“And plain,” Jane reiterated, brushing away the sugar from her cheeks and lips. “It’s imperative that we don’t scare him off.”
“I’ll make it plain as the nose on his face,” Mrs. Dunkley assured with an even bigger grin.
Glad that was settled, Jane left the kitchens with a quick, light step.
In the main hall, she passed Mr. Miggins, who informed her that Miss Parrish had arrived and was waiting in the conservatory. Wasting no time, she went directly to Ellie and summarily learned all the pertinent information on the Earl of Warrister and where he resided.
Yet, when it was all laid before her, a shadow of gloom seemed to hover coldly nearby.
“In Bath all these years,” Jane said on a sigh, chafing her hands over the long gigot sleeves of her lilac dress. “Is his health truly so dire?”
Ellie shook her dark head. “No one knows. The earl does not go to the Pump Room but has the water brought to him. Though, since he has been out of society for a number of years, it is likely that he’s infirm. Or worse.”
“Let us hope that his lordship is not flirting with the specter of Death quite yet, for Raven’s sake.” Standing at her desk, she absently traced the sketch she’d drawn of the Northcott family seal. “I don’t want Raven to face any more disappointments than he already has done.”
“Are you certain it is ideal for you to spend so much time with a man you met in a brothel? Your parents would surely not approve if they found out their daughter had a frequent male visitor who was neither a gentleman nor courting her in the open. Are you not concerned for the safety of your virtue, if not your reputation?” Ellie asked from behind her.
Jane scoffed. “Raven is hardly courting me and has likely never given the notion an inkling. But he is a gentleman, at least by birth. We just have to prove it. That is why I feel compelled to aid him in his quest.” Turning around, she saw a pair of amber eyes drawn tight with concern, sooty lashes bunching together. Placating her friend, she added, “As for my reputation, I will take better care than I have done thus far. And I won’t even think about visiting another brothel for the time being.”
“Thank the saints for small favors,” Ellie muttered wryly. “But you neglected to say whether or not you are concerned that he might try to seduce you.”
Jane had given this matter some thought. After analyzing the moments that preceded the kiss and then the stripping of her glove before holding her hand, she’d come to the conclusion that this was merely part of Raven’s lexicon.
Whenever he met with information that was new and perhaps overwhelming, he processed the feelings in a more primitively physical manner rather than a verbal one. It really had nothing to do with her appeal or lack thereof.
But on the other side of that coin was the fact that she’d learned a heady amount of useful information about her own physiology and the delicious sensations a debutante might experience when confronted by a skilled seducer. And any scientist who set out to study the differences between gentlemen and scoundrels wouldn’t think of stopping quite yet.
After all, it was vital to note these things for the primer.
Therefore, if she managed to convince him to continue onward and he happened to kiss her again . . . well . . . she decided to persevere. For the sake of research.
“Never fear,” she said to Ellie. “I have everything under control. There is absolutely no need to fret about my virtue.”
Unfortunately, any possibility of convincing Ellie of that fact was obliterated a moment later when Raven came to the conservatory door.
A rush of eagerness made Jane’s pulse skip with light effervescence as she traipsed down the leaf-crowded path to let him in.
Instead of coming directly inside, Raven stared at her with a quizzical arch of his brow. “Little professor, why are you covered in prisms? You’re practically glowing in the sunlight.”
Dimly, she looked down. Her trim bodice and the modest inches of exposed flesh above it were speckled.
“Hmm . . . and so I am,” she said, absently brushing at them. “I was in the kitchen a moment ago and started to wonder if the grating devices would be sturdy enough for ice, in order to make a false snow on Christmas morning for the children, if need be. Though, it appears I’ve covered myself in sugar, nutmeg and”—she paused to inspect an opaque white morsel with a sniff—“cheese.”
“Had I known you were serving yourself for tea, I’d have arrived much earlier.” A simmering pair of gray eyes roved over her in a slow but thorough sweep. He reached out to brush her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then put it to his lips. “Mmm . . . you are positively scrumptious.”
