Chapter Four
Take—take up residence in my—my home?” Eoin was sputtering, something he never did. His grandfather had taught him to speak emphatically with no hesitation.
But Miss Hannah Wick had a way of disrupting Eoin in a way that no one else could ever manage. Warmth crept into his cheeks, and Eoin was sorely afraid that he was blushing.
“Yes. That is the best way to execute my grand idea.”
But why would Miss Wick go to such lengths as to temporarily uproot her life to assist him?
Normally, Eoin was very good at deducing ploys and determining other’s motivations.
But he simply could not divine Miss Wick’s intentions.
She’d seemed icy when he’d first entered the Black Sheep and nothing like the coquette he’d met on the road to London.
Yet now she was offering to live with him.
“And what plan have you devised, cousin?” Miss Sophia Wick demanded. She sounded strict, but Eoin could easily hear the underlying thread of worry in her tone. By the way she kept sneaking subtle glances in his direction, he could tell the woman did not trust him.
“If I am to help His Grace, then I will need an excuse to be by his side.”
Something about Miss Hannah Wick’s words sounded hollow to Eoin, but before he could deduce why, she shot him a smile.
It was the precise opposite of a guileless one.
It contained secrets and heat… and more than a little challenge.
Eoin’s normally stalwart heart suddenly thumped madly.
A strange whoosh of energy swirled through him, and he felt an elation that was disproportionate to witnessing a single grin.
“Uh—” He—who always had a short, succinct response to almost every situation—could think of nothing.
“If I am to find your relatives, I will need to be able to search for clues. Perhaps your grandfather left records in his study. Maybe servants who have worked with your family for years might know of something,” Miss Hannah Wick said.
“Can’t Malbarry—I mean Foxglen—just discover those clues himself?” Lord Percy pointed out, surprising Eoin with his insight. He’d always found the man to be rather vacuous.
Although Miss Hannah Wick had shifted her body toward Lord Percy when he’d begun speaking, she rapidly turned away from him. Had the nobleman’s comment irritated her?
“If he was able to unearth evidence on his own, he wouldn’t be asking for our assistance.” Hannah’s tone was decidedly clipped.
Eoin swallowed to wet his throat as he debated his next words.
He hated revealing anything about himself, especially his treatment in his own residence.
Yet his past and even current experiences were pertinent to the search.
“Miss Wick is not entirely incorrect. The servants remain loyal to my grandfather and will not confide in me. I also cannot easily ask my own family for information.”
“Why not?” Hannah asked, and Eoin appreciated her directness. It made it easier for him to answer in kind.
“My grandfather made their inheritance contingent upon me not reuniting with my maternal relatives.”
Something shifted in Miss Hannah’s grass-green eyes. Thankfully, it looked more like compassion than pity.
“Well, that’s a miserly dictate,” Lord Percy observed, and it took all of Eoin’s training to maintain his stoic expression. The man clearly meant to commiserate with Eoin, but his words only cut.
“That presents a problem with my original plan,” Miss Hannah said quickly.
Eoin wondered if she was simply returning the conversation to its initial course or if she’d detected his discomfort. If so, it was kind of her to offer a distraction.
“How?” Miss Sophia asked. “I think it is time you elaborate more.”
“Well, I planned to pose as a maid. That way, I would have an excuse to poke around various rooms and to converse with the staff. But if I also need to pry information from Eoin’s relatives, I require a more elevated position.”
“What if you posed as a relation?” Lord Percy suggested. “My parents always have visitors popping by, and I always forget who’s who.”
“That would not work,” Eoin said, his voice sounding stilted even to his own ears.
He wished to stop talking about his strained relationships.
Moreover, he did not like the concept of Miss Hannah posing as a family member, not with the way his heart pounded just by standing near her.
“My paternal side is not large, and even my uncles would notice if a new relative suddenly appeared. For obvious reasons, I cannot claim that Miss Wick is from my mother’s side. ”
“A governess, then?” Lord Percy tried again. “They do occupy that odd in-between sphere between family and staff.”
“There are no children in my family.” Eoin kept his tone modulated and hoped that he wasn’t showing any signs of irritation. The man was only trying to assist.
“Perhaps a companion to one of your aunts?” A new voice spoke up. Eoin turned toward the speaker and instantly recognized Lady Calliope, a daughter of a duke herself and a renowned poetess.
“I am not sure if my personality would fit that of a companion,” Miss Hannah said slowly. “But I suppose I could try.”
Eoin gave a quick shake of his head. He couldn’t fathom this bold woman demurely fitting into the ducal household.
“My Aunt Joan would not accept a companion chosen by me, and my Aunt Eliza does not tolerate strangers well. New people make her exceedingly nervous, and she spends most of her days locked away in her room.”
“What if you invited houseguests over and included Hannah?” Lord Percy offered excitedly.
“He is still in mourning,” Lady Calliope pointed out.
“Not to mention that the servants would not be inclined to share information with me if they thought I was a nob,” Miss Hannah said.
“It would also be suspicious in other ways,” Eoin added. “My aunts and uncles are well aware that I only associated with my grandfather’s contemporaries.”
“Perhaps we’re trying to think too conventionally.” Miss Hannah began to rapidly tap her foot as a decidedly mischievous expression spread across her lightly freckled face.
“What are you considering?” Miss Sophia’s voice carried an almost palpable wariness.
“What if I posed as Foxglen’s mistress?” Miss Hannah asked as she shot him a decidedly wicked smile.
Wanton fire blazed through Eoin’s body, and his mind immediately filled with images of Miss Hannah, her luxurious red hair unbound, her chemise slipping to expose a creamy white shoulder, her hand reaching to stroke his face as she lay beneath him on a feather mattress, her kiss-swollen lips parting…
Egad! What was he thinking?
