CHAPTER 8
Pip found the kitchen in a nervous flutter the next morning when she ventured downstairs. Ivy Chambers had been awakened during the night by a terrible toothache and had been hurried off to have the offending tooth drawn. Hazel had been hastily drafted to temporarily fill Ivy’s position, and she was not handling the sudden promotion well. “I’m no cook!” she had muttered under her breath as she haphazardly took over the running of the kitchen. Pip made herself useful, and things might have evened themselves out if Chambers, perhaps distracted by worry about his wife, hadn’t slipped and fallen in the pantry.
His injuries were not severe—a bump on the head and a slightly sprained wrist—but it threw the entire staff off balance. With both the cook and the butler indisposed, the kitchen was still in an upheaval when Royce rang down for his morning coffee a few hours later.
Normally Pip would not have been pressed into delivering the master’s tray, but a flustered Hazel, agonizing over whether to fix the veal or a leg of lamb for supper, agitatedly pushed the big silver tray in her hands and muttered, “There! I hope I haven’t forgotten anything. Take it right up to him—second floor, third door to the right.”
With a sinking heart, Pip slowly made her way upstairs, hoping fervently that Royce had gone back to sleep and that she could deliver the tray and depart without any confrontation with him. Luck seemed to be with her. Her soft tap on the oak door elicited no response, and gingerly she opened the door and peeked inside.
The huge room was gorgeous in a decidedly masculine way. Elegantly fashioned walnut and rosewood furniture was scattered tastefully about the area, and upon the floor lay a vivid Turkey red carpet, sapphire, emerald, and gold tones rioting across it in a bold design. But it was the man apparently asleep in the amber-brocade-draped bed who riveted her attention.
Against her will she was drawn farther into the room, crossing it silently, and absently placing the tray on a walnut drum table near the bed, her eyes never leaving the striking features of the tousled, tawny-haired man in the bed.
He looks so different, she thought, astonished, as she hovered nervously a few feet from the bed, her gaze wandering over the long, thick, black lashes that lay against his proudly molded cheekbones. Without the brilliance of those golden eyes to mock and distract her, Pip studied him, focusing on his arrogant nose and the chiseled perfection of his mouth. He is handsome, she decided reluctantly, wishing it weren’t so. But handsome is as handsome does, she concluded with a saucy toss of her head, fighting against the urge to continue looking at him.
His chest was bare, one muscled arm outflung, the other lying next to him; the fine linen sheets were ruched down to below his navel, and giving in to the nearly uncontrollable urge, she lingered and let her eyes continue their discovery of him. The thick mat of tawny curls that covered his broad chest fascinated her, and she was conscious of a tingling in her fingers, as if they wanted to touch him, to feel the warm flesh beneath the whorls of hair.
She swallowed uneasily, suddenly frightened of the direction of her wayward thoughts. But she was mesmerized by the indolent length of him and helplessly she stood rooted to the spot, wanting to turn away, and yet ... Her gaze dropped to the flat stomach and the arrow of golden brown hair that disappeared beneath the linen sheets, all sorts of strange new sensations springing to life within her.
Genuinely appalled by her actions, she gave a little gasp and, with an effort, tore her gaze away and turned her back on him. Pip had only taken two steps away from the bed when Royce’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Leaving so soon?” he drawled mockingly from behind her. “Didn’t you like what you saw?”
Mortified and furious at the same time, she spun around. The sight of Royce half sitting up in the bed, a lock of tawny hair tumbling endearingly across his brow, the golden eyes full of mockery, made her heart thump painfully in her chest. Marshaling her forces against the sheer power of his attractiveness, she snapped, “You should have told me you were awake! It wasn’t very polite to pretend to be asleep!”
Oblivious to his partially uncovered state, he sat up and stretched, the muscles bunching and flexing in his body. “And your staring at me wasn’t impolite?” he asked dryly.
“I wasn’t staring!” she ground out, knowing very well that she had been—avidly! “I merely wanted to see if you were asleep!”
Royce snorted. “I had to have been awake—how else could I have rung the kitchen?”
“You looked asleep!” Pip insisted tightly, her hands clenched at her sides, wishing she dared strike that taunting mouth.
