“Even more worthy!”
“Your help was quite opportune and greatly appreciated…ah…”
He bowed. “Nigel Littlethom at your service!” The man seemed a little excitable, and his every sentence was stated with great aplomb.
“Yes, well, Mr. Littlethom, I am Miss Abigail West, and the boy you saved is Lord Benbrook’s grandson.”
“You saved the lad, not I!” Littlethom declared with a flourish of his hand. “I simply assisted you to the shore.”
“Well, I am indebted to you just the same.” She looked up into his bright blue eyes, realizing that his hair was drying into a bit of a peak above his forehead, reminding Abigail of a rooster’s comb. Yet the man still managed to look gorgeous. A gorgeous, strutting rooster. She smiled at her own silliness.
“It is my pleasure to be of service!” Mr. Littlethom declared, giving her a boyish smile that was so bright, she had to blink.
She peeled her eyes away from his handsome face, noticing the rest of him. “Oh dear! Your coat!”
His gray coat was soaked through and torn at the shoulders; his breeches were so sodden as to be like paste on his legs.
Gallantly he pulled off his coat and draped it on her shoulders. It must have weighed a stone and smelled unappealingly of sweaty male. Abigail tried not to show her distaste. “Ah, thank you, but it’s quite warm out today and I hardly need it.”
“No, I insist!”
“We should get the lads home,” Foster commented, eyeing the crowd.
“I will escort you!” Littlethom declared.
“Thank you so much. We are greatly in your debt. But there is no need for us to put you out any further.” Abigail handed the man back his coat, which he grudgingly accepted. “In fact, you must give me your address and I will pay for your cleaning and repairs.”
“There is no need, but if I may ask a boon of you?”
“Of course.”
“Please allow me to stop by the residence and inquire after the boy. And you, of course.”
“That would be most kind of you, sir.”
“Until then!” Turning, the man padded off, his shoes making a funny squeaking sound with every step.
Watching him go, Seth giggled.
“He was odd,” Felix commented.
“He was courageous,” Abigail countered. “He helped your brother out from the water.” She drew them along beside her down the path. “Now come along. Let us go back to the house to change clothing.”
“I can’t believe that you jumped in.” Felix swatted his brother’s shoulder as they meandered down the walkway.
“I didn’t mean to…but there were a lot of people trying to get to the ducks…” Seth preened. “And I got to go swimming!”
“Wait until Lord Steele hears. He won’t be pleased.”
Rubbing his head, Foster muttered, “No he won’t be. Especially not with Claude.”
“Nor me,” Abigail muttered. Keep them safe, Steele had asked.
Abigail grimaced. Almost drowning did not exactly fit into that category.
Looking down at Seth, she rationalized that little enough harm was done. Yet somehow she doubted that Steele would see it that way. A tiny thrill of anticipation licked up her spine as they neared the house. Lord Steele would have to come out of his study to confront her. Instead of slowing, her steps quickened.
Chapter 9
“What do you mean, no harm was done?” Steele demanded from the young governess. “The boy could have drowned!”
“But he didn’t,” Miss West replied with vigor. “In fact, he’s quite elated about the whole thing; he thinks that he got to go swimming when his brother didn’t.”
Despite her dreadful bonnet clenched in her hands before her and those soulful gray eyes looking up at him, Miss West still didn’t look nearly as contrite as she should. Instead, somehow she managed to look too delectable for her own good. It couldn’t be the damp golden hair sticking up around her head like hay. But it might’ve had something to do with the fact that her soggy clothing clung to her shapely body tighter than any opera dancer’s costume.
Steele did his best to keep his eyes locked with hers and not allow them to veer down to the luscious swell of her bosom. “That’s a five-year-old’s version. Not reality.”
“But that’s the only one that counts in the end. Since all is well.”
All wasn’t well, since Steele’s jaw had been clenched ever since he’d learned of the incident. The boys had been in his care for only a week and Seth almost drowned? If anything happened to them…“Where was Claude?”
“He was with Seth, but then after the fall and all, I lost track…”
“Did he leave his post?”
Her teeth clenched and her eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t want to lay blame until we hear his side of what happened…”
“But he’s nowhere to be found.”
“Yes.”
“Something smells fishy to me.”
She looked up hopefully as her cheeks flushed pink. “I can go and change…”
“You’re not getting away that easily.” He hadn’t been referring to her clothing and, in truth, she smelled quite nicely of heather and woman. Aside from the fact that he knew that she could hardly catch cold in this mild weather, he wasn’t quite ready to have her turn tail and run, or change clothing and ruin his lovely view.
Miss West gritted her teeth, and a decidedly defiant gleam lit her gaze. “I know that things didn’t go well today—”
“You think?” His tone was sardonic. He tried to feel guilty over how much he was enjoying this little interview, but couldn’t muster the remorse. Despite the fact that he’d hardly seen more than a glimpse of Miss West the last seven days, she’d been on his mind far too much for his good. Whenever he thought about their little encounter in the park and how she’d boldly declared that she wouldn’t sleep with him, his lips would lift into a little smile. Whenever he considered how she’d protected Seth with that audacious move that had brought Carlton to his knees, he couldn’t quite help the swell of admiration from blooming inside him. And when he reflected on how nice it was to speak with an interesting woman with a brain in her head, he would find himself nodding with appreciation.
