CHAPTER THIRTY
Cade waited until the music began again. He waited until the breeze coming through the window took on a decided chill. He waited until the thrumming in his balls subsided and the cockstand he’d had since pulling Danielle into his embrace slowly descended.
Only then did he take a deep breath and move. Otherwise, he might have believed the last half hour was nothing more than a dream. Even worse, that the words the woman had said, the words that had sent blood rushing through his veins and heat pouring through his hardened body, was the notion that it had been a figment of his imagination.
“It’s a pity that we never spent the night together.”He’d heard it correctly, hadn’t he? He wanted to ask the empty bedchamber. Never had he been more aroused by a woman’s words, especially words that clearly indicated they werenotgoing to sleep together. She was leaving and, damn her, she hadn’t explained where she was going or why. How in the devil’s own bollocks had the woman been able to say something like that to him and thenleave?
Cade shook his head. Under any other circumstances, he would not have let her leave the room and he certainly wouldn’t have stood there for minutes afterward like a damn fool staring out the window into the green leaves of the elm tree outside. Under any other circumstances, had the woman he’d been fantasizing about for the past several days informed him she found it apitythat they hadn’t spent the night together, he would have whirled around, slammed the damn door, and had her up against it, kissing her until she was out of her mind with lust and ready and willing to right that egregious wrong. That would have been his reaction had Danielle not so thoroughly distracted and surprised him, not just with her words but with the fact that she was leaving and refused to tell him why.
He shut the window, muffling the strains of music he’d been so keen to hear minutes earlier. He pushed a hand through his hair and turned back around, expelling a breath. His eyes fell on the note on the pillow. He’d noticed it earlier but hadn’t said anything for fear Danielle would remove it.Lady Daphnewas written on the outside and it was sealed. He should not read it.
Good thing he was a scoundrel. He smiled as he plucked the piece of parchment off the pillow and broke the seal with his finger. He unfolded it. His eyes scanned the words. Only two lines. Two scant, short lines that didn’t offer much. Damn it. Where was she off to with such haste? Had she got news that her mother had taken a turn for the worse? He should have asked her, should have offered to help. But she wouldn’t have told him, nor would she have accepted his help.
Danielle was fiercely independent. Fiercely independent and full of secrets. Most women of his acquaintance wanted something from him. They wanted him to stay, to commit, to promise things. Other women had been sources of pleasure but he never stayed long enough to form an attachment to any of them. The minute a woman wanted more, he took off, never to be seen or heard from again. Amanda had been particularly deft at hunting him down and she’d been amusing for a while, but she was the perfect example of why he should leave before either party formed an attachment. Things got messy after that.
Danielle, however, didn’t want an attachment. Instead, she’d denied him her bed and she was the one running off and leaving him. The irony ofthatmade him shake his head again. He folded the note and placed it back on the bedspread near the pillow where he’d found it.
Pausing, he picked up the pillow, put it to his nose, and breathed in deeply. Orchids. Like the ones in Elba. He’d hedged telling Danielle why he’d been to Elba. Mademoiselle LaCrosse wasn’t the only one with secrets. The scent sent a wave of memories through him, most recently that of her dark hair. He’d never be able to smell orchids again without thinking of her. Good God, he was resembling a lovesick fool. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, letting the pillow fall back to the bed. He turned away from the letter before remembering a letter of his own. A completely different one. Not the note he’d written Danielle earlier in the library, but the one tucked away inside his coat pocket. The one O’Conner had given him at the tavern.