She was very, very pretty when she was angry, Royce decided thoughtfully, his eyes on her angry face. To his surprise, he was discovering that he took a perverse enjoyment in rousing her wrath, taking pleasure in watching her eyes change to a dark, stormy gray, and the rosy flush that rushed into her cheeks at his provoking words and behavior. Insolently his gaze slid over her, noting the agitated rise and fall of the firmly rounded breasts beneath the blue and white gingham gown. The little pickpocket had distinct possibilities, he mused cynically, his eyes roving with increasingly sensual speculation over her delicate features and slim body. If her resemblance to St. Audries proved to be profitless, he considered slowly, a blatantly carnal smile curving his full mouth, perhaps he would ...
Startled and angry at the direction of his thoughts—seducing housemaids was not his style!—Royce said abruptly, “Since you brought the tray, pour me a cup of coffee, will you?”
Pip glared at him, but relieved that he was dropping the embarrassing subject, she stalked over to the tray and, with angry motions, did as he requested. Her mouth set, she sharply demanded, “How do you like it? Black?”
Royce nodded, and when she handed him the china cup and saucer, he asked idly, “How are you settling in? Everyone treating you well?”
Before she could stop herself, she retorted tartly, “There is only one person in this house whose treatment I find offensive!”
Over the rim of his cup, he regarded her unblinkingly, something in the depths of that golden gaze making Pip’s heartbeat increase. Warily she eyed him, stoutly telling herself that she had nothing to fear, but prudently she took a step backward.
“A wise move,” Royce murmured softly, something about him reminding Pip unnervingly of a big cat calculating the precise moment for a lethal attack.
Deciding the sooner she was away from his disruptive presence, the better, Pip took a deep breath and asked, “Shall I leave now or is there anything else you want from me?”
Inexplicably her words conjured up all manner of erotic acts he could demand of her, and to his angry consternation, he felt himself hardening under the concealing folds of the linen sheet. At least he fervently hoped they were concealing! Annoyed by his unexpected intense reaction to her, he scowled. “You may leave. You can do nothing for me!”
There was something so insulting about his tone and words that Pip felt her temper soar uncontrollably. Arrogant bastard! Staring furiously at him, she was conscious that beneath her anger, some other emotion was struggling to spring forth, that it was this other emotion that prompted her to defy and provoke him. She ignored the wisdom that urged her to leave now, before there was further trouble, her eyes narrowing as they rested on the pitcher of freshly squeezed, cold orange juice that Hazel had placed on the tray. M’lord needed some of his imperiousness dashed! Suddenly smiling sweetly, she inquired dulcetly, “Perhaps some juice before I leave?” Not waiting for his consent, she picked up the crystal pitcher and audaciously emptied the contents into his lap.
Torn between delight and horror, Pip watched the incredulous disbelief surge across his handsome features in that split second before the icy impact of the liquid hit him. Not waiting a moment longer, a nervous giggle escaping from her at the look on his face, she bolted from the room, his muffled bellow following her down the stairs.
Undecided whether to laugh or rage at her impudent actions, Royce gi
ngerly got up from his wet bed. Little devil! he thought half-angrily, half-admiringly. Just you wait, you wretched imp of Satan, he swore to himself as he proceeded to wash at the marble-topped stand, a recently filled pitcher of water and a china bowl resting on it for his use. The next time we meet, he promised tersely, you’re not going to get away so easily!
Royce had just finished washing and had pulled on a pair of buckskin breeches when he heard the door to his sitting room opening. Unexpectedly his pulses leaped. Had his small tormentor returned?
He was astonished at the depth of his disappointment when his visitor turned out to be Zachary. Pushing decidedly wicked thoughts of the continuing war with the saucy little pickpocket from his mind, Royce greeted his cousin and swiftly ushered him out of his bedchamber. He was offering no explanations about that juice-stained bed!
