Chapter 9 #3
But then, he committed a most unforgivable offense.
He let his gaze move hungrily over her, like a glutton eyeing a trifle.
He studied the soft curls her lady’s maid left about her shoulders.
He paused meaningfully; his eyes rested on her strawberry-pink neckline, then moved slowly down to notice each detail—her charcoal-marked fingers, and all the way to the dusting of gold along the tips of her slippers.
Heat rushed through her. She would forgive neither of them: him for performing his rogue’s role for her, and her for all but throwing flowers at his feet.
“You were saying, Miss Smith?” he purred softly like the cat who’d just swallowed the last bit of Chantilly cream.
The arrogant nob-cock. “I wasn’t saying anything. I believe you were the one going on about yourself. You needn’t bother. I’m well-aware of your talents, my lord.”
“Pirating, abducting, collecting—remarkable, my lord.” From under her lashes, she made the same inventory of his big, bold frame—as he had done her daintier, delicate one.
She paid the price for that insolent study in belly flutters and thrumming nerves.
“Quite remarkable, Andy,” her uncle said. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. But that is nothing compared to…”
For the attention she and the viscount paid the earl and he them, they may as well have dwelt on another planet.
Then, because Edgar did not fight fair, he lowered his dark eyelashes. His intense, swoon-worthy gaze left no doubt his intentions—even to her, inexperienced as she was—seduction.
“Ah, but those are merely my past times, Miss Smith. Few can rival my versatility.”
Men claimed women only ate comfits, listened at keyholes, and conversed about gossip.
But women discussed the same things men did—especially the forbidden things between the sexes.
At least the McQuoid women did. That’s why she knew Lord Kerr’s talk of ‘many talents’ and ‘unparalleled versatility’ referred to his sexual prowess.
Which is why, when he attested to his masculine skills, she took great delight in sharing her favorite William Blake quote.
“Ah, but shame is pride’s cloak, is it not?”
The dark, bold slashes of his eyebrows found even greater heights.
“…I’m fortunate to have you documenting, Andy, and Kerr investigating…”
“Investigating?”
The book slid from Andromena’s fingers, thwacking onto the marble floor. As she bent to retrieve it, her broken pencil halves scattered.
In a sign of how dire her situation was, her flighty uncle chided her to keep up.
“My missing pieces, Andy. He is going to help find who is breaking in and stealing my things.”
A band tightened about her lungs. “Uncle, by your account, it was one.” A single missing coin—no more than thirty millimeters—had him raising a hue and cry within a day.
“Starts with one, lass. Don’t forget, we’ve already had thieves before, that Christmas time.”
And now, because of her, that one—his Greek coin now dust, scattered over the paving stones of New Bond Street would become something more, and worse.
Andromena’s shallow breathing filled her ears.
The tingling along her nape told her without looking that Edgar’s gaze was fixed on her.
The earl mistook the reason for her silence. “It was a long winter back. You were just a wee lass, and we were on our way to Scotland. Myrtle—”
“Was forgotten behind, I remember. You suffered a break-in. Myrtle fended it off—and found a husband in the duke next door.”
“Never did find the fellow behind that theft,” he muttered.
Shockingly, the earl’s logic was sound. Last time, he gave the burglars posing as builders a personal tour of his valuables. Now, he would suspect outsiders—while the real thief looked him in the eye.
Andromena wanted to jab her fingertips against her temples. Only Lord Kerr’s assessing eyes, tracking her every move, stopped her. Did he ever do anything but complicate her life?
“But why hire Lord Kerr.”
“I haven’t.”
Oh, thank G—
“The lad is doing it out of the goodness of his heart.”
Good God!
He hardly had a heart. If anything, he possessed a large, dark, uncompromising one.
“What, no kidnappings to carry out?”
“Do you carry out kidnappings, Kerr?” Her uncle spoke before Lord Kerr could answer. “Not the thing to do?”
“I have never abducted a woman in my life, my lord,” said the viscount, deadpan.
“Splendid. You hear that, Andy?”
Her uncle’s wide smile declared the matter settled.
Irritation simmered. Why must he always be at the center of her chaos?
She fixed a death stare on the rogue which alternated between infuriated and intrigued.
It had no effect. None at all.
The scoundrel must have practiced mastering looking both bored and patronizing.
She saw Lord Kerr’s blinding, white smile—that said the fun he had at her expense. Here she had saved his miserable hide without a word, and he skated by without anyone the wiser of how close he’d come to absconding with her.
“Worry not, Miss Smith. We will not interfere with one another’s work.”
She glared at the viscount. How dare he try to appease her?
He took it a step further.
“I will happily ensure our paths do not cross.”
“Truly splendid, my lord.” Lord I-Can-Do-Anything was the last person she wanted or needed around.
Because she could not let herself think about what would happen if he discovered that the man he’d been sent to ferret out was none other than she, Andromena McQuoid-Smith.