by Julia London
He invited her to take a seat and tell him her woes, which were, not surprisingly, quite long and minutely detailed.
Later that evening, long after Miss Hillier had told him of the incident involving Ava’s maid, Jared’s thoughts turned to Ava. If Miss Hillier’s suspicions about the maid were true—and he rather suspected they were, given the maid’s behavior—he was intrigued by how she had come to be in Ava’s employ. How could a young, naïve debutante—and Ava was, in many respects, naïve—have managed to employ a woman with questionable virtue?
He thought of the butler in Ava’s house, a man who was intent on opening and closing doors. And the young man with the familiar face who had handled Jared’s horse the day he’d called on her…hadn’t he seen him working in the public stables? Whatever the explanation, he was looking forward to supper when he might ask his wife directly. He suspected the answer would be highly entertaining.
That was the thing about Ava he most appreciated, he supposed—she was full of life, full of unconventional ideas and actions. She was unique, he was beginning to realize. An original. He could not imagine ever feeling stifled or feeling that the day was endless with Ava, as he’d felt with Lady Elizabeth.
“Supper is served, my lord,” Dawson intoned from the open door of his study.
Was it as late as that? Jared glanced at the clock and noticed the time with some surprise. He’d been sitting in his darkened study for more than an hour, mulling over things. Women in general. Ava, to be precise.
His wife was waiting for him in the green salon, sipping a glass of wine. She came to her feet when he entered—but not anxiously, not as eagerly as when she’d first arrived at Broderick Abbey.
“Good evening, Lady Middleton.”
“My lord.”
He took the glass of wine a footman offered him, turned, and held it up in toast. “To a pleasant evening.”
Her brows rose skeptically. She picked up her glass and held it out, like him. “To a pleasant evening.” She drank, put her glass down, and clasped her hands behind her back. “I should like to speak to you about a very important matter,” she said, her voice strong and clear.
Jared took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. “Would it be about your lady’s maid?” he asked casually.
“Yes. My lady’s maid. I should like her returned to me as soon as possible.”
Frankly, Jared didn’t care if her maid was here or in London or riding a star. He did not agree with Miss Hillier that a bit of foolishness with a footman necessitated her immediate dismissal. He did not condone such behavior, of course—at least not in public, where lovers risked discovery—but neither did he condone throwing a young woman to the wolves for one misstep.
What he chose to reveal to Ava, however, was something else entirely. He looked at the footmen and dismissed them with a nod. When they had quit the room, he looked at his wife and asked simply, “Do you condone such behavior?”
“Of course not. I will speak with her.”
“And do you suppose she will heed what you say?”
“Of course!” Ava said, clearly agitated. “And I certainly won’t require Miss Hillier’s assistance in speaking to my maid.”
Jared almost laughed. He knew very well how self-righteous Miss Hillier could be. He idly swirled his wine around in his glass. “You are aware, are you not, that her behavior is insupportable.”
Ava sat heavily on the settee across from him, her hands pressed together. “It is insupportable—I couldn’t possibly agree more,” she said earnestly. “Nevertheless, she is my lady’s maid, and I should have the responsibility of speaking to her myself.”
“I don’t know,” he said, toying with her.
Ava closed her eyes and sighed. Jared smiled.
“She is my lady’s maid, my lord,” Ava said. “She serves me—no one else in this house. I can’t possibly do without her.”
“Should I decide that she must be sent back to London, Miss Hillier will assist you.”
Ava’s mouth dropped open. “What? Send her back to London?” she cried. “No! How dare you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, quite enjoying himself. “It’s rather easy, really.”
Ava made a sound of angry despair, suddenly stood up, and began pacing in front of the settee. “I must admit, my lord, that I find this all very distressing. I cannot do without Sally—”
“Where did you find her?” he asked.
Ava almost stumbled. “W-what?” she asked.
“Where,” he said clearly, “did you find her?”
She blanched. Turned one way. Then the other. Punched her hands to her hips and frowned at him. “Where does anyone find her lady’s maid? Here and there,” she said, gesturing to what he supposed was here and there.
“Aha. Here and there,” he repeated.
She folded her arms across her middle.
He stood up and put his wine aside. “I suppose, then, that she served other ladies in London before coming to your service?”
“I suppose,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Who?”
“No one you know, I assure you.”
“You might be surprised, madam. I know quite a lot of people in London.”
Her brows dipped into a V. “All right, then. She came to me from Lady Hartsford.”
“Lady Hartsford?” he echoed with a laugh.
“Yes! Lady Hartsford!”
“She is deceased.”
Ava blanched, then shrugged carelessly. “Which is why, my lord, I was able to employ Sally when I did.”
He leaned forward and pinned her with a look. “Lady Hartsford died four years ago.”
Ava didn’t even blink. “It took quite a lot of time to settle her affairs. And really, why are you so concerned about Sally’s credentials? Are you in need of a lady’s maid?”
He chuckled and asked again, “Where did you find your lady’s maid? Or your butler? Or your footmen?”
Her lovely face went from white to pink. “What difference can it possibly make?” she demanded, clearly flustered.
“Do you want her back?”
