The Scoundrel Who Loved Me

by Laura Landon

  She froze, her gaze searching his. “You enjoy mocking me, don’t you?” she whispered so low that he could barely hear her. “It is a sport to you, and no doubt some of your friends.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Miss Harwood, surely you understand the proprieties of….”

  “And who are you to lecture me on proprieties?” she hissed. “You, who referred to me in jest as The Goddess Diana.”

  That’s when he knew she’d found his notes. He turned his head and saw his hat sitting askew on the table and his notes on the floor below it. “You have been busy.”

  “Unhand me, sir.” Her voice was still soft, but now stiff with dignity. “I will not attempt to touch you again.”

  For some reason, her words wounded him. “You mistake me, Miss Harwood. I was not mocking you.” Then he took a step back, still holding on to her, and positioned her to see her reflection in the long mirror. “Do you not see the resemblance in the mirror?”

  She stared at the mirror, her chest heaving and her raven hair flowing around her shoulders in sensual disarray.

  Thorne watched her expression in the mirror. There was hot-blooded passion that she tried to hide beneath that cool demeanor. How could she not see it? Even her magnificent body couldn’t deny it, her passion apparent in her blushes and even the pink circles that bloomed on her lower neck and décolletage like small rose buds.

  His gaze lingered there too long, until he turned his head away to gather himself and control his breathing. It was too much, he thought, the temptation of her in this room and the memory of the kiss they’d shared.

  It might have been her first kiss, but no woman had ever kissed him like that before.

  Then he met her gaze in the mirror.

  “Let me assure you, Miss Harwood,” Thorne said, his voice husky. “That I was not mocking you. In fact, at this particular moment, I’m finding it very difficult not to kiss you again. As I believe I mentioned the first time we met—you are so very enticing.”

  She turned around to face him. “And as I have learned since then, Mr. Lanford, you are a liar.”

  He flinched. “I have my reasons.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Now who is lying?”

  She gave a small shrug and moved toward the door. He took two long strides to block her from opening it. “You can leave when you give me the key that was in the snuff box.”

  “Not until you tell me what this is all about,” she said, stepping around him and moving toward the mirror once more. “Then I’ll consider giving you the key in exchange for the letter you stole from my room.”

  Thorne watched her stand in front of the mirror and sweep up her loose hair, attempting to pin it back into place. He preferred it loose and flowing over her shoulders, liking the contrast of those raven locks against her creamy skin.

  Then he cleared his throat. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  She pushed the last pin into place, then turned around. “Let’s start with why you lied about your name? Why you gave that packet to me? And why that key is so important to you?”

  He bit back a chuckle, noting that Miss Louisa wasn’t the only one in her family who could ask uncomfortable questions.

  “I want the truth,” she continued. “All of it.”

  Thorne considered her offer, knowing he didn’t have much choice. And admitted to himself that he didn’t want her to leave like this—thinking him a callous scoundrel.

  But before he could reply, there was a knock on the door.

  Panic flashed in Diana’s eyes, and in the next instant she turned toward the armoire and disappeared inside before he could say a word.

  He stared after her, amazed at her quick reaction. Then another knock sounded, this one more insistent.

  “Thorne,” called a familiar voice, “are you there?”

  Thorne hesitated only a moment, knowing the door was unlocked and Haverly was the type of man to burst in announced. A knot formed in his stomach. What if the man had done so before Diana had hidden herself? He didn’t want to even consider the consequences.

  Thorne walked over to the door and swung it wide open. “What do you want?”

  Haverly took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise. “You look ready for a fight, man. What’s gotten into you?”

  . . .

  Diana stood in the narrow armoire, not moving an inch for fear of knocking something over and drawing attention to her hiding place. Mr. Haverly had a fine talent for annoying her, she thought to herself, always showing up where he wasn’t wanted.

  And so did Lord Thorne, although it was a completely different type of annoyance. The way he looked at her was unnerving, and no gentleman had ever spoken to her the way he did—as if there was secret meaning behind his words.

  She certainly understood, though, how outrageous it was for a lady to be alone with a gentleman in his bedchamber. It just wasn’t done. Strange how the situation thrilled her more than it frightened her.

  “My apologies,” she heard Lord Thorne say to Haverly. “Come in.”

  Heavy footsteps moved closer to the armoire, and Diana held her breath. She scrambled for an excuse in case she was discovered. Sleepwalking, perhaps? Or delusional with fever? That made more sense, given her earlier claim of feeling ill. She certainly felt flushed now.

  “I need your advice,” Haverly began. “It’s about Miss Louisa Harwood. She still does not favor me.”

  “Hardly surprising, given your treatment of her sister.”

  Haverly snorted. “Her sister has forgiven me, and it was nothing at all, really. That cursed Barrett is keeping Miss Louisa occupied. You have experience wooing the ladies, Thorne, and have left a string of broken hearts in your wake. What do you advise?”

  Diana stiffened. While this description of Lord Thorne did not surprise her, hearing it said aloud was like a pitcher of cold water had been splashed in her face.

