on his arm, her gaze searching his face, almost looking as if she remembered how to cry.
He removed her hand gently before responding. “Isabella, you do me no service in your love for me. I have told you that before.”
“I will not give up hope, mon cher.” Isabella, with a tiny smile on her face, lifted her chin and sailed through the door, taking her still-intact pride with her.
Bryce sighed in relief and quickly closed the door to begin his search for the wet young woman. Where could she be? He looked under the bed, then in his valet’s room, hoping she might have hidden there waiting for him, her lithe body still flush with the heat of their embrace.
But his search proved fruitless. He then exhausted most of the house and did not rest until he had looked into every darkened corner for a splash of dark hair and willing full lips.
Finally, reluctantly, he accepted that she was gone. Left him without a promise to return or proof she even existed. He wandered back to his rooms and threw himself on the bed.
Had he only dreamed her? Had he really held her sweet form in his arms? When sleep finally arrived, his body and soul sought sanctuary from his regular nightmares with thoughts of Mrs. Grundy. Was she his savior or his nemesis?
Safely back in her room, door locked, Patience fumbled with the sleeves of her damp nightdress. In her haste, she ripped the seam at the wrist, causing her to mutter an oath. She threw aside the nightdress and wrap and then buttoned herself into a long linen shirt before crawling into bed. She gathered the bedcovers up to her neck, but the shivering would not stop.
She knew it was only a matter of time before he uncovered her disguise. Maybe not tonight, but soon, if she didn’t use more sense. Would he suspect she was one of the new maids? She could only pray he would have no cause to look further than the first two floors, and hoped that her venture would have no ill affect on her health. Thankfully, her guardian angel had seen her through this little escapade.
Suddenly, Patience sat up. She had not taken her lucky onyx with her. Yes, that must be the reason why fortune had deserted her.
With a tired shake of her head, she settled back onto her small, lumpy bed. Although she’d intended to put the night from her mind, when she closed her eyes, the past hour replayed itself like a nightmare. Or possibly more like a lovely dream, as if his lordship was not her enemy but her lover.
Back on the ledge, she had already decided to return to the other bedroom when the earl held out his hand to her. Panicked, her mind went daft. His voice rang in the wet night loud and yet gentle, compelling her to trust him to save her. Her hand held in his firm grasp, she knew he would not let her fall.
After he had carried her through the window, she remembered a fright so great that if he’d asked her what she was doing out there, she would have confessed her deception.
Everything had happened so quickly that before she realized it, she had landed on top of his warm, hard body. Stunned at being discovered, Patience allowed this stranger to press a kiss on her unsuspecting lips. She had never been kissed in such a way that numbing fear could dissolve into sweet, mind-robbing pleasure. She heaved a sigh. He had tasted of rain and fire and—she licked her lips—brandy.
Patience shuddered, thinking how close she’d come to becoming unmasked. If not for her quick action of rolling right under the bed and over to the far side, she would still be in the earl’s room trying to explain why she happened to be standing outside his window in the pouring rain.
Before she had crawled through the opposite door, she had taken a quick peek across the room and saw the earl embrace a woman. Probably his mistress that the servants had mentioned earlier. She was amazed that the earl could so easily trade one woman for another. But if what she suspected of him to be true, his Don Juan nature was yet another sly trick in his basket of spy misdeeds.
With the earl and countess absorbed in each other, it had seemed a perfect time to exit. She went through a small study, which she disappointingly had no time to explore, to the hall door, nearly safe. As if the French were after her, she flew down the hallway and up to the attic, hoping no one was up and about to see her flight.
Secured in her tiny room, she’d deliberated over whether she was thankful or disappointed that the countess had arrived when she did. What was the matter with her? Of course she was thankful, ever so grateful that his seduction had ended when it did. She chose not to pursue musings on what might have happened if the countess had not made an appearance. Oh, how could she have let herself be cozened by him?
True, he was handsome when he smiled, and he might kiss as if he could set her world on fire, but she, Patience Leticia Mandeley, would have none of it. She vowed not to let him near her again when her emotions were unguarded.
She would be more careful in the future. This spy business certainly would take some practice.
Oh, the earl was a devious one. I will just have to watch him more closely next time. Since he was a spy, he probably knew all sorts of ploys to make people talk. Convinced that she would yet prove to be a worthy opponent in his game, she drifted off to sleep, still reproaching herself for vividly remembering the earl’s kiss and finding pleasure in it.
Chapter 5
Patience scowled into her small looking glass on the shelf. Shadows under her eyes heightened her translucent skin. Admittedly, she was a bit tired from her adventure last evening, but then she always had difficulty rising in the morning. When she’d dragged her protesting body from bed and washed, she felt fit to face the beckoning day and the unsuspecting earl.
Brother James often said a righteous cause has the strength of angels behind it, but Patience thought she could have used a little more help from above. With a shrug, she turned to look for her ivory combs to capture her unruly hair. Only one could be found. She searched the small room and saw no sign of the missing comb. The pair had been her mother’s, and she hated losing one.
Slowly sinking onto the bed, Patience believed she may have worn them last night on her ill-planned trip to the earl’s room. If she wanted it back, there simply was no recourse but to search his room. The thought of entering his bedchambers again so soon made her apprehensive. When would it be safe to venture back into the enemy’s lair? Only when she was absolutely certain the earl was nowhere nearby.
Ready to work, Patience entered the kitchen, wondering how she could learn the earl’s whereabouts, since she wanted to explore his study. Although the housekeeper was not about, the old cook, Melenroy, told Patience that she was to see to the storeroom and organize it. With a heavy sigh, Patience headed downstairs in the direction the cook pointed, determined to be the fastest organizer Mrs. Knockersmith had ever hired.
Bryce spent a few hours reviewing crop rotations with his land steward, then mounted Defiance and headed for Viscount Carstairs’s estate, with Captain Keegan Kilkennen by his side. The captain’s ship would be undergoing repairs for the next week, and Bryce wanted Keegan’s opinion on the viscount’s murder. They planned to meet the constable at Carstairs’s home to discuss it.
“You seem preoccupied, my friend,” Keegan remarked as they trotted side by side over the rolling verdant meadow. Their horses’ hooves left fresh imprints on the soft, rain-dampened ground. “What causes the frown? This murder business or a woman?” he teased.
Bryce returned a grin. “Truthfully, a bit of both.” Although he should concentrate on Carstairs’s murder, Mrs. Grundy haunted his thoughts. Where had she come from? Why
