The earl’s brother stopped in the doorway. As before, he wore a suit of drab brown. The high, starched collar covered the sides of his chin, but couldn’t hide his scars.
“Here he is.” He tossed his hat to the footman who came rushing up. “I told you I could find him on my own.”
The distressed servant looked from his master to the intruder, clearly uncertain of what action to take.
Summerset nodded to the man. “It’s all right. Tell cook to send some refreshments up. My brother appears uncommonly rapacious today.”
The servant bobbed his head and retreated. Summerset’s brother sauntered into the room, giving Netta a disinterested glance.
As discreetly as possible, she turned her head and spat the marbles into her hand.
“Was there something else you wanted, Robert?” Summerset lounged back and crossed one leg over the other, the picture of nonchalance. “I thought I’d told you I’d contact you when our business had concluded.”
“You did.” Robert strolled about the room, poking at the small figurines on the mantel, leaning in to peer at the life-sized painting depicting the birth of Venus that spanned one wall. “But as I suspected, our business seems to have slipped your mind.” He turned and shot her an insincere smile, the puckered skin on his left cheek pulling tight. “Charming as your lady friend appears, I don’t think you’ll find my lost deed between her legs.”
Summerset shot to his feet. “Watch your mouth. Fraternal affection won’t stop me from darkening your daylights.”
“Why, John,” Robert said, his tone mocking, “attempting to protect a woman’s sensibilities? Whatever has the world come to?”
John. His given name was John. It was the first time she’d heard it, and the name rolled around her brain. She wasn’t sure such a common name suited the flamboyant peacock. It was too dependable when the earl seemed eager to forbear responsibility.
Although he was helping his brother. Whatever this scheme was that he’d involved her in, she was certain it stemmed from the brother’s problem.
And the earl had stepped in to prevent her from receiving a beating. She wasn’t his responsibility, but he’d placed her under his protection.
Perhaps he had hidden depths. The desire to peel away all the man’s layers spread like an itch beneath her skin, one that she really, really wanted to scratch.
John turned and extended his hand. “My dear, will you excuse my brother and I? Perhaps it is a good time for a nap.”
She frowned. A nap? Now, when the house was becoming interesting? It had been three dull days of pretending to be a guttersnipe practicing to be a genteel miss. Three days of monotonous speaking exercises and dining lessons. A glimpse into the earl’s jumbled life was the first bit of entertainment she’d had.
He crooked his fingers, indicating she should rise, and she blew out a breath.
She rolled the marbles into her other hand and placed her left into his right. The slight moue of disgust when her sticky palm met his lifted her spirits. “Am I free until this evening?” she asked, exaggerating her enunciation for John’s approval.
Apparently, she didn’t merit it. He shook his head. “We still have more to work on. I’ll find you in a couple of hours.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Fine.” And with a nod to the men, she trudged from the room.
John pulled the doors shut behind her.
A door opened down the hall, and Netta slipped into an alcove as a footman walked past her holding a tray of cold meats and rolls. He scratched at the door and walked in when John called out. She waited for the servant to exit, pulling the doors shut again, and disappear down the hall before abandoning her hiding place. On tiptoe, she crept toward his study, adjacent to the parlor, and slipped inside.
The lingering scents of orange and spice told her John spent much of his time in this room. She wandered past the rows of books arranged on shelves lining the walls, pausing as one of the titles caught her eye.De re metallica. On the nature of metals. She ran her finger along the spine. A very serious work for such a flippant coxcomb. Another crack in his mask.
She tapped the bookcase and turned back to her object, the window facing the small garden behind the townhouse. It’s sister in the parlor had been open when she’d left that room, and she hoped in the warm air sound would carry.
She tugged at the window pane, and winced at the creak of wood sliding against wood. Cocking her hip on the sill, Netta swung her foot as she listened to the soft murmurs. Did Summerset say ‘marriage’? That wouldn’t make any sense. Carriage, perhaps? Why couldn’t the brothers be shouting at each other? This dulcet conversation didn’t help her at all.
She leaned forwards, her upper body hanging outside the window.
And jerked back in surprise when the window next to hers was slammed shut. Her head hit the top of the frame and she rubbed the ache.
Perfect. Another lump. And no intelligence gained because of it.
She sniffed and hopped down from her perch. A nap didn’t sound like a bad idea, after all.
***
