by The Rogue
She put out her hand. “Give it to me.”
Ethan blinked sweetly up at her. “Why, Lady Jane, I’ve no idea what you mean!” Jeeves made a tiny choking noise behind her. She ignored him and focused her entire attention on Ethan. Her hand remained extended, unmoving, until finally he let his shoulders slump in resignation.
“Oh, very well.” He reached into his pocket. “Here.”
He plunked something warm and fuzzy and squirming into her waiting palm. Jane gasped in shock. “Ethan Damont, you should be ashamed!” She shook her head at him furiously. “Giving kidneys to such a baby!” She tucked the kitten protectively under her chin. “That’s far too rich a fare! Jeeves, room temperature cream, if you please,” she ordered briskly.
“Yes, my lady.” Jeeves reappeared almost instantly with a saucer and a small pitcher. Jane made a place next to her plate.
“Oy!” Ethan protested. “That’s my moggie!”
Jane reluctantly untucked the kitten from her neck. “Well . . .” she said slowly. “Very well, if you promise not to feed her any more ridiculous fare until she is old enough to digest them.”
“He,” muttered Ethan as he repossessed his kitten. “The proper address is ‘he.’ His name is Zeus.”
“Zeus? Zeus?” Jane sank to her chair, one hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook. Bloody hell, she was laughing at him again. While he waited for her to subside, Ethan stroked one finger over Zeus’s head while the kitten made short work of the cream.
Finally, he could bear no more. “Are you quite finished?”
Jane waved a languid hand his way. “Al-almost!” she gasped.
Zeus plunked his tiny bottom on the fine table linen and clumsily began to wash the splashed cream from his face with one tongue-dampened paw.
Jane slid back in her chair, her arms crossed over her aching midriff. “The mighty hunter has returned from the kill. Zeus.” She snickered again. “Tell me, is he the one with delusions of grandeur, or is it you?”
Ethan shot her a disgruntled glare. “What’s wrong with the name Zeus?”
“Not a thing,” she retorted gleefully, “if you’re a thirty-stone lion on the veldt.”
Ethan folded his arms. “Well, I see no reason to call him ‘Precious’ or ‘Fluffy,’ or some other embarrassing title which will someday require him to trounce numerous other toms in order to prove his manhood.”
Jane blinked. “Why, Mr. Damont—I do believe I just caught you considering the future!”
Ethan drew back. “I did no such thing!”
“Yes you did. You obtained a cat and named him for who he would be, not who he is. You planned ahead!” She fluttered her lashes and sighed dramatically. “I’m so proud.”
Her antics pulled a reluctant laugh from him. “You’re obnoxious, my lady.”
She simpered at him. “And I feel the same for you, kind sir!”
It was a brief return to the way they had been. Disturbed, Ethan stood and scooped Zeus up by his round, full little tummy and deposited him in the customary pocket. “I hate to interrupt your entertainment,” he told Jane. “But I fear I have work to do.”
She sobered immediately. “You’re not returning to Maywell House?”
He shrugged. “It would raise suspicion if I did not. I’m sure his lordship is awaiting my report.”
“How will you explain my escape from the sanitarium?”
“You have not escaped yet, remember? Bess will let herself out when she sees fit.” Ethan shrugged. “Even then, I was told to deliver you to the institution. I did so. Whatever happened after—well, that could hardly be considered my fault, could it?”
“They’ll know someone helped me.”
“No, they’ll suspect someone helped you. The guard never looked at my face with all those distractions. I’m sure that I’ll come under suspicion, for his lordship has noticed my partiality to you. The best way to allay those suspicions is to continue to behave as I have been—a willing convert to his lordship’s cause.”
She reached out and caught his hand as he walked past her. The spontaneous gesture stopped him in his tracks. With urgent fingers, she pulled him a step closer. “Take care, Mr. Ethan Damont,” she said softly. “I should be very unhappy to lose a friend so recently found.”
They had touched more intimately in the past, but that moment, with her ungloved fingers very nearly twining with his—the profound vulnerability of her slender hand in his—made him catch his breath.
