Chapter Nine
Xander swooped in as soon as her head moved in the affirmative and set his lips to hers. Taking advantage of her open mouth, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip. As he did, North’s voice was shouting alarms in his head. She was in his employ. This was a terrible idea.
He’d fallen asleep on the settee, recalling their interplay of the past several days and wishing they’d met under different circumstances.
He’d woken to her silhouette in full definition, her nightwear all but invisible with the gas lamp backlighting her.
Realizing it wasn’t a dream when she did not immediately draw close and drop to her knees to suck his iron-hard cock, he rose and prowled toward her, looking for an excuse to touch her.
She gave it to him.
But her response was passive, her lips tentatively mimicking his, and he had to tease at her tongue to get it to come out and play.
Never say she’s innocent. He’d never met a working-class girl who wasn’t already an expert kisser.
Of course, he couldn’t speak to the majority, as most girls were married by the twenty-odd years Evie appeared to have lived.
He never messed around with married women.
But the single ones had had their share of experimenting with kisses, if not more.
A mental alarm pinged. Not about her innocence, but about her guilt. Regardless of her experience with men, he’d caught her snooping in his office, and he did not give any credit to her paltry excuse.
He shouldn’t be so attracted to this little liar.
Without breaking the kiss, he slid the hand holding her cheek around to cup her head and brought the other one to her hip. He stepped one foot between hers and pressed his hips inward, then groaned when her belly cushioned his cock.
She tore her mouth away, looking at him with wide eyes. “Your Grace!”
Yep, innocent, and missish besides. Trust her or not, he needed her advice.
And North and the dukes were right about the pitfalls of tupping staff.
Damn his infernal attraction to her. He needed to avoid scaring her off.
Stepping back, he released his hold on her and said, “I beg your pardon, Miss Mullens.”
She ran her fingers along her lips.
He turned away, willing his cockstand to abate, and groped for words. “I—it shall not happen again. Please forgive me; I did not mean to take advantage.” He gulped and guessed at her biggest concern. “Your position here is safe, you have my word.”
She stood where he had left her, still outlined by the lamplight.
He looked away quickly.
“You did not take advantage, sir. I mean, I suppose you did, but it was not entirely unwelcome.”
At her words, his gaze shot back to hers. Thank goodness. She had been flirting with him as much as he had with her.
“’Twas…surprising. Overwhelming. And I agree, it should not happen again.” She turned away.
He thought he heard “more’s the pity” muttered under her breath, but he could not very well ask. A grin threatened, and he pressed his lips flat to stifle it.
“My workday begins early, so I should return upstairs. Good night, my lord.”
He smirked. She hadn’t prevaricated about returning during the day for the missing pages. The reminder of her deceit sobered him. He’d do well to keep in mind that the little flirt was also a liar and not to be trusted. “Good night, Miss Mullens.”
* * * *
“Explain to me how you know so much about Parliament,” Xander requested at the start of their meeting the following afternoon, attempting to act like he didn’t know how her waist dipped in and her hips flared beneath the loose, ill-cut servant’s garb.
It was for the best that she was sitting across the desk from him, where much of her was out of sight.
“I know nothing about process and procedure. You shall have to ask the other dukes about that, or friends you make in London at the start of the session. As for the content, I know what I read in the newspapers and what I’ve heard discussed in my past roles.”
“Do most housemaids read the newspapers, then?”
Evie narrowed her gaze. “About as much as bartenders, I suppose. Some do, some don’t.”
He winced. Sure, he could have stayed more abreast of happenings in his country and the capital. ’Twas simply that Northumberland was nigh a week from London, at the northernmost point of England before one crossed into Scotland. And most of these laws did not affect his daily life.
However, the more he read, the more he realized how many working-class people were affected by these bills and how poorly they were represented in the country’s government.
He had begun to form a silent plan to use whatever leverage he had to move toward reform for working conditions for many of his peers.
Well, perhaps his ex-peers? His head hurt again.
“Right, then. So Insolvent Debtors Act expansion to Ireland, good.” He put it aside.
She jerked her head back. “You’re going to trust my thoughts on it?”
“I didn’t see the original one, but this is progress at the very least. And yes.” He watched her calmly. He couldn’t explain why, but he trusted her opinion on these. Besides, as a servant, wouldn’t her interests align with his?
“You should not.” She narrowed her gaze. “You should have a rough idea of what each bill does and its merits and weaknesses. What if its goal was to put all debtors in gaol?”
“I read enough to know that is not the case. I am prioritizing as you suggested.” He arched a brow. “Now, what about the Steam Engine Furnaces Act?”
She looked like she wanted to say more regarding his trust in her.
