“Crouch, this really is the outside of enough! I don’t believe it’s proper for a butler, even a pirate butler, to come marching into one’s bedchamber.”
“I ’ave m’eyes covered, m’lady.”
“I can see that, Crouch, but I can also see that you are peeking, and if you think I won’t tell Lord Weston that, you are sadly mistaken.”
Crouch’s fingers slammed into tight formation. “’Tis those bits o’ ’is lordship’s muslins. They’re back and they won’t leave.”
“The mistresses? His mistresses, or rather ex-mistresses, since they are no longer in his employ, and even if they were, he wouldn’t employ all of them at the same time, although if last night was anything to go by…” She gazed at her sleeping husband’s face thoughtfully. “But no, my mind is wandering. Crouch, please tell the ladies I will be down shortly.”
“Aye, m’lady.”
“Oh, Crouch?”
The butler tipped his head in question.
“You didn’t really see anything you shouldn’t have, did you?”
“No, m’lady, just ’is lordship’s arse, and the sight o’ that’s nothin’ that fills me with joy.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Gillian said, reaching a fond hand over and stroking Noble’s lovely behind. “The sight of it fills me with joy. I think it’s quite a nice behind, as behinds go.”
“Mmmm?” Noble murmured and tightened his arm around Gillian.
“Nothing, my love,” Gillian cooed into his ear. “Crouch and I were just discussing your arse.”
“Aye, m’lord. ’Er ladyship is of the opinion it’s a sight to bring joy to the eye, but I’ve been debatin’ the point with ’er.” He eyed Noble with pursed lips, scratching at his chin with the sharp point of his hook. “Not that it ain’t attractive on its own, I reckon. If you like that sort of thing.”
“Crouch?” Noble breathed sleepily.
“Which I do, Crouch, and I’ll thank you to keep your disparaging comments to yourself and be about your business. I will tend to his lordship’s behind. And stop that peeking.”
Crouch grinned and, feeling the way toward the door with his hook, made his exit.
Gillian slid out from under the arm and leg Noble had tossed over her and stood for a moment, admiring his derriere. It was a very nice one. She put out a hand and pressed gently.
“I don’t know what Crouch is nattering on about. It’s very fit. I bet I could bounce a shilling off it if I were so inclined.”
With that happy thought she went to prepare to greet the mistresses.
Noble rolled onto his back and stretched carefully. His head felt like someone had been pounding on it with an anvil while his mouth tasted worse than something extremely nasty that he didn’t want to go to the trouble to think of lest it make his headache worse and his tongue feel even thicker.
He rolled out of bed and, pulling the bell cord, staggered into his dressing room to attend to his morning ablutions.
It was while he was sitting in the armchair as Tremayne was shaving him that a faint thought wended its way through the fogged labyrinth of his mind and suddenly stood up and caught his attention.
“My arse?” he roared, startling Tremayne into dumping the basin of warm water down the earl’s front. “She had Crouch in admiring my arse?”
“I really couldn’t say, m’lord. I wasn’t present. Would you like me to consult Crouch about this grave question?”
“Don’t be smart, Tremayne,” Noble snapped and allowed his shirt to be removed, the water mopped up, and a fresh garment reapplied.
“My arse,” he said later as he strode down the hallway and leaped down the stairs. Midway to the breakfast room he passed his son.
“Good morning, Papa,” Nick said.
“Morning, Nick. My arse!” Noble fumed, and stormed into the breakfast room. He would have a thing or two to say to his wife about conducting tours of his person when he was asleep. “Wife, I have a few—oh, hell. Where is she…uh…which one are you?”
“Forsythe, m’lord. I’m one of the Runners her ladyship hired.”
“Oh, yes, well, have you seen Lady Weston this morning?”
The slight little man in livery too large for him shook his head and endeavored to look like a footman. “I haven’t seen her, no, my lord, although I did hear Mr. Crouch say something about a group of lightskirts calling for her.”
