Earlier, when she’d arrived in the receiving hall dressed as a stable lad, Lord Archer had taken one look at her and said, “You’ll have to batten those down.”
She’d immediately gone hot. “What do you mean?”
But she’d known what he meant.Her breasts.Itwasn’t enough to dress in men’s clothing and tie one’s hair back in a queue. One’s breasts couldn’t be swinging all willy-nilly beneath one’s shirt.
“And take this.” He’d thrust a big, floppy hat in her direction.
Within the large, terrible idea of the ruse they were attempting to perpetrate, it had been a good idea, she could see now as she took refuge behind it.
“Is your stable lad unwell?” asked Lord Nestor.
“He squeaks like that when he needs to be oiled,” said Lord Archer without a hint of humor.
Valentina poked her head up just enough to catch Lord Nestor’s reaction. He was looking at Lord Archer as if he’d sprouted another head. “A small, furry animal?” he asked, continuing their conversation.
“Oh, you know, like a puppy or a kitten or a vole or a mole, for that matter.”
“Right,” said Lord Nestor, slowly. The man looked ready to bolt.
Lord Archer must have drawn the same conclusion as Valentina—that perhaps he’d pushed a step past the edge—for he directed a small bow toward Lord Nestor and said, “Until tomorrow.”
He pivoted on his heel and vacated the stable at an uncomfortably fast clip. Valentina struggled to draw abreast with him. She had a few words to say to this man. More than a few, in fact.
“Not yet,” he muttered. “We’ll talk when we’re in the hackney.”
Of course, it took several minutes to wade through all the greetings that came Lord Archer’s way—the man was truly popular—and hail a hackney cab. Once inside, they sat opposite each other.
Heavens, but the man was attractive. His hair that had caught the sun and kept it. His face that had been chiseled from stone. His long, lanky form that somehow spoke of both strength and elegance. In combination with that personality of his, he was too much.
This wasn’t a good time to have those thoughts.
Not that there would ever be a good time.
“You’ll have me meet Lord Nestor?” she asked, the questionemerging as an accusation. “As acontessa?” It all defied belief, but particularly that last part.
His smile widened. “Isn’t it perfect?”
He would think that.
“Perfect? For whom?”
“Did you see the way Nestor took the bait?”
Was the man impervious to the obvious? “How am I to impersonate a contessa?” She started with the most obvious. “I have nothing to wear.”
He waved the fact away as mere detail. “You can borrow a riding habit from Delilah.”
“That won’t work.”
“Then from Juliet.”
“That won’t work either.”
His gaze narrowed on Valentina. “One would think you don’t wish this entire plan to work.”
Valentina pointed out the obvious. “Your sister and cousin stand a good six inches taller than me, for starters.”
“Tucker will take care of it.”
