Sally MacKenzie Bundle (196 page)

Watching Widmore’s house? Edmund had set his servants to spying on Clarence’s house? On her and her mother? Oh! She felt a jolt at the betrayal and then a wave of anger.

She’d just tell him exactly what she thought of
that
effrontery.

She took a step and paused. Wait. There was no need to advertise her presence in the greenery. Lord Motton’s servant might be trustworthy—or he might not. Why risk adding grist to the gossip mill? She would just—

“I was, my lord. Me and Jem saw two men slip in the back, from the terrace.”

“You didn’t try to stop them, did you?”

Not try to stop them? Lord Motton had told his servants not to stop housebreakers?

“No, my lord, we did jist as ye said. We watched and waited. Jem followed them when they left and I came fer ye.”

“Good work. Now go back and watch until I get there.”

Jane took a sustaining breath and tried to hold on to her temper. John could be very high-handed on occasion, but at least he was her brother. He might—
might
—be forgiven for thinking he had some right to dictate to her; though, as she had pointed out too many times to count, their parents were still very much alive. If her own father didn’t object to her behavior—even though Da was admittedly lost in the intricacies of his newest sonnet most of the time—or her mother (who also tended to get a bit lost in her creative endeavors), it was most certainly not a brother’s business to insert his nose into her affairs. But Lord Motton! He was merely a neighbor—no, he was a housebreaker himself! On what grounds did he think to govern her actions, to spy on her
and
Mama and allow riffraff to invade Clarence’s house? It was the outside of enough.

Finally the servant left, and Lord Motton stepped back into the clearing. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was not about to let him order her around. She poked him with Pan’s penis. He was lucky she didn’t smash it over his head.

“What the
hell
is going on, my lord?”

Chapter 6

Lord Motton glared at the penis and then glared at her. “Will you put that damn thing away?”

She flourished Pan’s member like a sword. “I will when you tell me what is going on.”

“If I knew that, we likely wouldn’t be standing here in the greenery with
that
.” He seemed especially affronted by poor Pan’s disembodied phallus. “You’d best put it back on the statue.”

“Why? I didn’t replace the…er…I didn’t do that with the Pan in Clarence’s study.”

He gave her a look that clearly indicated he considered her intelligence on par with a grasshopper’s. “That Pan was shattered. I imagine you threw all the pieces out.”

“Oh. Well, yes.”

“This Pan, however…” He gestured at the statue. It did look suspiciously incomplete. “I think—I hope—we’re the only ones who know where Clarence hid the sketch pieces. That gives us a huge advantage. But if any of the people who’ve shown an interest in the drawing were to stumble upon this statue…Well, even a complete bird-wit might be able to figure out where the papers might be found. And the other searchers, if they are indeed part of whatever group Clarence was illustrating, might have a much better idea where to find the other statues.”

“I see your point.” Jane felt about as bright as a drunken grasshopper as she surveyed the gaping hole in Pan’s privates. Why hadn’t such an obvious problem occurred to her? Probably because she hadn’t the experience listening and lurking that Lord Motton had.

She sighed and stooped to screw Pan’s penis back into place. “Mama thought Clarence had made many of these Pans, so there could be a number of decoys scattered around Town.”

“Ah.”

The viscount sounded very odd. She glanced up as she finished turning Pan’s phallus. He was staring at her hands, a strained look about his eyes. She actually saw him swallow. She’d swear his color was heightened as well, though it was admittedly hard to tell in the dim light of the clearing.

She wiggled the penis and tugged on it. It appeared to be securely fastened. She gave it a final pat and straightened. Lord Motton was actually running his finger around his neck, as if his collar and cravat were too tight.

“Are you feeling quite the thing, my lord?” Perhaps his high-handedness was all due to being in queer stirrups. “You look overheated.”

“Er.” He cleared his throat. “I’m, ah, fine, but we should definitely return to the ballroom. The gossips will be starting to talk.”

“Lady Lenden and Lady Tarkington certainly will.” Jane had never been a topic for the gabble-grinders before; she found she did not care for the prospect, especially when the speculation would include Viscount Motton.

