Anna Campbell – A Scoundrel By Moonlight (страница 7)
Oh, dear Lord, this was an unholy mess.
“I’m a little frightened,” she admitted.
“Rot.” He arched those formidable black eyebrows. “How did you come to work here?”
She straightened in the chair, which would have put any of the furniture in her stepfather’s cottage to shame. “I’m an orphan.”
“Is that so?”
Her lips tightened. When she’d told his mother that her parents were dead—well, it was true, however kind her stepfather was—the marchioness had overflowed with sympathy. Lord Leath studied her as if reading the layers of deceit beneath every word.
“Yes.”
“And how long have you been alone in the world?”
She couldn’t restrain a faint sharpness. “You speak as if my bereavement is a matter of choice, my lord.”
He bared his teeth. “My apologies.”
She shifted uncomfortably under his unblinking regard, before she reminded herself that betraying her fear gave him the advantage. “My father was a sergeant major under Wellington in Portugal. He died when I was a child. My mother remarried and died when I was fifteen.”
All true. So why did she feel like she’d lied?
“Where did you grow up?”
“Sussex.” Her first lie. If she mentioned Kent, he might connect her to Dorothy, although he’d shown no recognition when she’d told him her name last night.
“You don’t sound like you’re from Sussex. You sound like a lady.”
William Simpson had been an unusual man, educated on a scholarship at Cambridge despite his humble origins. He’d made sure that both girls in his charge spoke with educated accents. “Are there no ladies in Sussex?” she asked sweetly.
His lips quirked. “None that I’ve met.”
That was another surprise. In her imaginings, Dorothy’s seducer had possessed no sense of humor. Nell had expected evil to seep from his very pores. But unless she’d already known his wickedness, she’d see nothing to despise and much to admire. It was odd, the more she saw of Leath, the less she understood why flirty, flighty Dorothy had found him appealing. Perhaps on the hunt, he adopted a different style.
“How did a woman from the gentle south end up here?”
She’d prepared a plausible story. The marchioness had swallowed it without question. She had a nasty feeling that the marquess wasn’t nearly so trusting. “I was to take employment in York, but the lady was called back to London unexpectedly and shut the house. One of the other servants told me about Alloway Chase and I decided to try my luck.”
His face didn’t lighten. Her stomach sank with the certainty that she hadn’t gulled him. “So you crossed an inhospitable moor, came miles from the nearest civilization, on the off chance of finding employment?”
She kept her voice positive. “Indeed, sir. Fortunately there was a vacancy for a housemaid.”
That had been lucky. Although if there hadn’t been a place, she’d have sought work in the area and waited until a job opened up. Staff at big houses were always coming and going. She’d have found a spot eventually, especially with the excellent references she’d written in the guise of a wholly fictitious employer at a wholly fictitious Sussex manor. Of course there was a risk that someone might check her background, but hopefully by the time anybody discovered her ruse, she’d be far away with the diary in her possession.
Under that level gaze, she battled the impulse to fidget. No wonder Leath had such a reputation as a shark in parliament. If she were the opposition, she’d roll over and give him anything he wanted.
“I find it puzzling that you accepted such a junior position. Surely if you can read and write, you’d find work as a governess.”
Perhaps she should have adopted a rustic accent. The problem was that she couldn’t see herself keeping up the pretense. “I was desperate, sir.”
She should have known that an appeal to his compassion would fail. “Is that so?”
When she didn’t answer—she wasn’t a skilled liar, which was why she stuck to the truth as far as possible—he went on. “And now you’re my mother’s companion.”
“It’s a preferment beyond my wildest dreams,” she said quickly.
For an uncomfortable moment, she wondered if he’d try to shake the truth out of her. Surely only her guilty conscience persuaded her that he recognized her lies.
“I’d like to hear more about your wildest dreams, Miss Trim,” he said slowly.
She clutched her clammy hands together to hide their unsteadiness and stared directly into those unfathomable eyes. “Do you suspect that I’m not who I claim, my lord?”
To her surprise and considerable discomfort, he smiled. This was the first time she’d seen his smile and she wouldn’t describe it as nice. It was the sort of smile a wolf gave a chicken before he tore it to pieces. Flashing masculine attraction and straight white teeth that looked ready to snap at her.
