Chapter 4 #5
Which reminded Elf of the inconvenient Scots and a small matter of treason. Lord, what a tangle. She needed time to think it through before she said anything to anyone.
“Goodness, I’m worn out,” she said, unhooking her gaudy overdress and shrugging out of it. She turned her back. “Spare me having to ring for Chantal, Amanda, and help me with my laces. I’ll be grateful for my bed.”
Amanda came over, but then said, “Are you going to tell me you usually wear your stays so loose?”
Bother, bother, and more bother! “He loosened them.”
“I thought so.” Amanda tugged at the bow. “Men never retie them tight enough.”
“I don’t like them tight anyway.”
“You have the good fortune of a naturally trim figure.”
Amanda loosened the laces so Elf could step out of the boned, cotton stays. “That’s better. But you have a full figure that men admire.”
“You have a delicacy that men admire, inconstant creatures that they are. So?” Amanda asked, clearly intrigued. “What think you of Lord Walgrave now?”
Elf was happy to be able to laugh about it.
“That he can be pleasant, I admit it. But only because he thought me a silly ingenue called Lisette. If he’d any idea of my true identity, he’d have throttled me.
” She gently turned her friend toward the door.
“Off you go to bed, Amanda. I’m safe now, and you must be exhausted.
I’ll tell you the whole story in the morning. ”
Once alone, Elf untied the laces that held her two pockets around her waist. She’d been aware of the pistol in the right one, and prayed that Amanda not notice the bulge. She didn’t need any more peculiarities to explain.
Now she knocked the powder out of the priming pan, wishing for a safe way to return the weapon.
Walgrave could afford to replace it, of course, but she knew men treasured such guns.
She traced the mother-of-pearl and gold design on the grip.
The weapon had doubtless been custom-made to fit his hand exactly with precise balance, and she had, in effect, stolen it.
A fig for such silly scruples. She placed the pistol in the back of a drawer. She’d return it if she could, but the man was a black traitor, and deserved no consideration at all.
But still, she thought, as she unfastened her silk petticoat and let it fall to the floor, he had been kind after a fashion.
And he was very beautiful.
Her brothers were each beautiful in their own way.
She’d never been aware of seeking beauty in a husband, but now she thought perhaps it was important to her.
It seemed a trivial thing, but she responded to it, indeed she did.
The picture of her brother-in-law’s body, so wantonly displayed to her, teased at her mind.
Washing her face and hands, it still teased her, and lingered as she unpinned her curls to brush some of the powder out. Her hair would have to be washed tomorrow to get rid of it all.
Of all the men in the world to be stirred by, why the Earl of Walgrave?
Fort. That’s what his intimates called him. What Chastity called him.
She paused, staring sightlessly at her reflection in the mirror, imagining murmuring that name to him in the dark as she licked his skin. She’d never before thought such a thing about a man.
Perhaps it would be different now. Perhaps she just needed awakening to these desires, and now she’d feel drawn to other men.
More suitable men. After all, Fort in dishabille had been quite a revelation to her.
Presumably, if she married, her husband would come to her lightly clothed, hair loose, and she would feel the same wanton desires . . .
Elf rose to pull off her shift and slip into her cotton nightgown, stroking her hands over her awakened body. Honesty commanded her to remember that she’d been stirred by Fort in the full armor of gentleman’s dress. Stirred more than by any other man of her acquaintance.
But it was completely impossible. Not only was he enemy to her family, he was a traitor. Stupid, stupid man.
She climbed into bed intending a logical analysis of the threat to the realm. Immediately, however, she remembered lying in Walgrave’s house, listening.
She remembered being tempted to call out to him again . . .
Had he discovered yet that she had gone?
No, she thought he wouldn’t check her again until the morning.
Would he just shrug, assuming silly Lisette had returned to her home? Or would he be concerned for her safety?
Would he care that she had left him?
No, probably he’d mostly be concerned about what she knew. That meant he’d have to try to find her again, to recapture her so she couldn’t chatter about his affairs. Her heart raced with nervousness. Surely he couldn’t find her. He’d shown no sign of recognition, and she’d left behind no clue.
She hoped that was true, for if Walgrave could find her, perhaps those Scots with knives could, too.
She pulled the covers up around her head, lusty desires chilled by fear. If only none of it had happened. If only she’d never gone to Vauxhall in the first place.
Something wicked, indeed.
Something completely foolish. And now she must face the consequences. She knew about things that could not be ignored, and she could pay for it with her life.