy held Tweenie on a lead, but when the pup saw him, she yipped, pulled free, and charged, Emily right behind.

Before Marcus knew it Tweenie stood with her paws on his legs, whining ecstatically, her tail beating a wild tattoo. When Marcus reached down to pet the pup, Emily’s squeal of fear, stopped him. “Emily, what’s the matter?”

“She piddled on you!”

Marcus regarded his wet shoe and grinned. “She does it all the time. She gets so excited to see me that she ... piddles on my shoes.”

Emily shook her head, her little lips wobbling. “Don’t hurt doggy.”

Marcus knelt on his haunches before her, Tweenie jumping between them. “Listen to me, Sweetheart.” He scratched the pup’s ear to quiet her while he tried to calm Emmy. “I would never hurt Tweenie, or any doggy, or any little boy or little girl. Do you understand?”

Emily nodded.

“Do you believe me?”

“Hurt Mummy?”

Lacey’s horror mirrored his sorrow over Emily’s wounded spirit. He swallowed the lump in his throat, kissed Emily’s brow and brought her close. “I don’t hurt Mummies either.”

Emily sighed with relief and leaned into him.

Glad for the invitation, he picked her up.

She pledged her trust by wrapping her arms around his neck.

Marcus didn’t think he’d ever felt so tall.

A woman rounded the corner calling for Lacey, only to stop short when she saw him. Abigail Pargeter, a new member of the household, had fled from their initial introduction. Jade said she still bore bruises from the man her father tried to force her to marry.

Emily might trust him, but he still scared the devil out of Abigail. If he left with nothing else, Marcus thought, he’d own a large measure of humility.

“I’m coming Abby,” Lacey said, and made to take Emily, but the imp only clasped him tighter.

Lacey realized tugging was useless. “Come along, Dear. We need to go inside now. Abby needs our help.”

Emmy shook her head. “Want Mucks.”

“I’ll take her. You go along,” Marcus said, pride swelling his chest.

“You sure, Marcus?”

He chuckled. “I can use the company. We won’t be long. Emily will give me a tour of Jade’s gardens.”

“Jade,” Emily said pointing.

Lacey handed Marcus Tweenie’s lead and tweaked Emily’s nose. You be good for Mucks now.” She laughed and followed Abigail.

“Is Jade back?” Marcus asked Emily. “I’ve missed her. Can you show me where she went?”

Emily nodded and scrambled to the ground, taking his free hand to tug him in one direction while Tweenie tugged him in the other.

“Come,” Emily said and together they coaxed Tweenie to follow.

Emily led them along a twisted path through gardens coming to life. The Peacehaven Estate—as lush and beautiful as its owner, with giant beeches, blooming cherry trees, and Scotch pines bent by the wind—all marching toward a sea-gazing cliff. In the distance, peewits called their high-pitched “ see, see, sees,” while specks that were gulls soared and swooped on the horizon.