Jane felt him cling to her hand for the merest second. Then he smiled slightly, a mere twist of his lips. “And I feel the same for you, kind madam.” His low, soft voice was a startling caress.
Then he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jeeves was waiting in the hall with his hat and walking stick when Ethan descended the stairs.
“How long will the young lady be staying, sir?”
Ethan halted. “To be honest, Jeeves, I don’t know. I haven’t been thinking very far ahead lately.”
Jeeves nodded. “Yes, sir. Then might I suggest that you make preparations to keep her for some time?”
Ethan blinked at him. “Jeeves, are you suggesting that I should keep her?”
“She is a very fine young lady, sir. I’m sure one doesn’t come across such a treasure often. One wouldn’t want such a lady to get away.”
Ethan laughed slightly, shaking his head. “Not matchmaking now, are you, Jeeves?”
“Sir?”
Yet, Jeeves was quite correct on one point. “Ah, Jeeves, it would be wise . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure how to phrase himself. “I think it would be best if the young lady didn’t leave the house at all. Could you see to that?”
Jeeves nodded, his eyes as untroubled as a still pond. “I’ll tell Uri and Mrs. Cook as well, sir.”
Ethan frowned. “Er, yes. All right.” Wasn’t it a bit appalling how his staff wasn’t blinking twice at the notion of keeping a woman prisoner in the house? After all, he didn’t pay that well.
“Pay” made him think of bills, which made him think of not being able to pay them again.
Oh, well. No matter. In the words of the valiant Bess, “It were worth it.”
The breakfast room felt cold when Ethan was gone. Jane pulled her borrowed dressing gown more tightly over her neck. Ethan’s scent rose up from the rich velvet—mingled tobacco and sandalwood and Ethan.
When had she become so familiar with the scent of him? When had the touch of his fingers become something rather necessary to her existence?
She wanted him not gone, not on his way to Lord Maywell’s house. She would not call that man “uncle” any longer. His betrayal of her cut even more deeply than his turncoat activities—perhaps because loyalty to England was a large and abstract concept but loyalty to family was something one could see and hear and feel when it was gone.
Like the loyalty she’d developed toward her aunt and those five dear, silly girls. Worry for them rose within her, and for Bess, still in the asylum.
Yet, for all her bonds to her relations, most of her worry rose for Ethan, going back into that viper’s hold.
The butler came back into the room and took his customary place behind the master’s empty chair. She smiled tremulously at him.
“I fear you are stuck with me, Jeeves.”
She was surprised at the faint pained expression that passed over his face. “What is it? What did I say?”
He seemed appalled that she had noted anything unusual. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quickly. “It is only that name.”
She blinked. “What name? Jeeves? Is that not your name?”
“No, my lady. The master calls me ‘Jeeves’ out of his own preference for the name.”
“He actually renamed you? More to the point, he renamed you Jeeves?”
“Jeeves will do.” The butler sighed faintly. “The master does enjoy his little jests.”
“I know.” Jane snorted. “He calls me ‘Lady P
ain.’ ”
“Oh, no, my lady. The master did not dub you thus. You are well-known by that name.”
Hurt stabbed her. “I am? But why?”
Jeeves gazed at her evenly. “I daresay it is because of your letters of refusal to your suitors.”
Jane frankly gaped. “Letters? Suitors?”
“You seem quite taken aback, my lady. Did you not pen some rather pointed letters of refusal to the young gentlemen who sought your hand?”
“My hand?” Jane became aware that she was causing an echo. “Forgive me, Jeeves. It is not that I doubt you—but I have no idea what it is you speak of!”
Jeeves lifted a brow. “I see. Well, then, my lady, it seems someone has been acting on your behalf in this.”
“Someone like his lordship,” Jane muttered. She found herself furious anew. “I cannot believe—”
Except that she could and did believe. Lord Maywell was capable of virtual murder of a relation. She would not have lasted long in Bedlam, at least not as the person she was. Was not that a more ruthless act than driving away a few young gentlemen in order to keep his hands upon her supposed inheritance?