Except for a few events, like the sparring match and the occasional ride in Hyde Park, Royce’s and Zachary’s paths seldom crossed these days. Zachary was busy with his own friends and spent little time at home. Though they shared a meal now and then, they were seldom in each other’s company, and Royce was almost glad of Zachary’s visit this morning—it provided him with an opportunity to inform him of his meeting with Pip’s brothers and all that he had learned from them. He had debated the wisdom of telling Zachary what was going on, not wishing to involve him in any unnecessary danger, but he had concluded that there was more danger in Zachary’s ignorance of the one-eyed man than his knowledge, and so as soon as Zachary had been seated in his sitting room, Royce revealed to him all that he knew about Pip, her brothers, and the mysterious one-eyed man.
Zachary was agog with delight, his topaz eyes glittering with excitement. “By Jove, Royce! Why, this is the most capital thing that has happened since we came to London! I’ll tell you the truth, I’ve been getting a bit bored here in the city, but now! ” Leaning forward enthusiastically, he asked, “Do you want me to patrol the house at night? I have that dandy pair of pistols I just purchased last week—they’d stop any housebreaker, I can tell you!” Becoming even more excited at the intrepid prospects appearing before him, he added zealously, “Or if you’re already doing that, I could guard the door to Pip’s room. By God! I would certainly like to lay hands on this damned one-eyed man!”
Since this had been the exact reaction Royce had feared, he tried to dampen Zachary’s enthusiasm. “Zack! If Pip’s brothers are to be believed, the one-eyed man is not, I repeat, not to be treated as if he were some form of new entertainment I have procured for you! The man is deadly and he apparently has tentacles everywhere—even within the ton. Anyone could be helping him.”
“Oh, come now,” Zachary said uneasily. “It can’t be that bad. I mean, I know these brothers of Pip’s told you some very unsettling tales of this one-eyed creature’s power, but you don’t really believe that he has dominion over the members of the ton, do you? How could he?”
“Very simply,” Royce replied heavily. “I’ll give you a few examples—suppose impoverished Lord X and Lady Y wish to marry; the only problem is that Lady Y already has a husband, a very rich husband.... The one-eyed man, for a price, disposes of Lady Y’s husband in a way in which no suspicion falls upon the two principles. After a reasonable time, the lovers are married and, one presumes, live happily ever after—on the murdered Lord Y’s fortune. Or suppose young Lord Z is waiting impatiently for his rich old uncle to die; he makes a bargain with the one-eyed man, and before too long, the rich old uncle suffers a stroke and dies. Everyone is happy, Lord Z inherits the fortune he coveted, and the one-eyed man is richly paid for his efforts. Or suppose that the Duke of A’s youngest daughter suddenly finds herself in an embarrassing way—the one-eyed man sees to it that ‘the embarrassment’ is taken care of and disappears.” His face and voice grim, Royce ended with, “Everyone is satisfied with the situation—particularly the one-eyed man. Not only has he been exorbitantly rewarded for his efforts, but now he holds all of his former employers in the palm of his hand. If they wish their ugly secrets to remain hidden, they will do whatever he requires of them!”
“Good Lord!” Zachary exclaimed, aghast. “When you put it that way, it sounds so very reasonable.”
“And now you understand why what I have said must remain between ourselves?”
Zachary nodded glumly. “Don’t worry about me! I shan’t breathe a word to anyone—not even to Jeremy and Leland!”
Thinking of those two young rattles and how swiftly they had spread the word of Pip’s sex through the ton, Royce said fervently, “Especially not Jeremy and Leland!”
Smiling slightly, Zachary stood up and said, “Have no fear! I know that they are two of the biggest gossips in London.”
Walking with Zachary to the door, Royce asked, “Are you seeing them this morning?”
“Oh, yes! We are going for a ride in Hyde Park.” Zachary added casually, “Perhaps one day next week you and some of your friends would care to come riding with us?”
“Excellent idea!” Royce agreed cordially. “I’ll speak to George and some of the others about it.”
They parted amicably, each going his separate way. Royce returned to his bedroom to finish dressing, and catching sight of the juice-stained bed, an odd smile curved his mouth. He would say one thing for the advent of the little pickpocket into his household—he wasn’t bored!