“No, I don’t think the ladies will be quick to bruit this about. They will not want to direct any attention to their activities, even in this tangential fashion. Whatever we are dealing with has been carefully hidden from the
ton
for some time.”

“Right.” Jane allowed Lord Motton to hold back the bushes so she could leave Pan’s clearing without adorning herself with more leaves and twigs. She took his arm when he offered it. Her anger had dissipated.

“Getting back to Thomas’s report,” he said as they started strolling back to the main path.

Perhaps her anger hadn’t dissipated. “Yes, let’s get back to that. Why did you set your servants to spy on us?”

He frowned down at her. “They weren’t spying; they were protecting you.”

She glared back at him. “Oh, really? Then why did they allow thieves to enter Clarence’s house?”

“Because they knew you were here with me. I assure you, if you’d been home they would have alerted me and half a dozen of my footmen.”

“Hmph. That still doesn’t make me feel very secure.” She stopped to untangle her foot from a vine. How would she ever be able to sleep in her bed at Widmore House again? To think she’d been bored and wanting an adventure! Adventures were quite overrated.

And why hadn’t she felt this disquiet after Lord Motton had appeared in Clarence’s study uninvited? Perhaps she’d best not consider that question too closely. “Who broke into the house?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m hoping Jem can discover the answer.”

“What about the servants? Was anyone hurt?”

“No. The intruders kept to the study; the servants were all in their quarters, since you and your mother were out.”

“Ah, well, that’s good, then.” Things could have been worse. But still, strangers had been in the house…Her stomach twisted. “I think…I mean, I’m not certain…I doubt I can bear to stay…”

“You won’t be staying in Widmore House another night.”

“Oh.” She felt a tremendous wave of relief. She didn’t have to worry about the intruders returning. She’d be safe. She’d be…where? There were no suitable houses standing vacant. The Season had begun; everything was full. She and Mama would be lucky to find rooms in even a second-rate hotel.

They reached the main path and turned back toward the terrace. She looked up at Lord Motton.

“But where will we stay? Do you think we should return to the country?” Oddly, that thought wasn’t appealing.

His expression brightened, but then he frowned and shook his head. “No. Normally I would suggest that, but until we know what’s afoot…” He blew out a long breath. “I think it best you stay here where I can keep an eye on you.”

She did not care to be viewed as a chore or an assignment. “You must know my father does not keep a house in Town. In past Seasons we’ve taken rooms at the Pulteney Hotel, but I’m sure that isn’t possible now. We might be able to move in with one of Mama’s artist friends—”

“You’ll move in with me.”

“What?”
She stopped dead in the center of the path.

“Good God, woman, will you keep your voice down? We don’t want the entire ballroom rushing out to see if you’re being murdered.”

Jane knew her mouth was agape, but there was no helping it. She was too busy trying to grasp Lord Motton’s meaning to bother with something as minor as a dropped jaw.

He wanted her to move into his house. Eat at his table. Sleep in his bed—

Heat flooded her, provoking enough awareness to prompt her to finally close her mouth. Not his personal bed, of course—not the bed he was currently occupying. Simply one of the beds he owned.

She was having some difficulty breathing. Her stomach was somersaulting in a truly scandalous fashion. Ha! Her most scandalous reaction was happening a bit lower than her stomach.

To be in bed with Edmund…naked…

“You needn’t look so shocked.” He was scowling at her. “My aunts are all in residence. And your mother will be there as well, of course. We will be more than adequately chaperoned. The society cats will have nothing to sharpen their claws on.”

“Yes. Of course.” But once the aunts and Mama were asleep…She opened her fan and waved it in front of her face. It was exceedingly warm this evening.

She should not be considering sleeping chaperones and nocturnal assignations. Lord Motton saw her as an annoying responsibility, that was all. He was not interested in reenacting any of the activities they’d—
she’d
—enjoyed in Clarence’s study. No. Of course not. She was being absurd.

Lord Motton offered her his arm again and she laid her hand on it. They resumed their progress to the terrace as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred—as if she weren’t suddenly burning with lust for the man.

