CHAPTER THREE
“ALLOW ME, MA’AM,” Thorndyke said, stepping ahead of Jessica. He opened a single door and stepped inside. “My lord? I’m happy to say, sir, Waters caught her for you.” He then stepped back out and bowed her in, his smile and rather knowing wink nearly causing her to trip over her own feet as she entered the drawing room, only to be stopped again, this time by a pair of sniffing, tumbling dogs.
“Brutus! Cleo! Withdraw!”
The dogs, large puppies, really, and of some indeterminate breed, immediately turned their backs on her, to take up positions on either side of the Earl of Saltwood, who was standing in the very center of the enormous room, looking for all the world as if he’d only lately crawled out of bed.
Gone was the impeccable attire of the previous evening; this was a gentleman at home, and making himself very much at home, indeed. Clad only in buckskins and a white lawn shirt, and minus waistcoat, jacket and cravat, his hair a tumble of dark curls, he held a glass of wine in one hand and something rather limp and filthy in the other.
“I was led to believe I was expected,” Jessica said, staring at the limp and filthy thing. “Is that dead?”
Gideon held up the object in question, which proved to be a crude cloth replica of a rabbit, half its stuffing gone. Both dogs, still sitting up smartly, began to whimper piteously, one of them wagging its tail so violently its entire back end shook. “This? I’m merely training these two young miscreants to avoid temptation.”
Jessica eyed the back-end-wriggling dog. “I see. It’s always good to avoid temptation. And how is that going?”
“It could be better.” He tossed the rabbit in the general direction of the windows as two canine heads whipped about to follow its arc of flight. The whimpering increased. The dog on the left, the back-end wriggler, began to inch across the carpet on its rump. “Brutus! Stay!”
The dog looked to its master, its brown eyes eloquent with pleading, before scooting sideways another inch.
“St-ay,” Gideon warned again, dragging out the word.
“It’s late for a wager, I know, but a fiver the male gives in and the bitch stays put.”
“Your blunt really just on Cleo, as that idiot Brutus probably won’t last more than another ten seconds,” Gideon said, nodding.
“Less. Ten seconds is an eternity. And the bitch resists. That’s the wager.”
The earl nodded. “All right. Done.”
Brutus tried, he really did. His agony was palpable, his need immense. He actually made it for another four seconds (Jessica counted them off aloud), before he gave in to temptation and pounced on the rabbit.
Cleo watched, yawned widely and then turned in a circle before settling herself in front of the fireplace.
Jessica approached his lordship, her hand extended, palm up. “That’s five pounds you owe me, my lord. Men always give in to temptation, and for the most part, sooner rather than later.”
His smile had something clenching deep in her belly. “With women more apt to follow orders. Obey.”
She rallied at this suggestion, clenching belly ignored. “Hardly. She’s merely waiting for a better offer, one she doesn’t have to share.”
“And now we’re not speaking of dogs,” Gideon said, waving her to the nearest sofa. “Please, be seated.”
She waited for him to say something about his attire, some sort of offhand apology for appearing without jacket or waistcoat, at the least. But he looked so at his ease she didn’t really expect it. Rather, it was as if he was saying, this is my home and I do what I want, when I want, where I want, up to and including tossing filthy cloth rabbits in this splendidly appointed drawing room.
“Comfortable, Gideon?” she finally asked as, still holding his wineglass, he took up a seat on the facing sofa.
Once again he smiled, and once again, that certain clenching feeling took hold in her belly. “I was wondering how long it would take until you had to say something. All I can answer is to quote you, I suppose. I dislike encumbrances.”
“Loathe. I believe I said loathe.”
He shrugged. “A female word. In either case, let it be said we both enjoy being comfortable. There’s a reason gentlemen stand so tall in their finery, you know. Mostly it’s because we can’t bend, or even remove our own jackets, and risk slicing off our earlobes with our shirt-points if we turn our necks independently of our head and shoulders.”
He’s trying to make me like him, Jessica thought angrily. He’s saying without words: Look at me, I’m a simple man. I may be Earl of Saltwood, but at the heart of things I’m only a man, one who loves his dogs and his comforts. I’m not who you think I am, your brother is safe with me.
Either that, or he was returning her favor of last night, already half stripped and ready for seduction. There was also that. Was that what Thorndyke’s wink had been all about? Did the servants think she’d been sent for, only surprised when she’d shown up at the front door? The thought had already occurred to her downstairs. Good God, yes, that was it! He was about to take her up on her offer. Here. Right here. Probably on the floor, just to double the insult. After all, he was a Redgrave, and above nothing. And she’d come here today like a dog called to heel. She’d obeyed.
She had to know. She felt horribly certain she was right, but she had to know.
“My brother, Gideon. He’s here? He’s not, is he? You’ve sent him away. You haven’t even so much as told him about me.”
Brutus had finished with the rabbit, that hadn’t put up much of a fight in any case, and was now sitting beside Gideon, his head on the man’s knee. The earl scratched him behind the ears, clearly all forgiven. “Hmm?” he said, redirecting his gaze to her. “I’m sorry?”
“No, you aren’t,” Jessica said, getting to her feet. “I don’t know what sort of mean game you’re about, my Lord Saltwood, but I am not playing it. My brother, sir. Or else I’ll find my way to the door.”
The dark eyes, moments earlier open and amused, narrowed to dark slits. The friendliness was gone, leaving only the man. The menace. The reputation.
“Not if I don’t want you to,” he said, rising, as well. “You do perceive the difference between now and last night, I’m sure. That is what you’re thinking of, isn’t it? You, without a chaperone, clearly a knowing woman, appearing as requested at a bachelor establishment—worse, at the domicile of one of those rascally reprobate Redgraves. Even that lunkhead of a footman saw the way of things. But, please, continue this belated show of astonishment if you must. I’m amenable either way, actually, although I would prefer you don’t prolong the pretense until it becomes tiresome. In other words, I’ll play, but I will not lower myself to halfheartedly chasing you around the furniture. It might upset the dogs.”
Oh, God. He was big. He was so big. Handsome into the bargain, yes, but mostly, he was so big. She couldn’t outrun him. His servants would be of no help to her. He was right. She’d come here of her own free will. She ran a gaming house. She
