Not that he cared what they thought, but it impacted his work. He might have just hidden himself away and allowed the rumors to settle but the Baron of Bridgeton was expected to arrive in two days’ time. Bridgeton had been quietly involved with Highwater. And while the Prince Regent had suggested Will remove himself from the investigation before it was too late and he was forever branded a thief, Will found he couldn’t let it go.
So he waited.
But the party downstairs held little appeal without Bridgeton here to scrutinize. Rather than participate, he’d taken himself back to his room with a scotch. Where he found himself contemplating flowers. No wonder he wanted to continue the investigation. He’d perish of boredom without it.
A rattling of his door’s handle made him blink in surprise. While the moonlight illuminated the garden outside his window, he sat in a dark corner of the room. It was a habit he’d developed from years of subterfuge as he trained his gaze to the door.
He heard something rattle in the lock and then the distinct click as whoever was on the other side successfully picked it. Slowly the door swung open and a figure crept in, softly closing the large, wood-paneled behemoth behind them. A quick glance told him it was a person of small stature, though not a child; it didn’t appear to be a man either. Had a woman sneaked into his room?
A smile curved one corner of his lips upward. There were a few widows in attendance. Lady Crawley, for example. A lovely, though empty-headed, woman. He’d not thought her capable of picking a lock. But appearances could sometimes be deceiving. Not usually, but occasionally.
Perhaps she or someone else was looking for a dalliance. Whomever it was, she was persistent. Mayhap, this was just the distraction he needed until Bridgeton arrived.
But the little minx didn’t move toward the bed to arrange herself for his benefit. Instead, she trailed her hand along the wall, finding her way to the dressing table. Her fingers searched along until they reached a candle and then, with fumbling hands, she lit the wax. How curious.
Once the room was illuminated, she began to move the objects on the table about, searching through several of the drawers. Surprise rippled through him as he watched her search. With the candle, he could see how tiny her waist was and the generous curve of her backside. Lush locks of hair were piled atop her head. And yet, she wasn’t here for his benefit. Whoever she was, the chit had trespassed into his room to search for something.
Well that simply wouldn’t do. He was glad he’d come up to his room, because finding out why she was here would be far more interesting than anything that likely would have happened at the party downstairs. This was going to be fun.
* * *
Rose opened a drawer of the dressing table and let out a little sigh of frustration. Nothing but neatly folded cravats. She supposed that she hadn’t really expected to find her mother’s jewels tucked between his neckties but still. Couldn’t there be some evidence that Lord Addington was the thief the entire country believed him to be?
In fairness, not everyone believed that. Some just thought he was a fool who’d allowed his debts to entangle him in a scandal.
Deep down, she didn’t think that was true. She’d been studying him the past few days and she knew, with absolute certainty, he was far too intelligent to have been the fool. His comments were too perfectly witty, his expressions full of understanding. In fact, she’d wager, not that she ever did gamble, he was one of the masterminds of the thieving operation and only pretended to be a hapless victim to keep himself out of trouble. Intelligent and conniving, Lord Addington was surely guilty.
Rose needed proof, however, so she’d snuck into his room while everyone else attended dinner downstairs. She knew it was risky. Her reputation as a lady of quality had remained untarnished to this point, and while she hoped to keep it that way, she’d do everything in her power to get answers.
A lock of her thick blonde hair fell over her shoulder and she pushed it back, sighing in frustration as she did. She’d had to use the pin holding it back to pick the lock. The unruly strands were just looking for an excuse to misbehave.
How would she ever find her mother’s lost diamonds like this? And she had to find them. They’d been one of the few items that her mother had inherited from Rose’s grandmother, and then passed down to Rose upon her deathbed. The only heirloom she had left with which she could remember her beautiful mother. It was unfair enough that her mother had been taken from her. Why must her most precious gems also have to disappear?
They’d been sent to her father’s solicitor for appraisal. Her father had been adamant that all her assets be catalogued in the event something should happen to him and she was left alone. She’d reluctantly agreed to part with them. Some weeks later, they’d been informed that the jewels had been stolen without a clue as to where or by whom. The Bow Street runners had looked into it, of course. But the stones had passed hand several times, from solicitor to jeweler to another jeweler and not one of them identified exactly when they’d had them or when they’d disappeared.
Days later, the Bow Street Runners arrested their solicitor, Mr. Stanley Winters, along with the Marquess of Highwater, and tossed them into the tower for systematically stealing and reselling valuables, some even belonging to the Prince Regent himself. And while they were most likely responsible for the theft of her mother’s diamonds, the location of the stones remained a complete mystery. One Rose intended to solve.
Sadly, many of the thieves involved in the ring were still at large. The ton could talk of little else besides the scandal and every tea party, ball, and picnic she attended, new theories about who else was involved abounded. But the name on almost everyone’s tongue…Lord William Addington.
Rose had convinced her father to accept the invitation from Lord and Lady Pennwalt, knowing full well that Addington was on the guest list. Everyone within society knew he’d be here and while they’d all shuddered to think of socializing with him, they all secretly wanted to attend.