  “The only advice I can give you is to stop acting like a love-struck fool,” Lord Thorne told him. “Men are not the only ones who like the chase—the ladies do as well. You’ve been acting like a hare eager to jump into the trap whenever you’re near Miss Louisa.”

  Diana found the conversation fascinating as well as alarming. Had she been the unwitting hare when she’d tripped over Lord Thorne in the grove?

  “So I should sit back and wait for the prey to come to me,” Haverly mused.

  “Exactly,” Lord Thorne replied, followed by the sound of footsteps moving away from the wardrobe.

  Then she heard a door open and hoped that meant Haverly was leaving.

  “I shall do it,” Haverly exclaimed, sounding much more cheerful than when he had entered the room. “I shall wait for her to come to me.”

  “Off with you now,” Lord Thorne told him. And a moment later she heard the door close and footsteps move toward her.

  “It’s safe now,” said his voice against the inlaid wood door.

  Is it really? Diana wondered, as she pushed against it.

  When she emerged, she saw Lord Thorne standing in front of her. Diana sidestepped him and moved to the center of the bedchamber. “Your armoire is quite comfortable. Very neat and tidy.”

  The corners of his lips twitched. “We can talk in there, if you prefer.”

  She ignored this suggestion, more wary of him now. “If I were the Roman goddess Diana, I can assure you that Mr. Haverly would have an arrow or two in him by now. Of all the presumptuous…”

  Lord Thorne shrugged. “Some men can be foolish where women are concerned. He has no chance with your sister, I believe. He just doesn’t realize it yet. At least if he takes my advice, he won’t look ridiculous.”

  “Why are we talking about Mr. Haverly and Louisa?” Diana said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She really had been in his bedchamber too long already. “You were about to tell me everything. Please get on with it, my lord, before we are interrupted again.”

  This time he couldn’t control the twitching of the
corners of his mouth and a laugh escaped him.

  “Shhh,” Diana warned him, glancing toward the door.

  He nodded, sobering, then motioned to a chair. “Sit. And I will tell you everything.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Diana wanted to believe him. There was something about his manner that had changed since she’d entered his room, although she wasn’t sure she could trust herself. And she certainly couldn’t trust him.

  But she’d come this far, so she would hear Thorne out, Diana decided, and see if his reasons made sense.

  She walked to a chair, hoping that putting some distance between them would help give her clarity. Diana sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and then looked at him expectantly.

  “To fully explain,” he began, “I must go back five years when I was financing an archeological expedition near Cairo and became involved in the excavation. History has always fascinated me and there’s nothing like the pyramids of Egypt. It was thrilling work,” he added, “hot, but thrilling.”

  “We’re in England now,” she reminded him, worried he was stalling for time so she’d just exchange the key for her letter and leave.

  And perhaps she should, but then her curiosity would never be satisfied.

  “A rare antiquity was stolen from our camp,” he continued. “So I made it my mission to find it. It turned out to be a dangerous search.” A gleam filled his blue eyes. “But thrilling, too. And I was surprisingly good at it.”

  “So I take it you found the antiquity and brought the culprit to justice?”

  “I found it, but the culprit hailed from the highest echelon of society, so the authorities weren’t involved. However, word of that kind of thing does get around.”

  Diana nodded, aware that gossip pervaded all social levels.

  “And then a friend of my uncle asked me to find an item that had been stolen from his home. It was a sensitive issue because they believe the thief to be a wealthy relative from whom they hoped to inherit. So my charge was to find it and quietly return it, no questions asked or accusations made.”

  “And you found that item, too?”

  “I did. And more people found me, looking for similar assistance.” He smiled at her. “You look like you don’t believe me.”

  She leaned forward in the chair. “I am having trouble picturing people coming to Colin Henry Lanford Sinclair, Marquess of Thorne, and asking you to find their stolen household goods, no matter what the value.”

  “The gossips may have learned that the Marquess of Thorne enjoys the challenge.” He moved to the window. “And what else should I be doing, Miss Harwood? The life of a gentleman can become rather monotonous.”

  “Much less monotonous than the life of a lady,” she said wryly. “But you still haven’t told me about the key. I assume you’re on the hunt for another stolen treasure?”

  He turned from the window and walked to her chair. “There was a rare Chinese vase stolen from Lord Varney during his masquerade party this summer.”

  She blinked. “Fanny attended that party! And Aunt Sterling and Bertie and….”

  “And many of the people now here at Marwick Manor. In fact, I believe you and Miss Louisa and Lady Marwick are the only ones, besides myself, who did not attend that masquerade.”

  It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, and when it did she shot up from the chair. “And you think one of them stole that vase? But they’re your friends. And surely you don’t think my sister or aunt are guilty of such a thing.”

  He reached out and grasped her shoulders, his alarmed gaze a reminder that she needed to speak as quietly as possible.

  “I don’t care who stole it,” he whispered, “and neither does Lord Varney. You have to understand that many people in the highest circles of society don’t want to accuse their friends and neighbors of theft—even if they are guilty.”

  She did understand, even coming from a small market town like Pembury. His story was so unusual she found it believable.