His low growl of appreciation sent floods of scalding heat to every exposed inch of her epidermis. And every unexposed inch as well.
From behind her, she heard a delicate cough. Ellie! She’d nearly forgotten. And now her friend had likely heard an earful that would cast doubt on Jane’s previous statement.
Trying to compose herself, Jane willed her cheeks to cool. It would be much more effective if she had a fan to wave or a sudden blizzard to walk through. “I’ve invited Ellie to our tea. I’d like to introduce you, if I may.”
“All three of us? This high-society tea is getting more interesting by the moment.” He clucked his tongue in mock scolding, his gaze warm and playful as he leaned in to whisper, “I s’pose I should’ve known about your wicked tendencies, considering where I found your glove the night we met.”
“My glo—” Jane stopped, and she knew her eyes must be as round as magnification lenses. The statue. The phallus. Newton’s apple! “It was all perfectly innocent, I assure you.”
A slow grin curled his lips. “Strange, but I’d always thought the word innocent meant something else entirely.”
Turning away from him before her cheeks actually combusted, she walked back to where Ellie was waiting.
Her friend’s expression possessed a wealth of speculation. But Jane merely shrugged her shoulders and shook her head as if to say that none of what she’d overheard had been a real flirtation.
Behind her, Raven prowled into the open glade to join them. He’d taken his hat and gloves off on the way, tossing them both on top of the desk with a careless air. This left him in a gray coat that fit the breadth of his shoulders to perfection, the brushed wool only a shade or two darker than his eyes. His simply knotted white neckcloth made his dark features and rakish grin all the more disarming.
Ellie’s eyes widened. Her cheeks slowly saturated with the pink flush of appreciation—a telltale sign that her heart was beating faster.
Jane couldn’t blame her. In fact, her own heart had been suffering frequent bouts of arrhythmia ever since she’d met him. She’d tried several herbal amalgamations, steeped into teas but, thus far, none of them provided suitable cures.
“Raven,” Jane said, hoping he would begin to behave with a semblance of propriety, “I should like to introduce you to my dear friend, Miss Elodie Parrish. Ellie, this is Raven.”
The scoundrel stepped forward and took Ellie’s gloved hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’re even lovelier when awake, Miss Parrish.”
Ellie’s porcelain complexion turned scarlet and she was unable to form a coherent response. “I . . . hmm . . . that is . . . I believe . . . you’re quite . . . yes, indeed.”
He was certainly not on his best behavior. In fact, he seemed to have come here with the clear intent to scandalize.
“Raven, kindly release my friend from the thrall of your potent masculinity,” Jane said dryly. Then, under her breath, she added, “We are not a pair of cyprians you can balance on your knees.”
But the scoundrel heard and slid her a knowing look as if he thought her jealous. Absurd! He chuckled and dropped the hand—paying no attention to the way Ellie staggered back a step, gripping the table for support—as he moved closer to Jane.
“Your pixie wings are flared,” he murmured in her ear with amusement.
The low vibrations of his
deep voice tunneled through her in tornado swirls of tingles and flutters, distracting her. Otherwise, she never would have allowed him to take her own hand and curl it around his arm. By the time she realized it, her fingertips were pressed firmly, almost possessively, to the coarse wool of his sleeve.
Her own response confused her. After all, Ellie was her co-author. An understanding of scoundrels would benefit them both.
And yet, Jane realized with a degree of befuddled dismay, she did not want to share him.
“So, where’s this tea, hmm?” he asked with an uncharacteristic eagerness that drew her thoughts away from the surprising conclusion. He even flashed a practiced smile. “Been saving my appetite all day for these high-society victuals.”
The tense emphasis he continued to put on the words high society offered Jane a sudden insight into his overtly flirtatious behavior. He was acting as though he were being cornered again, and his manner of lashing out in defense was by saying shocking things.
