That Despicable Rogue (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

B
y midday Ross was quite ready to climb the walls, and Carstairs was not helping his mood.

‘Why else would she have disappeared without warning?’ his friend argued logically. ‘She is obviously up to no good. Who knows what she could have stolen and given to the East India Company by now? You gave her carte blanche to go through all your documents yesterday and neither of us were here to keep watch last night. She waited until you let your guard down and then she pounced. I doubt you will ever see her again, old boy.’

The idea that his friend might well be right made him feel quite ill. It was not only the potential invasion of his privacy that bothered him, and the threat that placed on his shipping business, but imagining Prim going behind his back like that, when he had trusted her enough to let his guard down, felt like the worst sort of betrayal. He did not want to believe it of her.

Ross huffed and stalked out of the cheerful yellow morning room.

‘Cook!’ he bellowed as he rounded the kitchen door and spied his prey.

The older woman coloured guiltily and wrung the corners of her white apron in her hands.

‘Tell me again where Prim has gone to.’ He narrowed his eyes and glared down at her. ‘I
know
that you know.’

‘I told you, Ross—she has gone to do a bit of shopping, that’s all.’

Cook was an appalling liar and could not meet his eyes. Something was afoot and he did not like it at all. Yesterday, Prim had kissed him as if she had meant it. And now she was gone.

Dog started to yap excitedly outside.

‘Hello, boy,’ came Prim’s unmistakable tones. ‘Did you miss me?’

By the sounds of rapture coming from the canine she had clearly bent down to rub the animal’s ears. Then she sauntered through the back kitchen door—as if nothing at all was amiss and she had
not
left him climbing the walls with worry, fearing that John was right.

‘Oh, hello!’

She smiled, clearly a little startled at the sight of them. Two fetching spots of pink graced the apples of her cheeks and her hair was in windblown disarray. She looked so lovely that it took his breath away. Gone was the shapeless brown serge and severe bun. Prim was wearing a cheerful pale pink muslin gown that showed her trim figure off to perfection. Her hair had been dressed in matching pink ribbons but most of it was hanging loose around her face, mussed by the breeze. Instead of looking sheepish she grinned at him, her eyes twinkling.

‘Prim—could I have a word in my study?’ Ross muttered stiffly, and gestured towards the hallway.

‘Certainly,’ she said, breezing past him, wafting the seductive scent of flowers and fresh air in her wake.

Once inside the room, he slammed the door and rounded on her. ‘Where the
hell
have you been?’ he shouted, not wanting to admit that he had been concerned.

‘Out,’ she replied saucily, and then she walked directly to where he stood glowering at her. She smiled and stood on her tiptoes and then reached up and pulled his face to hers. The kiss was as brief as it was unexpected. ‘Thank you,’ she said as she released his head.

Bewildered, and more than a little off-kilter at her bizarre response, Ross struggled to find the right words. None came, and he was forced simply to gape at her in complete confusion.

‘I took your advice and went to see him and I gave him a piece of my mind. It felt marvellous.’ She grinned giddily and spun a happy circle on the rug. ‘To be honest, I am not entirely sure what I ever saw in him. He is weedy and cowardly and totally dislikeable.’

‘I’m sorry...?’ Ross was having trouble following. ‘
Who
did you go and see?’

Prim wandered over to the abandoned chests and began to pull out handfuls of correspondence. ‘My former fiancé, of course.’

Instantly he felt a surge of pure, raw jealousy that thankfully she did not notice. He clenched his hands into angry fists at his sides and tried his best to look nonchalant.

‘I thought about what you said and knew you were right. I
did
deserve to know why he called our engagement off and I am glad that I went. The man is quite odious. To think that I could have been married to
that
for the last seven years makes me feel...’ She shuddered and screwed up her face. ‘
Eww!
He has beady eyes, no chin, and he pads out his jackets because he has absolutely no shoulders.’

She deposited a big pile of papers on the sideboard.

‘
And
he was pompous,’ she added for good measure. ‘He was totally unremorseful about the whole thing—but he was absolutely
terrified
to see me. It was quite exhilarating, actually. I enjoyed watching him squirm.’

‘I can see that.’

She positively radiated joy, and a new confidence he had not seen in her before. It was infectious, and his irrational jealousy faded away. ‘I was worried about you,’ he admitted, coming up next to her, ‘I thought you had run away.’