“Of course I want her back! What do you want me to say? That she came from a whorehouse?” she cried.
Jared laughed. “My, my, Lady Middleton. Such language is unbecoming. What else has Sally taught you? A certain, private dance perhaps?”
Ava groaned. “Just have her brought back, please.”
“I may,” he said idly. “Provided you tell me where you found her.”
Ava sighed wearily and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and looked at him directly, her green gaze piercing his. “A poorhouse, if you must know. She is a former harlot, duly reformed by the parish and the Ladies’ Beneficent Society. Mr. Morris was a jeweler’s clerk with very poor eyesight who lost his position. Our footmen? A pair of lamp-lighters, father and son, injured in a carriage accident. The boy who helped around the house came from the public stables, and merely had dreams of working in a house. We were very fortunate that he agreed to work for no wages.”
Jared’s smile faded. “No wages? I don’t understand.”
“It’s quite simple, really,” Ava said. “We had no money. We had nothing but the roof over our heads. My mother left her fortune to my stepfather and he did not see fit to share it. So we did the best we could, finding servants who needed a roof, too, in exchange for working until we could pay them.”
“And when might that be?” he asked, horrified that Downey had left them in such a state.
For some reason, the question made Ava’s face turn pinker. “Well…now. Because I married you,” she said quietly. “The allowance you’ve provided is very generous.”
He blinked. Then burst out laughing. “Very well done!” he said.
“Then I will have Sally back to me?” she asked anxiously, her eyes sparkling with hope.
Jared shook his head. “You ask me to put a harlot in my house, Lady Middleton. I shall think on it.”
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“No!” she cried, throwing her head back with despair.
He put his hand on her elbow. “I shall think on it,” he said again, and forced her around, toward the door.
“Where are we going?” she demanded with exasperation.
“To supper.”
She muttered something under her breath, but allowed him to march her along.
In the dining room he helped her into a chair next to him, then took his seat, and nodded for Dawson to begin the meal service. Two footmen bustled around them, ladling turtle soup into china bowls and filling their glasses with wine. When they’d finished, they stepped back to stand silently along the wall.
Jared picked up his spoon and glanced at Ava, who sat with her arms folded, glaring at the soup bowl. “Will you sulk about your maid for the entire meal?”
She snorted—but then she suddenly looked up as if someone had just called her name, and graced him with a very sensual smile. “I do not sulk. But I do not care for the soup.”
“No?”
“Mmm, no,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s rather tart. I prefer onion soup,” she said, turning slightly in her chair to face him. “Do you like onion soup? Our cook in London makes the most delicious onion soup,” she said, and began to talk about the merits of that soup. Jared smiled and nodded, and ate his turtle soup, completely uninterested in the many facets of soup…until he felt her bare foot on his ankle.
He glanced up; she was smiling wickedly. “I like it served warm,” she said softly. “As warm as bath-water.”
“Do you indeed?”
“Oh yes. I’m very fond of warm baths,” she added, and the light shining in her eyes went deeper. “Long, warm baths. The sort in which one might luxuriate.”
“Then I suppose you like the waters at Bath,” he said, as her foot went higher on his leg.
“I’ve never been. But I should think I would like it very much.”
“We must remedy that, madam. I shall take you to Bath so that you might”—his gaze dipped to the décolletage of her gown —“bathe.”
Her hand dipped to her cleavage; she drew a line up, then down again. “Shall I tell you what else I enjoy?” she asked as her foot caressed his leg.
“By all means.”
“Soft beds.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding appreciatively, enjoying her efforts to flirt her maid out of him. He propped his arm on the table and leaned toward her. “Do you find your bed here very soft?” he whispered.
Ava smiled, leaned toward him, and whispered, “Very. Would you like to try it?” And then she sank back in her chair as her foot moved between his thighs.
He cocked a brow. “Is that an invitation?”
She shrugged playfully as her fingers brushed the flesh of her bosom.
He felt full of anticipation, loved playing this lover’s game, and gestured for the footmen to pick up their plates, wanting to hurry the meal along. “Did you enjoy your riding lesson today?”
She smiled. “I would that I were more skilled. I dearly hope that you will continue to teach me.”
His gaze dropped to her bosom, two creamy mounds of flesh exquisitely displayed in a pale blue satin. “It will be my great pleasure,” he said, and winked at her as a footman cleared their dishes.
They spoke of inconsequential things for the remainder of the meal, Ava laughing softly at the things he said as her foot continued to dance. He pretended not to notice, just smiled and enjoyed her efforts to entice him. When the meal was finished, and the last of the dishes were cleared away, Dawson brought him a cheroot and a port.
“Thank you, Dawson, but I don’t care for any.”
“My lord, please do enjoy your port,” his wife said, rising from her chair as a footman hurried to pull her chair out. She walked to the head of the table where Jared sat, let her hand trail his shoulder, and leaned down, so that her lips were next to his ear, and whispered, “You must give me time to prepare my soft bed for you.”
That, he reasoned, would be worth the addition of one trollop to his staff. He took Ava’s hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “I will join you shortly.”
He watched her glide out of the dining room, her hips moving seductively beneath a trim back, her hair simply but perfectly coiffed. How odd, he thought idly as she disappeared into the corridor, that a scant few days ago he’d wanted to avoid her company.
