heat to you?”
“Don’t blame the dog, you sapskull. You might instead want to
rethink the brand of scent you bathe in. As it is, we’re chewing on it,” Gideon
said, retiring to the mantel, but not before shooting Jessica an amused look.
“Say hello to your half sister.”
Adam stopped, searched among his many chains for a gilt
quizzing glass on a stick, and lifted it to his eye. “M’sister? Jessica, was it?
No, that’s impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s dead these past
half-dozen years or more. Bad fish, something like that. Mama told me most
distinctly.” Then his mouth opened in shock, and he pointed the quizzing glass
accusingly in her direction. “Imposter! Charlatan! The old reprobate cocks up
his toes, and they come out of the woodwork, looking for his blunt. Fie and for
shame, woman!”
Gideon rejoined Jessica in front of the sofas. “I’ve been
thinking, Mrs. Linden. I may have been unduly hasty in denying your request for
guardianship, and even thin-skinned. It must have been the pistol. Perhaps we
can reopen negotiations,” he suggested quietly.
At last Jessica regained use of her tongue, which she’d been in
some danger of swallowing. “I don’t think so,” she told him, still goggling at
the creature in front of her. “You can have him. As to the other, I’ll expect
you in Jermyn Street tonight, at eleven.” Then she clapped her hands to her
mouth, realizing what she’d said. “The...the other being discussing this
business of murders. Not...not you know. ”
“What? She’s leaving? I’ve routed her, by God!” Adam clapped
his hands in delight. “Yoicks! And away!”
“Oh, stubble it, you nincompoop,” Jessica bit out as she
brushed past him.
Gideon’s delighted, infuriating laughter followed after her,
all the way down the stairs.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Y OU ’ RE LOOKING HARASSED ,” Lord Maximillien commented as he entered the
study in Portman Square and perched himself on the corner of his brother’s desk.
“At least you’d look harassed if you were anyone else. The Earl of Saltwood is
never harassed. He is a— Is there such a word as harasser? ”
“What do you want, Max?” Gideon asked, putting down the letter
opener he’d been balancing between his fingertips.
“Me? To bid you farewell, I suppose. I leave for Brighton in an
hour, on orders from Trixie. There’s some clever barque of frailty she’s
befriended, a bit o’muslin with a problem our grandmother thinks might rouse me
from my boredom. In any case, she’s been matchmaking. In a weak moment, I agreed
to sign on as cohort. It’s my adventurous spirit, you understand.”
Gideon looked at his brother and shook his head in mock dismay.
“You even look like an adventurer. Your shirt cuffs are unbuttoned and too long,
that cravat’s an insult, those smoked glasses a ridiculous affectation—and I may
soon enlist Thorndyke to help hold you down while I scrape all that hair off
your face.”
Max bent his head and looked at his brother overtop the
blue-smoked rimless glasses he’d discovered a few months earlier in a small shop
on Bond Street. “All that hair? A simple mustache, a cunning patch beneath my
bottom lip—hardly all that hair. ”
Gideon pointed up at him, twirling his finger. “And the rest of
it? Looks to be the beginnings of a beard to me. I imagine even a whore with a
problem won’t tolerate a fellow who only allows himself to be shaved three times
a week.”
Max stabbed his fingers through the heavy thatch of dark brown
hair he wore halfheartedly parted in the center of his head, its length covering
his ears, the whole waving around his almost aesthetically beautiful face. Only
his dark eyes, so like Gideon’s, threw out the warning that this was no pretty
fool; perhaps why Max had delighted in finding the smoked glasses. “Allow? I’m
not so lazy. I shave myself, brother. Shave myself, dress myself, wash my own
rump.”
“And two of those tasks performed in
“Don’t blame the dog, you sapskull. You might instead want to
rethink the brand of scent you bathe in. As it is, we’re chewing on it,” Gideon
said, retiring to the mantel, but not before shooting Jessica an amused look.
“Say hello to your half sister.”
Adam stopped, searched among his many chains for a gilt
quizzing glass on a stick, and lifted it to his eye. “M’sister? Jessica, was it?
No, that’s impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s dead these past
half-dozen years or more. Bad fish, something like that. Mama told me most
distinctly.” Then his mouth opened in shock, and he pointed the quizzing glass
accusingly in her direction. “Imposter! Charlatan! The old reprobate cocks up
his toes, and they come out of the woodwork, looking for his blunt. Fie and for
shame, woman!”
Gideon rejoined Jessica in front of the sofas. “I’ve been
thinking, Mrs. Linden. I may have been unduly hasty in denying your request for
guardianship, and even thin-skinned. It must have been the pistol. Perhaps we
can reopen negotiations,” he suggested quietly.
At last Jessica regained use of her tongue, which she’d been in
some danger of swallowing. “I don’t think so,” she told him, still goggling at
the creature in front of her. “You can have him. As to the other, I’ll expect
you in Jermyn Street tonight, at eleven.” Then she clapped her hands to her
mouth, realizing what she’d said. “The...the other being discussing this
business of murders. Not...not you know. ”
“What? She’s leaving? I’ve routed her, by God!” Adam clapped
his hands in delight. “Yoicks! And away!”
“Oh, stubble it, you nincompoop,” Jessica bit out as she
brushed past him.
Gideon’s delighted, infuriating laughter followed after her,
all the way down the stairs.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Y OU ’ RE LOOKING HARASSED ,” Lord Maximillien commented as he entered the
study in Portman Square and perched himself on the corner of his brother’s desk.
“At least you’d look harassed if you were anyone else. The Earl of Saltwood is
never harassed. He is a— Is there such a word as harasser? ”
“What do you want, Max?” Gideon asked, putting down the letter
opener he’d been balancing between his fingertips.
“Me? To bid you farewell, I suppose. I leave for Brighton in an
hour, on orders from Trixie. There’s some clever barque of frailty she’s
befriended, a bit o’muslin with a problem our grandmother thinks might rouse me
from my boredom. In any case, she’s been matchmaking. In a weak moment, I agreed
to sign on as cohort. It’s my adventurous spirit, you understand.”
Gideon looked at his brother and shook his head in mock dismay.
“You even look like an adventurer. Your shirt cuffs are unbuttoned and too long,
that cravat’s an insult, those smoked glasses a ridiculous affectation—and I may
soon enlist Thorndyke to help hold you down while I scrape all that hair off
your face.”
Max bent his head and looked at his brother overtop the
blue-smoked rimless glasses he’d discovered a few months earlier in a small shop
on Bond Street. “All that hair? A simple mustache, a cunning patch beneath my
bottom lip—hardly all that hair. ”
Gideon pointed up at him, twirling his finger. “And the rest of
it? Looks to be the beginnings of a beard to me. I imagine even a whore with a
problem won’t tolerate a fellow who only allows himself to be shaved three times
a week.”
Max stabbed his fingers through the heavy thatch of dark brown
hair he wore halfheartedly parted in the center of his head, its length covering
his ears, the whole waving around his almost aesthetically beautiful face. Only
his dark eyes, so like Gideon’s, threw out the warning that this was no pretty
fool; perhaps why Max had delighted in finding the smoked glasses. “Allow? I’m
not so lazy. I shave myself, brother. Shave myself, dress myself, wash my own
rump.”
“And two of those tasks performed in
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