Roberts chuckled. “I take it married life isn’t the wedded bliss when all the lies are uncovered? That bricky duchess of yours still in a fit over your subterfuge?”
Afitwould have been preferable. Anna hadn’t so much as spoken to him since they’d returned from the mission. She’d gone straight to her chambers and slammed the door, the echo of her anger reverberating through the whole house.
Not that he’d confide in Roberts, of all people.
Jackson gritted his teeth. “My marriage is fine.” Itwouldbe. As soon as he bloody well figured out how to make it right.
“‘Fine.’” Roberts gave a pitying shake of his head. “For lace and linen.”
Jackson scoffed. “What would you know of it?”
If he didn’t know Roberts was stone beneath the workman’s disguise, Jackson would have said the look that crossed the other man’s face wasunsettled. A figment of imagination, no doubt, because Roberts smirked a second later.
“I know when it’s been a spell for a man. Makes him slow. Humorless.” A taunt. “Forgotten how to use the prick in your pants, Your Grace? Or is it that the lovely duchess needs a better snake to charm her into uncrossing her legs—”
Roberts’s nose made a satisfyingcrunchunder Jackson’s fist.
Breathing hard, Jackson grabbed him by the lapels and hit him again. And once more... before Roberts struck him under the chin.
Jackson met the mat a second time, and his vision grayed at the edges. When his gaze had cleared, Roberts was standing over him—smug as a snail—and holding nothing back.
“You wish to make amends and bed your duchess. Congratulations. Now, stop throwing your face at my fists, save us all your whining, andtell the woman.”
Jackson sat up and wiped at his mouth, blood smearing across his hand from a busted lip. He desired Anna, true, but his wants were nothing so shallow. A body was nothing without the mind. “I’d hate to see you woo a lady. They rarely take to knife-throwing and snake charming.”
Roberts chuckled. “Not the ladies I know.” A pause. “The duchess is a broad-minded woman, dangerous with a lock-pick, and a half-decent agent. Hardly a wilting flower. Unlike some peers I know and pretend to respect.”
Lungs aching as he breathed, Jackson held his side, sure he’d bruised a few ribs on his way to the floor. “Are you saying I’m the wilted flora?”
Roberts extended his hand. “I’m not calling you a blooming rose.”
Jackson grunted and took the hand up. Sweat dripped down his back and his left leg twinged, given his full weight. The bandage around his leg must have come loose, the wound no doubt bleeding anew.
He needed a bath, one hot enough to burn his skin. He eyed the smaller man, nothing but a drop of blood on his upper lip. “You goaded me into attacking.” The bounder had let him get in a few licks.
Roberts shrugged, as if a broken nose were worth the momentary entertainment. “Takes the fight out of the cock without a good peck here and there.”
“You’re a damn monster.”
Roberts inclined his head. “One with a well-stroked snake.”
Jackson rolled his eyes, his desire for a bath doubling at the man’s vulgarity. Exhaustion clung to his shoulders and the edges of his mind. What could he lose by speaking plainly?
“You didn’t see her face.” He voiced his fear. “She may never forgive me.”
Roberts rolled his eyes. “You’ve become a sad excuse for an investigator if you can’t plainly see you aren’t the only one with secrets.”
Jackson turned sharply. “Anna doesn’t have secrets.”
“She snuck up on us that day in the library,” Roberts said, his expression saying more than the man.
Jackson remembered. “What’s your point?”
“I only know of two kinds of people who can take me by surprise. Assassins—”
Unlikely.If Anna had had the skills, she’d have disposed of him that night at the Lyon’s Den. Or last night in the pub’s back room.
“Or those who’ve learned to hide their presence,” Roberts finished.