True—but Lady Pain?
A flush of humiliation rose. She pressed both palms to cool her cheeks. “What people must think of me!”
“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that, my lady,” Jeeves said calmly. “They’ll forget all about it once they learn that you spent the night with the notorious Ethan Damont.”
Jane jerked her head up at that. “Jeeves, please! No word must get out—”
Jeeves nodded evenly. “That’s better, my lady. What’s done is done. His lordship will get his just deserts, I’ve no doubt.”
Jane laughed ruefully. “I suppose that was a bit silly, worrying about my name.”
“Yes, my lady. Come, you are chilled. Mrs. Cook has mentioned that she would be glad of a bit of company in the kitchen if you’re so inclined.”
Mrs. Cook was a cheerful sort, round and bubbly like the pots cooking on her stove. The kitchen was fragrant and warm from the day’s baking that sat cooling on a rack.
Jane felt swept away to long ago, when she’d pester the cook in the kitchen and get a hot bun in return for leaving the cook to her work.
Mrs. Cook sat Jane down with a cup of tea and a bun and a sympathetic smile. Jane’s eyes burned at the kindness. “Thank you, Mrs. Cook—” She gazed up at the woman in worry. “Is that really your name, or has Mr. Damont renamed you as well?”
“Oh, not to worry, my lady. I’ve been Sarah Cook for so many years now I’ve forgot whatever I was before. Husbands, they come and they go.”
Jane sipped her tea and gazed at Sarah Cook with wide eyes. “How many husbands have you had, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Oh, no, dearie, I don’t mind.” Sarah thought for a moment. “Well, let me think . . .”
Jane laughed into her cup. “I beg your pardon,” she sputtered.
Unperturbed, Mrs. Cook folded her hands over her midriff. “ ’Tis a funny thing, to lose track like that. If I’m counting only the ones I took before the cleric . . .”
The story of Mrs. Cook’s scandalous and varied romances took up most of the morning, and by the time she’d finished relating the demise of her last “but not least, oh my, no!” spouse, Jane was feeling much more herself.
“I don’t suppose you know where I can find some clothing?” As fond as she was becoming of Ethan’s dressing gown, she’d prefer not to still be wearing it when he returned. There was something a bit too intimate about lounging about wrapped in his scent all day.
Mrs. Cook’s expression went a bit sly. “I did send a message to a friend last night that I had need of a few things . . .”
Ethan strode through the front door of the Liar’s Club with a nod to Stubbs, the doorman, and made his way directly up the stairs to the rear of the upper hallway.
Appearing from nowhere in particular, Collis caught up with him as he was searching for the trigger of the secret door.
“Hold on, there, Damont!” Collis came up level to him and lowered his voice. “It’s customary to look both ways first, old man.”
Ethan obediently looked behind him. There were no public patrons anywhere about this early. That done, he shoved at the secret spot with the heel of his hand.
“Not there.” Collis stroked one hand down the crease between two panels. It was nothing but a thin, dark line, but the door clicked obediently. “Now push.”
Ethan did, and the door sank in and slid to the side. “Counterweights?”
“Hmm. Installed a hundred years ago. They’re a real horror to repair, let me tell you. One can hardly get at them.”
“Not interested, Tremayne.” They passed through to the Liar side. “Where’s the Gentleman?”
“Himself is up in the attic with Herself. No Liars allowed.”
Ethan grimaced. “I thought she was expecting?”
Collis laughed. “Just you wait until you’re married.”
Ethan shook his head. Never. But Collis clapped him on the back and said, “Wait for him in the office. I’ll ring the bell to let him know something’s come in.” He peered at Ethan. “Something has come in, yes?”
Ethan nodded shortly. “I wouldn’t be wasting his time.”
Collis grinned. “Excellent. He’ll be very pleased.” He turned away.
Ethan shrugged off the sting of the friendly blow to his shoulder. He didn’t care if Etheridge was over the moon. He only wanted this over so that Jane could be safely out of it.
Ethan was in the not-so-secret office for less than a minute before Dalton entered.
