A Loving Scoundrel (7 page)

H
E WAS HOME
! Not only that, Danny was actually let in the front door!

A young girl around her own age did so. Slightly plump of frame, with lackluster brown hair, she barely glanced at Danny, said merely, “Wait here, and don’t touch anything if you know what’s good for you.” Then she disappeared up some nearby stairs.

Danny stood there tensely, still amazed that she’d gotten in the door. She ran her hand through her mop of curls to make sure they were orderly. Lucy always saw to her hair when they were alone, keeping it trimmed short. Lucy wasn’t very good with scissors though, so the chopping she did was usually uneven. But Danny wasn’t vain about her hair, and besides, not much of it could be seen when she was wearing her hat, which she missed keenly at the moment.

She wasn’t going to touch anything. She didn’t want to even
look
at anything, she was suddenly so nervous. This was a bad idea. Hadn’t she concluded, when she was still in his company, that Malory was too dangerous to deal with? Her anger had made her forget that, but she recalled it now in her nervousness.

She turned to leave, the
smart
thing to do. But she was arrested by the mirror on the wall next to the door. Not very big, it hung over a narrow table that held only a plate with two small cards on it. The sight of herself had stopped her—and fascinated her.

Rarely did she ever get to look in a mirror. The houses Dagger rented never had them. The rooms she robbed in that old inn didn’t have them, at least none that she’d ever noticed in the dark. This one showed her from the waist up, and without the debonair, manly hat, it pointed out just how pretty she really was. Amazing that anyone could still mistake her for a boy. Amazing what a pair of pants did for first and lasting impressions. Well, the flatness of her chest probably helped some with those impressions.

That had been one of her old fears, that she’d develop really huge breasts like some women did and be unable to hide them. But she was lucky. Her breasts were a modest handful, mediumsized, and thanks to Lucy, easily contained.

The easy part was because one of Lucy’s rare well-to-do customers had left behind a corset. They’d laughed a bit, that men would wear them, but then Lucy got the idea that it might come in handy for Danny in a few years, and it had indeed. Instead of wearing it around her waist where it was designed to go, she was thin enough that she could wear it around her chest. She just laced it up the front instead of the back, so she could manage it herself.

It was a stiff contraption for the most part, but of a fine quality, the material that encased it so soft, she barely noticed anymore that she was wearing it. Yet it flattened her bumps nicely. That, and the slightly slouched posture she affected, was all she’d needed to look as flat-chested as any male.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs reminded Danny that she had decided she didn’t want to be here after all, and she’d dawdled too long, ogling herself in the mirror. She didn’t turn around to see who it was though. She quickly reached for the door handle again.

“Leaving?” the girl said. “Good. He can’t see you now anyway. He’s entertaining a lady friend. I hadn’t heard them come in, but then I don’t come in this part of the house often. We’re short of staff, or I wouldn’t have answered the door at all.”

Danny swung around. She hadn’t needed to hear all that, figured the girl just needed someone to complain to. Her tone had been distinctly grumbling.

“You’re the maid?”

“No, we don’t have a maid yet, not even a footman to open the doors, much less a butler. I work in the kitchen. And you’d best run along. Come back later today. His lady friend should be gone by then.”

Danny was about to take that advice when her belly growled. Roam around starving for several hours while Malory whiled away his time in bed with some lady? Not bleedin’ likely.

“I’ll wait here if it’s all the same to you. It’s important I see him as soon as possible.”

“Suit yourself. You might as well go into the parlor then, it’s through there. Though don’t expect to find anything to sit on. This house hasn’t been completely furnished yet.”

The girl walked away toward the back of the house. Danny didn’t move, was still amazed at the speech that had come out of her own mouth. It was the way she used to talk! The way Lucy had insisted she forget if she was going to survive with the pack. And she’d learned Lucy’s way of speaking, learned it so well, she hadn’t spoken any other way in all these years.

It no longer seemed natural to talk like that. She wasn’t even sure why she had just done so. Being in a fine house? Listening to a servant complain—with good speech? But it had obviously put the girl at ease with her, enough to leave her alone in their house.

As for Malory, she’d give him exactly ten minutes to get his lovemaking over with. She’d experienced too much hunger in the last couple of days to wait any longer than that on that high-handed young lord.

“I
WAS PLEASANTLY SURPRISED
to run into you this early in the morning,” Mary Cull said as she lazed back in the overstuffed chair by Jeremy’s bed. “So unexpected. I was sure all you young rakehells were in the habit of sleeping the day away, since you stay up to all hours of the night searching for your entertainments.”

Jeremy smiled at the lady as he knelt by her feet, removing her shoes. Mary was a rather young widow, the youngest he’d ever seduced. Old Lord Cull had died on their wedding night. Too strenuous an enterprise for the old boy to undertake was the consensus.

Mary was no beauty, but she was rather pretty with her round blue eyes and dark blond hair. And she had taken to lovemaking so well, she entertained a number of gentlemen in her home now regularly. Jeremy wasn’t one of her “regulars,” though he’d been invited three times now and had enjoyed himself each time. Today when he had run into her, they had been closer to his house than hers, and it being so new, he had the ready excuse of wanting to show it off to her. Of course they hadn’t stopped to see much of the house; they had come straight upstairs to his room instead.

