Never Conspire with a Sinful Baron

by Renee Ann Miller

  “James,” his brother-in-law grumbled.

  “James,” Elliot repeated with as much enthusiasm as the marquess had said it.

  * * *

  Several minutes after Elliot and James left the theater box, Meg whispered, “Is there a water closet?”

  “Of course.” Nina stood. “Caroline, we will be back shortly.”

  After exiting the public loo, Nina asked Meg if she wanted to meet James in the Grand Salon.

  The expression on Meg’s face reflected her uncertainty.

  Her sister-in-law’s limp didn’t seem as distinct, but perhaps Meg worked hard to make it less obvious. “If you do not wish to, we can return to our seats.”

  “No, I’d like to see it.”

  “So how are you enjoying the play?” Nina asked as they made their way.

  “I am so glad you and Elliot invited me.” The girl’s face beamed with pleasure.

  Nina interlocked her arm with Meg’s. “We are exceptionally pleased you decided to join us.”

  The room was crowded. Nina scanned the bar area and didn’t see Elliot or her brother.

  “Perhaps they have already returned to their seats,” Meg said.

  Nina perched on her toes. She was about to suggest they leave when she spotted James at the bar area and Elliot behind him talking with that shrew Amelia. Her stomach knotted as the woman placed the flat of her palm on Elliot’s chest.

  Chapter Thirty

  Elliot narrowed his eyes and jerked back as Lady Amelia Hampton set her hand on his chest. Good God, anyone who saw the contact would assume they were lovers. He was tired of trying to just ignore the woman. It wasn’t working.

  “Madam,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “We need to get one thing straight. There shall be no liaison between us. Not now or in the future. I love my wife.”

  Startled by the vehemence, Amelia’s eyes flashed blue fire and her lips puckered as if he’d shoved a piece of salty, raw eel in her mouth.

  “Have I made myself clear?”

  Red-faced, she spun on her heel and stormed away.

  Releasing a breath, Elliot glanced around the room. His gaze stopped on Lord Hampton. The old man looked irate. Had he witnessed his wife placing her hand on him? Did he think they were lovers?

  Hell and fire. He was tempted to go up to Hampton, but what would he say? Put a leash on your wife, you old fool, she’s after anyone with two legs and a cock? Probably best to not say anything.

  Still holding the two glasses in his hand, Elliot turned to see if Huntington had collected their other drinks. If he’d thought Hampton’s gaze angry, Huntington’s was feral. He stared at Elliot as if ready to rip his head off.

  Jesus. The last thing Elliot wanted to do was explain to the man he was not bedding Lady Hampton.

  Huntington’s attention traveled to a point beyond Elliot, and his new brother-in-law’s mien shifted from barely contained rage to one of concern.

  Elliot glanced over his shoulder. Nina and Meg were both staring at him.

  The devastated look on his wife’s face made him feel as if someone had slashed a blade across his heart.

  Damnation. It was like he’d built a house of cards and someone was fanning it with a bellow and any moment it would topple down.

  Nina spun around and strode from the salon.

  Meg, nibbling on her lower lip, looked unsure if she should go after her or stay. His sister shot him a disappointed expression and strode after Nina.

  Several people, witnessing Nina quickly weaving through the crush, eyed Elliot, obviously wondering what was going on.

  Christ. Elliot started after her and caught up to Meg, her limp more pronounced.

  “Be careful, Meg,” he said, fearing she was trying to move so fast she might fall.

  His sister turned her stormy eyes on him. “It is not I who needs to be careful.”

  He gritted his teeth. If he could not even get his sister to believe him, he was doomed. “It’s not what it looked like.”

  “You are not carrying on with that woman?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

  “No, of course not,” he replied in a low voice. “Do you believe me?”

  She released a relieved sigh. “I do, but it is not me you must convince.”

  His sister’s belief in him was like a balm to his bleeding heart. He glanced over his shoulder to see Huntington making his way toward them.