The pounding in his head increased. She wouldn’t dare. Not after he had made his feelings clear on the subject and given her a direct order. No, he shook his aching head; it must be some other group of lightskirts she was entertaining. Perhaps she had plans of reforming the entire demimonde. He wouldn’t put it past her to try.
He took the stairs two at a time as he headed toward her sitting room.
Nick was still standing where he had passed him earlier. “Papa, could I talk to you?”
“Later, son. I have to go throttle your mother.” Just see if he wouldn’t. How dare she bring those women back to his house, exposing himself to ridicule and his son to…Noble paused a moment, then shook his head again. He must have imagined it.
He threw open the door of her sitting room, glared at the assembled women therein, and opened his mouth to deliver a scathing lecture that he would make sure Gillian never forgot. She turned to look at him, and the acrimonious words shriveled and died on his lips.
“What is it?” he asked instead, going down on one knee and taking her hand in his. It was cold.
Gillian squeezed his hand and tried to look a little less like the scared rabbit she knew she resembled. “Noble, Mariah is dead.”
“Mariah?”
“Mistress Mariah. Your mistress, that is. Ex-mistress. The ladies here came to tell me that her body was found this morning, bobbing up against a pier. She had been…” Gillian looked as if she would be sick. Noble pulled her into a protective embrace.
“She’d been tortured, my lord, and then garroted,” Anne said with a solemn face.
Gillian shivered in his arms.
***
Noble rallied his troops, explaining briefly to the staff that the danger to Gillian and possibly Nick had increased, and until further notice they were to maintain the utmost caution.
“No visitors, unless known to Lady Weston or myself, are to be allowed in,” he ordered as he paced before the line of servants. “No tradespeople will be allowed in the house for any reason. Likewise, servants from other houses, your personal friends and acquaintances, will be banned. Until we have the bastard responsible for the threats against Lady Weston locked away in gaol, your sole responsibility will be to see to her safety, and that of my son. Are there any questions?”
The line of footmen, butlers, and other male staff members shook their heads. Crouch raised his hook.
“Yes?”
“Eh, m’lord, what should we do if ’er ladyship is desirin’ to leave the ’ouse?”
“I have informed Lady Weston that she will not leave the house except in my presence, or the presence of Lord Rosse.”
Crouch rubbed his chin with the curved part of his hook. “Beggin’ pardon, m’lord, but that didn’t stop ’er last time.”
Noble’s face was grim. “It will not happen again. Are there any other questions? No? Excellent. Is everyone armed?”
The row of men nodded. One of the footmen coughed and stepped forward.
“Yes, Dickon?”
“My lord, shouldn’t we have a watchword? Like in The Mysteries of Limehouse, where the watch captured an infamous band of pirates when they were spiriting away a group of young ladies for a sultan from a distant land, where they would be made slaves to his desire and forced to—”
“Yes, yes, I see your point, Dickon. Very well. We shall have a watchword. Any suggestions as to what it might be?”
“Testicle!” piped up Ch
arles.
Noble frowned at him.
“’E means tentacle, m’lord. ’Ad ’is ’alf day yesterday and saw one of them octopantses at the zoological gardens.”
“No, I mean testicle,” argued Charles.
Noble considered his footman. “Is there any reason why you wish the watchword to be testicle, Charles?”
The young man sucked in his cheeks and bounced on the balls of his feet. “No, my lord.”
“Just like the word, do you?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Noble stopped pacing in front of the footman and narrowed his eyes at him. “There’s nothing you should have told me that you haven’t, is there, Charles?”
Charles’s eyes widened. “Me, my lord?” he squeaked.
“Mmm,” Noble said, giving him a close look, then continued his pacing. “Very well, our watchword is testicle. Should you encounter someone who does not answer your cry of ‘Halt, who goes there?’ with a snappy ‘testicle,’ you will restrain him and shout for assistance.”
“A lady wouldn’t say it,” Charles said.