Rose and her father had arrived the day before yesterday and Addington was already in attendance. She’d thought of him so often, she created an image of him in her mind. Short, with a long nose and beady eyes, perhaps he’d worn spectacles. He was likely a bit overweight and most assuredly hunched.
Nothing had prepared her for the man she actually met. Tall and broad, his square jaw and dark piercing eyes would intimidate even the bravest among them. His brown hair was longer than was fashionable and its loose waves, along with his full lips, softened an otherwise hard man. He was devilishly handsome and she’d found herself looking at him a good deal more than necessary, which said a lot considering that she came here to investigate him.
A wardrobe stood in the corner and she moved toward it, holding up her candle. She didn’t know exactly what she looking for but any piece of evidence she might be able to use to blackmail him into returning the jewels would do.
She tried to picture herself actually completing such a conversation. He had to be more than six feet tall and strongly muscled, while she was of an average height at best. No one had ever accused her of being intimidating. Her heart beat wildly in his presence and her tongue tied every time she drew near him. Which had likely proved an asset over the past few days. She was so quiet in his presence that he had yet to notice her existence, making it easier to study him. But were she to confront him, that would be a different matter entirely.
His scent lingered in the room as strongly as if he were here and it addled her mind, making her fingers clumsier. She took a deep breath reminding herself that he was not here and she’d do best to hurry before being discovered.
She opened the door to the wardrobe and searched the walls for a latch or hidden door that might reveal some secret. Finding none, she began to search the pockets of the coats hanging within.
“I beg you not to crease them. My valet will pitch a fit if they have to be repressed.” A deep voice rumbled from the corner.
The little hairs at the back of
her neck stood on end as shivers raced down her back. She gave a cry and dropped the candle she held. It thumped to the floor and bounced, the flame hitting her dress and immediately sparking on the lace overlay.
Dear lord, she was on fire. Rose cried out and tried to spin about to find some way to put out the flame but her motion turned the sparks to actual flames as her dress lit.
Horror made her freeze in place. “What have I done?” she yelped, not knowing what else to do.
In the next moment, strong arms had wrapped about her and she watched, completely speechless, as large hands deftly rubbed the folds of her gown together to snuff out the flames. Most of him was positioned behind her but she saw his hands, large and lean, quite masculine, and yet graceful. She’d never been so transfixed by a pair of hands…but they were glorious.
Even more astonishing, those hands patted their way up her body until they rested on her waist. There was nothing frightening in their touch but no man had ever been so bold. Surely it was fear, but she could hardly catch her breath as she gasped at every touch.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice behind her asked.
“Yes, I believe that I am.” She turned slowly in the arms that were still holding her and stared directly into a very large chest. As her chin tilted back her eyes travelled up the rather muscular column of a man’s neck, over a terribly strong square jaw, up the straight nose, and into the chocolate-colored eyes of Lord Addington. Drat.
“Excellent,” he said with little inflection. His calm demeanor only added to her certainty that he was a man who was always in charge. “Now tell me why you’re searching my room.”
Chapter Two
Her face tilted up to his and every muscle in his body tightened. Lady Roselyn Chase stared at him open-mouthed without saying a word. How had he failed to notice how utterly stunning she was during the last few days?
Her thick blonde hair was pinned back from her face but several sections trailed down her shoulder and across the creamy skin of her exposed neck and chest. He’d like to hold one strand in his hand, allowing the silky tress to slip through his fingers. Her perfectly full lips parted, but no words came out.
He had the sudden urge to kiss those lips closed.
“I…that is to say…I was simply…” she stopped speaking again.
Which worked out fine. Quite nice, really. Though she had a lovely voice, it sounded as sweet as honey, he found he cared less about knowing why she’d trespassed and more about why he wanted to roar with need while holding her in his arms.
Will held her tiny waist to steady her. The urge to run his hands up her back and explore further had him tightening his grip upon her middle. It would be beyond reprehensible. But he stared at her, admiring the soft planes of her face. Her large blue eyes, supple pink lips, straight little nose. How would she taste? He’d guess delicious.
“You simply what?” he asked.
“I was mistaken, my lord,” she stuttered out. “I…I thought this was my father’s room. I came to retrieve a pocket square for him.”
Well, that was reasonable. A perfectly logical explanation from pretty lips. Except he was a trained spy. Beside the fact that she’d picked the lock and searched his room, she was clearly lying. Though he couldn’t see if her pupils dilated, which would give any lie away, he could feel her breathing as she was pressed against him. Her heart rate had slowed as he held her in his grasp until she’d spoken. Now, it was so rapid that it near thrummed out of her chest against his own.
It told him two rather interesting details. The first was that she was not being truthful and the second was that she was uncomfortable with the falsehood. Did she not tell them often or was this a particularly painful one for her in which to engage? He drummed his fingers against the small of her back as he contemplated how to get the answers he wanted.