The danger, however, came when he dwelled on how the air had crackled with sensual awareness between them, how deliciously warm her smooth skin had felt touching his. And how her gossamer golden hair had seemed to beg for his caress, and how tempted he was to taste those lush bowed lips.
Miss West might as well have been wearing a sign that spelled Danger. And Steele was too astute and too cautious a man not to heed the warning. So he’d stayed away. He’d stopped himself from going to the schoolroom to check on the boys. He’d made sure not to dine with the lads or interrupt their play. He told himself that it was good for the boys as well, since they were settling in and he didn’t want to disrupt their routine.
But now Steele had no choice but to engage the intriguing Miss West. And he wasn’t fool enough not to enjoy it.
Raising her brow, she crossed her arms, causing her bosom to swell quite deliciously. “Are we done, my lord?”
He frowned, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “I’ll inform you when I am finished with you, Miss West.”
The energy surging through him reminded him of the feeling when he was in court examining a witness. The unpredictability of the encounter was exhilarating, and he loved the challenge. “Tell me again why you weren’t watching Seth.”
“I was with Felix. And the kite. I couldn’t be in two places at once.” Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
“What way?”
“As if somehow this is my fault.”
Her chin lifted a notch.
“Well?” he demanded. “Spit it out.”
She lanced him with a searing gaze of gray-blue fire. “Perhaps if you’d come along…”
He straightened. “I have work to do.”
>
“Every moment of every day?”
“For your information, being Solicitor-General of England requires some of my time.” Distantly he was amazed that he was even engaging in this conversation with a member of his staff. Yet somehow he found himself annoyingly irritated that she didn’t think well of him.
Her lip lifted into a funny little curl.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked, shocked.
“I’ve been here one week, and in that time you’ve barely spared the boys more than a word or two.”
He didn’t like the course of this conversation, yet somehow found himself going deeper down its path. “So?”
“So, you’re to be their closest family and they hardly know you!”
Steele pursed his lips, telling himself that it could be easily justified by the fact that he was just temporarily the boys’ guardian.
“You’ve been avoiding them,” she declared, which was close enough to the truth to make him shift uncomfortably.
Turning, he stepped away from her and moved to stare out the window.
Miss West stepped behind him. He could feel her presence like a burning stove emanating a heat that warmed his skin in a decidedly unsettling way.
Furtively he inhaled her womanly scent, wondering why Miss West had been sent to vex him when instead there had to be hundreds of snippety, repulsive, know-their-place governesses in England.
She asked gently, “Is it because they remind you of your wife?”
He started. “No. Of course not.”
“It wouldn’t be so unnatural,” she replied. “They look like her.”
He turned, surprised. “How do you know?”
“I saw a portrait of her up in the attics.”
“What were you doing in the attics?”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and he realized that she’d been checking to make sure that he hadn’t been lying about the repairs to the nurseries.
“You don’t trust anyone’s word, do you?”
She looked away guiltily. “I just wanted to see for myself.”
He chuckled. “I would’ve done the same.”
She looked up, and their eyes met. Connection flashed between them, spearing his gut with the familiar lust that had been plaguing his nights these last seven days.
He’d felt a similar kind of awareness between himself and women before. Yet this was the first time the intensity of this sensual spark burning between them was enough to steal the breath from his throat.
Certainly having her sleeping in the next room didn’t help matters. He could hear her fumbling around at all hours of the night and wondered what she was up to.
“You don’t sleep much, do you?” he asked suddenly.
Blinking, she started. “Pardon?”
“At night. I hear you…”
Her brow furrowed, and then she looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Did I disturb you?”
“No,” he lied. “I was awake anyway.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I seem to have difficulty sleeping when there’s so much to do.”
“So much to do?” He wondered if he was overworking her.
“You know…arrange things…organize…make lists.”
He crossed his arms. “What kind of organizing? Are you uncomfortable in your quarters?”
“Oh no! The room is lovely! Nicer than I’ve ever had, even before my parents died. Comfort is certainly not the issue…” Her voice trailed off.
“Then what is?”
Shaking her head, she exhaled and then yawned, as if thinking about sleep made her tired. She was very odd, and yet somehow so very endearing. “Well, I just…someone once told me that I’m…a nester.”
He suddenly wondered if that friend who knew of her nocturnal habits was male or female. “A nester?”
“I need to…nest.”
“Like a bird?”
“Yes. I suppose when it comes right down to it, I…it’s hard for me to settle in to a new place.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
More than you will ever know. “You exhaust yourself with tasks until your head crashes onto the pillow in unconsciousness.”
Her brow furrowed and then she smiled. “I suppose so.”
