Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (12 page)

Unable to listen to another second of his litany of apologies, Hope said softly, “Oh Michael, hush now. It’s all right. We are both on edge…”

Her heart in her throat, Hope was unable to continue; but it hardly mattered, for Michael was already pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Hope pushed weakly against him. Yes, she was ready to be his friend, but this…this was too much, too soon. She had no idea what was going on in his head, much less his heart.

But then he did something magical with his tongue and she was lost.

Overcome by passion as she was, Hope had no idea how long she had let the madness continue until the carriage came to a sudden, jolting halt. Breaking away to look out the window in surprise, she realized they had reached their destination. Hope waited for mortification to set in, but instead she felt strangely invigorated. That didn’t stop her from blushing when she saw Michael looking at her with what could only be termed a
dawning
look on his face. Goodness, she wished she could read minds.

Ducking her head shyly, Hope endeavored to put herself to rights. She reached up to smooth her hair back before replacing her hat, which had been knocked off at some point during their heated embrace, and then she turned her attentions to her skewed clothing.

…

Michael watched as Hope set about arranging herself and he could not help but smile. She may be dressed as a gentleman, but she was good and truly a woman. No amount of disguise would ever extinguish his desire for her. It was a disturbing thought, actually. He needed to get his wits about him. The odds that Hope would see him as an acceptable husband were slim. She was a proper lady, and he was barely a viscount. And if he couldn’t marry her, then he should keep his hand off her. For his sanity if not for her sensibilities. She mustn’t be led to think he cared for her.

Hope glanced up to catch Michael looking at her and she smiled. He tried to return the gesture, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

Looking out the window again at the modest building in which Mr. Butt apparently resided, Michael said, “I suppose we should come up with a plan on how to gain access to Butt’s rooms.”

Following Michael’s line of sight, Hope nodded in agreement. “Well, I know from previous visits with my father that he rents just a small set of rooms and only employs a housekeeper and valet, so perhaps some ruse would be sufficient for one of them to allow us inside?”

“Yes, very good,” Michael replied. “We can say we had a meeting with him and ask to wait until he arrives.”

“That seems a logical plan,” Hope agreed. “Shall we be on our way?”

“Yes,” Michael replied as he started for the door, but he stopped suddenly and turned back to Hope. “We are all right, are we not? I feel as if our previous conversation ended a bit…abruptly.”

Hope softened her smile and expression. “Yes, Michael. I know what you mean by feeling unfinished, but truly, all is forgiven and forgotten.” Then flushing slightly, she added boldly, “Besides, I rather
liked
how our previous conversation ended.”

Michael could not have been more shocked by her allusion to their earlier passion than if it had been uttered by, say, Elizabeth. His proper young lady had a wicked streak. How marvelous, that. Perhaps—but no, one comment in passing was not enough on which to pin his hopes. Michael put on a grin he didn’t quite feel. “I am more than willing to end
all
of our conversations thusly, if you so desire it, my dear.” He winked lustily at her and then laughed as Hope’s slight coloration turned into a full-fledged bloom. Not able to look Michael in the eye, Hope began adjusting her costume again. Michael was convinced that she could not believe what she had said, either. But suddenly, Hope stopped her embarrassed fussing around and instead looked at Michael with a sunny and downright
proud
smile. “Well, sir, shall we be going?”

Losing his footing in the face of another of Hope’s smiles, Michael all but fell out of the carriage.

“Michael! Are you all right?”

Steadying himself by placing his hand on the side of the carriage, Michael brushed off Hope’s question and began to help her down, but she shooed him off. “I’m a gentleman at the moment, remember?” she reminded him, flashing their watchful driver a “nothing is amiss” grin.

Michael quickly backed away and adopted an airy whistle of nonchalance. Despite his looking very much the fool, he found the whole situation rather humorous.

When Hope reached his side, he couldn’t help but whisper in a teasing fashion, “You must forgive my lapse, dear, considering our recent actions. I very rarely do what we were doing with my companions of the male persuasion.”

