Whisper To Me of Love (11 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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In spite of their liking him, neither brother believed that Royce was motivated by strictly altruistic concerns—they had lived too long in St. Giles to think that Royce was doing them a favor simply from the goodness of his heart! Even though they did not speak of it, Pip's brothers were fairly certain that Royce had definite plans for Pip and that those plans were not very different from what the dimber-damber had in mind. But, of course the American was the lesser of two evils, and they hoped to be able to bring Pip safely home somehow before Manchester made any demands on her.
This evening's events had been riveting, and while Royce had learned far more about London's murky underworld than he had ever wanted to know, he had found the tale of Pip and her brothers and the one-eyed man undeniably engrossing.
Thinking of the one-eyed man as he slowly shed his robe and slipped into bed made him frown. How in the hell had he managed to arouse the ire of such a man? Royce wondered, deeply perplexed.
He
had no dealings with such men. So what had he done to come to the attention of this dreaded master criminal? Jesus! First St. Audries and now this sinister creature! Suppressing a yawn, he decided that it must be the devil's own luck that all he seemed to do since he had arrived in London this time was make enemies! Not a pleasant thought on which to go to sleep!
Despite his long night and the occasional yawn, Royce discovered himself strangely awake. Dawn could not be far away, and he thought he heard the servants beginning to move about downstairs as they performed their various tasks. Which made him think of Pip and wonder what the hell he was going to do with her.
Getting a lock put on her door was simple. So was seeing to it that more intricate and substantial locks were placed on all the doors leading to the outside—but that did not solve the problem of second-guessing a group of thugs who would no doubt be seeking to gain entrance to his house. Royce reflected, not for the first time since Pip had come into his life, that perhaps he was letting his curiosity about her marked resemblance to the Earl of St. Audries override his common sense. But he
was
curious about her, extremely so—she represented a mystery, and he damn well wanted to get to the bottom of it. He smiled grimly. And if, in getting to the bottom of it, he could cause the haughty Earl some discomfort—so much the better! Since his conversation with her brothers, Royce had already figured out the circumstances of Pip's birth. It was obvious that at some point in time, the Earl had been Jane Fowler's protector and that Pip was the result of that liaison. Yet it didn't explain everything. St. Audries was a wealthy man, and having a bastard child was not unusual for many of the male members of the peerage—so why had the Earl simply abandoned his child? Why had he made no provisions at all for her upbringing? The Lord knew he could afford it! The same questions might also apply to Pip's brothers, but while Royce didn't doubt that they too had aristocratic blood in their veins, he didn't know the circumstances of their fathers' finances, and he did in regards to Pip. The boys' fathers might have been younger sons with no fortunes of their own, or it was even possible that Jane had never told their fathers of their impending birth. Which could also explain why the Earl had not taken steps to insure some sort of future for his bastard daughter ...
Somehow Royce didn't believe that the answer was as simple as that, and as he lay there in his bed considering various situations that would explain everything to his satisfaction, the feeling grew that there was more to Pip's heritage than he had discovered so far. It was a ridiculous notion, even he would allow that, but still he could not shake the idea that there was a mystery here, that there was more to Pip's history than met the eye.
 
 
 
