her of deliberate assault. ‘I think I will take my chances on that,’ she said, making herself hold his eyes directly for the first time since that kiss. It was a mistake.
Heat seemed to fill her; she could feel the blush colouring her cheeks. That broad chest under her palms, the sleek planes of his pectoral muscles, the utter assurance of his kiss, the taste of him still on her lips… Nell got a grip on herself before she licked her lips. Did he even recall that embrace? Or had he been in some sort of near-unconscious state?
The dark eyes looked back, bland and polite, and she realised she could not tell. ‘I found where you live with very little effort, Miss Latham,’ the viscount said. ‘Others could too.’ He waited, giving her time to think that over, but he had no need. The shivery image of knives that the thought of the dark man always conjured up was enough.
‘Perhaps a night or two, if Lady Narborough permits,’ she agreed, wondering why she felt she had surrendered far more than a few days of her life.
Chapter Five
‘M y dear Carlow, Marcus!’ Marcus stood up as Lord Keddinton strolled into the library, the picture of dry, slender elegance from his raised eyebrows to the slim hand holding his cane. ‘What is this I hear about illness and injury?’ His sweeping gesture encompassed the earl’s footstool and stick and Marcus’s sling, his pale eyes bright with interest.
‘A practical joke gone awry and an encounter with a footpad,’ Marcus said easily. ‘This is a mere scratch.’ A night’s rest allowed him to carry off the painfully throbbing wound with tolerable ease this morning. ‘You will take a glass of wine, sir?’
‘Thank you. If you still have that admirable claret I may stay all morning. A footpad, you say? Really, the streets are hardly safe at night these days.’ With a smile, Robert Veryan—Lord Keddinton—made himself comfortable, crossed one leg over the other and steepled his fingers, watching Marcus pour.
Five or six years younger than the earl, Keddinton had risen high in the circles of government power since thedays when Lord Narborough had been an active spy catcher and he had been a mere confidential secretary on the outskirts of the charmed circle of secrets and danger. His precise role was never spoken of publicly, but he had a reputation for knowing everything, most especially things people wanted to keep hidden.
‘You are well informed, sir.’ Marcus handed him a glass and set one beside his father. ‘As always.’
‘Oh, nothing is said outside these walls of the matter, I am sure.’ Keddinton inhaled the bouquet for a moment, then took a leisurely sip. ‘No, I called with a little gift for my goddaughter and she told me.’
‘And what has Verity done to deserve a gift?’ enquired the earl.
‘Nothing whatsoever—the best reason for giving a lady a present, I always think. Merely a set of enamelled buttons I saw this morning in Tessier’s. A pretty trifle.’
‘You spoil her.’
‘My godchildren interest me.’ Viscount Keddinton twirled the wine glass, admiring the colour against the light. ‘I like to keep in touch.’
‘That must take some effort, you have quite a few,’ Marcus observed.
‘I have been honoured by the confidence their parents place in me.’ Keddinton turned to the earl. ‘A practical joke, you say?’
‘Some friend of Hal’s, I have no doubt,’ the earl said easily. ‘Sent Marc a parcel which I opened—thought there was a snake inside! Gave me such a start my blasted heart was all over the place.’
‘And it was not a snake?’ Veryan set down his glass and fixed his full attention on the earl.
‘No. Merely a cord of sorts. How are Felicity and the family, Veryan?’
The conversation passed to family matters. Marcus sat letting the two older men talk, his mind on the puzzle of the rope. He would speak to his father about confiding in Veryan; the man knew all about the scandal of ninety-four. They had
Heat seemed to fill her; she could feel the blush colouring her cheeks. That broad chest under her palms, the sleek planes of his pectoral muscles, the utter assurance of his kiss, the taste of him still on her lips… Nell got a grip on herself before she licked her lips. Did he even recall that embrace? Or had he been in some sort of near-unconscious state?
The dark eyes looked back, bland and polite, and she realised she could not tell. ‘I found where you live with very little effort, Miss Latham,’ the viscount said. ‘Others could too.’ He waited, giving her time to think that over, but he had no need. The shivery image of knives that the thought of the dark man always conjured up was enough.
‘Perhaps a night or two, if Lady Narborough permits,’ she agreed, wondering why she felt she had surrendered far more than a few days of her life.
Chapter Five
‘M y dear Carlow, Marcus!’ Marcus stood up as Lord Keddinton strolled into the library, the picture of dry, slender elegance from his raised eyebrows to the slim hand holding his cane. ‘What is this I hear about illness and injury?’ His sweeping gesture encompassed the earl’s footstool and stick and Marcus’s sling, his pale eyes bright with interest.
‘A practical joke gone awry and an encounter with a footpad,’ Marcus said easily. ‘This is a mere scratch.’ A night’s rest allowed him to carry off the painfully throbbing wound with tolerable ease this morning. ‘You will take a glass of wine, sir?’
‘Thank you. If you still have that admirable claret I may stay all morning. A footpad, you say? Really, the streets are hardly safe at night these days.’ With a smile, Robert Veryan—Lord Keddinton—made himself comfortable, crossed one leg over the other and steepled his fingers, watching Marcus pour.
Five or six years younger than the earl, Keddinton had risen high in the circles of government power since thedays when Lord Narborough had been an active spy catcher and he had been a mere confidential secretary on the outskirts of the charmed circle of secrets and danger. His precise role was never spoken of publicly, but he had a reputation for knowing everything, most especially things people wanted to keep hidden.
‘You are well informed, sir.’ Marcus handed him a glass and set one beside his father. ‘As always.’
‘Oh, nothing is said outside these walls of the matter, I am sure.’ Keddinton inhaled the bouquet for a moment, then took a leisurely sip. ‘No, I called with a little gift for my goddaughter and she told me.’
‘And what has Verity done to deserve a gift?’ enquired the earl.
‘Nothing whatsoever—the best reason for giving a lady a present, I always think. Merely a set of enamelled buttons I saw this morning in Tessier’s. A pretty trifle.’
‘You spoil her.’
‘My godchildren interest me.’ Viscount Keddinton twirled the wine glass, admiring the colour against the light. ‘I like to keep in touch.’
‘That must take some effort, you have quite a few,’ Marcus observed.
‘I have been honoured by the confidence their parents place in me.’ Keddinton turned to the earl. ‘A practical joke, you say?’
‘Some friend of Hal’s, I have no doubt,’ the earl said easily. ‘Sent Marc a parcel which I opened—thought there was a snake inside! Gave me such a start my blasted heart was all over the place.’
‘And it was not a snake?’ Veryan set down his glass and fixed his full attention on the earl.
‘No. Merely a cord of sorts. How are Felicity and the family, Veryan?’
The conversation passed to family matters. Marcus sat letting the two older men talk, his mind on the puzzle of the rope. He would speak to his father about confiding in Veryan; the man knew all about the scandal of ninety-four. They had
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