Falling into step beside Michael as they made their way up to the front stoop, Hope replied with affected seriousness, “Very
rarely
? You do realize it sounds as if you ‘do what we were doing’ with your male companions occasionally…however rarely…when you put it that way.”

Michael gave Hope an arch look and, seeing the twinkle in her eyes, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Touché, my dear,” he replied with a nod and a grin.

Having entered the building and found the door to Butt’s apartments, Hope and Michael calmed their high spirits and rang the bell. After waiting a moment or two, the two looked at each other in surprise. Could it be that
no
one was home?

“I’ll try it again,” Michael said quietly.

Hope nodded and Michael rang the bell a second time. What if no one was there to let them in? They would never be guaranteed this opportunity again. Surely when Mr. Butt returned home that evening, he would immediately dispose of whatever incriminating information he had. He would be a fool not to. Frankly, Michael thought him a bit foolish as it was for keeping what he had, however lucky it was for them.

Michael pulled out a set of small tools. Using two of the long, thin picks, he was quickly able to tumble the locking mechanism. The door swung open silently.

Looking at it in surprise and then at Michael, Hope said, “However did you do that?”

Tucking the small flat packet back into the inner pocket of his jacket, Michael replied glibly, “Just another one of the proficiencies I picked up working for the war office. Now shall we get what we came for before someone returns home?”

Hope readily agreed and the two slowly pushed the door open, as if expecting someone to jump out at them at any minute. After a quick glance around confirmed that the apartment was indeed unoccupied, they took their first tentative steps inside and closed the door behind them.

The apartment was not very big, but it appeared quite serviceable. There were four rooms that opened off the small foyer. A living/sitting area connected to a small dining room on the right half of the suite; and on the left, a study that adjoined a modest sized bedroom. Eschewing the other rooms with just the barest of looks, Michael and Hope turned their focus to the small study.

…

Having decided by unspoken agreement that Michael would act as lookout, Hope quickly and carefully began rifling through Mr. Butt’s desk drawers. Nothing of consequence appeared in the first two drawers she looked in and when she reached for the bottom drawer, Hope was dismayed to find it locked. Almost immediately, however, her dismay turned to excitement. Where better to hide incriminating evidence than in a locked drawer?

Spurred on by the thought, Hope abandoned the drawers and began searching for the key. It was probable that Mr. Butt carried it on him, but Hope figured the man’s penchant for idiocy was ample enough reason for a quick investigation of the small decorative canisters and boxes that littered the edge of his desk. Still, even she was surprised when, on her third try, she found what looked to be a desk key.

“Quite a silly place to hide a key…on top of that which it unlocks,” Hope muttered to herself as she reached down and slid the key into the lock and gave it a turn. It moved easily and silently and she was rewarded with a now opened drawer full of a large collection of file folders.

“Did you say something?” Michael inquired from the doorway.

“Hmm?” Hope murmured, looking up from the pile of papers she had pulled from the drawer. “Oh, no. Just commenting on Mr. Butt’s intelligence…or lack thereof.”

“You found the evidence then?”

“I am not quite sure what I have found yet,” Hope replied honestly. “No, the event I am referring to was his leaving the key to his locked drawer in a box on top of his desk.”

“No, he didn’t,” Michael groaned in disbelief.

Hope just raised her brows, lifted the box in question, and shook it meaningfully.

Michael rolled his eyes and snorted in derision. “Not the man I would want advising me on my finances. That is certain.”

“Agreed. In fact, I believe I will talk to my father about the inadvisability of working with Mr. Butt in the future…” Hope’s voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying. “Although, I suppose that is really no longer a concern, is it?”

Hope raised her eyes to Michael’s and gave him a look of chagrin. She had nearly forgotten about her father’s possible involvement in this whole mess. She supposed his having to find a new financial adviser was the least of his potential problems.

Shaking her head, Hope waved a suddenly concerned-looking Michael back to his surveillance and turned to the piles of paper before her. Now was not the time to become melancholy. They had a job to do…one that could very well clear her father’s name, so she had best get back to it.

