Dark Angel (Gentlemen of the Order 4) - Page 70
She arched a brow. “Your act of kindness makes me want to rip your clothes from your body and kiss every inch of you.”
“Then tomorrow, you may find me scouring the streets looking for urchins to save.” Though if it was a matter of trading kindness for kisses, he’d have to buy a bigger house.
“Perhaps I might reward you for your good intentions.”
Damn. He couldn’t wait to get her alone upstairs, feel those soft thighs gripping his hips as he plunged slow and deep.
“Shall we forget dinner and go to bed?”
She trailed her fingers across her decolletage. “While I find the thought more than appealing, there are a few things we should discuss. Namely how you intend to deal with your grandmother.”
Like an Arctic blizzard, the comment cooled his heated blood. “Tomorrow, I shall submit the letters as evidence at Bow Street, have Sir Malcolm read them before I take them to Berkeley Square and confront the countess.”
Thomas and Scupper returned, and the boy watched the footman serve vermicelli soup.
“You intend to go alone?”
“I think it’s for the best.” He would not put her through the torture of hearing the dowager’s vile diatribe. “She will use you against me. Insult you to the point I will lose all rationale.” And yet he needed her there, needed her calming influence. Did not want to deal with things alone anymore.
“Dante, words are the weapons of the weak. Drunken men have called me despicable things. I’m more than capable of dealing with a verbal assault, and as your colleague, I must insist on accompanying you tomorrow.”
Scupper made an odd retching noise. “Tell me they ain’t worms?”
Beatrice glanced at her dish and laughed. “They’re noodles.”
The boy raised his chin in acknowledgement, but seemed oblivious to the footman’s fierce glare and gesticulation instructing him to keep his young mouth shut.
“The lady’s right, milord. There’s no tongue as foul as that of a man wot’s downed three quarts of liquor.”
Dante couldn’t help but smile, though Thomas looked ready to murder the boy. “I’m not a lord, Scupper, but I thank you for your counsel.”
They continued the conversation while sipping their soup, and despite Dante admitting he feared the countess would exact revenge on them both, he eventually agreed Beatrice could accompany him.
“Old Bateson said the lady’s got a pocket pistol,” Scupper announced while removing her dish. “Said she’ll shoot me in the arse if I drop the plates.” He laughed. “I bet she ain’t scared of a few threats.”
Beatrice beamed. “Exactly so, Scupper.”
Thomas took the boy aside and told him not to speak while serving.
“He reminds me of you,” Beatrice said when Scupper withdrew.
“Because of his dark hair and mischievous grin?”
“No, because he says what he wants regardless of the consequences. And he is remarkably astute. How did you come to hire him?”
Dante told her about his conversation with Scupper. “Lucius Daventry saved me. I realised I have the power to save someone, too.”
“Have I told you I find your benevolence
arousing?” she said just before the help returned with the serving platters.
“Yes, but hold that thought for another thirty minutes.”
Upon Beatrice’s request, Thomas described the dishes in the vast bill of fare. “Pork à la Boisseau, lamb cutlets in piquant sauce.” He gestured to the sumptuous array of food. “Sirloin of beef.”
Scupper’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Wot’s that green thing wot looks like a spear?”
“Asparagus,” Dante said.
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