‘Why on earth would you think that?’ Now it was her turn to look confused as she finally turned and faced him. ‘I told Cook I would be back by lunchtime—and here I am.’

Ross did not bother fighting the urge to touch her hair and wound his finger around one fat curl. ‘I thought you might have been upset about what happened between us yesterday.’

She blushed prettily, glanced at his lips and then looked down at her feet. ‘Er...about that... I think we should forget that it happened.’

‘I don’t think I can do that. In fact I was rather looking forward to doing it again.’

She tried to dart away, but stopped short as soon as she felt the tug of her trapped hair in his fingertips. ‘Ross—it is not proper,’ she murmured half-heartedly.

He gently tugged her a little closer. ‘Why ever not? My eyes are not beady, I have an
actual
chin and I have quite broad shoulders, if I do say so myself. Those were the main objections you had about your former fiancé, were they not?’

‘It has nothing to do with your superior physical attributes,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘It is simply a fact that employers do not fraternise with their servants. It is just not done.’

But she tilted her head so that he could freely nibble her neck, he noticed with delight.

‘Next I suppose you are also going to tell me to behave like a gentleman?’ he whispered between nips.

‘On the contrary,’ Hannah responded without thinking, caught up in the sensations he was creating, ‘After this morning I am done with gentlemen. They are a pathetic lot.’

‘I am pleased to hear it. Is that why you kissed me first this time?’

‘I did not!’

‘Yes, you did.’ Ross buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her perfume greedily. ‘You came into the study, grabbed me and kissed me. On the lips too. It was a blatant invitation, Prim.’

She looked delightfully flummoxed by this logic. ‘That...that was merely an expression of my thanks,’ she stammered breathlessly as his lips found the underside of her ear. ‘It was certainly not meant as encouragement.’

Ross chuckled against her neck. ‘Mmm-hmm? I am certainly feeling your encouragement now.’

Only then did she brace her hands against his shoulders and gently push him away to arm’s length.

‘I am not ready to be a dalliance, Ross. My heart is not up to it.’

Her blue eyes looked so troubled. He could see the turmoil she was feeling. It matched his own.

‘What if this is more than a dalliance, Prim?’

Ross was not exactly sure what he was offering, but he could not shake the thought that there was meant to be more between them. An uncomfortable knot of fear formed in his chest as he waited for her reply. Part of him wanted her to reject him. A bigger part didn’t.

After an age she turned away from him. ‘Sometimes I wish that...’

The noisy arrival of Dog in the hallway, closely followed by John and Reggie, prevented her continuing. She whipped her hand out of his grasp and stepped away.

‘Tea’s up,’ Reggie announced from the doorway, and Ross actually growled.

She had been about to say something profound about their relationship, he just knew it, and now the moment was gone.

‘I swear I am going to take that blasted tea tray and batter someone with it!’ he bellowed to a stunned Reggie.

‘They is just papers, Ross,’ the big man placated, missing the point entirely. ‘They ain’t worth getting angry about.’

Chapter Nineteen

A
few evenings later Hannah stood staring at the huge pile of documents that still needed sorting.

‘When you said that you had got into the bad habit of keeping everything, I had not realised that you meant it literally,’ Captain Carstairs uttered in disgust, shaking a letter in his friend’s face and interrupting her thoughts. ‘This is a receipt for
sugar
, for pity’s sake! Why did you keep this?’ He dropped it onto the enormous pile of paper that they had consigned as rubbish.

Hannah watched Ross wince. ‘I put Reggie in charge of my post,’ he admitted. ‘Once I had read it I told him to put away anything important.’

‘But the man cannot
read
,’ Carstairs whined in exasperation. ‘Did you know that when you gave him the task?’

‘Of course I didn’t,’ Ross lied, quite convincingly.

Of course he had. Thoroughly charmed, Hannah quickly averted her gaze and felt a smile touch her lips. He had wanted to give Reggie a job so that he felt useful. Ross had a kind streak that was a mile wide, which he tried his hardest to hide. He grumbled constantly about Reggie and Dog, yet he had taken them both in and given them homes. Even now, when he thought nobody was looking, he was tickling the besotted mutt behind the ears.

She turned her head slightly and he caught her eye. His hand dropped and he curled his lip in a facsimile of a snarl and glared at the beast instead. Dog simply rolled onto his back and offered his master his rounded belly, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth in sheer delirium.

