The Rogue (33 page)

They
had touched more intimately in the past, but that moment, with her
ungloved fingers very nearly twining with his—the profound
vulnerability of her slender hand in his—made him catch his
breath.

Jane
felt him cling to her hand for the merest second. Then he smiled
slightly, a mere twist of his lips. "And I feel the same for
you, kind madam." His low, soft voice was a startling caress.

Then
he was gone.

«
^
»

Jeeves
was waiting in the hall with his hat and walking stick when Ethan
descended the stairs.

"How
long will the young lady be staying, sir?"

Ethan
halted. "To be honest, Jeeves, I don't know. I haven't been
thinking very far ahead lately."

Jeeves
nodded. "Yes, sir. Then might I suggest that you make
preparations to keep her for some time?"

Ethan
blinked at him. "Jeeves, are you suggesting that I
should
keep her?"

"She
is a very fine young lady, sir. I'm sure one doesn't come across such
a treasure often. One wouldn't want such a lady to get away."

Ethan
laughed slightly, shaking his head. "Not matchmaking now, are
you, Jeeves?"

"Sir?"

Yet,
Jeeves was quite correct on one point. "Ah, Jeeves, it would be
wise…" He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure how
to phrase himself. "I think it would be best if the young lady
didn't leave the house at all. Could you see to that?"

Jeeves
nodded, his eyes as untroubled as a still pond. "I'll tell Uri
and Mrs. Cook as well, sir."

Ethan
frowned. "Er, yes. All right." Wasn't it a bit appalling
how his staff wasn't blinking twice at the notion of keeping a woman
prisoner in the house? After all, he didn't pay
that
well.

"Pay"
made him think of bills, which made him think of not being able to
pay them again.

Oh,
well. No matter. In the words of the valiant Bess, "It were
worth it."

The
breakfast room felt cold when Ethan was gone. Jane pulled her
borrowed dressing gown more tightly over her neck. Ethan's scent rose
up from the rich velvet—mingled tobacco and sandalwood and
Ethan.

When
had she become so familiar with the scent of him? When had the touch
of his fingers become something rather necessary to her existence?

She
wanted him not gone, not on his way to Lord Maywell's house. She
would not call that man "uncle" any longer. His betrayal of
her cut even more deeply than his turncoat activities—perhaps
because loyalty to England was a large and abstract concept but
loyalty to family was something one could see and hear and feel when
it was gone.

Like
the loyalty she'd developed toward her aunt and those five dear,
silly girls. Worry for them rose within her, and for Bess, still in
the asylum.

Yet,
for all her bonds to her relations, most of her worry rose for Ethan,
going back into that viper's hold.

The
butler came back into the room and took his customary place behind
the master's empty chair. She smiled tremulously at him.

"I
fear you are stuck with me, Jeeves."

She
was surprised at the faint pained expression that passed over his
face. "What is it? What did I say?"

He
seemed appalled that she had noted anything unusual. "Forgive
me, my lady," he said quickly. "It is only that name."

She
blinked. "What name? Jeeves? Is that not your name?"

"No,
my lady. The master calls me 'Jeeves' out of his own preference for
the name."

"He
actually renamed you? More to the point, he renamed you Jeeves?"

"Jeeves
will do." The butler sighed faintly. "The master does enjoy
his little jests."

"I
know." Jane snorted. "He calls me 'Lady Pain.' "

"Oh,
no, my lady. The master did not dub you thus. You are well-known by
that name."

Hurt
stabbed her. "I am? But why?"

Jeeves
gazed at her evenly. "I daresay it is because of your letters of
refusal to your suitors."

Jane
frankly gaped. "Letters?
Suitors
?"

"You
seem quite taken aback, my lady. Did you not pen some rather pointed
letters of refusal to the young gentlemen who sought your hand?"

"My
hand?" Jane became aware that she was causing an echo. "Forgive
me, Jeeves. It is not that I doubt you— but I have no idea what
it is you speak of!"

Jeeves
lifted a brow. "I see. Well, then, my lady, it seems someone has
been acting on your behalf in this."

"Someone
like his lordship," Jane muttered. She found herself furious
anew. "I cannot believe—"

Except
that she could and did believe. Lord Maywell was capable of virtual
murder of a relation. She would not have lasted long in Bedlam, at
least not as the person she was. Was not that a more ruthless act
than driving away a few young gentlemen in order to keep his hands
upon her supposed inheritance?

True—but
Lady
Pain
?

A
flush of humiliation rose. She pressed both palms to cool her cheeks.
"What people must think of me!"

"Oh,
I shouldn't worry about that, my lady," Jeeves said calmly.
"They'll forget all about it once they learn that you spent the
night with the notorious Ethan Damont."

Jane
jerked her head up at that. "Jeeves, please! No word must get
out—"

Jeeves
nodded evenly. "That's better, my lady. What's done is done. His
lordship will get his just deserts, I've no doubt."

Jane
laughed ruefully. "I suppose that was a bit silly, worrying
about my name."

"Yes,
my lady. Come, you are chilled. Mrs. Cook has mentioned that she
would be glad of a bit of company in the kitchen if you're so
inclined."