“A pocket square?” His voice was low, lazy, intentionally so. He hoped to put her at ease. He likely should put distance between them but then, how would he measure her heart rate? Besides, he quite liked her in his arms. “If he is in need, he can use one of my mine. Tell me. What has happened that he needs one so desperately, my lady? May I call you Lady Rose? You’ll forgive me but I heard our hostess use the name. I find it suits you.”
She swallowed and her hands fluttered to his chest. At first she seemed to try to push him away but then her fingers splayed out, as though she were exploring him. How delightful.
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take one of yours. Think of the questions…” Her words tapered off but even in the moonlight, he saw her eyes grow wider. “My reputation as a lady.”
“Quite right.” He still didn’t let her go. “You wouldn’t want to be saddled with such a disappointing prospect for a husband such as myself.”
She made a choking noise in her throat. “I did not—”
Sound rumbled deep in his chest. “I shall give your father my pocket square when I return with you to the party.”
Her gasp filled the room and he tamped down a chuckle. “Return with me? Oh no, that is quite unnecessary. I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“Oh but you must. How else will you explain your burnt skirts?” He had to hide his grin as he felt her shiver. It was almost cruel the way he trapped her in her own little web of falsehoods. What would he do with her when he had her? His body hardened just considering the possibilities.
But then something even more miraculous happened. She squared her shoulders as she cleared her throat. “I will just say I was walking in the halls when a candle tipped over.”
His eyebrows rose. His little mouse was escaping. That wouldn’t do. “You are quite adept at making up stories in the moment. Well done.”
“Oh,” she gasped as she bunched up his shirt.
A growl of satisfaction rumbled in his throat. She understood his double meaning perfectly. He’d been talking about the lie she was planning and the ones she had just told. He gave her credit, she was intelligent. It was impressive. And quite honestly, he enjoyed the feel of her hands twined into his clothes.
Since he’d been alone in his room, he’d discarded his coat and vest. A decision he was most pleased with now. The crush of her breasts was far more pleasant with less fabric between them. He wondered what they would feel like without her corset and dress. Every muscle in his body clenched at the thought. “But to make it more believable, I will come with you. Say I found you on fire and put it out, which is true. All lies need an element of truth to be believable.”
Her mouth open and close several times. “You need not trouble yourself on my account. My burnt dress is all the truth I need.”
“No trouble at all.” He stepped back to let her go. Honestly, he would have preferred to keep her in his arms. Perhaps the entirety of the night. But she was an unwed lady and though his reputation was that of a drunken, gambling, thieving rake, he was actually none of those things. Well perhaps he dallied with a few more ladies than was respectable, but not ones like Lady Rose. He would assume for the moment, she was innocent, despite the fact that she’d been searching his room in the dark of night. He stayed away from innocents and kept his attention on women such as widows and light skirts. And so he’d do the proper thing now.
She wobbled at the loss of his hands and he reached out to grab her waist again. She clutched them, and took several steadying breaths. “My apologies. I suppose catching on fire has made me a bit shaky.”
A chuckle bubbled from his chest at her pluck. “I can see how that might be true. I haven’t been set to flame of late but it did happen to me once and I had to sit for several minutes. You are doing quite well.”
“Were you burned?” She looked up at him again, her large eyes luminous in the moonlight. Was it the shadows or were her cheekbones really that pleasing? He knew for certain the swell of her bosom was no nighttime trick but real and stunning.
Without intending to, he pulled her closer again. She fit against him quite well, her supple curves fitting into all the
hollows of his body. “I bear a small scar.”
“Where?” Her eyes gave him a sweep as though she might uncover the mark if she checked.
He grinned. “On my hip.” If she’d been someone else, he might have asked her if she wanted to see it. But he had another mission now. He had to stop admiring her finer qualities and figure out what this little chit was up to. Still, discussing his bare hip had its advantages. A blush heated her cheeks, turning them a lovely shade of pink in the moonlight. She was not a woman who had seen or discussed men’s pelvises. She was likely innocent.
“Thankfully for me, you put the flames out in time.” Drawing in a deep breath, she stepped back. It was rather delightful. He could almost see her pulling her wits about her despite his attempts to unsettle her. “But truly, I do not need you to return with me to the party. If you could perhaps notify my father privately that I won’t be returning so that he might make my excuses. And no need to give him your pocket square, I’m sure he can do without one.”
Then she turned and crossed the room. The door clicked open and then closed again. She left as mysteriously as she’d come. And while he hadn’t gotten the answers he’d wanted out of her, he learned a great deal. And now, he had a new mystery to solve. A beautiful little riddle.
* * *
Rose leaned against the wall as she closed her eyes and attempted to catch her breath. How had her attempt at finding the stolen jewels gone so wrong?
First, Lord Addington wasn’t supposed to be there. Lady Mildred had informed her she’d seen him sneak off into the garden with an unknown lady. Clearly Millie needed a new pair of spectacles. Secondly, she should have had a ready excuse if caught, information she would remember for next time.
Dashing Dukes and Romantic Rogues Page 70