She knew how the stupid animal felt—Ross had much the same effect on her too. There was no point denying the fact that she was seriously tempted by him. When he had suggested that there might be something more between them for the briefest of moments she had come close to capitulating and surrendering to the feelings that she was struggling to deny.

At the last minute she had realised that she was too frightened to risk it. She had given her heart once and it had been crushed. It had taken seven years to recover—if indeed if had fully. The thought of going through all that pain again, of entrusting it to another man again... It was too much.

‘Look at this!’ announced Captain Carstairs with great excitement as he unfolded a large piece of parchment. ‘This is our first agreement with the Siamese silk merchant, Ross.’

Hannah did not notice the look passed between Carstairs and Ross, and nor did she see how they watched her to gauge her reaction. That was because she had just found something that looked suspiciously like a gambling marker. At the bottom, in barely legible writing, she was certain it was signed ‘Tremley’. Carelessly she tossed it onto the rubbish pile and hastily picked up another piece of paper.

‘Goodness,’ continued Captain Carstairs in the background, ‘I had forgotten how cheaply we bought that first shipment. No wonder the East India Company are worried about the competition. We seriously undercut them then.’

Hannah rose carefully, picked up the small pile of rubbish and walked it towards the chest that they had designated for burning. She surreptitiously slipped the marker into her hand and pocketed it.

‘With any luck we will finish this tomorrow—but I fear I am all done for today. Goodnight, gentlemen.’

‘She was not even remotely interested,’ said Ross with an air of resignation after Prim had left the room. ‘I don’t think she
is
a spy from the East India Company.’

‘She is just a good actress,’ Carstairs countered. ‘Spies have to be. I will wager my entire fortune that she comes back and reads this when she thinks we are in bed.’

Ross laughed. The whole business of trying to catch Prim in the act of industrial espionage was becoming a bit ridiculous. Carstairs kept dropping clues and leaving strategic things lying around but so far it had all been to no avail.

‘I am not spending another evening with you hiding behind the chesterfield,’ he said adamantly. ‘Last night we waited for three hours.
Three!
And all to no avail. I can think of better ways to spend the night—sleeping immediately springs to mind.’

Carstairs nodded sagely. ‘I agree. But I am still going to keep an eye out.’

‘You are wasting your time.’

Ross knew in his heart that the woman was not a spy. Prim did not wish him any ill. In fact he was becoming rather hopeful that she was coming to see him in an altogether different light. All day she had been peeking at him shyly through her lashes with feminine interest, and blushing profusely whenever he caught her doing it. He found it quite sweet and touching.

He had also found himself doing exactly the same thing back. He was not altogether sure what had come over him. In the last few days he had started to feel very sentimental, and there was an odd ache bothering him in his chest. Perhaps he was finally ready to enter into more than a dalliance with a woman after all?

‘Oh, stop mooning!’ Carstairs said in disgust. ‘It is quite pathetic to watch. You are supposed to be softening the woman up—not falling in love with her.’

Ross opened his mouth to argue and then stopped himself.
Was
he? He certainly had become quite fond of Prim. Ever since the day she had come back from visiting her idiot fiancé things had definitely changed between them. She was certainly less frosty, and had stopped glaring at him when he flirted, although he had not managed to steal another kiss. She smiled more frequently, laughed more.

In some ways it was almost as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was like watching a caterpillar slowly being transformed into a butterfly before his very eyes. Prickly Prim had almost disappeared. In return he had actively sought her company, and he did everything he could to earn the reward of one of her smiles. When he did he felt as though she had given him a great gift.

He became aware of his friend watching him.

‘I knew it!’ John said with irritation. ‘First you lose interest in your mistress, then you move into a house, and now you are seriously thinking about settling down.’

‘Hardly,’ Ross countered, with less force than he had intended. ‘I am not mooning. I am just tired. Thanks to your continued insistence that we keep guard every night I am simply exhausted. To that end, I bid you goodnight, Carstairs.’

With as much dignity as he could manage, Ross sauntered from his study and closed the door behind him.

* * *

In the privacy of her bedchamber Hannah pulled out the yellowed and dog-eared slip of paper and read it properly. It was indeed from Viscount Tremley, but made out to a Viscount Denham—not Jameson, as she had hoped—and it was a promise to pay the princely sum of three thousand pounds.

