Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Iam Lady Josephine Harrington,” she shouted out.
Or it may have been a moan.
Lavisham went still. Removed his hand. He took a small step back, leaving Josephine to dangle on the desk. “What?” He grabbed the lamp and brought it so close, the heat nearly singed her brows. His eyes widened dramatically.
Oh, what a lovely color of blue.
“I am Lady Josephine Harrington,” she said again, absolutely horrified to find her breast bare and completely exposed by the light of the lamp. “Anders didn’t send me. And I am not a courtesan,” she whispered.
Lavisham ran a hand through his hair. “Obviously,” he snarled.
Josephine covered her exposed breast with a ledger lying beside her.
“Why, Lady Josephine, are you searching through my desk in the dead of night, dressed as a…” He waved a hand at her. “Oh and that isn’t doing any good. Not wide enough.”
“A boy,” Josephine answered helpfully, clutching the ledger tighter.
“Only an idiot,” Lavisham snorted, “would think you a male. Not dressed in those breeches, which are indecent. Or with that pair”—he waved a finger in the area of her bosom—“thrusting themselves at me.” He scowled at her.
Josephine made another squeak.
“Oh, stop that. I’m hardly going to ravish you now, Lady Josephine.” He raised a brow. “Unless you want me to. You seemed to enjoy yourself immensely.”
Heat flamed up her cheeks. “I…” She hesitated. “Did not.”
Lavisham made an amused sound. “A liar as well as a thief.” He peered at her closer, brows drawing together until he resembled an outraged lion, his eyes widened a fraction. “You.”
Josephine dropped the ledger and attempted to clutch the remains of the shirt together. “Me?”
“Destroyer of hyacinths. And—” He sniffed at her again. “You sent me those notes, seeking an assignation. Lavendar and vanilla. No wonder you smell like a tiny little cake. I adore vanilla.”
“I did not,” Josephine returned. “I—well I did send the notes, but I wasn’t seeking an assignation with Your Grace.
I needed to speak to you.” She waved a hand, careful to keep the other clutching the shirt to her breasts.
“On a matter of great importance. The incident at Lady Randall’s garden party was an accident. ”
“Wait.” His head tilted. “Did you say Harrington?”
“I did. More than once. There is an heirloom of my family that I believe to be in your possession—”
“Your father was the Duke of Kenbrooks. Terrible whist player, by the way. He told me—” Lavisham stopped and took a much wider step back. He had the oddest look on his beautiful features, awe and a great deal of…fear?
“I am sorry for breaking into your home. But I had good reason and—”
“You should be. I’ll end up firing all my footmen.”
“Oh, please don’t do that. It’s through no error of theirs that I ended up here.” She looked around him to see Willa’s lantern whirl about then abruptly drop to the ground. “I climbed the garden gate. I’m”—she lifted her chin—“quite good at being stealthy and going unnoticed.”
A snort left him. “Are you? Lady Randall’s hyacinths would beg to differ.”
“An accident.” She gritted her teeth. “I was pushed.”
“You’ve been watching my house.” It was not a question.
Josephine looked away. “It is quite lovely. The flowers at the front door are particularly pretty.”
“What is it, Lady Josephine, that you want?”
Here was her chance. Finally. She cleared her throat. “My father wagered and lost a peacock brooch to you in a game of cards. Is it still in your possession?”
“It is. A hideous bauble.”
“Exactly.” Josephine breathed a sigh of relief. “Splendid. I must retrieve the brooch to receive my inheritance. You see my father set a task for each of us, me and my sisters.”
“I don’t care.” Lavisham held up a hand, stopping further explanation. “Clever old bastard,” he said under his breath, so low Josephine had to struggle to make out the words. “I suppose,” he said in that rumbling tone, “you would like it back.”
“Yes. Please. It is a requirement of my father’s will.” She looked down at her ruined shirt as a flood of heat washed up her cheeks. Her behavior was unseemly. What must Lavisham think of her? “I didn’t allow you liberties because of the brooch. That merely—happened,” she finished.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Lavisham crossed his massive forearms over his chest. “No.”
Josephine looked up at him. “No?”
“No.” He grabbed her coat with the missing buttons and tossed it at her. “I’m not giving you the brooch.”
Her mouth popped open in surprise. “But why?”
“You annoy me.”
Josephine glared at him. “But you said yourself the peacock is ugly and poorly made. The jewels aren’t terribly rare. It isn’t valuable.”
“You’ve no idea.” He shrugged. “Still, no. Now, if you don’t mind, my lady, it is quite late. I’m sure those breeches are cutting off the blood supply to your head, else you wouldn’t continue to ply me with your idiotic platitudes.”
“My platitudes are not idiotic.” She rolled off the desk to her feet. Picking up the ruined coat, she struggled to get her arms through it without allowing Lavisham further glimpses of her breasts. “Why will you not give it to me? I’ll pay you for it, once I have my inheritance.”
“Again. No.”
Lavisham took Josephine’s arm, dragging her to the door of his study and into the hall where they were met by a burly footman and a furious, horrified Willa.
Her friend shot her an apologetic look, lantern still held in one hand.
“Is that your accomplice?” Lavisham leaned down with a slow nod.
“Lady Willa Hatter. Well, at least she’s dressed appropriately.
” He turned to the footman. “Hail a hack and put them both inside.” He turned to Josephine.
“I’ll assume neither one of you wish to be seen leaving my home in my carriage.
I’m told I can ruin a young lady’s reputation with only a look. ”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Willa whispered with a small curtsey.
“You,” Josephine said as the footman led her away, Willa at her side, “are not a gentleman, Lavisham.” She had failed. No brooch. And even worse, her body still throbbed from the touch of this…. reprobate.
“I never claimed to be, my lady.” Lavisham made a mock bow. “Good evening.”