The woman had said pose as his mistress, and he was already undressing her in his mind. He’d never considered himself a scoundrel, but perhaps he’d never faced temptation.
“Did—did you just say my mis-mistress?” Eoin was stammering again, but he couldn’t help it. Miss Hannah had a knack for upsetting his internal balance.
“Yes. Your mistress. I know I’m not a typical courtesan for a duke, but that only plays into my scheme,” Miss Hannah said as if she were discussing dinner ingredients rather than debauchery.
But then again, she wasn’t proposing an actual illicit affair—just the trappings of one.
“You needn’t look so poleaxed, though. I am sure a man of your status has had mistresses before—”
“No.” The single word squeezed out of Eoin as the last of his iron-clad composure rusted away under Hannah’s spell.
Eoin heard a few smothered chuckles from the folks gathered along the long tables. The famous playwright and theater owner Alun Powys seemed particularly amused by the exchange.
“Truly?” Miss Hannah Wick looked astounded by his inadvertent confession.
“He’s telling the truth.” Lady Calliope must have taken pity on him… or perhaps not. Eoin didn’t trust the slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. “In fact, I don’t believe he’s even flirted with a woman, although I suppose he did when he first met you. But he isn’t normally like that.”
“That fact may actually help my plan,” Miss Hannah said. “As I will be his first lover—”
Eoin coughed… or maybe he wheezed. Whatever it was, it was a strangled sound.
Miss Hannah shot him a brief look and then continued. “As I was saying, if I am his first lover, it will make sense why he is so terribly infatuated that he cannot bear for me to leave his side.”
“Do—do you plan to be with me constantly?” Eoin asked, his voice still a trifle hoarse.
Yet despite his shock, he found the proposed charade appealing…
perhaps exciting even. Life would certainly be less boring with Miss Hannah in it, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to slide back into the grooves that his grandfather had carved for him.
“Yes. It will be the best way to glean information. Perhaps I can goad something out of your aunts and uncles, or they might let something slip in my presence.”
“You wish for me to introduce you as my mistress to my relations?” The words escaped him before he could think of a more judicious response.
“Why, yes.” The slight upward tilt of Miss Hannah Wick’s lips told Eoin that she was enjoying his bafflement.
Eoin lost the ability to speak any words at all. He merely stared at her as she smiled at him rather triumphantly. The sliver of his mind that was still capable of rationality hazily noted that her grin was sadly not of the flirtatious kind.
“Hannah, it would be difficult for His Grace to open his home to a courtesan,” Lady Charlotte said in that soft gracious way of hers that had made her an esteemed hostess of her mother’s salon.
“Oh, I am well aware that men don’t set up their lovers in their familial abodes, even ones with more polish than a coffeehouse proprietress. Although I suppose that my mother is a legitimate daughter of a marquess, but that certainly doesn’t offset the fact that my father is a pirate.”
Despite the harshness of Miss Hannah’s words, Eoin could detect her defiant pride. She clearly loved her father.
“But my low status doesn’t signify for what I have planned.
It only supports it,” Miss Hannah Wick continued.
“If you’re enamored enough to allow me to live in your home, then it won’t surprise people if I brazenly ask personal questions.
Nor will it be as shocking when I drag you to disreputable establishments that you would normally disdain. ”
Hannah paused and winked at Eoin rather saucily. “And there’s another advantage to cooking up a plump, juicy scandal for the ton to feast upon.”
He blinked. He felt like he was drowning from a spinning sensation even though his body wasn’t moving at all. Had anyone ever winked at him before? He didn’t think so… and certainly if they had, they wouldn’t have done it saucily.
“There’s another advantage?” he parroted rather dully.
“I’m curious as well,” Lady Calliope said.
Hannah sighed dramatically. Eoin was beginning to realize that the firebrand did nothing in half measure.
“I’m not even a part of Society, yet how is it that I understand how gossip works better than the nobs in this room? Especially you, Lady Calliope. Your family thrives on creating tittle-tattle.”
“Because they’re so far up in society that they’re like untouchable clouds,” Alun Powys interjected.
“Are you inferring that I have no substance?” Lady Calliope whirled on the Welsh playwright.
The actor only grinned broadly. “Your words, not mine, my dear Lady Calliope.”
“This is no time for you two to trade barbs,” Hannah said.
“You are forever telling us that,” Mr. Powys pointed out. “I cannot believe we are that disruptive.”
Hannah simply glared the man into silence, which Eoin found impressive. Although he’d only seen Mr. Powys perform onstage, the playwright had a reputation as a shrewd business owner who would not typically be cowed by a single look.
“Now,” Hannah said with a compelling command to her voice, “as I was trying to explain, if the ton gorges themselves on tidbits about Foxglen and me, they should pay less attention to the news that he’s reunited with his mother or sister.
If the two of them wish to take their rightful place in Society, they won’t face as much scrutiny with me as a more interesting target. ”
“Ooooh, Hannah. You are a devious schemer.” Lady Calliope gave a little clap.
“I grew up in a notorious coffeehouse that caters to former and not-so-former criminals. Do you really think I wouldn’t be able to handle the feeble machinations of tea-sipping matrons and fat lordlings?” Miss Wick jammed one of her fists against her side as she smiled broadly.
Watching her bask in triumph caused a rather odd sensation in Eoin’s chest. He felt like he’d run a mile, even though he’d been standing in one place.
Prudence demanded that he should carefully consider Miss Wick’s proposal before making any commitments. But he was tired of waiting. Tired of always analyzing. Tired of forcing himself to become the perfect courtier to achieve his grandfather’s political dreams for the Aucourte family.
He wanted to be bold. Adventurous even. And most of all, he wanted to discover himself.
“I’ll do it. I’ll make you my mistress.”