“I had some business to attend to with my uncle Edward this morning,” Jeremy replied.

“Something to do with your family?”

“No, actually, I’ve been managing several of the family’s investments, including one of my own.”

She was surprised. “You? Involved in business? You must be joking.”

“Not a’tall. I’ve found that I rather enjoy the managerial aspect. Wouldn’t dream of trying my hand at
finding
investments. We leave that to my uncle, who has a knack for only picking winners.”

“You amaze me, Jeremy. You are quite frankly the most handsome man in the city,
and
you know it. Your family is extremely wealthy. Like many of your peers, you don’t need to work. Why on earth would you?”

“Bite your tongue, m’dear. I don’t see it as ‘work,’ but as something I enjoy doing. Big difference there, don’t you think?”

“Not really.” She grinned at him. “But whatever suits your fancy—”

It was the wrong thing to say to a rakehell like Jeremy Malory if conversation was on your mind. His expression turned immediately sensual, his hands started rising up her skirt. Mary’s heart fluttered. But when she glanced over at his bed, which was their intended destination, she frowned.

“This room is entirely too—bachelorish. Is that even a word, darling? Never mind.” A sigh. “I really wish you had come home with me. I’d feel much more comfortable in my own bedroom.”

Her skirt rose up her thighs as his hands continued their path and pulled her hips closer to him so she was almost lying in the chair, her legs straddling his waist. “Pretend it’s your bed.”

She laughed. “It doesn’t look anything like mine and you know it. Where are the satin sheets, the fluffy pillows, the things that make you want to
stay
in bed? That’s a bachelor bed if I’ve ever seen one.”

“But you won’t know how nice it is until you get in it, will you? I promise you, you’ll find no complaints with my bed.”

It was said so huskily, Mary couldn’t resist clasping his head to draw it to her bosom. And that’s when the pounding started on the door and someone shouted, “Get decent, mate, I’m coming in.”

Danny bristled on the other side of the door. She’d given Malory his ten minutes, more like twenty, though she didn’t have a watch to confirm it. She was afraid he was one of those “lover” types that Lucy praised, that he’d be taking all day with the wench he had in there with him, and she wasn’t about to wait that long. So she’d finally marched upstairs and put her ear to each door she passed until she heard voices behind one.

It didn’t take long, though, for the door to get yanked open after she’d pounded on it. Malory was standing there, impatience turning immediately to surprise when he recognized her.

“You?”

“Ye got that right,” she snapped, her street slang coming back in her anger.

Her tone brought back his frown. “What the deuce are
you
doing here?”

“Get rid o’ the wench, then we’ll talk.”

It looked as if he’d momentarily forgotten about the lady behind him, and she’d taken offense at the word
wench,
was stiffly adjusting her skirts as she looked about for her reticule. Finding it, she snatched it up and marched to the door.

Jeremy quickly told her, “You don’t have to leave, Mary. This will only take a moment.”

“That’s quite all right, darling,” she stopped long enough to say, and patted his cheek to assure him she wasn’t that upset to have their tryst end so abruptly. “Come and visit me later today, where we
won’t
be interrupted.”

With one last glare in Danny’s direction, the lady left. The nabob ran a hand through his black hair in frustration and turned back into the room, heading toward the mantel over the fireplace, and a bottle of brandy and two glasses kept there. Danny followed him in, then stopped cold when she saw the bed. Where was her sense? She should never have barged into his bedroom of all places.

“I’ll wait for ye downstairs,” she said uneasily, and turned back for the door.

“The devil you will.” When that didn’t stop her, he added,

“Don’t make me tackle you. I might like it.”

That definitely stopped her. She could have been made of stone for all the movement she was capable of at that moment. Could she outrun him again?

As if he could read her thoughts, he added the warning, “I’d have you in my grasp before you could reach the hall. You may depend upon it. So you might as well close the door and tell me what you’re doing here.”

She wasn’t about to close the door, but she did turn around to face him again. It was galling, though, to find him not even close to her; in fact, he was leaning against the wall next to the mantel, arms crossed, ankles crossed, in that damned relaxed posture he’d used at the inn. Deceptive. He’d been no more relaxed that night than he was now.

He lifted a black brow at her. “Well? I doubt you’ve come to rob me. You wouldn’t have knocked. Or would you? D’you think you’re that good?”

She felt a blush coming, but with it, some of her anger returned, too, which bolstered her enough to say, “I’ve retired from robbing. Got kicked out, thanks to ye and yer bleedin’ high-handedness.”

“Did you? Well, now, that’s too bad. Indeed it is.”

Not a speck of sympathy was showing in his expression to support his remark. He even smiled! And that smile hit her in the gut, started her pulse leaping, had her eyes so mesmerized her thoughts scattered. How was she going to blister him with a piece of her mind if her mind wouldn’t function in his presence?

