Still stunned, limbs weak, her wits in disarray, she blinked up at h
im.
He grinned, reached down, took her hands, and drew her to her feet. “You need to get dressed, then we need to appear again before your guests.”
He might well be right, yet…she had to own to nagging disappointment. Accepting her chemise from him, she struggled into it, trying to think. He helped her into her gown, then expertly relaced it.
She put a hand to her hair.
“Wait.”
He turned her to face him, resettled her diadem, touched the fine mass of her hair here and there, then stepped back and looked her over. Stopped at her breasts. Lifted her topaz pendant and settled it in place.
She met his eyes as they rose to hers. Searched them. Simply asked, “Are you sure?”
He didn’t ask about what. Instead, his lips lifted; bending his head, he touched them fleetingly to hers. “Oh, yes.” He straightened and his eyes met hers. “When I finally have you naked beneath me, I want at least two hours to play.”
12
Michael elected to return to the ballroom via the secondary stairs at the end of the wing. Still pleasantly aglow and a trifle distracted, Caro allowed him to guide her. They were on the landing halfway down when the sound of a door closing brought them both to silent attention.
Below, in the corridor connecting the library and Geoffrey’s study to the front hall, Ferdinand came into view. He walked confidently along; at one point, he looked around, but he failed to glance up.
Silent and still, they waited until he disappeared; they heard his footsteps fading across the hall tiles.
They exchanged a glance, then continued down. The door from which Ferdinand must have emerged led into the library. As they stepped off the stairs, it opened again; Edward stepped out. He closed the door, then started along, and saw them.
He smiled grimly. “Did you see?”
Caro nodded.
“I take it he searched?” Michael asked.
“Carefully and thoroughly for the past half hour. I watched him from outside.”
Caro frowned. “I know there’s nothing there, but did he take anything? Or look at anything in particular that might give us some clue?”
“No, but he went over the books very quickly. If I had to guess, I’d say he was looking for folios—the sort that look like books but are really folders of notes or letters.”
Michael grimaced. “Camden’s papers.”
Caro humphed. “Well, at least he now knows there’s nothing here.”
“Or at Sutcliffe Hall.” Michael took her elbow and steered her toward the ballroom, from whence sounds of guests regathering were emanating.
Edward followed. When they reached the ballroom, Michael released Caro; she headed for the terrace, no doubt intent on checking that her supper by moonlight had gone as she’d planned. He let her go. Pausing on the threshold, he scanned the heads, eventually locating Ferdinand’s.
Beside him, Edward quietly said, “I wonder where Leponte will think of looking next.”
“Indeed.” Michael glanced at Edward. “We’ll need to think more on that.”
Edward nodded. “He’s already checked the study, but I’ll continue to keep an eye on him, just in case.”
Inclining his head, Michael moved away. When he had a chance, he was going to have to try to put himself in Ferdinand’s shoes, but the Russian attaché was, possibly unwittingly, standing next to the Prussian ambassador’s wife—duty called.
Two hours, he’d said. As far as Caro could see, that meant she’d be waiting until the day after the fete, at the earliest, to learn the answer to her desperately urgent question.
She felt like having the gig harnessed, driving around to Eyeworth Manor, grabbing Michael by the cravat and hauling him off…