Entering, they were greeted by Jeffries, the butler, and Will, the first footman. Light streamed through the tall arched windows, gleaming off the silver domes on the sideboard. The place setting at the head of the table was untouched, an ironed newspaper next to it. Grandpapa had not yet come down to breakfast. She and Bennett could have a few moments of privacy…once she got rid of the servants.
She went to the sideboard. Lifting the domes, she released the delicious aromas of coddled eggs, bacon, deviled kidneys, kedgeree, and kippers. There was a selection of crusty rolls, pastries, and toasted bread as well, accompanied by an assortment of preserves.
Turning to the grey-haired butler, she gave her brightest smile. “Jeffries, I don’t suppose Cook has any of her delicious lemon curd left? I have a craving for it this morning.”
“I’ll send William to fetch some.” The butler nodded to the footman.
Once William was out of the room, she said, “I was noticing thatThe Timesis on the table.”
“Yes, miss. That has always been the master’s preference.”
“True, but just the other day, Grandpapa told me that he enjoysBell’s Lifeeven more thanThe Times,” she said innocently. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to surprise him with this week’s edition?”
“I’ll procure a copy,” the loyal retainer said at once. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind…”
“I can manage on my own.” She gave him a cheery wave.
After the butler departed, she turned to Bennett. His firm mouth was quivering.
She arched a brow. “What is so amusing?”
“You. The way your mind works.” He shook his head. “And you wonder why I call you ‘sprite’?”
In truth, she loved his pet name for her. Lovedhim, moreover. But she couldn’t get distracted.
“We haven’t much time. You were home earlier than expected last night. I take it you’ve made progress?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“What have you discovered?” When still he paused, she prodded, “I’ve kept my end of the bargain, stayed at home and out of trouble. If you don’t want me investigating on my own—”
“All right, all right. You win.” His eyes gleamed. “Again.”
She’d found a brooding Bennett attractive. A flirtatious one was downright devastating to her senses. Although his reference to her “victory” last night quickened her pulse, she kept her gaze determined and steady on his.
He sighed. “I’ve located a suspect. A man who I believe was connected to the inventor of the explosive. Tonight, I’m searching his house to look for any connection to the hellfire.”
“Let me go with you,” she said immediately.
“No.” His jaw set. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Which is why youneedme.” Her concern for him made her rush on. “No one knows the stews better than I do. Why, think how I helped you escape that first night—”
“First of all, I won’t be in the stews. Second, as I recall it, I was helpingyouto escape.”
“Not the stews? Where does the blighter live—Mayfair?” Her facetiousness faded at Bennett’s slight flinch. Blinking, she said, “The suspect lives in Mayfair? He’s ablue-blood?”
“Devil take it.” Bennett shoved a hand through his hair.
“Who is he? You promised—”
“I ought to have nicknamed you ‘bulldog’ instead of ‘sprite’.”
“‘Sprite’ is more flexible; ‘bulldog’ works less well for intimate moments.” Instead of arguing, she switched tactics. “After everything we’ve shared, don’t you trust me?”
“That’s hardly playing fair.”
“Please, Bennett.” Because he seemed to be responding, she worked up the courage to say, “I care about you. I couldn’t stand it if you came to harm because you were helping me.”