He leaped forward. “Can you summarize the issue, please?” At her glance, he adopted a faux stern visage and growled, “Summarize the issue at once.” He grinned, sharing the joke with her.
She caught her breath, looking taken aback, making him wonder if it had been too much, before she returned his smile.
“Certainly, Your—Rutland. They’ve already been deemed nuisances when not properly vented or situated too close to neighboring properties.
This allows affected people to pursue remedies through the courts without having to pay all those fees; instead, it mandates that the offender pays the costs of litigation and prosecution, as well as any remedies. ”
Slicing a hand through the air, he said, “Why is there a question around this? They are terrible pollutants, and the explosions are known to be dangerous.”
“The Tories would tell you the law impinges on the rights of a landowner. He”—she accented the pronoun, and her lips twisted for a moment—“should be able to do what he likes on his property.” She scratched at the edge of her cap, something he’d seen her do a few times.
Staring at her, he realized he’d only seen her hair by candlelight and only once. “Remove the cap.”
Straightening, she brought wide eyes to his. “I beg your pardon?”
“It seems to annoy you. I’ve seen you tug at it several times now.”
Her face flamed.
“Take it off. I don’t know its purpose, but you will not get dust in your hair, or hair in food, or whatever else. You don’t need it for this work, so there is no reason to be uncomfortable.”
“If Your Grace commands…” she said with a grin, her tone teasing.
He blew out a breath. They were back to their easy camaraderie, their partnership. His transgression last night in demanding a kiss was forgiven, if not forgotten.
She raised her hands to her cap, tugging two pins out.
He sucked in a new gulp of air and held it. Was it the color of her brows, a cinnamon? Lighter? Darker?
She yanked off the cap, and sure enough, cinnamon-colored hair pulled back into a serviceable bun framed her face. One curling lock fell forward by her ear at that moment.
He wanted to tug on it, put it in his mouth and taste it, wrap it around his finger. Seeing his hand start to reach across the desk, he stopped the unconscious motion.
She hadn’t noticed his fascination as she smoothed her hair back from her face, grimacing when her hand encountered the wayward curl. Reaching for a discarded pin, she tucked the hank into the knot at the back of her head and heaved a sigh of relief.
How had she dealt with similar head apparel all these years? Perhaps she had not worn a cap in her last post, and perhaps she had only been working for a year or two.
She’d leaned forward while he pondered her aversion to millinery, tilting her head to look at the next document. He was brought back to the issues at hand when she commented, “Another duty law. You’d think they’d learn.”
“What do you think they should learn?” he asked.
“If they keep taxing imports and territories under their control, they’ll end up driving them away as they did the American colonies.”
“What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know. Girls are taught more about hostessing than about history, sadly. But I’d guess there are some MPs who have suggestions. ’Tis a reason to spend some time in London.”
He shuddered. “I hate that place so much.”
“I wonder if once you were more familiar with it and met some like-minded people, it mightn’t be so terrible?”
“Perhaps, but how much would I have to endure to get to that point?”
“Your experience might also be different as a duke than a pub manager.”
“I wasn’t a pub manager. I was helping my stepbrother set up a charitable organization. Yet the men we were trying to help treated me like a servant.” Frustration fizzed through him at the memory. “Frankly, being treated differently due to a title I did not earn would aggravate me more.”
He sighed. So many pros and cons for each decision, and hundreds of peoples’ futures affected by each one. He hadn’t wanted this responsibility. Indeed, it frightened him. It was time for a break.
Leaning back in his chair, he rested his elbows on the armrests and put his palms together, worrying his lips between his forefingers as he contemplated this. When he looked up, Evie was staring at his mouth, unblinking.
Dropping his hands, he watched as her gaze flew to meet his. She blushed and lowered her chin to peruse the bill.
Interesting. If only he hadn’t promised her he wouldn’t kiss her again. Perhaps he could tempt her into initiating a kiss, maybe not now, but over time. Then he’d know he wasn’t taking advantage of their positions.
Bringing his hands back up near his mouth, he interlaced his fingers, folding all but the forefingers. He lowered his gaze only as far as he could keep her in his peripheral vision and toyed with his lip. Brushing it, tugging on it.
She was riveted. Her tongue swept across her lips, followed by her teeth sinking into one side of her lower lip.
His cock thickened and lengthened. There would be no relief this afternoon, but he could build on this to coax a kiss from her. His tongue came out to play, moistening his lips.
She squirmed in her chair.
Perfect. “Thank you, Miss Mullens. That is all my brain can handle for one day. Please take another few items to read if you can.”
He was going to need some privacy to recover from this—or rather, recall it in intimate detail while giving himself some relief.