Chapter Eight
“No, no, no, Mrs. Adare. You will do nothing as foolhardy as to break into Lord Randell’s study.” Langdon narrowed his eyes at the compelling woman standing next to him at the refreshment table at his London home. Lady Coburn and Mrs. Adare had been invited over for tea at his mother’s request. His mother had insisted he attend in a thinly veiled attempt to play matchmaker. She would be sorely disappointed if she learned the truth of their association.
Mrs. Adare selected a raspberry tart and placed it on the plate he held for her. She stood close enough he could inhale the fresh fragrance of her perfume with undertones of sensual woman. “Oh, come now, my lord. It is the perfect opportunity to explore his private accounts.”
“No, it is not.” He gripped the fine porcelain plate and glanced around to make sure their conversation was not being overheard.
“If I was a man, would you think it such a foolhardy plan?” she said, one eyebrow lifted. The light blue gown flattered her skin and enhanced the darkness of her hair.
He willed himself to ignore such trivial observations; however, it had taken everything in him not to allow his gaze to drift to the creamy skin of her breasts. The need to hold her still lingered from their time on the balcony, and he had been close—so close—to kissing her. “You’re not a man, and the point is moot. You promised me you would let me handle this.”
“No. I promised no such thing.” Elizabeth shook her head, raven curls bouncing. She wore no jewelry and projected no pretense. “If Lord Randell is heading the operation, we need proof. The way I see it, he must have a set of accounts either in London or at his estate near Upper Waverley. Now I have explored his study at the country residence. Since I was unaware of what I was looking for, I am not sure I found anything of use.”
By now, he should be used to her bluntness, yet it still managed to irritate him. Langdon brought his palm to his forehead and rubbed, fighting his exasperation. “You broke into his study at his country residence?”
“It was at night and there was no one about. Really Langdon, I am not stupid.” She stole the plate from his hand and handed him one of his own. Head angled, she inspected the other sweets spread out on the surrounding table.
“Lord held me, you’re more foolish than I thought,” he said under his breath, following her swaying hips as she moved to the table holding truffles. She was petite but curvaceous and his desire for her continued to grow to an uncomfortable state.
Light laughter floated on the air. “I may be foolish, but I am not deaf,” she said.
“No, I see you’re not.” Another couple got into line behind them, and he moved closer to Mrs. Adare. A stray curl rested on her shoulder, and he curled his fingers to stop the need to push it aside. The skin of her neck was pale and tempting. Too tempting.
“I know if I could just see what accounts he has in town, I can piece where he is hiding the profits from the smuggling.”
Her adamant statement sent a grin to his lips. She was nothing if not persistent.
“You may not be deaf, but you don’t listen well, Mrs. Adare.” Nor did he listen well to his own common sense. She was supposed to be an assignment, but their dance had brought home an unexpected fact; he desired her more than he should. The lessen he’d thought he had learned with Maria had apparently not been harsh enough.
She lifted several truffles onto her plate, maneuvering the sweet to fit onto a crowded surface. Either she was hungry, or she had a weakness for chocolate. “I listen well enough. I wish you would give me the same courtesy.”
“That I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I am not listening.”
Maria had been looking out for her own selfish interests. Elizabeth cared enough for the welfare of the villagers to put her life and safety in peril. There was no comparing the two in that regard. The game Elizabeth played was a dangerous one. Every day of his life, he had put himself in the line of fire to protect others. England had welcomed his family, and he owed his allegiance to the country.
“Aren’t you getting anything?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.
“I will leave the choices up to you.” He was more interested in Elizabeth than food. If he was smart, he would make up an excuse to leave. However, his mother and sisters were all with Lady Coburn at a long table in the back of the room. “Would you like more?”
Impish green eyes met his. “I think I have enough for the entire table. Shall we join the others?”
Although they were still strangers, he felt comfortable with her. She kept him on his toes, and he had a sense she always would. “There is nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”
“It is my understanding that it is taboo for a lady to eat in public.” Her lips curled at the edges and a dimple appeared in her cheek.
“I am sure you are correct. I find it silly but alas, I don’t make the rules.” Society’s expectations were often trite and ridiculous in their structure. He had been in both the finest ballrooms and the seediest taverns in London. In many ways, he preferred the taverns. There was an honesty amongst the masses missing from the aristocracy. He appreciated every bit of wealth and privilege his title afforded. It hadn’t always been this way for him or his family.
“Rules can be tedious.” She cast him an impish glance from the corner of her eye. The sight of her amusement added to her charm. While she was blunt, there was a playful side to her personality.
“I can see where you think that.” He liked that side of her a bit too much. Lips pressed together, he gazed down at her delicate profile and was at once reminded of that moment on the balcony when she had lifted her chin, asking for his kiss. In hindsight, it was imprudent to insist she dance with him in such a private setting. Half of society could have come upon them. Even if they hadn’t, he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of kissing those rosy lips. It would be foolish to do so.
