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“You will wait here, Miss Everley.”
As if laughing at him, she sat on the edge of a nearby chair, assuming a very prim and proper attitude, as if she was dressed as a lady, rather than a male servant.
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Presenting her a scowl of disapproval, Grand exited his chambers and made his way to his study to retrieve Liverpool’s message. He easily found it resting on top of a large box, prominently perched upon his desk. He briefly glanced to the markings on the outside and realised that the box held a lovely piece of pottery he had recently purchased. He had nearly forgotten the man’s promise of the delivery set for Saturday.
Snatching up the letter, he thought to read it before returning to his quarters, but that would require lighting a candle and rummaging through his desk for a pen knife to break the wax seal, which would likely alert his staff. Moreover, he did not trust Miss Everley not to disappear during his absence; therefore, he slipped quietly from the room to make his way along the dimly lit hall to the master suite.
Miss Everley was where he had left her, in the exact same pose of innocence, which, in Grand’s opinion, appeared to be as practiced as had been her earlier sleight-of-hand tricks. He eased the door to his chambers into place before turning, once again, to face the woman.
“I assume you know the nature of his Lordship’s message.”
“I cannot say with any true assurance, my Lord,” she said sweetly. “Lord Liverpool appeared quite concerned by our not finding a common goal when he called upon me after I sent around my regrets, declining to be involved in this matter.”
“As I did not speak of our cross words to the Prime Minister, I must assume that you have explained to his Lordship something of our not coming to agreement. Am I correct?” he demanded.
“I simply informed Lord Liverpool that I would prefer to pursue the matter on my own,” she responded sharply.
“As would I,” he said in adamant tones, before he frowned dramatically as a new revelation arrived. “If you wish to pursue this matter in a solitary manner, why did you bother to enter my house, dressed thusly?”
He gestured to her clothing.
She shrugged her initial response.
“I suppose I did so to prove to you that I possess skills you do not. Lord Liverpool insists we continue, but such is not possible unless you accept that I am not some sort of novelty.”
Grand studied her carefully as he cracked the seal on Liverpool’s note and tossed the pieces of wax into the fire, where they quickly melted.
“I have no doubt that you are most talented, Miss Everley. I simply do not wish the responsibility of protecting you if we encounter trouble, and I have no doubt trouble awaits each of us if we choose to share this responsibility.”
“Protect me!” she charged. “And here I was concerned with protecting you from London’s rabble.”
Grand barked a laugh.
“You have taken a journey to Bedlam.”
She flushed with colour: It was obvious that he had angered her once again, and the idea pleased Grand. It would be a delight to possess the right to tame her, that is, if he dared, which he did not. Despite being the daughter of an infamous thief, as well as more than a little madcap, she was still a ‘lady’. Her father had been the younger son of a Viscount and her mother a gentleman’s daughter. A man of his rank did not dally with a ‘lady’, even if she had fallen on difficult times and came to his bed loaded with scandal.
“Then accompany me into the stews,” she challenged, as her expression hardened.
“This evening?” he demanded.
“This night,” she corrected. “Did you not say discovering the necklace was a high priority? Or are you so soft that you require a full night’s sleep? Do you wake before noon, my Lord?”
Grandison glared at her, while wishing he could name some fault in her plan, other than that she should not go into London’s slums alone. Yet, speaking his qualms regarding her doing so would only ‘encourage’ her to prove him wrong.
“Allow me to read Lord Liverpool’s message first. The Prime Minister could have provided me with other orders.”
She crossed her arms in a defensive gesture, one that had Grand wishing to reach for her, to slide his arms about her to comfort her. Instead, he watched as she lifted her chin to say,
“Please do so. I would not wish you to possess an original thought. Being capable of making my own decisions is one of the advantages of not being part of Society.”
Irritated, Grand tossed Liverpool’s note onto the bedside table.
“Do you plan to go into the stews dressed as my servant?” He stepped around her to enter his dressing room, to reclaim the coat he had discarded previously. Sliding his arms into his sleeves, he straightened the line of the coat. “I am prepared, Miss Everley.”
Despite his expecting otherwise, her very feminine features remained unruffled.