Within moments of reading, Hope found exactly what they needed to prove the hoax and those involved. She found pages of stocks and prices. She saw a rough graph of price fluctuations based on dates that she was willing to bet were the dates of the previous Napoleon’s death rumors. One folder contained a list of names; some crossed out and others underlined. There were even a number of handwritten letters from Cochrane-Johnstone addressed to Mr. Butt.

Hope wasn’t able to read through them all thoroughly, but what she had seen was more than enough to convince her of the man’s guilt; his and that of the Hon. Andrew Cochrane-Johnstone. Looking up to tell Michael of her find, she was startled to see him jump into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Michael! Wha—”

“Shhh,” Michael hushed adamantly. “Someone is here—we must go! Did you find anything?”

“Yes, this here,” Hope replied softly, gesturing to the large expanse of paper in front of her.

“Oh, dear Lord…we can’t take all of this with us. It will be too noticeable.”

Hope saw his point immediately, so she grabbed a couple of letters, the crude graph drawing, the first few pages of a ledger, and the list of names. Everything else she shoved back into the folders and into the drawer as neatly as she could. Within seconds the drawer was locked and the key replaced. She could only hope the information on the papers she chose would be enough for the committee…and her own selfish interests.

Tucking the selected evidence into her jacket pocket, Hope turned to Michael and said, “Now what?”

…

Michael grabbed her hand and began to pull her toward the bedroom. “Now we hope that there is another way out of here, because whoever has arrived is heading straight for the front door.”

“Is it Mr. Butt?” Hope inquired as she followed Michael through the bedroom door.

“No. More likely it is his valet,” Michael explained as he opened the window sash and looked out.

Luckily, Mr. Butt resided on the first floor, and the drop to the ground appeared to be no more than ten or so feet. Unfortunately, there were no trees or shrubs to block their escape from view, but there was nothing for it. They would have to jump.

Turning back to Hope, Michael said, “Come now, I will drop down first and then you can jump to me.”

“I’m sorry…did you say ‘jump’? Jump where, exactly?” Hope asked.

“Just here,” Michael replied, pointing out the window. “It is not far. Just a few feet. And I will already be there to catch you.”

Hope took a peek out the window and immediately drew back, as pale as Michael had ever seen her.

“I cannot do that,” she whispered.

Hope gave Michael a look of such terror that he could not fathom for even a second that she was not serious in her fear.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Michael asked gently.

Nodding, Hope looked again out the window and tears welled up in her eyes. “I am sorry,” she whimpered. “I never thought that this would be our only course for escape and I…
cannot
do it.”

Michael quickly ran through alternative plans. Perhaps the man he saw was not Butt’s valet. Perhaps he was another visitor who would leave once he realized no one was home. Or better yet, there may be a back door off of the kitchens.

Deciding that he may have enough time to check, Michael started to tell Hope to wait for him while he went to explore these options, but just then he heard a door shut from the front of the apartment and Michael knew they had no more time to waste. Fear of heights or no, they were going to have to go out that window.

“Hope, my dear, we have no choice. We must use this window as our escape.”

“Oh Michael…I cannot!”

“Yes, my brave wonderful girl, you can. I will help you.”

Michael pulled Hope over to him and the window. “I am going to lower you down instead of having you jump.”

“What?” Hope exclaimed. “
That
is your way of ‘helping’?”

“It is the best I can do at the moment,” Michael replied through clenched teeth. This phobia of hers was about as inconvenient as it could be, at the moment.

Taking her into his arms, Michael settled her on the windowsill. Hope clutched him as if she were a child and it was all he could do to unwrap her arms from around him and turn her around so that she was facing out the window.

Crying in earnest now, Hope was unable to make truly sensible noises, but Michael was given to understand that she was very frightened, she hated him, and if he let her go, she would never forgive him.

Worried that what he was doing would irreparably destroy their newfound friendship, Michael took hold of Hope’s wrists and lifted her over the sill and down as far as he could lean without falling through the window himself.