  “Go catch up to your wife, Elliot, and explain. I shall stall her brother by asking him to assist me with making my way back to his box.”

  With a nod, Elliot strode ahead and caught up to his wife in the corridor near Huntington’s box. “Nina, wait.”

  She turned. Her jaw was clenched so tight it probably sent a sharp pain into her head. His heart bled a little more when he noticed the glassy sheen reflecting in her lovely eyes.

  He set the glasses he was holding down on a mahogany hall table and took her hands in his. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “I didn’t think it was.”

  Her response startled him. He blinked. “You didn’t?”

  “No, I trust you. But I needed to leave before I did something rash.”

  “Like?”

  “Take the two glasses you were holding and dump them over Amelia’s head.”

  Elliot’s bark of laughter had two people farther down the hall turning to peer at them.

  “Why, you little minx. I was concerned you thought—”

  “No. I’m not blind, Elliot. I witnessed how Amelia looked at you at Lord and Lady Hathaway’s house party, and your shocked expression revealed you did not initiate the contact. It took nearly everything I possessed to leave the salon without confronting her. I didn’t want to cause a scene. God knows my grandmother would never have let me live it down, and the vision I had of Amelia with champagne dripping down her face was rather tempting.”

  “Thank you.” He squeezed her hand.

  “For what?” Nina tipped her head to the side.

  “For trusting me.”

  She smiled.

  Huntington and Meg were walking toward them. Meg’s face reflected her concern. Huntington appeared ready to put a bullet in Elliot’s skull.

  “Ralston,” Huntington said in a deadly, low voice. “I wish to have a word with you.”

  The lights in the corridor flicked, announcing the play was about to resume.

  Ignoring the man’s demand. Elliot studied Meg. Her leg probably ached, and most likely she wished to sit.

  “Not now, Huntington,” he replied, in a voice as steely as his brother-in-law’s.

  * * *

  As the carriage moved past a gas lamppost, light highlighted the interior of the dim compartment. Since they’d started on their journey home, Nina had been quiet. Elliot hoped she wasn’t thinking about Lady Amelia Hampton.

  Elliot glanced at his sister, sitting across from them. Meg’s eyes had drifted closed only a minute after they’d settled into the equipage. She’d obviously found the theater both exciting and overwhelming. All evening, he couldn’t help wondering how her leg felt, but refrained from inquiring.

  With a cautious smile, Nina twisted on the seat and peered at him. Her warm-colored eyes looked darker in the dim space. She skimmed her gloved hand over his chest. “What did my brother say to you outside after we left the theater?”

  The man had railed at him until Elliot had thought they’d come to blows. Well, at least he’d wanted to plant a facer on Huntington. His brother-in-law, once again, informed Elliot if he hurt Nina, he’d regret it. The rage visible on Huntington’s face was understandable. Elliot wasn’t sure how he would have reacted if Meg was married and her new husband was seen with another woman touching him as if they were more than acquaintances. The most important part was that Nina trusted him.

  He pulled Nina closer to his side. “Nothing of importance.”

  “I told him Amelia is just an unhappy and unpleasant person, but my brother is overprotective.”

 
; “You think?” he asked with a low chuckle.

  “He will come around. I promise. Give him time.” She bit her lip. “What does it mean to bugger yourself?”

  The question startled Elliot, and he coughed as if a piece of food were lodged in his throat. “Where did you hear that?”

  “From you.”

  “Me?” He cocked an eyebrow. “When?”

  Nina snuggled closer to him and ran a finger over the edge of his jaw. “When you and my brother were talking outside the carriage.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “Ha! You were both talking quite loudly. And do not try to change the subject.”

  He leaned close and allowed the warmth of his breath to ghost over her ear. He loved the way goosepimples scattered over her skin when he did that and regretted not being able to see them in the dim compartment, but he felt her slight shiver and heard the way her breathing quickened. He whispered what it meant.

  “Oh, that’s . . .” She tipped her head to the side. “Quite physically impossible.”

