If He's Dangerous by Hannah Howell

the table and nudged her into a seat. “I expect you to leave no detail out of your undoubtedly convoluted explanation.”
    Lorelei took a sip of the rich chocolate as she hastily thought of what to tell Max. Once she was composed enough to speak calmly, certain that she could disguise any hint that she was being less than precise on the sequence of events, she told Max just how a wounded man had come to be hiding in the gatehouse. She avoided all mention of nakedness and kisses, but, when she was finished, Max was looking at her as if he knew she had omitted a few things. Lorelei hoped it was just a natural wariness he had gained from years of dealing with the large Sundun brood and not a true suspicion that she had not been completely truthful.
    Max sat down across the table from her and sipped on his own cup of chocolate. “Wherlocke, Wherlocke,” he mumbled, his brow creased with thought. “Ah, yes, I have heard of them. Head of the family is a young duke. A recluse named Modred Vaughn, Duke of Elderwood. I do not recall what number he is though, but it is an old title.”
    â€œModred?” She shook her head. “I had not noticed that name when I sent word to him. I think his name was obscured, just the letter M and then a list of other more common names. Poor fellow. No wonder he just uses the initial when he can.”
    â€œQuite. I have heard whispers that the family has worked for the government from time to time.”
    It was not difficult for Lorelei to see how a man like Sir Argus could prove to be a great asset to king and country. With his gift he could unearth all manner of helpful secrets.
    â€œI have also heard rumors that the men of the family are rogues,” continued Max. “It is said that there is even a house in London where they place their many by-blows.”
    â€œOh, dear. Well, at least they care for them. Too few do.”
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    Max slowly nodded. “That is something in their favor. I believe I will take the broth to our guest. You will go up to the main house now.”
    â€œBut . . .”
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    â€œNo. You are a very clever woman, m’lady, but you are also quick to trust and have a very sympathetic nature. I must personally take the measure of this man before I can agree to keep this all secret, especially since I strongly suspect you have no intention of setting his care into the hands of the servants.”
    â€œThe fewer people who know he is here, the safer he will be.”
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    â€œTrue, but I wish to assure myself of the need for subterfuge.”
    Max allowed her to mix a few herbs into a tankard of cider and then ordered her home. She knew it was useless to argue with his command. Many of her class would find Max’s ways intrusive, those of a man who was stepping far beyond the bounds of a servant, but the man was too intricately intertwined with her family for the Sunduns to be so rigid. As she made her way home, she prayed Max did not decide that she could not help Sir Argus. She knew she would fight that decision tooth and nail, and hated the thought of being on the wrong side of Max.
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    Argus looked at the tall, thin man setting a tray down on the bedside table. “Are you another cousin?”
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    â€œNo.” Max helped Sir Argus sit up straighter in the bed, cautious not to cause him much pain. “I am Max, butler to His Grace, the Duke of Sundunmoor.”
    â€œMax? Your surname is Max?” A stupid question, thought Argus, but he was too busy fighting the pain in his ribs to care.
    â€œNo. I do not choose to use my surname. It tempts people to make unseemly jests. My surname is Cocksbaine.”
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    â€œAh. Quite. Well, Max, I am Sir Argus Wherlocke.”
    â€œSo I was told.” Max sat on the edge of the bed and began to spoon-feed Argus a thick, rich beef broth. “I sent her ladyship home as I felt it was important that I make a judgment on all of this without her close