A Scoundrel by Moonlight (Sons of Sin 4)

“I’m trying to do what’s best. That girl puts herself forward in a most unbecoming manner.”

Dear Lord in heaven, why hadn’t Nell been more careful around Leath? Dismay left a foul taste in her mouth. She’d tried to disappear into the background, but something about his lordship goaded her. Nell swallowed to dislodge what felt like a rock stuck in her throat and leaned forward to hear the rest of the conversation.

“What’s best is that Nell continues to keep me company in her delightful fashion.”

“I insist you dismiss the girl.”

“Why?”

“She’s sly.”

“No, she’s not.”

“And she doesn’t show proper respect.”

“Her manners are excellent. I won’t have you interfering, James.” The marchioness paused and when she resumed, a husky edge indicated that her son had upset her. Of course he had, the insensitive toad. “I’ll pay her from my pin money if you’re unwilling to cover her wages. I’m hardly at your mercy, although you’re acting like I’m a charity case.”

“Mamma,” he protested, “I can’t be easy with that girl in the house.”

“Then that’s your problem.” The husky note persisted. “I can’t be easy if you banish someone who is my friend as much as my employee.”

Nell’s fists closed at her sides, even as her conscience chafed at what her plans meant for the marchioness. Her lifelong loyalty to Dorothy clashed painfully with her newer loyalty to Lady Leath.

“I could arrange for one of Aunt Sylvia’s girls to come.”

The marchioness’s delicate sniff was a feminine version of Leath’s snort of derision. “Not a brain between them. Anyway, it’s cruel to shut a young girl up with only a decrepit old lady for company.”

“You’re not decrepit.”

“I’m too decrepit to put up with those silly chits and their constant chatter.”

“What about Cousin Cynthia?”

Another delicate expression of disdain. “She’s even stupider than Sylvia’s girls. And she’d read me sermons. She’s becoming odiously preachy in her old age. One would think she’d never kissed an undergardener in the maze at Hampton Court.”

“Did she, by God?”

Nell could tell that this glimpse of his staid relative in her salad days had momentarily distracted Leath. Pray God he stayed distracted.

“She was quite the hoyden before she became so holy. Although she wouldn’t thank me for remembering.”

“Speaking of people reading things to you, when did you develop a taste for novels? You’ve never picked up anything frivolous in your life.”

The marchioness laughed. “You can thank Nell for that.”

“I’m sure,” Leath said, and his displeasure oozed down Nell’s backbone like ice.

“Don’t be so stuffy, James. After Sophie married, life became dull until Nell brightened my days. I can’t imagine why you’ve got yourself in a twist about the girl.” She paused. “One might think you’re jealous that I’m so fond of her.”

“A masterstroke, madam. But sadly one that’s gone astray. You won’t get me to retreat in a fit of pique. I don’t like that girl and I want her gone.”

“Well, I do like her and I want her to stay. Will you insist?”

“I’d like to.”

“But you won’t.”

Nell couldn’t be nearly as sure as the marchioness. She braced to hear Leath pronounce the fatal words, but he laughed with a mixture of chagrin and fondness. “You’ve won. Temporarily. But I’m watching your dear Miss Trim.”