Page 32 of Better Off Wed

Her smile deepened. “Thank you.”

He could not decide whether she was thanking him for breaking her gloom or because she assumed the compliment had been directed at her. Both possibilities brought an answering smile to his own lips, easing the tightness that had settled into his jaw during the hours with Thornton.

“So,” she continued, closing the unread book without even the pretense of marking her place, “have you learned anything of use today?”

“Whether it will be of use, I hesitate to say.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankles, his feet resting close to hers. “But certainly I have had my eyes opened to Thornton’s…well, I hesitate to call it taste.”

“Worse than we suspected?”

Why did that single word, we, warm him more than the embers of what had been a roaring fire in the nearby hearth?

“I might have forgiven him for the insufferable hours in the woods—I’ve spent time with bores before—but then we adjourned to his study.”

She glanced downward, as if hoping the floor beneath them had suddenly become transparent. “And?”

“He possesses a substantial collection of artwork and other items having to do with…” Heat suffused his face. After flailing for words he could bring himself to utter in front of her, he settled at last on “… marital relations.”

Laura laughed and mischief twinkled in her eyes. “I suspect most of the relations in question are extramarital, are they not?” Then she sobered. “Did you see anything in that room that could be used to expose him?”

“Exposure would require him to be capable of feeling shame, and with such a display…” He shook his head. “He seems to think he has nothing to hide.”

“Outrageousness can itself be a distraction,” she said, still staring thoughtfully at the floor. Then she raised her eyes to him, her expression knowing. “Just as we, with our little charade, intend to distract the household from divining our true purpose here, he may hope to shock or amuse with the contents of his library shelves and walls, in the hopes no one bothers to dig deeper, to uncover something he is determined to keep secret.”

Such as a letter, written in invisible ink?

Jeremy shook off the thought. He had grown too used to searching for a hidden meaning in things. It was likely nothing of significance, a note from some equally depraved friend who liked to play games.

Now that he had found Lady Sterling, his mission at Thornton Hall was clear: discover how far she was willing to go to see justice served.

“And even if Thornton’s proclivities in art and entertainment are the crux of the matter,” she was saying, “I intend to find a way to make him regret indulging them. Limited to women who share his vices, they would be harmless enough, I suppose, though one must spare a pitying thought for her ladyship, who does not strike me as the adventuresome type.” Again, something that might have been wry amusement played around the corners of her mouth and quickly disappeared. “But I cannot and will not ignore the exploitation of his employees.”

Jeremy hardly knew how to respond. Was Laura herself adventuresome? Instinct told him that she knew at once too much and too little for her safety. For his part, he wished he knew even less.

“He seemed disturbingly eager to, ah, discipline the young maid who brought us coffee, even before she had the misfortune of spilling it on his desk.” The words were difficult to coax past his clenched jaw. He would rather not know of such things, and would much rather not speak of them.

Absently, Laura’s fingertips traced the embossing on the cover of the book. “By discipline, I take it you don’t mean dismissal?”

Never in a thousand years could he have imagined having such a conversation with anyone, particularly not a gently bred young woman. “I had the distinct impression he did not intend to let a defenseless girl get away so easily. Particularly not when he expects to be entertaining his friends by the week’s end.”

“A house party of rakehells,” she mused. “Miss Godfrey mentioned as much in her letter, and the maid hinted at it when she came to our room this morning to clean the hearth. I suppose Thornton’s friends are cut from the same cloth?”

“One assumes.” He pushed to his feet, unable to keep from pacing. “And we should be long gone before they descend on this house.” A shudder passed through him as he imaged Lieutenant Hopkins’s face if he ever discovered what his sister had seen and heard while under Jeremy’s—good God, he hardly knew what to call it. Surely not protection.

“Did he invite you to stay?” Her pose was eager.

“Yes, but—”

“Then stay we must, my dear husband. The Lady Sterling intends to see that Lord Thornton has made his last threat. If other fish slip into the net while it is cast, so much the better.”

“Laura.”

Did he intend to plead, to scold?

Either way, her name rose to his lips with astonishing ease.

“That’s it, my lord,” she said, that maddening smile once more firmly in place. “You spoke my name with a perfect blend of exasperation and…dare I say, longing?” Her eyebrows arched most provocatively. “And you must also have managed to persuade Lord Thornton of your sympathies to him. Bravo! Your acting talents are better than I would have supposed. But now,” she said, waggling her fingers to shoo him away, “you must go and dress for dinner and make up some excuse for our staying on until the others arrive.”

He should put a stop to this plan right now.