Noble spun around to face the interruption. “What’s that?”
“You asked me if I had a reason for choosing the word testicle, my lord. I thought of one. A lady wouldn’t say it. Therefore, any lady villains we encounter wouldn’t say the watchword.”
“Er…quite right. Are there any other questions?”
“They’d say something else,” Charles said. Noble ignored him and gazed down the line of footmen.
“Like whirlygigs,” Dickon said with a nod. “That’s what my mum used to call them.”
“Dusters,” said Crouch. “Jenny Hills. Flowers and frolics.”
“Yes, quite. Are there any—”
“Gooseberries,” said one of the Runners.
“No, they’s jingleberries, they are,” said another.
Noble rubbed his still-aching head. The pain seemed to be increasing again.
“Les accessoires,” said Tremayne Two in a perfect French accent.
“Orchestra stalls,” offered Crouch.
“Twiddle-diddles. A lady would surely say twiddle-diddles,” Charles suggested, looking up as the door opened. “Oh, my lady, could you answer a question? If you were asked to say the word—”
“Charles!” Noble bellowed. “That will be all! You are dismissed, all of you.”
“If I was asked to say what word?” Gillian asked as the footmen filed out. Noble glared at the men and dared them to answer her.
“Whennymegs,” Crouch muttered as he closed the door behind him.
Gillian turned to Noble. “Whennymegs? Oh, testicles. What about them? Are yours all right, my lord?” She turned her attention to the front of Noble’s buckskins, concern writ across her face. “Did you damage them last night? You were quite enthusiastic, husband, but I thought everything looked hale and hearty this morning. Shall I check them for you?”
She started reaching for the buttons on his breeches. Noble caught her hand. “Everything is fine there, thank you. Did you do as I asked?”
“Yes, the ladies are gone, but really, Noble, you were quite rude, not even staying to chat. They do know you, and seem very fond of you. I think it would have been only polite if you had stayed to talk with them, find out how they’re doing, who they’re mistressing for, that sort of thing. Why, Laura had quite nice things to say about her time with you—”
Noble grabbed Gillian by the arms and pulled her up against him, ending the discussion the only way he thought would be effective. Gillian look bemused when he released her from the kiss, but he noted the sparkle in her eye was in no way diminished.
“And Anne said you were the best lov—”
He kissed her longer this time, deeper, dipping his tongue in and out of her mouth in a suggestive manner. She moaned into his mouth. He lifted his head and smiled smugly at her. She blinked several times, then touched a finger to his lips. “So soft, and yet so very demanding,” she whispered and gave herself a little shake. “Just how Beverly described—”
“Madam!” Noble roared in mock fury, shaking Gillian slightly. “You will cease this unseemly conversation!”
She giggled, then slowly the happy glow faded from her face. She placed a hand on his chest. “Noble, we must talk. About this morning—I know you are angry with me, and I appreciate you not lecturing me about interfering with your plans, but you were acting so very foolish, and I simply had to take steps. I couldn’t allow you to face Lord Carlisle, not when there was the chance that he would harm you, or even kill you. You do understand that I did it for your own good, don’t you?”
Noble stared at her with increasing bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
Gillian blushed. “I can see you are being kindhearted by pretending it didn’t happen, but I assure you, my darling husband, I am ready to hear your lecture.”
Noble frowned. “What exactly did you do for my own good that had to do with Lord Carlisle? You haven’t had time to see him.” He looked around the library in mock suspicion. “I don’t see him lurking in the corner, so you couldn’t have invited him here as you are wont to do with people I’d rather not see. What is it you’ve done, wife?”
Gillian watched his expression closely. God’s knuckles, he honestly didn’t seem to be upset. Would she ever understand his moods? “I wasn’t planning on telling you, but now I think perhaps it wouldn’t upset you, as I had previously thought. I had him…that is to say, I ordered that Crouch and three of the Runner footmen…it was for your own good, you know, and solely to help you save face, so I don’t think you should commence scowling in that manner, husband.”