“Should have let me escort you home to do the explaining,” he added in a slightly scolding tone.

“Wouldn’t ’ave ’elped,” she grumbled. “’Is mind was made up to get rid o’ me long ago. Ye just gave ’im the excuse ’e needed.”

“He? Your boss?”

“Something like that.”

“So you were expecting this ousting?”

“Not this soon, and not without a job lined up nor a penny in me pocket,” she snarled.

“What happened to the money you earned that night?” he asked with only mild curiosity.

Another blush. “I turned it over, ’oping it would change ’is mind. It didn’t.”

“So you’re looking for a new band of thieves to join up with? Good God, you didn’t think you’d find one here, did you?”

Her eyes snapped up to find his expression as appalled as his tone had been. She should say yes and give him several reasons why he fit the role of thief, at least in her opinion. After all, it hadn’t been
her
idea to rob Lord Heddings. But she’d rather just get to the point.

“I told ye I’ve retired from thieving. Never liked it and ’ope to never ’ave to do it again. It’s a real job I’m looking for.”

There was avid curiosity in his expression now. “What sort of job?”

“I’m not particular,” she replied with a shrug. “Anything decent that will let me afford a roof over me ’ead and food on the table. I’ve been sleeping under the stars since I got kicked out. And being that’s yer bleedin’ fault, I figure ye owe me some.”

“I find it rather admirable that you’d prefer to sleep in some alley than do what you do so well.”

A third blush, but this one had her snarling, “Don’t. Ye were the preferred option, since ye
do
owe me, and I would’ve been ’ere sooner to collect if it didn’t take me so bleedin’ long to find ye.”

He chuckled. “Since you are determined to blame me for your dire straits, I’m not going to send you off with your pockets full and never find out if that exonerates me in your mind. And, no, before you think to mention it, I wouldn’t trust you to come visiting from time to time to let me know how you’re getting on.”

Her back stiffened. “I were going to ask for money, but the wench downstairs says yer short o’ staff here. I’ve decided I’ll be taking a job from ye instead.”

“You’ve
decided?” He burst out laughing. “What would you prefer, footman or maid?”

She glared at him. He wasn’t taking her seriously. That was easy to tell. And then it dawned on her what he’d just said, bowled her over actually. He knew! He wouldn’t have mentioned the maid’s job otherwise.

There was no point in denying it. She asked baldly, “When did ye guess?”

He left his position, strolled casually toward her—more like a wolf stalking his prey, she thought nervously. He stopped in front of her, raised a hand, was going to touch her cheek. She leaned back, even though he stopped just short of touching her.

He was smiling as he said, “There was no guessing, m’dear. I’ve an eye for beautiful women, no matter what they’re wearing. Though truth to tell, I do prefer them naked.”

Nervously she took a step back from him. “Ye won’t be seeing me naked.”

His brow rose. “No? Well, that’s a shame and leaves us nothing further to discuss, does it?”

“The devil it don’t. We’re discussing the job yer going to be giving me.”

He sighed. “We just did, and you turned it down without giving it the least bit of thought.”

“Getting naked?” She gasped indignantly. “Ye call that a job?”

He laughed. “More or less. I’m willing to take you on as my mistress. I find you quite amusing. Don’t mind admitting it. So I’m sure we’d both enjoy it for a while.”

Danny’s cheeks bloomed red, not with embarrassment this time, but with anger. “Forget it, mate. It’s a decent job I’m wanting, and ye
will
give me one, or I’ll be paying a visit to Lord ’Eddings. I’m sure ’
e’d
give me a job in exchange for the information I can supply ’im with, o’ where ’is jewels ran off to.”

The nabob was flushing with some angry color himself now. “This is preposterous. You don’t know the first thing about propriety or how a household like this is run. And you talk like a guttersnipe,” he said contemptuously.

“I can speak properly,” Danny replied slowly.

She
did
have to think it out though, since she wasn’t quite familiar with it yet. And it wasn’t going to be easy, especially when she was angry or even nervous, which seemed to be the perpetual case around Malory. After fifteen years, she was much more used to the slang.

She’d managed to surprise him, but only for a moment. “So you can mimic your betters? But you don’t know how to behave like them, do you? How d’you expect to get on here without embarrassing yourself as well as this entire household?”

“By learning. Yes, you heard me right. I will learn the job as well as how to conduct myself.”

“Why?” he demanded in exasperation. “Why go to all that trouble when you’re much more suited to—”

She took a swing at him. He ducked, but he probably got the point, that she was sick and tired of being insulted today. Just to make sure, she snarled, “Because I’m getting m’self a respectable husband and then lots of children. Those are me goals, mate. A good job, a husband, then to get started on a big family, in
that
order. And ye’ll be ’elping me with the first goal or there will be ’ell to pay.”

“Bloody hell,” he snarled back, then sneered. “What’s it to be then? Footman I suppose?”

The nabob was trying to insult her again and doing a good job of it. Or was he just stressing how difficult the task that she’d set for herself was going to be? Could she really fit into this handsome aristocrat’s world, even if only as his maid?