“What do you have for me?” Boyish eagerness flashed in those eerie silver eyes and his color was high. Ethan blinked. His lordship looked very nearly human.
“I have the addresses of several pleasure houses near Westminster that are being run for the purpose of squeezing pillow talk out of government officials,” Ethan said, handing him the list. “Do keep that quiet until I’m—” Out of it. Except that Etheridge didn’t want him out of it. “Until I’m more securely in position.”
“Maywell has offered you a place?”
“Oh, yes. My job is to be a Liar. He knows all about you lot. He wants me to spy on you for him.”
Etheridge’s eyes widened. There was some satisfaction in seeing his mightiness gobsmacked with surprise. Ethan felt it only distantly, but found it pleasurable anyway.
“Bloody hell,” Etheridge whispered finally. Then his eyes sharpened. “What did he offer you?”
It was an obvious question. His lordship wasn’t dim after all. Ethan shrugged. “He offered me his niece’s hand in marriage.”
Etheridge frowned. “Why in hell would he do that?”
Ethan only gazed at him evenly. “Because I could never attach a lady of that caliber on my own.”
Etheridge pursed his lips. “Is she very beautiful? And an heiress, I suppose.”
Ethan nodded. “She’s the daughter of the ninth Marquis of Wyndham.”
“Wyndham?” Something flashed in Etheridge’s eyes. “That’s . . . interesting.”
“I told him I would consider his proposal.”
“You did, did you?” Etheridge watched him closely. “That would be quite a conquest.”
Especially for a man like you. Etheridge didn’t say it but Ethan heard it echo clearly in the small room.
Ethan didn’t take offense. He no longer cared for Etheridge’s opinion. He shook his head. “I’m not interested in marriage,” he said flatly.
Surprisingly, Etheridge grinned, a swift friendly flash. “I’ve heard that before. In fact, I’m quite sure I’ve said it.”
Then he went back to the cool lordly manner of before, to Ethan’s relief. “An offer like that could sway many men. So . . . which side are you on now?”
Ethan met his gaze. “England’s.” Jane’s England. Not Maywell’s, not the Liars’. The one where a certain bright candle could burn safe and long.
Etheridge nodded shortly. “Is there anything more?”
“No.” Ethan donned his finest poker face. “What more would there be?”
The spymaster tilted his head. “I see.”
Ethan looked away. Those damned silver eyes . . .
“I’m due at Maywell’s now. You wish me to accept his proposal, I take it?”
Etheridge smiled slightly. “I wish you to appear to accept it. I’m not sure actually wedding the niece would be wise.”
Ethan stood. “I told you.” He spread his hands. “I’m not the marrying kind.”
As he walked up the steps to Maywell House, Ethan prepared himself. It would be nearly as difficult to lie to the perceptive Lord Maywell as it had been to Lord Etheridge.
“I am bloody tired,” Ethan muttered to himself as he stood at the door, “of lords.”
He took a deep breath, then lifted the knocker.
Simms answered and regarded Ethan coolly. “His lordship is not receiving at the moment,” he informed Ethan. “This evening will be more convenient for him.”
Ethan nodded pleasantly. “Then please tell his lordship that I will see him then.” He turned on his heel and trotted down the steps once more. “Bloody damned tired,” he muttered, “of lords.”
Back at Diamond House, Ethan found himself eagerly mounting the steps. He had all the day to be with Jane—
Except that would not be wise. He had already proven several times that he was incapable of being alone with her without someone having their clothing tampered with.
No longer. He had vowed he would not harm her, and ruining her would most definitely count as harm.
Jeeves had the door open, of course, so Ethan breezed by him with a swift greeting. “Is the young lady in her room?”
“Yes, sir. She and the young master wore themselves out with a bit of string earlier. The young lady decided they could both use a nap.”
Ethan smiled and climbed the stairs eagerly. He wanted to see Jane—just to see her. He wanted to know how she’d spent her morning and if Zeus had made her laugh. He opened his door, eager to see if she had suffered any ill effects from her ordeal and if she—