Rising from his bed the next morning, he instantly rang the velvet bell rope that hung nearby and waited impatiently for Chambers to appear. He had barely had time to put on his robe and throw some water onto his face from the dark blue china pitcher that sat upon the large, marble-topped washstand in his dressing room when Chambers knocked on the door.
Entering on Royce's command, Chambers came into the room carrying a large silver tray which contained a coffeepot, a china creamer, a cup, and some freshly toasted slices of bread, as well as some fresh strawberry jam. Sitting the tray down on a table, Chambers said pleasantly, “Good morning, sir. I trust you slept well?”
Royce murmured some polite reply and for the next few moments contented himself with conversing idly with his butler. Sipping the coffee that Chambers handed to him, Royce finally asked the question that was uppermost in his mind. “Our, er, guest, she has caused no difficulties today?”
Chambers smiled, his blue eyes dancing. “Oh, no, sir. She has been most ...” He stopped his smile from deepening. “It has been most
interesting.
”
Cocking an eyebrow, Royce murmured, “Oh, has it? Perhaps you would care to elaborate upon that statement.”
“Well, she does have a rather strange way of talking, doesn't she, sir? And you would be amazed at how nimble her fingers are! Why, she lifted my watch and fob just as prettily as you please ... and with the most beguiling smile imaginable, handed them right back to me! She has kept us all captivated with her many tricks, I can tell you. Even Mr. Zachary is quite fascinated—he and his friends have been in the kitchen this past hour playing cards with her. She is very good, I gather, from the comments that I have heard.”
Not precisely pleased with the report given to him by Chambers, Royce dismissed his butler and, dispensing with the services of his valet, dressed rather swiftly. Even without the help of his valet, it was not very many minutes later that Royce, looking every bit as elegant as he normally did, strolled casually into the kitchen. The sight that met his eyes made his lips twitch with cynical amusement—the little pickpocket was sitting comfortably on the kitchen table playing cards with a trio of young bloods! His presence as yet undetected, he stood there for several moments watching the scene unfolding before his eyes.
Pip was indeed sitting cross-legged upon the scrubbed oak table, her skirts ruched up about her shapely calves. For a long moment, Royce's eyes rested upon her bare feet, the restless wiggling of her toes plainly revealing her excitement. Her head was bent, her eyes fixed on the cards she held in her hands, and intently Royce's gaze traveled over the shiny, curly black head down to the pert bosom that was plainly revealed by the simple cut of the gingham gown. Well, she cleaned up fairly decently, he thought sourly, but he could see that she was going to be a nuisance—especially if she was going to corrupt his household this way!
Despite his irritation and to his utter astonishment, he found his gaze going back to the soft curve of her tempting breasts, wondering idly about their shape and texture ... and how they would feel in his hands. Royce stiffened. Good God! What the hell was he thinking of! With an effort, he tore his gaze away from Pip and forced himself to concentrate on the others seated around the table. Zachary, of course, he had no trouble recognizing, nor did he have trouble placing the other two young bucks—Jeremy Shackelford and Leland Merryfield, two of Zachary's closest cronies. In the background he could see Ivy Chambers busy at the huge black stove, and there were two young housemaids attempting to wash dishes when their attention was not distracted by the laughter and ribald comments coming from the group at the table. Chambers, too, had found a reason to remain in the kitchen, and he was earnestly instructing the footman in the art of polishing silver—when his attention was not drawn to the cardplayers. It was obvious that Pip's presence was going to play havoc with his household, Royce thought sardonically, especially if the kitchen became the most sought-after room in the house!
Not quite certain whether he was irritated or amused by the scene before him, Royce was on the point of announcing himself when, in reaction to a card thrown down by Leland, Pip said gleefully, “Blimey, guvnor! Oy think Oy win this game!” And flashing her own cards, which brought forth groans from the other two players, she scooped up the small pile of silver coins that had been resting in the center of the table.
Royce stepped further into the room. “Am I now running a gambling establishment? Strange, I can't remember doing so.”
A guilty expression on his handsome face, Zachary leaped to his feet. “Royce!” he said unnecessarily. “What are
you
doing here?”
Dryly Royce answered, “Well, it
is
my kitchen, you understand.”
Zachary flushed. “I know that!” he said exasperatedly. “But what brings you down here? You
never
come here!”
“I would have said the same of you, and yet here I find you. I wonder why that is.”
His initial embarrassment fading, Zachary grinned. “Jeremy and Leland didn't believe me when I told them that the pickpocket was really a girl ... and so we came down here to see Pip and ...”
“And I think I can figure out the rest for myself.” Glancing at the two red-faced young men, Royce nodded to them and remarked, “I trust, having seen for yourselves the newest addition to my household, that your doubts about her sex have been laid to rest?”
Grinning sheepishly, both young men muttered some reply and rose hastily to their feet. “We should be going,” Jeremy said. “We had only planned to stay for a few minutes.”
Looking at Zachary, Leland asked, “Are you coming to Tattersall's with us? I understand that Lord Marchmount is going to be selling that bruising bay stallion of his.”
There was no disguising Zachary's eagerness to join them, and after bidding Royce good-bye, the trio were on the point of leaving the kitchen when, almost as one, they turned in Pip's direction. “You will give us a chance to win back our money, won't you?” Zachary asked.
Pip grinned. “It would be me pleasure, guvnors!”
Their laughter lingering in the air, the three young men disappeared through the green baize door, leaving Pip face-to-face with Royce. She hadn't been nervous about seeing him again until the very moment she had glanced up and found those tiger eyes upon her. Even then, ignoring the sudden thump of her heart, she had pretended a nonchalance that she did not feel, certain she would not allow Royce Manchester to rattle her. Bravado was second nature to her, but when a swift, surreptitious peek around the kitchen revealed that everyone else had suddenly found other jobs to do in other rooms in the house, some of her jaunty confidence slipped. But Pip was spunky, and with a deliberately carefree sparkle in her eyes, she lifted her chin proudly. “Afternoon, guvnor! 'ave a nice sleep?”
Royce sat on the edge of the table. “Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. And you? Did you sleep nicely?”
Pushing aside the memory of the meeting with Jacko and Ben in the kitchen, Pip answered quickly, “Oh, yes. Oy 'ad me a foine sleep.”
Pip was seated mere inches from where Royce lounged against the table, and she was unbearably conscious of his long, lean, muscular length so near her. She had never been this aware of a man in her life, and his close proximity, particularly after the way he had handled her yesterday, made her wary. Afraid her eyes would reveal her uneasiness, she looked down at her toes, suddenly mortified that he had discovered her in this position.
While they were alone in the kitchen at the moment, Royce didn't think that they would be able to talk without interruption for very long. Standing up, he said abruptly, “I want to talk to you in private. Come along with me to the library.”
Pip looked mutinous and she was thinking about defying him when his hand suddenly closed tightly around her upper arm and, half dragging her with him, he strode rapidly from the kitchen. Glancing down at her, he remarked coolly, “It wasn't a request. I'm used to being obeyed, and as long as you are under my roof, you will do as I say—without, I might add, argument!”
Seething, her eyes dark with anger and resentment, Pip stumbled along at his side. Arrogant bastard! she thought savagely.
Her face was very expressive, and Royce grinned. “Yes, I am,” he said softly as he opened the paneled door to the library and shoved her ungently inside.
His words gave her a shock, and warily she eyed him. Blimey! Did he read minds, too?
She jumped when he drawled near her ear, “Upon occasion I've been known to do that also.”
Suspicious that she had fallen into the hands of a practitioner of the black arts, she backed away from him when he finally released her arm, and watched him mistrustfully. Steadily he met her gaze, and staring up into that hard, handsome face, in spite of her uneasiness and dislike of his overbearing manner, she was uncomfortably conscious of the dynamic appeal of those arrogantly sculpted features ... that and the sleek power of his long-limbed body. Confused by her very awareness of him as a
man,
Pip took refuge in anger, and with her mouth set rebelliously, she demanded, “Well, guvnor? Wot now?”
Settling himself easily against the corner of a large walnut desk, Royce folded his arms across his chest and said dryly, “Now, infant, you and I come to an understanding about your role in my household and what I will and will not tolerate—and we'll begin with gambling in the kitchen.
That
little pastime will cease!”

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