“Our guest makes her living at deception,” the earl continued. “Sheis quite an expert at it.”
Netta frowned. The judgment in his voice was rich. Her foray into petty theft was recent. Besides, nothing she had done could compare with the deceit baked into the Beau Monde. Her first teachers had been from men of his station.
“I’m an….” She trailed off. It wouldn’t do to tell the man her profession. What he deemed deception, she knew to be protection. The less he knew about her, the easier it would be to escape him, should escape become necessary.
She wrapped herself back into her character. The sex might have changed, but the identity of street urchin remained. “So, I’m a girl.” She sniffed. “Wot’s it to you?”
The coverlet slid to the side, and she grabbed for it. When she righted it, an orange head popped over the edge of the bed and the cat crawled next to her, butting her with its head. She set her glass on the side table and let the animal sniff her hand.
Summerset leaned his shoulder against the bottom post of the bed and crossed one ankle over the other. His pantaloons, lime-green today, stretched snugly over leanly-muscled thighs. And other things.
She glanced away, heat rising to her face, and stroked the cat’s back.
“Your deceit is nothing to me,” he said. “Nothing but a curiosity. Why pretend to be a boy?”
“It’s safer.” And that was the truth. Walking around London at night as a woman was fraught with trouble. She loved the nights she and Cerise would don trousers and wigs and stroll the city streets after dusk. The freedom a costume gave her was immeasurable. A man such as the earl could never understand.
“Mags, I believe I hear my brother at the door, and you know how he likes to tromp mud in.” Summerset crossed his arms. “Will you go tell him to wipe his feet before dirtying the carpet in my drawing room?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“And take this, will you?” Summerset picked up the cat and handed it to the maid, but not before giving it a small scratch to the chin.
Mags took the animal and skipped from the room.
Netta stared at Summerset.
He stared back at her.
The silence grew thick, uncomfortable.
She tucked the coverlet firmly about her waist. “You stopped that git from beating me? I s’pose I owe you one.”
“Ah, you recognize debts, do you? I wasn’t sure someone in your situation would.”
“Wot’s that s’pposed to mean?” Netta rolled to her knees and planted her hands on her hips. Nausea slid through her stomach and her head spun, but she ignored it. “You lot think jus’ because I’m poor I don’t know right from wrong?”
“You did steal from me. Twice.” He patted his jacket pocket. “Luckily for you my banknotes are back in their rightful place.”
“Only because that other man stopped me.” She shuffled forwards on her knees and stabbed the air with her index finger. “I got you good.”
Summerset’s lips twitched. “But you were caught nonetheless. And by someone not as kindly as I am.” His expression hardened. “Perhaps if you were a better student of right from wrong, you wouldn’t have been stabbed.”
“Stabbed?” She slid her hand to her abdomen. Her fingers brushed the bandage under her night rail, and she winced. “I’d forgotten.” She sank back on her heels. What an odd thing to forget. “It felt like he ‘it me.”
The earl pushed off the bedpost. “You were fortunate with your padding. The blade barely entered you. Now, as I can no longer call you Mr. Pickle, thank all that is holy, tell me your true name.”
“Netta.” She didn’t see the harm in him knowing that much. But she flashed him a wide smile when she said, “Miss Netta Pickle.”
He winced. “It had to still be Pickle.”
“Nothing wrong with me name.” Cerise said she was always getting herself into one pickle or another. She thought it suited.
“Well, Miss Pickle, how do you fare? The doctor believes you will make a full recovery.”
Considering she’d been stabbed and knocked about, she was feeling remarkably well. “Right as rain. If you’ll jus’ point me to my clothes, I’ll be on me way.” She hopped to the ground, and black dots swam before her eyes. She swayed on her feet, the earl’s hands on her elbows the only thing keeping her upright.
Remarkably well might have been a stretch. “Just a bit light-headed.” She blinked, but there were still two devilishly good-looking earls frowning down at her.
