Let Sleeping Rogues Lie

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Your equally curious cousin,

  Michael

  They toured the menagerie for two hours, with Mr. Godwin providing feed buckets and allowing the girls to pet the tame animals. Madeline tried to add to the girls’ education throughout, but it was difficult when Anthony kept staring at her with that assessing look. What was he thinking? Was he considering how to get her alone so they could “finish” their lesson in seduction?

  An uncomfortable heat pooled in her belly, making her want to squirm, as she’d squirmed earlier when he’d stroked her between the legs. He would surely do it again if she gave him the slightest encouragement.

  Any more sessions like this morning’s and she would find herself in deep trouble. She couldn’t even hold her tongue in public—how would she do it in private once he started…turning her to mush?

  If only she hadn’t blurted out that bit about the goat-riding. She’d covered up her slip, but she couldn’t have him finding out she was from Telford. One letter to anyone he might have known when he’d lived there, and he’d have the whole tale about Papa in excruciating detail.

  Still, the party must be soon. Which meant she’d have to let him give her that dratted lesson. But next time she meant to be better prepared. Tonight, no matter how demanding her father, she was going to read that harem book. It might be lurid, but at least it would explain the wild way Anthony made her feel.

  She’d thought she understood the principles of lovemaking because of her observations of animals, but she hadn’t counted on how amazing it felt to have a man kiss her, caress and fondle her private parts, make her feel as if only she—

  “Madeline,” said a voice at her ear.

  Startled, she turned to find Mrs. Harris looking irritated. “Is something wrong?” Madeline asked.

  “Lord Norcourt and Lady Tarley have disappeared.”

  Madeline gave her a blank stare, though she wanted to scream. Going off alone with Lady Tart was not going to help Anthony’s cause. Or Madeline’s.

  “We’re about to be called in for luncheon,” Mrs. Harris went on. “Fortunately, Charles hasn’t noticed, and the girls and the other teachers were too engrossed in watching him feed the lion to notice, either—but if the viscount and the countess stay gone much longer, everyone will remark upon it. Someone must find them before that happens. I’d go myself, but then Charles is sure to notice.”

  “Shall we send a servant?”

  “No, indeed. Who knows what they might be doing? Servants gossip, and I cannot risk the school’s reputation by having something like this happen at a school function. Bad enough that Charles dislikes him, but if it gets out that I brought them together on purpose—”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. I let my guard down. I should never have let him inside my school.” When Madeline blanched, Mrs. Harris said, “I’m not blaming you, dear; I’m blaming myself. You were merely attempting to help the girls—and his poor niece. But I’m experienced enough to know that rakehells never change.”

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Why, they might not even be together at all.” When Mrs. Harris snorted, she added hastily, “And even if they are, they’re probably just touring the gardens and…and talking over old times.”

  Mrs. Harris’s raised brow showed her skepticism. “Nonetheless, you must be the one to find them. I can’t risk anyone else catching them misbehaving.”

  “Of course not. I’ll bring them back discreetly, I promise.”

  Tapping her chin, Mrs. Harris mused a moment. “I’ll tell everyone that Lady Tarley headed toward the carriages to look for a shawl she dropped, and I sent you that direction to fetch her in for luncheon.”

  “Have you any idea where they might actually be?”

  “Try the garden pavilion first. It’s the only private spot on the grounds. When you find them, instruct Lady Tarley what to say before bringing her back.”

  “All right.” That might be something of a feat, but she’d do her best.

  “His lordship can follow later. I’m sure he’s adept at lying his way out of any situation, so he can produce his own explanation for where he wandered. Just make sure you and Lady Tarley approach from a completely different direction.”

  With a nod, Madeline started to walk away, but Mrs. Harris stayed her. “Later, I shall expect a full report about what you saw.”

  Madeline’s throat went dry. “You want me to spy on them?”

  The color rose in Mrs. Harris’s cheeks. “I want to know how badly my experiment has run awry. Then I can determine how to proceed.”