She brushed her fingertips soothingly over his sleeve before she led him out of the conservatory, and hoped that Ellie had recovered enough to follow.
“I’m afraid this will greatly disappoint you, then,” Jane said with a glance over her shoulder to see that Ellie had come out of her daze and was joining them in the hall. “Tea, after all, is nothing more than leaves sitting in hot water.”
He issued a grunt of disbelief as his gaze toured the polished marble floors and intricately molded arched ceiling. Then he gave a sideways glance to a baroque tapestry hanging above a pair of gilt bronze maiden lamps and a gold snuffbox, resting on a glossy bombe chest.
She didn’t want him to focus on the disaster of opulence that had been born from her mother’s desire to impress her guests, but to think of this as just another house.
“I’m in earnest,” Jane said, drawing his attention back to her as they approached the seaside mural. “There will be scones and possibly a small sandwich or two. It will be much like our sharing tea and toast,” she added quietly. “Nothing at all elaborate. This is merely a simple . . .”
She stopped just inside the parlor, stunned into silence.
Much to her dismay, the modest room had been completely transformed by a buffet fit for the king. Atop the humble round table—now draped in crisp white linen—was a centerpiece of a swan ice sculpture with ornately carved fruits piled between its wings. A bouquet of celeries in a crystal vase stood beneath its graceful neck. And on silver platters and pedestals sat an assortment of cakes, tarts, and scones, along with a hilltop of small meat pies surrounded by a valley of sandwiches and hardboiled eggs.
“Nothing at all elaborate,” Raven mocked with a laugh. “Jane, I think I should read your dictionary. Mine clearly doesn’t have the right definitions for some of the words you use.”
* * *
By the time tea was over, Raven felt more relaxed. Part of it was because he’d gorged himself on plates upon plates of delicious food until his appetite was subdued. And part of it—perhaps even most of it—was because of Jane.
She quieted the restless sense of separation he’d felt all his life. Her peculiar observations and unaffected airs were a welcome reprieve from the world he knew. And now that it was just the two of them, standing alone at the conservatory door, he almost hated to leave.
“I can see why you became friends with Miss Parrish. Much like you, she isn’t at all stuffy or condescending, but charming in her own way,” he said truthfully.
She was also pretty, polite and quick to blush. Raven could tell that he made her nervous. She’d cast surreptitious glances toward him throughout the hour, like a visitor to a zoo checking to see whether the lock on a lion’s cage was secure or not. And he’d rattled the bars a bit, flirting outrageously for his own amusement and to make Jane jealous again.
For reasons unbeknownst to him, he felt a perverse amount of satisfaction every time he saw the flash of a thunderstorm darken her eyes. Just like now.
“Yes, Ellie is quite charming,” Jane said tersely. “Though I regret to inform you that she has been in love with her next-door neighbor for most of her life and has little interest in any other men, not even for a mere flirtation. So, perhaps, you should focus on the information she brought with her rather than her charm.”
“Jane,” he crooned, “you know I only want to flirt with you. Come now, don’t be so cross.”
“I’m not cross. I’m just—” She bit down on the rest of her reply, pressing that delectable mouth in a stubborn line. Then she straightened, chin high. “Today we learned that the earl resides in Bath. Do you intend to visit him and introduce yourself?”
“No and no,” he answered. “By all accounts, he sounds frail and, as much as I might have liked to meet him, I would not jeopardize his health by causing him undue stress.”
Raven had made the swift decision when he’d first learned the news from Miss Parrish. It was difficult to think of getting this close to potentially knowing his family only to stop, but he knew it was the right thing to do.
“But what if you had proof before you introduced yourself? Surely that would only bring the earl joy.”
“And just when did this proof suddenly come into being? I’m afraid I missed that part of our tea conversation,” he said wryly.
“I was thinking that my uncle might know something. After all, we did find the letter in his possessions. It’s possible he was still working for them after you were born, or even knew of people who tended to come and go from the manor house . . . like someone who may have rescued a child from the fire?”