During the next few days, there were no more confrontations between Royce and Pip, although he saw her now and then as she flitted busily about the house doing various chores. On more than one occasion, to his growing irritation, he found his gaze drawn irresistibly in her direction. Through half-shuttered eyes, he would watch as she worked, and he would marvel again at the smooth alabaster skin and the strikingly lovely features. To his annoyance, inevitably his gaze would slide consideringly over the gentle thrust of her bosom and the slimness of her waist and hips under the old gingham gown, and the indecent thoughts that filled his mind during those times disturbed him and made his lips twist with derision. It wasn’t, he reminded himself sardonically, as if his carnal needs were not being taken care of frequently and most enjoyably! But despite Della’s opulent charms and Heather’s bold pursuit of him, and his own best intentions, whenever Pip was in his vicinity, invariably he was conscious of decidedly dishonorable speculation about her.
If it weren’t for her amazing resemblance to the Earl (he hadn’t quite decided how he was going to make use of that!) and the promise he’d made that she could remain here in order to escape the one-eyed man, he mused savagely one morning as he was preparing to join some friends at Manton’s Shooting Gallery, he’d toss her out into the streets on that delectable little derriere of hers and put an end to this increasing fascination she seemed to hold for him! Angrily pulling on his fastidiously polished black boots, ignoring the outraged shriek from his valet, Spurling, he was beginning to wonder if this damned one-eyed man even existed. Certainly there had been no sign of him! Not that he gave a bloody hell about that supposedly villainous creature—the way he was feeling right now, he’d welcome the chance to vent some of his frustration, and a bruising fight with a master criminal would be just the thing!
To his utter fury, Pip entered his bedchamber just then, a freshly ironed stack of cravats over her arm, and Royce swore softly at the sudden leap of his pulse. Cursing his earlier concurrence with Chambers’s suggestion that because Pip was so inept in the kitchen, she be assigned to Hazel to help with the cleaning and running of various errands throughout the house, Royce glared at her. If she’d just stay out of his sight!
Oblivious to his valet’s openmouthed stare, antagonism fairly radiating from him, he said rather harshly, “I ordered those cloths twenty minutes ago. What the devil took you so long?”
Pip had done her best to keep out of his way these past few days—his powerful presence unsettled her and roused emotions that made her toss and turn restlessly at night on her narrow little bed. Unfortunately it was his house, and some contact with him had
been unavoidable, but those moments when she had to be in the same room with him were fraught with a prickly awareness of that long, lean body and the bright, hooded gaze that followed her every movement. No words would pass between them, and she would keep her features deliberately expressionless as she worked swiftly, wanting desperately to get away from him, the knowledge that he watched her making her resentful and yet tremble and feel strangely breathless.
She had tried very hard to keep a civil tongue lately, and though she was embarrassed at Spurling’s presence, Royce’s unfair attitude weakened her restraint. “Well, excuuuse me, guvnor!” she drawled brashly. “If you bloody well wanted them in such a hurry, perhaps your lordship could have stirred himself to come and get them!”
Royce’s mouth tightened, but as he stared down into her flushed, angry features, the expressive gray eyes and the haughty tilt to the little nose, he felt his fury ebb and laughter rise up inside of him. As a servant, she was proving to be singularly impertinent! But there was something about her that, in spite of himself, he found vastly appealing. She needed to be taught a lesson, though, he decided with a glint in his eyes, one he was eventually going to enjoy teaching her, about the foolhardiness of sassing one’s employer! But willing to let her escape unscathed this time, he took the cravats from her arm. “Remind me,” he murmured dryly as he turned away, “to beat you someday, will you? Now, please leave; you’ve annoyed me enough for one day.”
Not certain whether she was relieved or angry at his dismissal, Pip glared at his broad back and, to poor Spurling’s utter shock, stuck out her tongue at Royce. What she wouldn’t give to yank that tawny hair from his arrogant head!
Royce smiled when he heard the door slam forcefully behind her. Little termagant! It might be a pleasure to tame her to his hand.
He frowned at that thought and deliberately dismissed her from his mind. The morning at Manton’s Shooting Gallery passed pleasantly, and Royce was pleased to see that the idle weeks in London had done nothing to interfere with his unerring aim. He parted from his friends a few hours later and was strolling toward the house on Hanover Square when Heather Cresswell accosted him.
Whisper To Me of Love Page 14