  Oh, Lord. This was bad, very bad. “As you wish.”

  But a flood of anger rose in her throat as she headed toward the carriages until she was out of sight of everyone, then circled back to find the path to the pavilion. All her plans were about to be ruined, and for what? She would not let him ruin her plan to save Papa, even if she had to drag him kicking and screaming off that blowsy witch Lady Tart!

  By the time she found the garden pavilion half-hidden in some trees, she’d worked herself into quite a temper. The sound of voices as she neared the miniature stone building made things worse, for it proved Mrs. Harris right.

  But the voices weren’t cozy murmurs. They sounded rather hostile. Creeping up to an open glass window, Madeline peered inside to find Anthony leaning against the central pillar, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression grim as he watched Lady Tarley swish in front of him, halfheartedly tucking her fichu back in the bodice of her gown.

  “You could at least help me, Tony,” Lady Tart complained in her girlish voice, although her enormous breasts were anything but girlish as they fought to escape her snug bodice.

  A pang of envy seized Madeline before she tamped it down. What did she care if Lady Tarley possessed the two attributes that men always seemed to want—a buxom figure and no brain to speak of?

  Though Anthony didn’t look particularly entranced by either. “It wasn’t my idea for you to remove your fichu.” His voice dripped condescension. “I’m certainly not fool enough to put it back in for you. And stop calling me ‘Tony.’ You know I hate it.”

  “I know you used to be more fun.” Lady Tarley stuck out her lower lip in a pretty pout that didn’t seem to move him. “I can’t believe gaining the title turned you into such a dull creature that you can’t give a girl a little pleasure.”

  With a curse, Anthony pushed away from the pillar. “You’re not a girl, Kitty. You’re a married woman. And I don’t dally with married women.”

  She thrust out her breasts. “Even ones with charms like mine?”

  “Yes, damn it! How many times must I tell you I don’t commit adultery?”

  So he had some scruples after all, did he? That, plus his refusal of Lady Tart’s overtures, dissipated Madeline’s temper.

  “If so,” Lady Tarley snapped, “it’s the only thing you don’t do. What a silly rule for a rakehell.”

  “However it may seem to you, it is my rule, and I never break it.”

  “But the earl hardly notices that I—”

  “I don’t care,” he growled. “I don’t care if your husband bores you in bed or ignores you or prances on your head every night. I am not interested in renewing our affair, as I’ve made clear countless times already today.” He grabbed her by the arm and tried to lead her to the door. “It’s time for you to return. I’ll follow in a few minutes. We don’t want anyone to realize we’ve been off together.”

  “Why not?” Snatching her arm free, she searched his face. “Don’t tell me Widow Harris has caught your eye? That’s pointless, you know. My brother Charles wants her for something more than a tumble, so she won’t look at you. Besides, she’d never allow a man of your low morals to bed her.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not remotely interested in her.”

  Lady Tarley blinked. Then her eyes went wide in horror. “Oh, Lord, you want to seduce that scrawny schoolteacher with the outrageous to
ngue!”

  Scrawny! Because Madeline didn’t have breasts so big they could float a ship? How dared the witch call her scrawny!

  When Anthony uttered a low curse, Lady Tarley tossed back her head. “I’ll put a stop to that. I’ll tell my brother to have that saucy creature dismissed.”

  As Madeline’s heart dropped into her stomach, Anthony exploded. “You will do nothing of the kind, you nasty little twit,” he growled.

  With implacable steps, he backed Lady Tarley into a stone bench that caught her behind the knees, forcing her to sit abruptly, her breasts jiggling at the shock.

  He paid them no heed as he loomed over her, anger cutting his features into sharp planes. “If you say anything to cause Miss Prescott to lose her position, I’ll make you regret it. The woman is necessary to my plans, damn you.”

  Necessary to my plans. Madeline caught her breath at the sudden stab of pain in her chest. It shouldn’t hurt. It was what they’d both agreed to from the beginning. But to hear him state it so baldly tightened a knot in her heart.