“The odds of that are unlikely,” he said. “Besides, I don’t believe the person who left a child on the doorstep of the foundling home wants to be found.”
“True, but my uncle is our only link to your family. It would make sense to explore all avenues,” she said with a slight shrug.
The sunlight streaming in through the diamond windowpanes caught the movement, gilding her skin with myriad sugar-sweet sparkles. Imagining how they would melt on his tongue, his mouth abruptly watered. His sated appetite roused again with vigor, pulling him a step closer.
“Of course,” she continued, oblivious to the new directions of his thoughts, “it would make sense for me to go with you. But my parents do not approve of me visiting the debtor’s prison. They prefer to distance the entire family from the black sheep for the sake of our collective reputation, such as it is. And, sadly, my uncle abides by their wishes by telling the turnkey to keep me out whenever I’ve made an attempt to see him.”
Raven heard the hint of dejection in her voice and set his hand on her shoulder to soothe her. But his thumb strayed beyond the ribbon trim to the softness of her exposed skin. The slight contact caused her breath to hitch, lips parting, her skin reacting in an instant rise of gooseflesh.
Their gazes met—his hungry, hers shocked at first, then openly curious. Whatever conversation they were in the midst of was now gone from his mind.
He was fascinated by her in ways he couldn’t explain. He wanted to see the world through her eyes. Wanted to explore it and taste it and touch it through her senses.
With the pad of his thumb and then the tips of each finger, one after the other, he slowly traced the delicate decline of her clavicle, from the silken crest of her shoulder to the base of her throat. And by the time he reached the V-shaped niche, a sheen of perspiration bloomed on her newly flushed skin, dissolving the wayward sugar particles into an irresistible glaze.
“You shouldn’t look at me that way,” she said on a panted breath, “as if you intend to kiss me . . . in the full light of day . . . when anyone could happen upon us.”
“If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t planning to,” he said. “But this is your own fault, you know. You failed to calculate a scoundrel’s restraint when faced with a sugarcoated bluestocking.” Crowding closer, he drew her scent deeply into his nostrils. “Now hold still, Jane. I’m going to need a minute to examine my findings.”
&nb
sp; He lowered his head and felt her tremble beneath the brush of his lips in that delicate hollow. Heard the soft broken sigh she expelled at the first warm lick. Tasted the sweet vibration of her passion-laced mewl as she unabashedly arched her neck for him.
“Oh,” she breathed and her hands found purchase on his shoulders.
He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her into the bow of his body. “You like this, hmm?”
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, her fingertips skimming through his hair. “I’ve quickly concluded that the heated, salebrous texture of your tongue is quite . . . beyond exceptional. And that flicking, swirling motion you’re doing is causing the most wondrous arrhythmia.”
He smiled against her delicious skin. No one else could make scientific deduction sound so erotic.
His lips grazed over the column of her throat to the fluttering pulse. There, he tenderly laved each harried beat before he blew a hot breath over that vulnerable place.
But she was right. This small sampling of her flesh was too dangerous. He could easily lose himself in her taste and soft sounds of pleasure and forget that there was a houseful of people nearby.
So, while he was still able, he straightened.
She whimpered softly in protest as he held her trembling body close. Her hand drifted down from his nape to his chest, beside her resting cheek.
“You did it again,” she said after a moment. “We were in the middle of discussing ways to discover more about your family and then you tried to distract me with seduction.”
He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Not so. It was you who did the distracting and the seducing by dressing yourself as a confection. I am an innocent pawn in your scheme, madam. But I am magnanimous enough to forgive you.”
“How kind,” she said with a laugh and eased out of his embrace to stand apart. “Then what do you say to meeting my uncle?”
She was shamelessly tenacious. Briefly, Raven wondered what it would be like to have all of her driving focus centered on him and on pleasure instead.
My Kind of Earl Page 16