“Perhaps you ought to have risen earlier,” Lucien suggested to her, his tone cool, for he could not suppress his irritation.
Her presence was an anchor in the room, and Lucien had done his damnedest to make certain she would fail to appear. But appear she had, and even in her shapeless dress and ashen complexion, Winchelsea was looking upon her with undisguised appreciation. Indeed, it was the warmest regard Lucien had ever seen the devil cast upon anyone. Worse, she continued to invade his own thoughts, and his arm would not forget the graze of her nipples. Nor would his mind stop wondering if she wore a corset today.
Blast.She had, it would seem, thwarted him once more. Perhapsabominationwas not a strong enough descriptor.
The woman was a plague.
A pestilence.
An interference he neither wanted nor needed.
Her gaze flicked to his at last, and the anger he saw sparkling in their depths was unmistakable. He had prodded her with his words. Goaded her even, and had issued a challenge. Surely she would pick up his tossed gauntlet in acceptance and announce to the Duke of Winchelsea what Lucien had done to her the previous evening. For, thorn in his lion’s paw or not, Miss Montgomery was a smart woman. By now, she would have realized what he had been about. She would have known his machinations had led to the sickness roiling in her gut.
“I fear I was more exhausted from my travels than I had realized, Your Grace,” she told him sweetly. “Sea voyages require a fortuitous constitution. Next time, I shall be armed with the weapon of experience, however. I shall not fall prey to such naïveté.”
He understood the double meaning in her words and the challenge in her frank stare. She was not going to tell Winchelsea Lucien had foisted so much port upon her the night before, she’d spent the morning undoubtedly on her knees before the chamber pot.
Part of him rather wished she had, for then they could dismantle this farce, and he could convince Winchelsea and the rest of the Home Office he had no need for a partner. Specifically, that he had no need for The Abomination, a woman who had allowed her pride to lead her foolishly into his trap on the very night of her arrival in London.
“I have no doubt your voyage was arduous, Miss Montgomery,” Winchelsea said, the picture of a beau flattering the lady he had asked to dance at a ball. “Fortunately, you are here in London for the foreseeable future, and I am sure time and some proper rest shall aid you.”
Good God, was WinchelseacourtingThe Abomination? Had he chosen her for the position based upon having seen her photograph? Had the Duke of Winchelsea met her during his trip to New York City in the wake of The Incident? Perhapsthatwas the reason Arden had been given such a bloody curse.
Lucien must have made a noise of disgust, for The Abomination and Winchelsea both looked at him askance. Though the urge was a childish one, he was struck by the sudden desire to point a finger at the bane of his existence and announce she had been late on her first day due to over-imbibing his port. Clearly, the woman brought out the very worst in him.
He swallowed, and when he finally forced himself to speak, he was unable to entirely expunge the bitterness from his tone. “Let us have a seat and carry on with the meeting, shall we? I have urgent matters requiring my attention today.”
“As do we all, Arden,” Winchelsea reminded him coolly, an edge of chastisement to his tone.
Lucien bristled, but he said nothing, for the man was his superior, and whilst Lucien had once believed the duke possessed relatively little authority over the League, he had discovered quite differently not so long ago. Of course, Lucien had never almost managed to get one of his own men killed before, never mind the man was a peer of the realm, the Duke of Strathmore. And Lucien’s brother-in-law.
Lucien sat, as did The Abomination, with her standard lack of grace. He’d had occasion to watch her seat herself thrice now, and each time was just as sudden and artless as the last. She sat as she did everything, as if she were waging war.
An odd female, to be sure. Why he chose that moment to once more recall the curve of her waist in his palm and the silk-covered abrasion of her nipples against his upper arm, he could not say. His reaction to her was baffling.
“Now then, Miss Montgomery,” Winchelsea began with an overly familiar smile—a bloodysmile—aimed in The Abomination’s direction. “Your reputation precedes you as an incredibly successful Pinkerton agent, and the history of your cases is impeccable, as is your work with the Emerald Club.”
“Thank you, Winchelsea,” she said, a becoming flush finally giving her pale cheeks some color.
Lucien gritted his teeth, tamping down a caustic reply. Was The Abomination batting her eyelashes at Winchelsea?Lord God, if this entire forced partnership was founded solely upon the Duke of Winchelsea’s desire to get beneath Miss Montgomery’s cursed skirts…
“Have you finished familiarizing yourself with Miss Montgomery’s work with the Emerald Club, Arden?” Winchelsea asked then.
Damnation.Of course he had not, because at the time he had received them, along with the devastating information he would be forced to accept a partner in running the Special League, he had been certain he would not need to bother acquainting himself with the background of someone he would see dismissed posthaste.
And nothing had changed, other than the unexpected realization that H.E. Montgomery was a woman.
A woman with responsive nipples and beautiful eyes.
Decidedly unwanted thought, that.
Lucien forced himself to answer Winchelsea. “I have worked my way through most of it, yes.”
“And?” Winchelsea prodded.
“I have only just provided him with my notes,” The Abomination chimed in. “They are far more detailed in their reporting than the summaries the agency provided to you previously. I expect the duke will require some time to pore over my copious scribblings.”
Lucien’s gaze swiveled to her. She tilted her head, regarding him with such intensity, the need to look away gripped him. Once more, she was smoothing things over. Making no effort to blacken his eye before the Duke of Winchelsea. This too was unexpected.