Cade pulled open the side of his coat and fished out the missive. He read it by the light of the small wax candle that had yet to burn out.Bloody hell. He should have read this blasted note earlier. Should not have allowed his promise of a dance with Danielle to distract him. He glanced at the clock. He was late. Quite late. He folded the paper, jammed it back inside his pocket, and took off toward the door with ground-devouring strides. Just as his hand touched the knob, he paused, jogged back to the bed, and grabbed the pillow. Seems tonight was also his last night in this house.The Elenorsailed with the dawn and he was her captain.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Danielle ran as fast as she could. Her slippers splashed in puddles, her stockings got muddied, her hair came loose from its pins and fell into her eyes, and the valise banged against her knees with each lunge, making them nearly buckle. Still, she didn’t stop. She hoisted her skirts in one hand and ran blindly down two different alleys and three streets until she located the hackney on the corner where she’d been told to meet Grimaldi. Grimaldi was never late.
She glanced around. The light from nearby town houses highlighted the coach’s silhouette across the muddy road. Gasping for breath, Danielle paused only long enough to yank up her skirts again with her left hand and readjust the valise with her right. She dashed across the road, nearly getting mowed down by a fine carriage no doubt on its way back from the theater or the opera or some other fine amusement the residents of Mayfair preferred.
Glancing up and nodding at the driver, she rapped twice on the door. It opened immediately and only a second ticked by before she found herself grabbed bodily and hoisted up, valise and all, into the interior of the rented coach. She found herself splayed across the seat opposite a furious General Grimaldi. His eyes blazed dark fire and his nostrils flared menacingly. “You’re late.”
Danielle scrambled into a sitting position. “I know.” There was no use trying to explain. That would only end in embarrassment. Grimaldi didn’t take kindly to excuses.
He tossed a bundle to her. She caught it in both hands with a decidedoompfand fumbled to pull it apart. She already knew what it was. A shirt, breeches, cap, stockings, and shoes. The garb of a cabin boy.
“Get dressed,” Grimaldi barked. He turned his back to her and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes to give her privacy. Danielle fought the urge to use the crude hand gesture a deckhand had taught her when she was fifteen. She’d found it useful on innumerable occasions. Grimaldi wouldn’t see. He would never be so ungentlemanly as to peek. Not the stone man himself. Danielle doubted he’d had a moment of fun in his entire regimented life. He probably didn’t even know the meaning of the word. He wouldn’t look even if she informed him she was on fire. She was momentarily tempted to do so, if only to test her theory.
No. She didn’t give the man a crude hand gesture because she was clearly in the wrong. She had been late and for a completely self-indulgent, ridiculous reason. But oh, it had been worth it to see the look on Cade’s face when she’d told him it had been a pity they’d never spent the night together.
Mark Grimaldi wouldn’t for a moment understand his top spy being late to a mission because she was dancing with a suspected criminal in the moonlight. As she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her muddy stockings, she amused herself with the thought of telling him. What would stick-up-the-arse Grimaldi reply to such an admission? A moment later, she was no longer smiling as she realized she had a… situation.
“I’ll need help with my gown.” She turned her back to him, exposing the buttons of her dress, and looked at him over her shoulder. “I could do it myself but it would take much longer.”
He slowly tipped up his hat. A look of pure disgruntlement rested on his fine features. His lip was curled. Grimaldi would be downright handsome, Danielle thought wistfully, if he wasn’t so… Grimaldi.
“Bloody hell,” he mumbled, but his fingers went to the buttons and made quick work of them. Quite quick, Danielle noted with surprise. Hmm. Seemed the general knew his way around a woman’s clothing. How very interesting. This discovery was further reinforced when Danielle was obliged to add, “And now my stays.”
“Jesus Christ,” Grimaldi ground out.
Danielle plunked her hands on her hips. “It’s not my fault you had me traipsing around Mayfair dressed as a lady’s maid. Had to look the part, didn’t I?”
The only answer was a sort of unhappy grunt, but his deft fingers made quick work of the shift’s laces as well.
“Anything else? Need help with your hair?” he grumbled.
“Why, General, did you just make a jest?”
“No.” He shoved his hat back down and turned away again, folding his arms across his rigid chest.
“Don’t worry,” she called in a singsong voice. “I can manage the tapes of my drawers myself.”
