The Rogue (19 page)

Irked,
she folded her arms beneath her breasts. "I'm sure you mean to
be insulting, so I shall find great pleasure in taking your comments
as complimentary."

He
threw up his hands and swung away from her. "Why me? I've lived
a good life! I don't kick dogs and small children! I've never taken a
penny from someone who didn't deserve it!"

"Do
be careful not to exaggerate, there," she drawled.

"I'm
not exaggerating," he protested. "I only play blokes who
don't deserve their own good fortune!"

"And
what do you think constitutes 'not deserving'— inheritance?"

He
huffed. "I have nothing against those who inherit. It's those
who use what they were given to do harm or to take advantage of those
who have less."

She
dropped her arms. "Is that true?"

He
shook his head and flopped into a chair. "Of course it's not
true," he said. "Why would anything that comes out of my
mouth be true?"

"I'm
sorry," she said, her tone gentle. "I didn't mean to insult
you."

"Well,
you did" He scowled for a moment, then turned a sunny smile on
her. "Lucky for you I don't hold a grudge."

She
laughed and shook her head. "Then you are, indeed, a better
person than I, for I hold them long and well."

"Who
do you have a grudge against? Is it someone evil? Shall I cheat him
for you?" he asked eagerly

She
pressed her lips together but it didn't hide the smile. Ethan sat
back again, basking in the fact that he could make Lady Jane
Pennington smile against her will.

"You
really are a good sort, Janet. I do hope we can be friends."

"I'm
not sure that's possible," she said slowly. "I've never
heard of a friendship between—"

This
time he definitely flinched. "Between a lady and a merchant's
son?"

She
frowned slightly. "Between a man and a woman."

"Oh,
don't worry about that," he said airily. "I've scads of
women friends."

She
was silent for a moment. "I'm sure you do."

She
rose and clasped her hands before her. "It grows late, sir. I
think I must say good-bye now."

"Here
now, Janet!"
Bloody
smooth, old man. What a thing to say
!
Ethan rose and crossed to her. "I didn't mean—I wasn't
talking about those sort of—"

A
heavy step sounded in the hall outside the parlor. Although she had
nothing truly to hide, Jane shot Mr. Damont a panicked look. "My
uncle!"

In
one lithe movement, Mr. Damont slipped back behind the door just as
it opened.

"Jane?"
Uncle Harold pushed the door open wide. A bit too wide. Jane winced
and hoped Mr. Damont hadn't taken the impact of the doorknob anywhere
too important. Uncle Harold glanced around the room. "What are
you doing in here? I thought I heard voices. Is someone in here with
you?"

Jane
gestured to the hatbox. "Simms told me I had a caller, but when
I came in, all I saw was this gift."

Uncle
Harold peered at the crushed bonnet without much interest. "Didn't
like it much, did you?"

"Not
at all," Jane said quite truthfully.

Uncle
Harold was examining the tag. "What's this misunderstanding
about?"

"I
cannot be sure," Jane said vaguely. "I believe I took
offense to something a gentleman said."

Uncle
Harold scowled. "Who?"

Blast,
she was afraid he was going to ask that. "One of the gentlemen
who was here last evening, I think. I don't recall all of them very
well." All too true. Beside the shining sharpness of Mr. Damont
in her memory, the other fellows faded into an insignificant blur.

"Humph."
Uncle Harold seemed to lose interest. Jane couldn't imagine why he'd
expressed any in the first place. Why, after all these months, was he
finally exhibiting curiosity into her affairs?

Then
again, thinking of the way Mr. Damont's very presence made her palms
damp, perhaps the word "affairs" was ill-chosen.

"Carry
on, then," Uncle Harold said, his tone already bored. "See
you at supper, my dear."

"Yes,
Uncle Harold." Jane remained where she was, standing in the
middle of the parlor with a vapid smile on her face, until her
uncle's heavy footsteps faded down the hall. Then she let out a
breath and dashed to shut the parlor door once more.

Mr.
Damont was plastered to the wall, his eyes clenched shut and his
hands crossed protectively in front of him. Jane pursed her lips and
looked away. "He is gone, sir."

Opening
his eyes, Ethan stared at Lady Jane Pennington, paragon of
aristocratic… well, pretty much everything, and accomplished
bald-faced liar. "You hoodwinked him."

"I
did not," she objected serenely.

"You
did so. You hoodwinked him like a professional."

She
sat elegantly on the sofa, not looking at him. "I did no such
thing. Everything I said was the absolute literal truth."

"I
know," he said with a sigh of ecstasy. "That's what made it
so beautiful." He moved to stand before her, bouncing on his
heels. "Let's do it again!"

Her
calm finally faltered. She stared up at him. "What?"

"Let's
do it again! Let's go find someone else to lie the absolute literal
truth to. I want to see it one more time."

A
reluctant laugh broke from her lips. "No, thank you. One black
mark against my soul in one day is enough."

"Oh,
come on. I know! Let's go find a vicar! Or a bishop!"

Her
jaw dropped. "You are incorrigible."

He
grinned down at her conspiratorially. "So are you, Lady Proper
Pennington. You enjoyed that and you know it."

