Then a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, a secret half smile, for himself and not for her. Before she could find words, or breath with which to speak them, his gaze slid to Arabella.
He inclined his head in greeting. “Miss Arabella Larke, I presume,” he said, his voice low and rough like smoke.
Thea could not see whether Arabella nodded in return, but certainly she did not curtsy. Arabella was famously difficult to impress; even an earl would not induce her to bend a knee, or to rouse herself to more than a drawl to say: “And you must be Lord Luxborough.”
“However did you guess?” he said wryly.
Belatedly, Thea remembered their mission, and in the absence of Arabella’s commentary, she had to fight the urge to look for Ventnor’s men. Not that they would accost her now, in the company of an earl. A man like Lord Luxborough would easily keep such men at bay, and ensure quick service and polite treatment, and make the whole world fall into line. Indeed, an earl would make quite a useful pet, but all things considered, she’d rather have a cat.
Then his eyes slid back to Thea, a knowing, triumphant gleam in their depths that set her heart pounding anew.
Beside her, Arabella shifted slightly. “Allow me to present my good friend, Miss Helen Knight.”
Thea hastily lowered her head and bobbed a curtsy. If his lordship deigned to favor her with a nod, she didn’t see, but she doubted he would. An earl was one of the highest-ranking men in the land, and earls did not bow to merchants’ daughters, however hard their parents tried to turn them into gentry.
“The infamous Miss Helen Knight,” he murmured, and she did look up then, meeting that knowing gleam. She opened her mouth to demand his meaning but Arabella, ever prescient, smoothly spoke first.
“My father informs me you have come to collect the plants sent here by Lord Ventnor,” Arabella said. “They have arrived safely and await you in the conservatory.”
Lord Luxborough looked irritated by Arabella’s interruption. “And your father informs me that you will guide me to them, Miss Larke. Indeed, he informed me that you will show me his entire estate, which you will inherit, although I cannot fathom why he might have mentioned that.”
His dry tone indicated that he knew very well why Mr. Larke had mentioned Arabella’s inheritance. Poor Arabella, to be married off to a rude, unpleasant man like this! Arabella could handle him, of course—Arabella could handle anything—but Thea had to speak nonetheless.
“But you have not traveled here to meet Miss Larke, have you, my lord?” Thea said.
Arabella elbowed her again, but she ignored it, unable to look away as those tired eyes flicked back to meet hers.
“Hmm?” he said.
“You are not here for Arabella,” Thea persisted. “You are here for your plants.”
He half groaned, half sighed. “Actually, Miss Knight, I am here for you.”
Chapter 2
Rafe watched the expressions flit over Miss Knight’s face, or rather, what little of her face he could see down the shadowy tunnel of her bonnet. He could just make out dark brows over blue eyes, a narrow nose, wide mouth, and pointed chin, all of which were looking divertingly outraged.
He ought not have said that, of course, but then, he ought not be here at all, given that his purpose was to engage in a little fraud and mischief. But when he had discovered what trick the Knight sisters were planning, Rafe could not resist seizing the opportunity to play a trick of his own. Now that he was here, looking into Thea Knight’s big blue eyes, while Helen Knight headed to the border disguised as a man—well, there was no rule saying one could not entertain oneself when engaging in a little fraud and mischief.
“How can you be here for me?” Thea Knight asked. “You cannot even know who I am.”
“You are Miss Helen Knight, are you not?”
“You heard Miss Larke say that to be so.”
Well played, Thea, he might have said—a clever way to avoid telling an outright lie. But then he’d already known she was clever. According to the content of letters provided by an enterprising servant in the Knight household, Thea Knight was the architect of this entire scheme to fool Ventnor by taking her sister’s place. A risky scheme, to be sure, but so far successful, given that Helen Knight was already on her way north while Ventnor’s men sat like hairy potatoes, one eye on the ladies, the other on their tankards of ale.
The bonnet was clever too, irritating though it was; he wanted to see her properly, this woman who would unwittingly help him. But never mind: He would have plenty of time to study her in the coming week, and she would have plenty of time to stare at his scars.