  “But someone knows I’m searching for it,” he continued, “Varney gave me his guest list and I’ve been slowly eliminating all the possible suspects. I find a way to get invited to their homes, I search for the vase, and then I move on to the next one.”

  “Like Marwick Manor.”

  He nodded. “It’s the last on my list, but for the first time in my life, I hope I don’t find it. However, the fact that I have been attacked on the road twice during my journey here tells me I’m getting close.”

  She took a long moment to digest all the information, her mind whirling.

  “And I didn’t give you my true name to protect you. I’d just been attacked that afternoon and was barely able to escape. I needed to pass the key on to someone so it wasn’t taken from me if I was attacked again.”

  And now the pieces fell into place for Diana. “So when I introduced myself as Miss Harwood, you knew I’d be traveling to Marwick Manor. That’s why you made me promise to always keep the packet with me.”

  He nodded. “The vase is stored in a plain wooden locking box, just like you can find in any home, including the servants quarters. But the thief took the wrong key and the vase is so fragile….”

  “That they wouldn’t risk breaking the box to get to the vase.”

  “I knew you were a clever young lady.”

  She gave a small shrug. “But I had no idea there was so much larceny among the ton.”

  “That’s why they engage people like me. To keep it quiet. I also have some connections with the black market, so I am aware if a stolen item is suddenly offered for sale. Usually though, there is a waiting period before the thief dares to sell it. Or they don’t care about the monetary value.”

  “They just like the thrill of stealing it.” She sighed. “I don’t approve, of course, but life can be so dull.”

  “Is that why you’re leaving for India?”

  She blushed, though wasn’t surprised that he’d read her letter. “My family does not know,” she said bluntly. “And I prefer to keep it that way for now.”

  “Then it seems we both have our secrets.” He held out the palm of his hand. “So may I have the key now?”

  She hesitated, considering the choices before her. “I think not,” she said at last. “I have a better idea. We’ll search for the vase together.”

  “Absolutely not,” Thorne said, shocked she’d even make such a suggestion. Perhaps Miss Harwood wasn’t as sensible as he’d been led to believe, because her idea was preposterous. “I work alone.”

  “But how will you find the box without the key?” Diana rose from the chair. “If my sister and aunt are suspects, I want to help clear their names. And it will save time if we’re both searching for it.”

  He was wrong. She made too much sense. “Perhaps, but it’s not worth the risk to you.”

  “What harm can come to me at Marwick Manor? No one would suspect me of looking for it, that’s the very reason you gave me the packet to carry.”

  “But you’re already taking a risk just by standing here in my bedchamber. You could be ruined if you were found here. And yet you sneaked right in!”

  She lifted her chin. “I was angry and let my emotions get the better of me. That does not happen often, Lord Thorne.” She sniffed. “Besides, you provoked me by leaving that flower in my bedchamber, which you invaded. I am hopeful that our working together will induce you to stop provoking me.”

  He smiled. “But I rather like it when your emotions get the better of you.”

  She blushed and looked away from him. He adored the fact that she blushed so easily. And yet, he could see how vulnerable that must have made her throughout the years.

  After a moment, Diana cleared her throat and said, “Please don’t try to change the subject. We were talking about a partnership.”

  “You were talking about it,” he reminded her, fearing she was taking this much too lightly. “I was trying to dissuade you. In case you have forgotten, this is a dangerous mission. I’ve alre
ady been assaulted and I will not let you put yourself into that kind of danger.”

  “The choice is mine. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I have possession of the key.” She took a step toward him and smiled. “Take heart, Lord Thorne, this will work out to your advantage and mine.”

  Thorne rubbed one hand over his jaw, aware that he seemed to be on the losing end of this argument. He had traveled over a good part of the world, but had never met anyone quite like her. She always seemed to leave him reeling. He just wanted to get back on solid ground.

  And finding the vase was the surest way to do just that.

  “So how do you propose we conduct this mad scheme,” he asked. “There are two of us and only one key.”

  “I am open to ideas,” she said graciously. “Reasonable ideas.”

  He watched her tuck a stray curl behind her ear and longed to run his fingers through that raven mane. None of the ideas he had at this moment were reasonable. Or proper. Or sane.

  But perhaps he could find a way to conquer this irrational desire he had for her. In his experience, the more time he spent with a woman he found attractive, the faster that attraction faded.

  “I do have an idea,” he said at last. “We will pretend we have formed an attachment. This will give us a reason to be much together—and thus, an opportunity to share information and pass the key back and forth.”

  She frowned. “I am not sure anyone would believe it.”

  “We can convince them.”

  He watched her twist her fingers together, considering the idea. And found himself holding his breath as he awaited her answer.

  “We can try,” she said with a shrug.

  He could breathe again. “Then shall we begin this evening? At dinner?”

  “I plan to begin right now.” Diana moved toward the door. “If I don’t find the box that fits the key, then I shall hand you the key after dinner. And we should confer so that we’re not searching the same places. That would be a waste of time. Where have you already looked?”

  “Nowhere, yet. I haven’t had the opportunity.”