He found his lips yearning to lift and match hers. But he quelled the desire, realizing that he was feeling far too much affinity for this woman. Brusquely he motioned to her hat. “Your bonnet is a disaster.”
Staring down at it, she smiled fondly and sighed. “I know.”
“I daresay the water killed it.”
“It was a mighty sacrifice,” she teased. “But well worth it. You should’ve seen Seth’s face when the ducks thought the beads were bread crumbs. He was positively delighted.” Her eyes flashed with humor and her cheeks glowed to a lovely hue. She was really quite pretty; no wonder he’d felt the need to keep his distance.
He reminded himself that it had been quite a good idea, since spending time with the woman only seemed to heighten his desire. Yet for his life, he was unwilling to end this interview just yet.
The new butler, Dudley, swept into the room and stood sergeant-stiff by the door.
Trying not to be annoyed by the interruption, Steele looked up. “Yes, Dudley?”
“Mr. Linder-Myer, here to see you, my lord.”
The smile dropped from Miss West’s face faster than a cutpurse could escape. She stiffened and clutched that hideous bonnet as if it were a lifeline.
Steele hid his frown. This could be a simple matter of Sir Lee checking in now that Benbrook was gone. But knowing Sir Lee, he’d probably gotten wind of the incident at the park already. The man seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. “Yes, show him in.”
Straightening her worn, waterlogged skirts, Miss West gritted her teeth and muttered, “How could you?”
“How could I what?”
Skepticism flashed in her gaze. “I can’t believe that you contacted Mr. Linder-Myer over this.”
“Who says that I did?”
“Then why is he here?”
Steele had no answer, so he fell back on a reflexive technique he used in court, striking the offense. “I can’t believe that you dare to question me.”
He regretted the words immediately.
It was as if he’d just painted a thick unbreakable line segregating himself from her—powerful employer to powerless servant, eminent lord to lowly commoner. Any sense of intimacy that had grown between them evaporated into mist.
She stiffened, and the very air around her chilled a few degrees. “Forgive me, my lord. I forgot my place. It will not happen again.”
Her slate blue eyes shuttered and her face looked carved from stone, reminding him of a marble statue he’d seen among the Elgin Marbles, beautiful yet as remote as the years past when it was carved.
He frowned. “I…It’s all right. I didn’t mean…”
“Mr. Linder-Myer,” Dudley declared near the door, and Sir Lee Devane swept into the room.
Chapter 10
Sir Lee ambled into the study flourishing his gold-topped cane. By his craggy face and hunched stature, one might have supposed that the elderly man was harmless. Especially given his usually cheerful mien and relaxed pose.
But Sir Lee was about as harmless as a scythe.
The knighted gentleman might have retired as a master of spies, but the man who’d been in charge of intelligence on every suspicious foreigner in England for years still kept his hands in the pot. Hence, Sir Lee was the man that Lord Benbrook had approached when he’d needed help but didn’t want to involve the authorities or have any publicity of any kind. At the time, Benbrook had explained that the Devonshire family had suffered a great scandal years before, and since then his family’s personal affairs were of the utmost confidentiality.
Sir Lee had drafted Steele to their cause. And, to Steele’s irritation, Sir Lee was the one who’d been calling the tunes of late to which Steele
had been dancing.
Although one might have supposed that Sir Lee wore the old-fashioned dove gray coat and knee breeches with white stockings to bolster his assumed role as agency representative, in truth, this was his preferred attire. The man seemed to have chosen a fashion he admired a number of years back and had stuck with it since.
With a twinkle in his green eyes, Sir Lee bowed. “Good day to you, Lord Steele. Miss West.”
Steele nodded. “Linder-Myer.”
Pasting on a wooden smile, Miss West dipped into a slight curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Linder-Myer. What a surprise to see you so soon.” Each word was laced with just a hint of scorn directed solely at Steele.
Steele pursed his lips, distracted and annoyed that she would think him so trite as to call the agency representative with the merest cause. Then again, the incident had placed Seth’s life in danger. But he was certainly capable enough of handling things without calling in for reinforcements, and from an agency interviewer, no less.
“Why, you’re soaked to the bone!” Sir Lee cried. “You should change into dry clothing immediately! You’ll catch your death!”
Miss West bowed her head. “How considerate of you to think of my health, Mr. Linder-Myer.”
“She’s hardier than she looks,” Steele defended, feeling just a little bit guilty for keeping her standing there in her wet clothing.
Sir Lee tsked. “But it would be a terrible thing if Miss West caught cold. Especially where there’s certain to be a pot of hot tea in the house. Tea is always welcome, if there’s some about.” Sir Lee rubbed his middle distractedly. “And cakes, too, always welcome, and always refreshing.”
Withholding a grimace that he was once again dancing to Sir Lee’s tunes, Steele nodded. “May I invite you to stay for tea, Mr. Linder-Myer?”
“Oh, how kind of you, Lord Steele! But I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Steele smiled. “Oh no, it’s no imposition.” Stepping over to the pull, he yanked on the cord.
Dudley appeared in seconds.
“Tea and cakes, please, Dudley.”
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