Noble counted to ten. “What did you do?”
“I had Lord Carlisle kidnapped.”
Noble sank down into the nearest available chair, closed his eyes, and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Why?” Even thinking the word made his head hurt worse.
“So that you wouldn’t feel I was betraying you when I drugged you.”
He stopped rubbing his forehead. “You did what?”
Gillian frowned. “You needn’t act as if you didn’t notice, husband.”
“You drugged me? So I couldn’t attend the duel?” Gillian nodded. “You drugged me? Ah, the draught. You drugged me with my own brandy? And then you let me make love to you?”
Gillian took a step or two away from him. Her Lord of Outrage looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh and kiss her silly, or to yell the hair right off her head, and if he settled on the latter, she wanted a little bit of distance. “It wasn’t what I had planned, Noble, ’tis the truth I hadn’t planned that you would…that you and I were going to…that we would…I just wanted you a little sleepy so that you would not wake in time for the duel, and…well…I must have given you a bit too much because you slept like the dead.”
His indignation of earlier returned. “Do I remember correctly you engaging in a discussion of my personal attributes with Crouch?”
Gillian’s face brightened and she stepped forward again. Here was safe ground. Surely he couldn’t find fault with her wifely devotion in defending him. “Oh, yes, I did wonder if you were awake or not. Crouch said some rather rude things about your lovely behind, and I corrected him. It’s not a good thing to let one’s pirate have too much leniency where that sort of thing is concerned. With comments about one’s behind, that is. Don’t you agree?”
Noble opened his mouth to speak, realized he didn’t know what the hell he was going to say to that, and closed it again. Tiny pinpricks of pain in his temples were dulling into a steady throb. If he concentrated, he could ignore them enough to continue the enlightening discussion of a moment ago.
“Let me see if I have this straight. You drugged me and kidnapped McGregor so that neither one of us could attend the duel, thereby making each think the other had
absented himself from the duel?”
Gillian nodded. “I thought it only fair, you see. I didn’t want one of you being accused of cowardice by not being present.” She looked thoughtful. “It worked quite well, Crouch tells me. Lord Carlisle was most obliging and gave Crouch no trouble once he had a zoc. Crouch wouldn’t tell me exactly what a zoc was, but I’m sure it must have been nice if it persuaded Lord Carlisle to go along quietly with him.”
Noble considered telling her it was cant for a blow, then decided against it. She was picking up enough of the vulgar tongue from Crouch; she didn’t need additional words. “I trust he has been released?”
“Oh, yes, quite early this morning. Crouch said he was furious, but settled down once he gave him another zoc. I do hope they are not habit-forming.”
Noble closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair. He didn’t know whether to throttle her for interfering or kiss her and then tell her his own actions. Perhaps he should do both. Just a quick little throttle, and then the kissing. Lots of kissing. He opened his eyes and looked at her standing in front of him, her face worried. Maybe the throttling could wait and he should start in with the kissing first.
“Oh, yes, I agree with that.” Gillian nodded emphatically. Noble stared at her.
“You agree with what?”
“That the throttling can wait and you should start in with the kissing first. I like it when you kiss me. You make my knees turn to water.”
Oh, lord, now he had picked up her Unfortunate Habit! He steeled himself against her hopeful look and frowned. “Wife, I will not have you interfering—”
“Noble?” she interrupted him, looking worried again. “Is this lecture going to take long? Because if it is, I’d like to talk about something else—”
“I am quite sure you would, madam—”
“I’d like to talk about Nick,” she continued as if he had not spoken. “He told me about what happened that night when your Elizabeth died, and I do think he needs to be reassured that you do not blame him for anything. He was most distressed by the thought that he had failed you, or shamed you in some manner.”
Noble stared at her, unable to believe what she was saying. “He told you? In the same manner he told you he liked being in London?”
Noble Intentions Page 28