  “There’s naught you can do to stop me,” Lady Tarley taunted him.

  “You think not?” The menace in Anthony’s voice took Madeline by surprise. “No doubt the earl would be interested to hear about your friend in Bond Street who lends you money for your card games without charging you interest. That is, as long as you provide him with certain benefits.”

  The color drained from Lady Tarley’s face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “But I would, my dear, with great relish.”

  Madeline ought to be shocked by his chilling threat. Instead, she was thrilled by his defense of her, even if it was only because she was necessary to his plans.

  “You can be such a beast sometimes,” the countess complained. She stood and shoved him away, then gave a petulant sniff. “Fine, if you want her, take her. You won’t be satisfied for long with that bony scarecrow in your bed. And when you come crawling to me, I shall make you beg before I take you back.”

  Lady Tarley was already flouncing toward the door, so she didn’t see Anthony roll his eyes. She was apparently so sure of her power that when Anthony said, “One more thing, Kitty,” she gave a secretive little smile before schooling her features into a pout as she faced him.

  “Any attempt to ruin my reputation will damage yours far more. So when they ask where you’ve been, tell them you were revisiting your favorite spot on the grounds. Alone. And you haven’t seen me. Understood?”

  Lady Tarley looked to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. But though her lips twisted into a bitter line, she nodded before marching out the door.

  Madeline shrank back to avoid being seen as Lady Tarley hurried off down the path. She dared not catch up to the countess now. Lady Tarley would assume that Madeline had come out here for a tête-à-tête with Anthony, and an enraged Lady Tarley wouldn’t exactly go along with Mrs. Harris’s scheme. Better to let the woman return and give the excuse Anthony had dictated. Perhaps no one had even noticed her departure.

  She sighed. Except Mrs. Harris. She would also notice the countess’s return.

  Unless…Perhaps Madeline could race through the trees and come from the direction of the carriages when Lady Tarley emerged from the pavilion path. With everyone already inside, no one would see. Then Madeline could coax the woman to enter with her so that Mrs. Harris wouldn’t be the wiser.

  Yes, that might work. She slipped stealthily into the trees.

  She might have escaped unnoticed, too, if not for looking back to make sure Anthony wasn’t in pursuit. Because that’s when she stumbled over a tree stump and landed with a crash in the brush.

  As Anthony growled, “What the bloody devil?” she scrambled to her feet in a panic. But she wasn’t quick enough. He was out the door to catch her before she’d even steadied herself. Drat it all.

  “Skulking about in the woods, Madeline?” he bit out as he surveyed her hapless state. “I didn’t take you for the sort.”

  She strove for calm while she brushed leaves and twigs from her skirts. “Mrs. Harris sent me to fetch you and Lady Tarley for the luncheon.”

  He frowned. “Damnation, I made sure no one saw us leave together.”

  “That didn’t keep Mrs. Harris from noticing you were gone.” When he reached up to pick leaves from her coiffure, she glared at him. “And given her suspicions about you, you can guess what conclusions she leaped to. Which were obviously well-founded, since she knew exactly where to send me to look first.”

  “What the devil was I supposed to do?” He threaded his fingers through his hair. “Kitty kept plaguing me to join her on a tour of her brother’s new garden pavilion, so it was either get her alone to tell her where we stood or risk having her become increasingly indiscreet in her flirtations before Mrs. Harris and the girls. I did what I thought was best.”

  With a sniff, Madeline stalked past him. “It’s no concern of mine how you act around Lady Tarley as long as it doesn’t ruin my plans.”

  He caught her by the arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To make sure ‘Kitty’ doesn’t say anything stupid.”

  “She won’t. She’ll not risk having her husband learn of her gambling indiscretions.” He eyed her closely. “You should trust me in this—I don’t wish to see your plans ruined either. Or your reputation. It wouldn’t help my plans.”

  “Yes, I know perfectly well how necessary I am to your plans.”

  The sudden narrowing of his gaze warned her she shouldn’t have revealed what she’d overheard, no matter how much his words had rankled.