  “It is,” he replied, a grin tugging up the edges of his mouth.

  The carriage came to a stop and swayed to the side as their coachman lowered himself from his perch. The man opened the door.

  Elliot helped Nina out. “I’m going to carry Meg inside. She won’t admit it, but I’m quite sure walking around the theater made her leg ache.”

  “You’re a good brother, Elliot.” Nina ran a hand over his arm.

  The smile on his face felt as if someone had attached lead weights to his cheeks. He was not a good brother. He’d caused Meg all the pain she contended with every day, and nothing he could do would ever change that fact.

  Inside, Elliot was nearly at Meg’s room when her eyes fluttered open.

  Looking dazed, his sister glanced around. “Put me down, Elliot. I’m quite capable of walking!”

  He ignored her complaints until they reached her bedchamber door and lowered his sister to her feet.

  She smacked him in the chest. “You big ape, I told you I could walk. You are so stubborn.”

  “And you aren’t?” Elliot bit back, tossing a wink at his wife, who was grinning at them.

  “I’m not as stubborn as you,” Meg replied. “What do you think, Nina?”

  Nina laughed. “Oh, I’m staying out of this discussion.”

  Smiling, Meg clasped Nina’s hand and hugged her. “Thank you so very much to both of you for inviting me to attend the play. I enjoyed it tremendously.” On her tiptoes, Meg pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then entered her bedchamber.

  With his fingers intertwined with Nina’s, Elliot led his wife down the corridor and into their bedroom.

  Zeb glanced up from his pallet. The animal had returned to sleeping there. Most likely, the dog had concluded there wasn’t enough room for him. Though occasionally he still tried to join them in the mornings.

  “Hello, you handsome fellow,” Nina said, patting the dog’s head. “Did you miss us?”

  Zeb made a whining noise as if he’d been sorely neglected.

  Nina reached into her reticule, unwrapped something, then set it on the floor in front of Zeb.

  Why, the sly little minx. “Good lord, woman. Have you been bribing him all along?”

  “I have.”

  “You’re a genius.”

  Grinning, she strode to the fire and rubbed her hands close to the heat.

  For a moment, Elliot could do nothing more than take in the beauty of his wife as the glow from the grate sent wisps of light onto her face. “I have an idea as to how I could warm you,” he said.

  “Do you now?” she replied. The low, sensual texture of her voice caused his manhood to grow hard.

  “Definitely.” He stepped behind her, pulled her back against his chest, and nuzzled her neck.

  Her head lolled to the side, giving him better access, as she let out a contented sigh.

  “I think my lovely wife needs a refresher course in lesson four.”

  Nina giggled. “I think we covered lessons four, five, and six last night.”

  They had, but tonight, Elliot wanted to pull the bedding off the mattress and place it on the floor before the hearth, so he could make love to her in front of the fireplace and watch the light dance across her naked skin.

  Zeb’s low growl, followed by a gruff bark, pulled Elliot from his thoughts.

  Nina turned around. A slim line formed between her brows. “What do you think that’s about?”

  “He probably heard a cat.”

  Zeb bounded toward the door and scratched at the surface.

  “Do you think Wilson forgot to take him out? Perhaps your lessons should wait. Better to let Zeb out now than in the middle of the night.”

  Having had to do that several times, Elliot silently agreed. He nuzzled Nina’s neck one more time. “When I come back, I’m going to finish what we started.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Most definitely.”

  As soon as Elliot opened the bedroom door, Zeb dashed down the stairs as if on the scent of a fox. Elliot couldn’t remember seeing the hound move so fast.

  After stepping out the French doors that led to the terrace, the bloodhound sniffed at the ground.

  “I hope this isn’t going to be an hour-long process, Zeb,” Elliot grumbled.

  The dog ignored him and continued sniffing while walking toward the shrubs at the side of the yard.

  Elliot stepped off the terrace and moved down the flagstone path. At the rear of the yard, he noticed the wrought-iron gate in the brick wall was wide open. He strode toward it.