Mrs.
Cook was a cheerful sort, round and bubbly like the pots cooking on
her stove. The kitchen was fragrant and warm from the day's baking
that sat cooling on a rack.

Jane
felt swept away to long ago, when she'd pester the cook in the
kitchen and get a hot bun in return for leaving the cook to her work.

Mrs.
Cook sat Jane down with a cup of tea and a bun and a sympathetic
smile. Jane's eyes burned at the kindness. "Thank you, Mrs.
Cook—" She gazed up at the woman in worry. "Is that
really your name, or has Mr. Damont renamed you as well?"

"Oh,
not to worry, my lady. I've been Sarah Cook for so many years now
I've forgot whatever I was before. Husbands, they come and they go."

Jane
sipped her tea and gazed at Sarah Cook with wide eyes. "How many
husbands have you had, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh,
no, dearie, I don't mind." Sarah thought for a moment. "Well,
let me think…"

Jane
laughed into her cup. "I beg your pardon," she sputtered.

Unperturbed,
Mrs. Cook folded her hands over her midriff. " 'Tis a funny
thing, to lose track like that. If I'm counting only the ones I took
before the cleric…"

The
story of Mrs. Cook's scandalous and varied romances took up most of
the morning, and by the time she'd finished relating the demise of
her last "but not least, oh my, no!" spouse, Jane was
feeling much more herself.

"I
don't suppose you know where I can find some clothing?" As fond
as she was becoming of Ethan's dressing gown, she'd prefer not to
still be wearing it when he returned. There was something a bit too
intimate about lounging about wrapped in his scent all day.

Mrs.
Cook's expression went a bit sly. "I did send a message to a
friend last night that I had need of a few things…"

Ethan
strode through the front door of the Liar's Club with a nod to
Stubbs, the doorman, and made his way directly up the stairs to the
rear of the upper hallway.

Appearing
from nowhere in particular, Collis caught up with him as he was
searching for the trigger of the secret door.

"Hold
on, there, Damont!" Collis came up level to him and lowered his
voice. "It's customary to look both ways first, old man."

Ethan
obediently looked behind him. There were no public patrons anywhere
about this early. That done, he shoved at the secret spot with the
heel of his hand.

"Not
there." Collis stroked one hand down the crease between two
panels. It was nothing but a thin, dark line, but the door clicked
obediently. "Now push."

Ethan
did, and the door sank in and slid to the side. "Counterweights?"

"Hmm.
Installed a hundred years ago. They're a real horror to repair, let
me tell you. One can hardly get at them."

"Not
interested, Tremayne." They passed through to the Liar side.
"Where's the Gentleman?"

"Himself
is up in the attic with Herself. No Liars allowed."

Ethan
grimaced. "I thought she was expecting?"

Collis
laughed. "Just you wait until you're married."

Ethan
shook his head. Never. But Collis clapped him on the back and said,
"Wait for him in the office. I'll ring the bell to let him know
something's come in." He peered at Ethan. "Something has
come in, yes?"

Ethan
nodded shortly. "I wouldn't be wasting his time."

Collis
grinned. "Excellent. He'll be very pleased." He turned
away.

Ethan
shrugged off the sting of the friendly blow to his shoulder. He
didn't care if Etheridge was over the moon. He only wanted this over
so that Jane could be safely out of it.

Ethan
was in the not-so-secret office for less than a minute before Dalton
entered.

"What
do you have for me?" Boyish eagerness flashed in those eerie
silver eyes and his color was high. Ethan blinked. His lordship
looked very nearly human.

"I
have the addresses of several pleasure houses near Westminster that
are being run for the purpose of squeezing pillow talk out of
government officials," Ethan said, handing him the list. "Do
keep that quiet until I'm—"
Out
of it
.
Except that Etheridge didn't want him out of it. "Until I'm more
securely in position."

"Maywell
has offered you a place?"

"Oh,
yes. My job is to be a Liar. He knows all about you lot. He wants me
to spy on you for him."

Etheridge's
eyes widened. There was some satisfaction in seeing his mightiness
gobsmacked with surprise. Ethan felt it only distantly, but found it
pleasurable anyway.

"Bloody
hell," Etheridge whispered finally. Then his eyes sharpened.
"What did he offer you?"

It
was an obvious question. His lordship wasn't dim after all. Ethan
shrugged. "He offered me his niece's hand in marriage."

Etheridge
frowned. "Why in hell would he do that?"

Ethan
only gazed at him evenly. "Because I could never attach a lady
of that caliber on my own."

Etheridge
pursed his lips. "Is she very beautiful? And an heiress, I
suppose."

Ethan
nodded. "She's the daughter of the ninth Marquis of Wyndham."

"Wyndham?"
Something flashed in Etheridge's eyes. "That's…
interesting."

"I
told him I would consider his proposal."

"You
did, did you?" Etheridge watched him closely. "That would
be quite a conquest."

Especially
for a man like you
.
Etheridge didn't say it but Ethan heard it echo clearly in the small
room.