At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

Ada hummed. “So we are going out, but it’s not a secret?”

“Well, yes, it is a secret.”

“Then we are creeping?”

“Yes,” Lydia whispered. Maids were not supposed to ask questions. “We are creeping.”

“Oh, only you know how I tend to trip over my feet when I’m nervous, miss.”

Lydia hooked arms with the maid. “Trust me. You won’t fall.” There were three steps to go. “I have a good grip—”

The drawing room door creaked open, and Lord Randall came strutting out into the hall. He wore a long silk smoking jacket in pea-green and a jaunty red cap with a gold tassel.

Lydia froze.

“Ah, good morning, Miss Lovell.” His arrogant gaze drifted over her as if he’d known of her plan all along and was lying in wait. “Is it not rather early for an outing?”

Suspicion hung in the air like the heavy blade of a guillotine. One wrong word from Ada and it was likely to come crashing down to sever their plans.

“Not at all,” Lydia said, lifting her chin. “There is nothing like the morning air to invigorate one’s spirit.”

“I can think of better ways to get the old blood pumping.” His sly smile made her stomach coil in revulsion. Oh, she couldn’t wait for this popinjay to return to London.

“Well, we each have our preferences, and walking outdoors is mine.” Lydia descended the last few steps. “I’ll be sure to tell you all about it upon my return.”

“Why wait until then? Give me time to change, and I shall accompany you on your little excursion.” He raised a brow as if it were a sword braced ready to ward off her challenge.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I wish to discuss a few matters with my maid, a few personal matters, you understand.”

“Miss Lovell has a secret,” Ada whispered, forgetting her place.

Oh, lord!

Heat rose up Lydia’s neck to warm her cheeks.

Rather than berate the girl, Lord Randall gave a smug grin. “A secret, eh? Perhaps you and I should have a private chat upon your return. I doubt your mistress will tell me anything, but you on the other hand …”

Lydia glanced covertly at the long-case clock. The large brass hand was but a minute from chiming the hour. It would take ten minutes to reach the stones with Ada in tow.

Don’t be late.

“You would disregard my feelings?” Lydia said, affronted. “You would pester my maid to reveal that which is confidential?” She hoped to unsettle him enough that they might leave without further protest. “I took you for a better man than that, Lord Randall.”

It was a lie. Lord Randall would sell his mother to a market hawker if he thought he might benefit, would sell his soul if it meant improving his status.

A smirk formed. “You are devilishly fascinating, Miss Lovell.” He stepped aside and gestured to the door. “Keep your secrets for now, my dear. It seems you mean to oppose me in every regard, but you should know patience is not my forte. I shan’t wait forever.”

Lydia had no desire to prolong their conversation, and so merely said, “Then I shall bid you good morning, my lord.”

With a grip on Ada’s arm, Lydia resisted the urge to run. Instead, they walked gracefully past Lord Randall in the hope he didn’t change his mind and insist on accompanying them. As soon as she closed the door, the clock struck the hour.

Damnation!

The last thing she wanted was to give Greystone the upper hand. Then again, one look at the tatty cottages would wipe all signs of arrogance from his face.

“I know it’s not my place to pass comment, miss, but Lord Randall is mighty strange,” Ada said as they hurried across the manicured lawn and entered the woods.

“Oh, and why do you say that?” Lydia took the maid’s hand and led her along the short path, the one less trodden.