  Moonlight glinted off the metal lock, broken, lying on the cobbles beyond the gate.

  Elliot strode through the opening and crouched to pick it up. A shadow darkened the ground in front of him.

  The fine hair on Elliot’s nape lifted. He glanced over his shoulder to see a short cudgel lifted above his head. The weapon came down hard, striking the side of his skull.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The unexpected impact of being struck in the head sent Elliot to the cold pavement.

  Damp and gritty cobbles pressed against the side of his face. A buzzing filled his ears, and pain seared his skull like a branding iron pressed to the back of his skull.

  In the dim light, he saw his hooded assailant lift his weapon, intent on striking him again. Acting fast, Elliot stuck out his foot, hitting the bloke in the shin with as much strength as his foggy brain could muster. His heel slammed against bone and flesh. Not hard enough to break the bastard’s leg, but with enough force to send his attacker off balance to stumble backward several feet.

  The blackguard landed on his arse and uttered an oof.

  Elliot tried to scramble onto his hands and knees, but the grayness closing in on his vision and the way his surroundings listed sideways made it almost impossible.

  His attacker stood and moved toward him.

  Forcing all his resolve and strength into his arms, Elliot pressed his hands to the pavement to lift himself to his feet. His body shifted sideways as he tried to gain his equilibrium.

  His assailant drew the cudgel back several more inches as if hoping to strike a final blow that would split Elliot’s skull open like a soft-boiled egg cracked against the edge of a plate.

  The man was nearly upon him when from the corner of his eye, Elliot saw Zeb barreling toward them, uttering a low, menacing growl.

  The hooded fellow cursed and took off down the mews.

  Zeb started after him.

  “Stay!” Elliot commanded, knowing Zeb’s bark was worse than his bite, and if his assailant struck the old dog with his cudgel, it might do the dog in.

  As his attacker moved farther away and into the dark night, the clap of his shoes pounding against the cobbles receded until they could not be heard.

  Zeb whimpered and nudged Elliot’s hand with his snout.

  Wincing, he reached out and patted the dog’s massive hea
d. “Good, boy.”

  The door to the carriage house opened, and Rigby, looking as though he’d hastily dressed, stepped out.

  “My lord,” the man said, rushing over to him. “Were you set upon?”

  Elliot gingerly touched his throbbing skull and grunted his reply.

  “Let me help you inside, then I’ll go fetch a doctor and constable?”

  “I can get myself inside. And there is no need to fetch either a doctor or a constable,” Elliot replied, his voice gravelly.

  “My lord, are you sure?”

  “Yes.” A constable would ask him questions, and Elliot wondered if his assailant had been looking to get into the house to rob it or if it was something more sinister. The attack had seemed personal. Hard to discount this was the second incident. Third, if he included the episode with his carriage. A constable would ask if anyone had threatened him lately. Nina’s brother’s face flashed in his mind. James had been livid at the theater. Could he have hired some lackey?

  “At least let me help you inside,” the coachman said.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  The man gave him a dubious look but nodded.

  Feeling as if his brain was swathed in fog, Elliot made his way back to the house and stepped through the French doors, Zeb trailing him. The hound’s big brown eyes peered up at Elliot as if he was as doubtful as Rigby as to the state of Elliot’s health.

  As he stepped into the entry hall, the room began to spin. Gritting his teeth, he braced a hand on the entry table, attempting to gather his equilibrium. Under his weight, the table wobbled. The green vase on it toppled over. With an explosive noise, it slammed against the tiled floor, sending shards of pottery across the surface.

  * * *

  A crashing noise downstairs echoed throughout the town house as if wishing to wake everyone within its walls. Chest pounding against her ribs, Nina flung open the bedchamber door and rushed down the stairs.

  As she made her way, she saw the vase from the hall table broken—its pieces of green pottery scattered across the tiled floor. Then Elliot, his back facing her, came into view. One of his hands cradled his head. The other held on to the edge of the hall table with a white-knuckled grip.