As if she didn’t have part of a pornographic sketch stuffed in her bodice.

She’d forgotten about that in the heat of her anger…and other emotions. She glanced down. Nothing showed. Nothing should show—she’d shoved the paper in as far as she could. She felt it pushing up against the underside of her right breast.

“I’ll speak with Stephen,” Lord Motton was saying. “He’ll agree with my plan.”

“Oh?” Her stomach sank a few inches. He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the storage of a valuable necklace or painting. And if Stephen agreed with him…Stephen might be the King of Hearts—he might be exceedingly nimble at getting in and out of ladies’ beds—but when it came to her, he was very much the protective, straitlaced older brother. He would never countenance anything that would expose her to unwanted—or wanted—attentions of a lascivious nature.

“Yes. It’s unfortunate he’s leaving the country so soon, but he knows I am perfectly capable of safeguarding you.”

“Ah.” Was he going to lock her away in the attic then?

“I can’t post an adequate guard on two houses, so moving you and your mother into my home is by far the best course of action. My men know how to protect Motton House, and should anyone manage to slip by them, I will be there to deal with the problem. You will be perfectly safe.”

She did not want to be locked away. “But you’ll need my help.”

He frowned down at her. “Your help?”

“Yes.” Why was he looking at her as if she’d just escaped from Bedlam? “You would never have found either part of Clarence’s sketch without me.”

He grunted. “The first incident was an accident.”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t entered Clarence’s study.”

“Perhaps.”

“Assuredly. Come, Lord Motton, be truthful. You would not have smashed the statuary if I hadn’t surprised you.”

“
I
didn’t smash the statuary.”

“My point exactly.” The minx grinned up at him.

He laughed reluctantly. “All right, I admit you had a hand in discovering the first part of the sketch, but I’m sure I would have found the second if I’d spent more time studying the drawing.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So you say. I disagree, but we’ll never know for certain, will we?”

“No, but—” Wait a minute. They
had
found the second part of the sketch. Where was it? He’d seen Jane pull it out of Pan’s penis, but he hadn’t seen where she’d put it. Thomas had arrived just then, and he’d been distracted by that and then by his concern for Jane’s safety—and her mother’s as well, of course. How could he have so completely forgotten about the drawing? Damn. Was he losing his touch? He’d never been so careless before. “What did you do with the paper? Is it in your reticule?”

They’d almost reached the terrace, so there was enough light to confirm that Jane blushed. “No,” she said. “It’s not in my reticule.”

“Then where is it?” Why was she embarrassed? And, more to the point, where had she hidden the sketch if not in her reticule? Good God! A terrible thought punched him in the gut. If he’d been distracted by Thomas’s arrival, perhaps she had, too. He stopped her, but had enough self-control to keep himself from grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “You didn’t lose it, did you?”

She scowled at him. “Of course I didn’t lose it. Do you think I’m a complete widgeon?”

Frankly, he didn’t know what to think, but he had a well-enough developed sense of self-preservation not to say so. She looked as if she was capable of slapping him soundly, and while he could defend himself easily, he didn’t care to entertain the
ton
with the spectacle of Viscount Motton grappling with Miss Parker-Roth.

Grappling in private, however…

Where the hell had that thought come from? “Of course I don’t think you a widgeon. Just give me the paper. I’ll put it in my pocket.”

She turned even redder, if that was possible. “I can’t give it to you.”

“Why the blood—why not?” Good God, if she had lost the paper, they’d never discover whatever Clarence’s secret was. It must be important, since half the
ton
were apparently quite anxious to discover it as well.

Damn. If Stephen was correct and the secret had some connection to a hellfire club…Ardley, the Mouse, and the ladies were not real threats, but there must be other people involved who could be very dangerous indeed, especially if they became frustrated or desperate. It was not inconceivable that Satan himself had a role. “Are you completely certain you haven’t lost it?”

“I haven’t lost it.” It sounded as though Miss Parker-Roth was speaking through clenched teeth. Well, he felt very much like clenching his teeth—or gnashing them—too.