She
looked away, but the corner of her lips quirked. "I did not."

He
leaned close, a good bit closer than was proper. "Yes you did,"
he said, his voice a caress. "You're very good at being bad,
Lady Jane."

She
gave him a push, and rose from the sofa to pace the parlor. "And
you're insufferable."

He
laughed and fell into step beside her. "Thank you. I do try."

She
rolled her eyes as she walked on. "Years of diligent practice,
yes?"

Ethan
only grinned down at her. She was such an odd mix. Half proper lady,
half clever minx. Add a good dollop of sarcasm and he was captivated.
If she wasn't careful, he was likely to find himself proposing
something wicked after all, something most improper and vastly
enjoyable to them both.

He
sighed. No virgins. It was a bloody good rule and he was going to
stick to it.

He
only wished he could remember why.

"Mr.
Damont," she said quietly. "Have you ever considered being
more than that?"

"More
than what?"

She
turned to gaze up at him. "More than a gambler and a place
card?"

Place
card
.
The description struck home. He turned away.

She
moved to follow him. "You could do it. You're clever—and
you already know so many influential people!"

He
moved away, but she persisted. "You could take up the law—or
the Church!"

That
was too much. He turned on her. "Good God, Janet, what do you
expect of me!"

"I
expect more, that is all!" She did not back down before his
frustration. "I expect that you would use your intellect and
talent for something other than your own enrichment!"

"Why
should I?" He felt compelled to defend his position, even though
the battle was one he'd never truly won, even within himself, and
even though he'd taken steps today to become much more. "Why
must I exert myself so? What has the world done for me that I must do
for it in return? For that matter, what of you? What do you use your
mind and talents for but to decorate the world by being in it?"

"I
am not decorative!"

"Bloody
hell you're not!" Ethan frankly yelled. "You're a
confounded beauty and you know it!"

She
froze, her mouth already open again to protest. She looked completely
gobsmacked, staring at him as if he'd just grown green fur. Ethan was
seized with a wild desire to kiss those parted lips.

She
shook off the surprise. "Why do you not simply stop? Do
something else?"

God,
she was like a bull terrier! "I say, you're right! I'll do it!"
Ethan opened his arms and turned a circle. "I'll simply quit
cards entirely and become a ship captain… or Prime Minister…
or… I hear the job of King is open!"

The
glint of approval that had begun to appear in her eyes dissolved as
she realized he was mocking her. She folded her arms and glared, her
gray eyes flashing. "Sod."

Ethan
bowed formally. "At your service, my lady."

"There's
nothing wrong with honest work, Mr. Damont."

He
threw himself back into his chair. "You'd know all about that, I
suppose," he muttered around the cheroot he was lighting. He
drew the smoke in deeply. "Being Lady Jane and all."

She
stayed where she was, standing rigid and disapproving with her arms
folded. "Yes, being Lady Jane and all, I do know all about
that."

He
snorted, watching the ribbon of smoke rise. "Janet, you don't
even button your own clothing."

"Mr.
Damont, you know nothing about me."

He
glanced at her. "Then tell me. Tell me how you carry your own
bathwater and sew your own gowns and cook your own supper, Lady
Jane." He didn't bother to stem the sarcasm dripping from every
word.

She
tilted her head. "I don't have to prove any such thing to you. I
know what I have done and I know what I am. Until my Uncle Christoph
passed away last year, I lived like a pauper. All this," she
waved a hand to indicate her fine gown. "All this came to me
quite lately, I fear."

Ethan's
brows came together. "You're telling me the truth, aren't you?"

She
smiled. "Absolutely."

Ethan
smiled back, catching on. "But you're not telling me all of it,
are you?"

She
blinked at him, clearly irritated. "Why, Mr. Damont, would you
accuse a lady of lying?"

"Yes,"
he said. "I would. But not you. You, I would accuse of telling
the absolute literal truth, Janet."

"Don't
call me that!"

He
frowned up at her. "Call you what?"

"You
may address me as Lady Jane, or 'my lady.' "

Now
she truly was angry. Pink spots had appeared in her pale cheeks and
her eyes flashed like lightning behind a storm cloud. Damn if she
didn't look fine like that. Intriguing. He stood, stubbing out the
cheroot he hadn't smoked, and approached her slowly until he stood an
arm's length away.

"Janet,"
he called in a low voice. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Ethan loved
living dangerously. He took another step. "Janet," he
murmured.

She
twitched, her hands itching to slap him, he knew. Still, she only
glared at him, as if trying to prove that she was above reacting to
anything done by a low creature such as him. He couldn't resist the
challenge.

He
took another step and stopped so close before her that if she inhaled
too deeply, her bodice would touch his waistcoat.

She
took a deep breath, proving him right. Her eyes flickered. She took
another. And another. Ethan could feel her nipples hardening against
him. Without taking his gaze from hers, he smiled wickedly. "Don't
wear two little holes through the silk, Janet. This is my favorite
weskit."

Her
hand did fly then. Ethan took the first slap willingly, because he
definitely deserved it, but when she drew her hand back again, Ethan
was faster. He caught her hand, curling his fingers around her wrist
in a gentle but implacable cuff. "My turn," he said softly.