At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

“Oh? Right about what?”

“The devil has returned to Greystone Manor.”

Chapter Five

The town hall clock struck nine, indicating the end of the five minutes’ grace Miles had granted Miss Lovell. Seething, he leant back against the Doric column supporting the portico and stared at the large wooden doors. He’d been too lenient. Had given more than the lady had the right to demand.

What was it about Miss Lovell he found so diverting?

Why did he feel an overwhelming need to please her?

During his extensive travels abroad, he’d met many exotic beauties. Women with sleek black hair as soft and shiny as silk, the sultry look in their eyes promising a wealth of pleasure. But none of them came in a pretty package of contradiction—brimming with innocence, burning with passion.

Miss Lovell was a complex puzzle he felt compelled to solve. A fascination he was drawn to pursue.

Despite believing the worst of his character, she’d spoken to him tonight as if an honourable man lurked beneath the devilish facade. And while anger flowed through his veins for her failure to do as he asked, her need to defy him proved intriguing.

He whipped his watch from his pocket, checked the time and then snapped the case shut. Against his better judgement, he’d agreed to the lady’s request, but he could not go back on his word.

Miles pushed away from the stone column and brushed dust from his coat sleeves. He was about to march back inside when the doors flew open and three people stumbled onto the top step.

Satisfaction settled in his chest. The feeling had nothing to do with punishing Gilligan and everything to do with the fact the lady had followed his instruction.

“You’re late, Miss Lovell.”

“Late?” She raised a challenging brow. “I think not. Might I suggest you take your pocket watch to Mr Marshall and have him inspect the mechanism?”

Miles suppressed a grin. Miss Lovell had a magical ability to soothe his foul temper. Much like his French friend Dariell.

“There is nothing wrong with my watch. I bought it a month ago.” It was a lie, but he could not let her have the last word. Besides, he enjoyed this game they played.

“Then that explains why it is faulty. A gentleman who travels extensively should look to the likes of Mr Arnold if he hopes to make a reliable purchase. The advances he’s made with the chronometer are remarkable.”

“What need do I have for a chronometer when I am on dry land?” He was impressed she even knew of such things. It would be like him advising her on the texture of silk threads and the stability of needlework frames.

“Is there not a direct correlation between time and longitude?” she said smugly. “Is that not a factor when venturing to distant lands?”

“I believe she is right,” said the third person—a gentleman of average height and bland features.

“Oh, I am right.” Miss Lovell offered a smile that was so blinding Miles almost forgot about his problems with the steward.

“A chronometer is of use if one is navigating the seas,” Miles countered. “I spent most of my time sleeping below deck.”

He considered the woman before him. For some men, the sight of bare breasts made the blood rush to their cocks. For him, it seemed to be a rather pointless argument about nautical instruments.

“Moreover,” Miles continued, “no two watches will ever tell the same time unless one has the correct instrument to set them.”

The corners of her mouth curled up, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Then have you not just contradicted your original statement? How can I be late when no two watches are the same?”

Miles inclined his head in defeat. He admired intelligence almost as much as loyalty. “Then allow me to offer an apology for speaking out of turn. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business with my steward. Good night, Miss Lovell.”

Gilligan whimpered.

The lady squared her shoulders. She gripped the sleeve of Gilligan’s coat as a mother would a disobedient child. “My conscience demands that I remain with Mr Gilligan for fear you might kill him.”

“I am not going to kill Mr Gilligan. I may beat him.” The man deserved a good whipping for his crimes. “But I shan’t kill him just yet.”

Gilligan’s eyes widened, and he sniffed. “I can explain everything, my lord.”