Page 26 of Better Off Wed

This sort of thing.

Love affairs?

Deception?

Spying?

He could feel another ill-advised laugh building in his chest. “Tell me, do you often rely on bad plays for inspiration?”

“On occasion, yes. My work as Lady Sterling is a sort of theater. I promise men what they think they want, some little distraction or transitory pleasure, which in turn allows me to take what I want without them even noticing—at first, anyway—that anything is gone.”

The last word was muffled behind her fingertips, the vowel stretched almost beyond recognizability as she fought to disguise a yawn. Certainly if the other activities of the day had not tired her, her dazzling display of acrobatics ought to have done the trick—and he wasn’t thinking of the leap from the overturned carriage.

For his part, he could not remember ever having felt either so exhausted—or so entertained.

“I think we could both do with some rest,” he said, stepping toward her. “Shall I help you to the bed?”

She craned her neck to see behind her, then back to face him, wearing an expression he could only call pleasantly scandalized. “Why, Lord Sterling!”

“I shall of course make do with the floor of the dressing room,” he said stiffly.

“No, no. That won’t do. What if the servants come in in the morning and find we’re sleeping apart?”

“I thought…I thought I was supposed to be keeping myself cool and aloof?”

“Well, yes, but remember the rest of the play. Despite the way the husband behaves in front of others, he’s really quite desperately in love with his wife.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, let us say then that I desperately love you enough to let you sleep undisturbed while you recover from your injuries.”

That perfectly reasonable explanation earned only a moment’s pause. “But wouldn’t you be worried that I might require your assistance in the night?”

“Are you—are you asking whether I will actually worry, or whether your husband would?”

“For the next few nights, I’m afraid, those two gentlemen are one and the same. Now, Jeremy darling, take me to bed.” She smiled benevolently as she stretched her arms upward, her reticule clutched in one hand and the bottle of laudanum in the other.

If she continued to refuse Phelps’s tonic, perhaps she would be willing to spare him a drop or two? His temples were beginning to throb.

Uncertain what else to do, and recognizing that further protests tonight would be a waste of breath, he hoisted her into his arms, making the uncomfortable discovery that her pliant body fitted to his just as perfectly as he’d feared. More so, in fact, for now she was wearing no corset or mud-stiffened gown, only nightclothes.

He carried her across the room, to the side of the enormous bed where the linens had already been turned back, and placed her atop it, giving her a moment to arrange herself before he covered her loosely, so as not to strain her injured ankle.

Once she was comfortable, he would go around to the other side of the bed. Just a few steps farther, and he would be safely in the dressing room. She was in no condition to stop him—

She patted the blue coverlet, indicating the space beside her.

“Miss Hopkins,” he said after drawing a breath to steady himself, “whatever role you pretend, you are in fact an unmarried lady with a reputation to guard, and I—”

She cut across him with an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “Thank goodness we have had this time to rehearse.”

“Rehearse? My God. If word of this charade gets out, the gossip—”

“Exactly. The gossip. Oh, for pity’s sake,” she cried when he stared at her, uncomprehending. “This is why Lady Sterling works alone. Don’t you see? The drama will only be enhanced when the servants speculate that your indifference to me is really all an act, because they have seen—”

“Seen what?” Alarm made his voice rise.

“Only what we wish them to see,” she reassured him, with the sort of exaggerated gentleness he generally associated with speaking to small children and dull-witted men. “But we can’t very well persuade them that you made me fall in love with you from the dressing room floor.”

“This is madness. You are mad.”