Page 10 of A Scoundrel in the Making

Chapter Four

They reached the hallway and Abigail glanced back at the ballroom before Lord Reade pulled her into the corridor. They took several steps forward, then slowed. Lady Elana waited up ahead where the hallway took a turn to the right. Abigail pulled her hand from Lord Reade’s arm and quickened her step. Lord Reade kept pace, and when they reached Elana, she led them around the corner.

Four doors down on the left, Elana stopped and entered the room without knocking. Modest light spilled in from the hallway. She crossed the room and secured a candle from the mantle. In a moment, she had the taper lit.

“Lord Reade, would you close the door, please?” Elana asked as she lit a candelabra sitting on a table situated near a divan.

He closed the door, then clasped his hands behind his back and stopped to examine an ornate cabinet to the left of the door.

Elana set the single candle back on the mantle, then looked at Abigail, brows raised, and said, “What do you think of Lady Ker’s collection, Lord Reade?”

“I cannot comment on the collection,” he said without turning, “but I would wager this Boulle cabinet is authentic.”

For the first time in their association, Abigail read genuine surprise on Elana’s face.

“Indeed?” Elana hurried to his side. “We were always certain Belinda… well, she has a penchant for embellishment.”

“I can’t blame you. This piece alone is worth a fortune. If the entire room were genuine Louis XIV furniture, it would be a fortune some might kill for. Though, making off with the booty might prove challenging.”

“How interesting,” Elana said.

Lord Reade looked at her. “I have the impression you are not just being polite.”

She laughed. “You are very astute, Reade. Forgive me. May I call you Reade?”

“As you wish, my lady,” he said, and to Abigail’s surprise, she detected no sexual innuendo in his manner.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Elana started toward the divan.

Abigail followed.

“Shall I build a fire?” Reade asked.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Elana said.

“It’s no trouble,” he said.

Abigail sat with Elana and watched as he dropped to one knee at the hearth. Elana’s brows rose and Abigail felt certain she, like Abigail, had noticed how his jacket went taut across his broad shoulders. He certainly filled out his coat quite nicely. But then, he knew that. No doubt, he knew they watched him, and he planned which nights he would bed each of them.

She envisioned herself astride his slim hips, palms flat on his muscled chest as she lowered herself onto his erection. He appeared to be in excellent physical condition. She would wager she could ride him into a mind-numbing orgasm.

He lit the kindling and fanned it into flames.

Abigail started from her thoughts. She repressed the urge to glance at Elana as Reade placed some larger sticks and then two logs on the fire. Finally, he rose and faced them.

“Thank you.” Elana smiled. “Please, have a seat.” He took the chair closest to Abigail, and Elana said, “By now, you must have guessed that I am your contact.”

A corner of his mouth ticked up in a half smile. “I had begun to wonder.”

“Good,” Elana said. “Then I’ll get right to it. Your mission is to track down the thief who stole the Honors of Scotland.”

“The Honors of Scotland?” Abigail blurted. “Why, I had no idea they still exist. The gold and silver weren’t melted down long ago?”

“Fortunately, no,” Elana said.

“They were last seen in 1707, when Parliament disbanded under the terms of the Treaty of Union,” Reade said.

Abigail looked at him in surprise. “I am impressed.”