Hannah was astounded by the amount. But how had it fallen into the hands of Ross? Tremley’s letter had stated that he intended to pay off his marker in full, so was this huge debt now owed to Ross instead? Was it some form of extortion?

She sincerely hoped not. The more time she spent with Ross Jameson, the more she liked him. She had not wanted to find this gambling marker, she realised, because its very existence justified all her former suspicions about him. Well, not entirely, she conceded with a sigh. At the moment it was the only evidence she had found that Ross might not be the thoroughly decent, kind and heart-stopping man she had come to know. He made her smile, set her pulse racing and kissed her mindless. Surely she would not have such tender feelings for a man who was capable of extortion?

Ever since she had confronted Eldridge she’d felt as if everything was up in the air. On the one hand she was still reeling from the discovery of her brother’s betrayal. Only the worst sort of man did something like that to his own flesh and blood. Perhaps Ross was right and gambling had become an addiction and turned her brother into a monster. It was still no excuse for his treachery. She hoped he rotted in hell, so raw was her anger.

But on the other hand, bizarrely, she found herself beginning to hope. Perhaps love
was
in her future. She was certainly not as averse to the idea as she had been. It had started to feel like a just revenge on both her brother
and
Eldridge to move on despite them. Why should their influence still prevent her from living her life to the full? But could she really risk her heart again for a man like Ross, no matter how tempting that might be?

Hannah had suffered through one heartbreak which had taken years to mend, and she had never even truly loved Eldridge. She had convinced herself that she had at the time, but she had been young and lonely. Eldridge had never made her pulse flutter nor her heart melt with tenderness. He had never made her laugh. She had certainly never longed for him or dreamt about him.

Her sleep was frequently interrupted, of late, by those green-eyed cherubs—and that had nothing whatsoever to do with lust and everything to do with possibilities. Somehow she just knew that Ross had the power not only to break her heart, but to shatter it to smithereens. The problem was Hannah had no idea if she was brave enough to take the chance.

The bed suddenly felt too warm and too uncomfortable. Hoping that some hot milk might encourage her eyelids to close, Hannah slipped downstairs and tiptoed down the hallway.

Then all hell broke loose.

* * *

The shouting woke him up. Ross did his best to ignore it, but even with his head shoved underneath his pillow he could still hear the uproar in the hallway below. By the heavy sounds of footsteps on the landing he was not the only person who had rudely been snatched from the loving arms of Morpheus. He ripped back the sheet, pulled on his breeches and stomped out to see what all the furore was about.

‘What the devil is going on?’ he roared as he stomped past a confused-looking Reggie on the stairs.

The scene that confronted him was not at all what he had expected. A bleary-eyed footman was standing next to the open door while his gamekeeper stood menacingly over the two men who were lying prostrate in the middle of the hallway, a fearsome-looking flintlock poised in his hands, ready to shoot. Prim was standing close by in a billowing nightgown, her eyes wide as she watched the gamekeeper with obvious alarm. Dog was barking and bouncing up and down as if his life depended on it.

‘What the blazes...?’ Ross came to a halt next to Prim. ‘Will somebody please explain to me what the hell is going on?’

The gamekeeper eyed him triumphantly. ‘I got them! Caught the blighters red-handed, I did.’ He motioned to the men on the floor with the butt of his rifle. ‘They’re lucky I didn’t shoot the pair of them.’

As he looked back at Ross the barrel of the gun waved wildly in his direction.

‘For goodness’ sake, man, put that blasted gun down. Somebody could get hurt.’

Ross stalked towards him and took the weapon from his hands. Noticing that John had also made it down the stairs, he handed it to him. As he had hoped, his friend knew how to make the thing safe, and he leaned against the banister casually, clearly enjoying the unexpected entertainment.

‘But they might run!’ the gamekeeper exclaimed, glancing nervously back towards the open door. ‘Shut that bleedin’ door!’ he shouted to the footman. ‘And then go and fetch the constable.’

The footman slammed the door and then merely gaped at Ross like a fish.

‘There will be no fetching of constables until I say so!’ he shouted, at nobody in particular. ‘Let’s all calm down.’

He said this mostly for his own benefit, because absolutely everyone appeared to be looking to him for direction.

‘Can somebody please tell me what is going on?’

The gamekeeper pointed to the floor. ‘I caught them red-handed! These two are nothing but
vile
poachers
.’