“Outlandish fancies, I’m sure, Miss Trim.”
Dangerously, she forgot her meekness. “Do you put all your domestics through this inquisition?”
“Only the ones I discover raiding my library in the middle of the night,” he said affably.
Curse her blushing. “I told you, I wanted something to read.”
“Yet in all those volumes, nothing caught your interest.”
Oh, dear God, he was a devil. Why wouldn’t he leave her be? She’d been overjoyed when the marchioness had promoted her. She’d soon discovered that housemaids had no privacy and little time to search a house the size of Alloway Chase. As a companion, she had a lot of free time—the marchioness wasn’t demanding—and a room of her own. Not only that, she had access to the family’s apartments.
The disadvantage of her new status was that she’d hoped to pass through Alloway Chase without attracting notice. Even before last night’s encounter with the marquess, her ladyship’s favoritism put paid to that idea.
“Perhaps I could advise you on purchasing some novels, my lord,” she said with cloying helpfulness.
If she’d thought his smile was astonishing, his laugh made her sit up like a startled rabbit. It was warm with appreciation. She liked it so much that she had to struggle shamefully hard to remember she despised him. She stopped wondering why Dorothy had found him appealing. Even she, with every reason to loathe him, couldn’t stifle a prickle of attraction.
Dorothy hadn’t stood a chance.
“Perhaps you should.” The watchful light returned to his eyes. “Do you enjoy your post, Miss Trim?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, only partly a lie. The marchioness was a darling. Her kindness had gone a long way to helping Nell cope with her grief over Dorothy’s death. Nell winced to think that her vendetta against the marquess would ultimately hurt Lady Leath.
“I need hardly say that I take great care for my mother’s happiness.”
Given that he hadn’t visited his mother in months, she could disagree. But even if she’d been his social equal, it would be impertinent to say so. “As do I, my lord.”
His eyes glinted as if he saw every prevarication. “Then please don’t imagine that your attentions will go unremarked.”
“No, sir.” She took the words as the warning they were.
“You may go, Trim.”
Trim, not Miss Trim, she noticed. Clearly he’d indulged her delusions of importance as far as he intended. That suited her fine. She couldn’t help feeling that if she lingered, that searching dark gaze would winkle out every secret. Then where would she be? Out on her ear. And he’d be free to continue on his nasty, seducing, ruinous way.
Strangely she was angrier now than when she’d arrived. And more intent on bringing this brute down. Even after a short acquaintance, she recognized that the marquess was a clever, perceptive, interesting man. Yet still he chose to wreck innocent lives.
Hector Greengrass settled his considerable bulk into the oak armchair in the cozy little tavern’s inglenook. It was a bloody chilly night, but in the month that he’d been in the area, he’d trained the locals to leave the room’s best spot for him.
He raised his tankard, took a deep draft and smacked his lips with satisfaction. The ale was good. Even better was this lark he’d set up over the last year since leaving the late Lord Neville Fairbrother’s employment. Sodding pity that the man had shot himself. Sad waste of a fine criminal mind.
Greengrass knew that most people saw him as hulking muscle, but he possessed a fine criminal mind too. And he wasn’t a cove to let an opportunity pass. When he’d realized that things in Little Derrick had gone awry, he didn’t hang around to share his master’s fate. He’d kept his eye on the main chance and survived.
He’d more than survived; he’d thrived.
Before abandoning Lord Neville, he’d taken what cash he could find and a few trinkets. Best of all, he’d nicked his lordship’s detailed record of debauchery. Since then, that diary had bought Greengrass’s mighty fine life. Not to mention his fancy clothes.
Even poor women paid to keep their sins secret. Luckily for Greengrass, Lord Neville had indulged his lusts up and down the country. Greengrass had plenty of bumpkins to hit for a shilling here and there, in return for suppressing the record of their ruin.
The sluts whose fall had resulted in pregnancy were no use to him. Their disgrace was clear for the world to see. But thanks to Lord Neville’s yen for silly virgins, the diary listed hordes of girls desperate to keep a good name in small, gossipy communities. They’d give up their last penny to escape public shame. After all, if their families disowned them as wanton trollops, the likeliest outcome was a hard life on the streets. Something well worth digging into the housekeeping money to avoid.