At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

“What about Mr Gilligan?” Miss Lovell said, moving to follow the man with soup for brains. “We must help Lord Greystone apprehend him.”

“Let him go,” Miles said, stepping behind her. Presently, he had something more important on his mind. And he needed no one’s help to deal with the steward. “He won’t get far.”

Miles trailed behind her as they moved out of the shadows. Gripped by an odd sense of loss, he reached for Miss Lovell’s hand, his fingers locking around her wrist as he brought her to an abrupt halt. She stood so close his coat brushed against the back of her gown.

“Meet me in the morning at ten,” he said boldly, his mouth but an inch from her ear. “I need someone to take me on a tour of the cottages, someone the people trust and respect.”

She shivered visibly as his words breezed past her ear but remained silent for a moment. Miles could almost hear the workings of her mind as she contemplated the request.

“Must it be tomorrow?” She did not turn to look at him nor did she snatch her hand from his grasp.

“If you wish for the work to begin immediately, then yes. I’m to leave for London in a few days.” The distance would help rid him of this mild infatuation. An infatuation that had seized him instantly and was developing at far too rapid a rate.

“I cannot come alone,” she whispered.

“Then bring a maid. We’ll have constant company, so you’re in no danger of being ravished by a devil.” There was a hint of desperation in his hushed tone, but then he wanted this matter dealt with quickly, so he could focus on the real reason for his return.

“Very well,” she breathed. “We shall meet at the stones and begin our tour from there.”

She spoke of the monolithic stones that bordered both properties. At some point in history, they had belonged to the Greystone Estate. Now, the boundary ran straight through the middle.

“Agreed. I shall wait

for you at the stones at ten o’clock.” With some reluctance, Miles released her hand. She inhaled deeply and then hurried to catch up with her brother. “Oh, and Miss Lovell,” Miles called after her.

She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Don’t be late.”

Chapter Six

“Where did you say we were going again, miss?” Ada asked for the third time in as many minutes.

“Just out for a walk.” Lydia could not risk telling Ada the truth. One slip of the tongue and Arabella would do everything in her power to prevent the excursion.

The journey home from the assembly had been painful. A ten-minute lecture deriding any lady who involved herself in a gentleman’s business followed an equally dull summary of Lord Randall’s merits.

All hopes Lydia had of escaping to her room upon their return to Dunnam Park were dashed. Arabella insisted they sat with the gentlemen while they took their port. Lydia found herself seated next to Lord Randall. A strange flowery scent clung to his clothes—something he’d picked up in Paris he informed them. It was far too feminine. Nothing like the smell of exotic spices that hung in the air whenever Lord Greystone appeared.

Meet me tomorrow.

Lydia shivered as she recalled the way Greystone’s hot breath breezed across her neck. While it would take more than words and a confession from Mr Gilligan to persuade her that the man was not a rogue, her traitorous body was a slave to these new sensations.

“A walk to where?” Ada’s question dragged Lydia from her daydream.

“Wherever we go, you’ll need something warmer than that.” Lydia moved to slip the shawl off Ada’s shoulders. “Fetch your bonnet and coat, and then we must be on our way.”

They shrugged into their outdoor clothes with haste. After bantering with Lord Greystone over the time, she could not be late.

“Why are we creeping down the stairs, miss?”

They were creeping because Arabella had ears like a bat and that didn’t mean large and pointed. “Because it is still early for those who were out at the assembly last night.”

If they could just reach the front door without attracting attention, they’d be safe. Once out of the house neither Arabella nor Cecil would risk breaking into a sweat to chase after them.

“But you were at the assembly last night, too, miss.”

“Yes, but I did not consume copious amounts of champagne.” Who needed wine when Greystone’s stare left her feeling drunk and dizzy?