“Of course.” Yes, Royston had every intention of talking with Lady Redvers, or rather, with her husband.
As the earl left, Royston wondered who the liar was.
After Havisham left as quickly as he’d arrived, Royston sipped his tea.
He both winced and smiled when he rubbed his arm. Winced because the wound bloody hurt, and smiled because it made him think of Angeline. She could have killed him. She knew how to take care of herself. He shouldn’t find her so adorable.
Hell, he wanted to marry her. His marriage proposal had shocked her, and not in a good way. He’d expected her to say yes immediately. There was a lesson for him to learn.
He leant back in the armchair in his drawing room. The warm hearth spread a nice glow that soothed his nerves as he read the latest issue of theWeekly Information Bulletinfrom the House of Commons.
In the past two years, he’d studied everything about the law, but he still had problems understanding all the nuances of the legal publications. If he wanted a seat in Parliament, he needed to become fluent in law.
A dull thud came from the window. He bolted upright. A blob of gum was splattered on the glass, attached to an arrow. Angeline. He opened the window and snatched the arrow from the glass. A piece of paper was wrapped around the shaft.
I’m here. May I see you? A.
He stuck his head out of the window but didn’t see anyone. Grinning, he walked down to the kitchen. The voices of his butler and housekeeper came. They were always the last servants to retire to their rooms.
He entered the kitchen, feeling uncomfortable because, years ago, he’d spent a lot of time in a kitchen, but now he didn’t have many reasons to.
“Enright, Mrs. Lawerence.”
They stood up from the chairs around the table in a flutter of action.
“My lord.” Enright bowed, and Mrs. Lawerence curtsied. “Do you need anything?”
“You may retire for the night. I have everything I need. Thank you.” It was the first time he’d asked them to leave the kitchen early. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
“What about your nightcap, my lord?” Mrs. Lawrence asked.
“I’m not in the mood tonight.”
“Would you like me to check the windows?” Enright asked.
Bugger. He appreciated his employees’ efficiency, but as a former thief, he knew how to keep his house safe.
He waved a dismissive hand. “No, it’s fine.”
Mrs. Lawrence fought a smile. She might have understood his eagerness to be alone. “Then we’ll retire, my lord, and see you in the morning.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in the drawing room, reading for a while.”
Enright frowned. Mrs. Lawrence offered a polite nod. Royston returned to the drawing room with a vague sense of guilt.
He paced, worried Angeline would leave before he had the chance to let her in. He exhaled when the sound of doors shutting came, a sign that his butler and housekeeper were in their bedrooms. Finally. The things a grown man had to do for a bit of privacy.
As he walked towards the rear door, he felt like a lad, scared of being caught red-handed by his parents, doing something he shouldn’t. He inched the door open and muttered a curse when the hinges let out a screeching noise that left a trail of goosebumps on his skin.
He paused, waiting for one of his servants to come. Either Enright and Mrs. Lawrence were the two fastest people to fall asleep, or they were pretending not to hear. Anyway. The important thing was that Angeline’s reputation remained intact.
“Angeline?” he whispered. “You can come out.”
A soft rustle of dry leaves being crunched rose from the shadows, and Angeline emerged, wrapped in a long cloak. A hood hid her features. Her bow was slung on a shoulder.
“I wasn’t sure.”
He let her inside and closed the darn screeching door. Pressing a finger to his lips, he guided her along the dimly lit corridor and up the stairs. He was an adult man, owned the house where he lived, and paid the salaries of the people who worked in the house, yet he was sneaking into his room. Being a footman was easier.