He finished his port, but decided to forgo the cheroot in favor of getting to his rooms more quickly. “That will be all,” he said quietly to Dawson, who still attended him after the footmen had gone.
“Good night, sir,” Dawson intoned as Jared strode out of the room.
A good night, indeed, he thought.
Just as Ava had anticipated, a half hour later, Middleton knocked on her door. She didn’t answer, but moved deeper behind the thick velvet drapes that hid her. From a small space between the drapes and the wall, she could see the door open, and his dark head pop in, looking about the room. “Lady Middleton?”
“Come in,” she called out to him.
He stepped inside wearing his dressing gown, his feet bare. He closed the door and walked into the middle of the room, looking for her. With a lopsided smile, he put his hands to his hips. “All right. Where are you?”
“I’m here, my lord. Please do sit.”
He paused, looking directly at the drape she was hiding behind. “Sit?”
Ava moved deeper into the thick velvet drapes, and insisted, “Sit.” She listened until she heard the slight groan of the overstuffed, chintz-covered chair at her hearth.
As she moved from behind the drape, she saw his head turn and said low, “Don’t.”
With only a slight hesitation, he settled back. “I must remark that you have an alarming way of changing humors. One moment you are cross, then inexplicably happy, and now, rather mysterious.”
“Are you displeased?” she asked from a distance behind him.
“Not in the least. I am just curious to know what you are about.”
“You shall know momentarily,” she said, stepping carefully from behind the drapes. He was sitting, resting his head against the back of the chair. Ava moved quietly, carefully, until she was standing behind him. “Close your eyes.”
He chuckled. “There. They are closed. Now what keeps you?”
She didn’t trust him not to look and eased her way around the corner of the chair to stand in front of him. Indeed, his eyes were closed, and there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips.
Slowly, she lifted the épée she had taken from the great room, raised it high, then lowered it to rest on his shoulder.
The touch of the metal blade to his shoulder startled him; his eyes flew open at the same time he made a move to sit up, but she pressed the épée against him and shook her head. “I wouldn’t, were I you,” she said cheerfully, smiling as his gaze focused on the full length of her, taking in the silk chemise she wore and the fact that she wore nothing else.
He slowly sank back in his chair, his smile broadening.
Ava moved the épée to his fresh-shaven chin. Middleton showed no fear; in fact, he grinned. “You obviously esteem your maid, madam.”
“I do,” she said silkily.
“You are a woman with many secrets,” he observed as his gaze skimmed her bare legs.
She moved the épée down to the gap in his dressing gown. “But I have no secrets, my lord. I only want my maid returned to me.”
“That is not entirely true,” he said as he lifted his gaze, first to her waist, and then to the open laces of her chemise. “How you came by your maid was a secret. And I think you have more.”
She smiled, drew the épée down a little farther. “I have no more.”
He looked down at the tip of the épée and grinned wolfishly. “I’ll make you a bargain, lady. I will send for your maid at first light if you will confess your other secrets.”
She laughed low, slid the tip of the épée down to the sash that tied his
dressing gown. “You, sir, are in no position to bargain.”
He laughed and held his arms out wide. “Oh, but I think I am.” And then he moved so swiftly that she didn’t have time to react. He easily pushed the épée away and caught it at the same moment he surged up. Startled by his sudden movement, Ava stumbled a bit, but Middleton caught her about the waist, crushing her tightly to him at the same moment he pushed her up against the wall. The épée fell to the carpet; an ottoman toppled onto its side.
“I do enjoy your games,” he said as his gaze hungrily roamed her face. “Quite stimulating.”
Surely not nearly as stimulating as she was finding him at the moment. His strength surprised her, as did the grace with which he moved and overpowered her in her game. He was strong, virile, handsome, and looking at her as if he could devour her in one bite. She squirmed, trying to release his hold of her and regain the upper hand, but he easily held on.
“Why do you struggle, Lady Middleton? Do you fear how I will extract your secrets?”
She laughed, and managed to get her arms between them, pushing hard against his chest. “I don’t have any secrets.”
“I think I will hold you captive until you confess,” he said with a dark smile.
“There is nothing to tell,” she said, and pushed him again, but she couldn’t budge him at all.
“Isn’t there?” He yanked at the sash around his middle and pulled the tie free with one hand. “If you don’t tell me, I will disrobe you…” He paused, his gaze running the length of her body and back. “…and punish you by licking you here…and there….”
Her skin was already on fire, her pulse already coursing blood through her body. She drew a sharp breath; he laughed, and put his hand to her cheek as if he meant to end their play. Ava smiled gratefully, turned her mouth to his palm—and bit the flesh.
Middleton yelped with surprise at the same moment she pushed hard against him and darted away. But he was too fast, catching her with one arm, bending her backward over a chair, his hazel eyes glittering with desire. “You should not have done that,” he said. “Now you must pay for it.” Holding the tie of his dressing gown, he grabbed her hands and wrapped the tie around them. His dressing gown fell apart, yet he hardly seemed to notice or care that beneath it he was quite naked and quite aroused.
