“Because I wanted to be with you.”
There was no missing the frustration in his eyes. “Well, you bollixed things completely. Get in bed and stay there! I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
He locked the door when he left, effectively locking her in, and she stuck out her tongue at his receding back. She was tired, she was hungry, and she was guilty, and she wanted Rafferty to take care of her, not to yell at her. She picked up a candle and wandered through the rooms.
They weren’t sumptuous by any means, but there was a casual elegance about them that reminded her of something, and she explored the dining room, library, and small salon before she finally found the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway.
The bed was large, welcoming, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Curling up beneath those heavy covers seemed an absolutely delightful thing to do, and she walked over to it, sitting down and bouncing slightly. It was going to be very comfortable. Leaning down, she removed her beautiful walking shoes, then stood, reaching behind her to loosen her skirt. She could dress and undress herself—she’d learned to when they’d lost their lady’s maid, and it took only mild contortion to strip down to her chemise, then she folded her dress and petticoats in a neat pile. The dress was ugly, but it was warm, and there was a slight chill in the bedroom, although it had a similarly banked fire. Without hesitation, she pulled down the covers and climbed into the bed, snuggling in. If the owner came back, he’d be very surprised to have a stranger in his bed.
But she knew the owner wouldn’t be back till morning. Somehow, some way, this place belonged to Rafferty. She could smell him in the sheets, warm skin and masculinity. She could sense him in the air. She had no idea how he managed to acquire such a place, but she didn’t doubt her guess was right. The only man who was going to find her in his bed was Rafferty.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Where’s your little girl, Rafferty?” Billy Stiles greeted him from behind Sir Elston’s desk. He was drinking the man’s expensive brandy, the one indulgence the baronet had left, and his feet were on the top of the desk.
“She’s in Kent with her family, of course,” he said, moving into the room warily. He didn’t trust Stiles further than he could throw him, and he could see the anger and frustration in his flat black eyes. “You know where they’ve gone—that’s why you decided to ignore my warnings and have your men search this place themselves.”
“And doing a fine job, aren’t they?” he said with specious joviality. “I haven’t heard any crashing or breaking. No one will be able to tell we’ve been here.”
“I can.”
“Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it? It’s your fault you haven’t found anything. Been too busy sniffing around that girl’s ankles. That’s one thing I don’t understand, old son. Why go after the young one when the other’s such a beauty? You’ve always had an eye for the best, and that girl of yours is nothing special.”
Rafferty looked at him calmly, resisting the strong temptation to tell him to keep his mouth shut when it came to Georgie. He already knew she was his weakness, and he couldn’t afford to be weak. Not with an enemy like Billy Stiles. “You’ve got it all wrong, Billy. I’m not interested in either of them, but I’ve got a role to play if I’m going to find our money.”
“Unless my men find it tonight.”
There was a resounding crash from the kitchen and Rafferty hid his wince. Bertha would have his guts for garters if she came back to a disaster.
“Oh, dear,” Stiles said. “They might be getting a bit impatient.”
“Then you can imagine how I feel. Searching the place day after day, coming up with nothing. Except this.” He pulled Norah’s ugly diamond necklace from his pocket and dangled it in front of Stiles.
The man snatched it, peering at it closely. “This ain’t paste?” he said suspiciously.
“No, the real thing. Found it in the attics.”
“Pretty piece,” said Stiles, taking it. “But where’s the rest?”
“I told you I’ve searched everywhere. It’s not here.”
“You’d like me to believe that, wouldn’t you? You’d go your own way and then come back to claim it when you think I’m not looking. The money’s here, and it’s mine.”
“Ours,” he corrected softly.
Stiles gave him a sour look. “Ours,” he agreed reluctantly. “But I’m thinking it shouldn’t be fifty-fifty since it’s taking you so damned long to find it and you won’t let me tear this place apart like it needs to be.”
“That would be stupid. Someone would tell Bow Street and you’d be shit out of luck if you weren’t well ahead of them. And even tearing this place apart is no guarantee that the money will show up.”
Stiles gave him a sour look but didn’t reply. “Are you going to help my men?” he demanded. “They’re getting more and more riled up.”
“I’ll be cleaning up your mess—I’ll be able to see if they’ve overlooked anything. Are you almost done?”
“Why in such a hurry, old sod? The night is young.”
Another crash sounded from the kitchen, and Rafferty wondered what would happen if they actually found Belding’s treasure. He could only hope so—it would leave him free to disappear without worrying what would happen to Georgie. Once he left, she’d stop thinking about him, and she’d find someone kind and honest to marry. Someone the opposite of him.
“I’ve got things to do,” he said roughly. “Make sure your men put everything back when they finish.” That wasn’t going to happen, and he was going to spend the next two days tidying up the mess they made. Though he had no idea what the hell he was going to do with Georgie. She’d probably offer to help!