  “Well, well, a schemer and an eavesdropper,” he said.

  “It’s hard not to overhear people when they’re practically shouting. Besides, I didn’t dare interrupt while Lady Tarley was dressing herself.”

  The brittleness in his gaze softened a fraction. “If you overheard us, you know she never removed more than her fichu. So the only reason I can think of for this burst of pique is that you’re jealous.”

  “Of you and that hen-witted tart with her rhinoceros-sized breasts?” Her ire only increased when he smiled. “I don’t care one whit what you do together.”

  Twisting free of his hold, she tried once more to leave, but he caught her about the waist from behind to drag her up against him. “She means nothing to me, you know,” he murmured in her ear. “We shared a bed years ago when she was between husbands, but I could only bear a few nights of her inane chatter before I had to end it. I’m not interested in Lady Tarley.”

  “I told you, I don’t care!” She tried to pry his arm from about her waist, but he was surprisingly strong.

  “If you don’t care, then why are you annoyed?” he drawled. “And why are you angry that I said you were necessary to my plans when you know you are?”

  “If I’m so necessary,” she snapped, “let me go clean up your mess!”

  “My mess is already taken care of.” Heedless of her struggling, he pulled her inside the pavilion. “Besides, sweetheart, it’s time you and I have a little talk.”

  Only after he had shut the door and leaned back against it did he release her. She backed away, her hands fisting at her sides. “Talk? About what?”

  His gaze pierced her. “How you heard the story of the bacchanal at Eton.”

  She froze. “I already told you. I read it in a newspaper.”

  “Impossible. No one writes about schoolboys, especially ones who are merely second sons.”

  “But you weren’t the only one involved. Your society friends were there, too: the heir to the Marquess of Stoneville and the heir to—”

  She broke off as she realized, too late, that she’d only dug the hole deeper.

  “How do you know all that, damn you?” He shoved away from the door to stalk toward her. “Our fathers spent a great deal of money to keep the tale from leaking out beyond Eton.”

  “Apparently not enough,” she quipped, frantic to assuage his suspicions as she backed away. But the distrust
darkening his face knifed a chill of foreboding through her belly.

  “I want to know how you heard the tale,” he demanded, “and I want to know now.”

  She scrambled for some plausible lie. A brother at Eton? No, Anthony would just ask for a name, and she’d be sunk. But she could hardly tell him that she’d heard it in Telford, because then he would seek out the truth of who she was.

  “Damn it,” he growled as he backed her into the pillar, “where the devil did you hear about that bacchanal? How do you know so much about me? What—”

  “I grew up in a town near where you lived!” she burst out, praying she could convince him it was Shrewsbury or some other place.

  He blinked. “Near Chertsey?”

  Chertsey, of course! His childhood home, where his estate was, lay far away from Telford. She’d even visited the town once as a child, when her father had gone there on some business, so perhaps she could pretend to know it.

  “That’s where you lived, isn’t it?” she answered. “The townspeople gossiped about your family often, and that was one tale that made the rounds.”

  He searched her face, as if trying to determine her truthfulness.

  With a toss of her head, she stared him down. “There, are you happy? Can I please return to the others now?”

  “Not yet.” His eyes darkened to an unfathomable blue as he gripped her waist to keep her from sliding away from between him and the pillar. “Your answer merely makes me wonder why this is the first I’m hearing of it. Why the bloody devil didn’t you tell me from the beginning that you knew my family?”

  The bottom dropped out of her bravado. Lord help her, now what?

  Chapter Twelve

  Dear Cousin,

  I carried your suggestion one step further and invited Lord Godwin’s sister to join us. That should make for an interesting day at the menagerie, if nothing else, and it will let me observe Lord Norcourt’s behavior for myself.

  Your friend,

  Charlotte

  I want an answer,” Anthony clipped out.

  Every time he began to rethink his assumptions about her, something else spilled out of her mouth to give him pause. Who was she, damn it?