In an hour Georgiana had run out of work and excuses to stay in Little Saint Mary’s Lane.A sense of uselessness weighed her down.Would I be of more use at Andrew’s bedside?She longed to find out, and her insides grew disturbingly warm at the thought.She knew she couldn’t go there; she knew it wouldn’t do.
Eunice would faint, she thought wryly.Harley would—What wouldHarley do?Come to think, what is he doing now, while his master sleeps and I commandeer his kitchen?The old fraud is hiding above stairs.
She searched for a bell pull until the ludicrous picture of a Duchess signaling from the kitchen to one above stairs made her laugh out loud.
“John Footman, summon Mr.Harley.I have instructions for him.”
John returned quickly, and alone.“Mr.Harley says he is,” the boy hesitated, “too busy, my lady.”
“Too busy?”Ridiculous.Good sense and a flash of insight lit the fuse of her temper.Why didn’t I see it before?Andrew is awake.Of course Harley is needed.Color filled her cheeks.
She strode to the stairway and startled the footman who leapt out of her way.She reached the top of the stairs in moments.A closed door greeted and momentarily flustered her.One doesn’t enter a gentleman’s bedchamber unannounced.How ludicrous!One doesn’t enter a gentleman’s bedchamber at all.
She wondered how one did enter.No ladylike tap would work in this situation.How do men bang upon doors which such an air of command?She raised a graceful fist to try.
“Oh do come in.”Andrew’s irritable voice interrupted her.“We aren’t likely to prevent you in any case.”
The door gave way to her touch easily and opened into a room that wasn’t, after all, a bed chamber.This small room, redolent with beeswax and lemon oil in testimony to loving care, guarded a treasury greater than any in her father’s house.
Books lined every wall from floor to ceiling, end to end, over doorways, and around diamond-paned windows.Books overshadowed the sturdy wooden furniture and the thick Moorish carpet.Books lined both sides of a remarkable fireplace to her immediate right, dramatically carved with vines and honeybees in dark walnut.
Across from the fireplace another door stood open.She could see that it led to a small sleeping chamber.Andrew leaned on the doorjamb.His elbow caught the sleeve of his silk robe on the frame and pulled the fabric, royal blue and shimmering in the light from the fire, across his strong, disturbingly muscular chest.The fabric flowed in gentle folds until it hung unevenly at his knees.They were a soldier’s legs, strong and beautifully formed.The vision stunned her.Years in the army transformed the gentle scholar.How could a man who appeared fragile and walked haltingly stand on legs so well-muscled?she wondered.Even the jagged scar that snaked from under the robe above the left knee and around the calf added to an impression of power.
“Well, my lady?”The deep, rich voice was amused.“Did you wish to speak to me or simply to ogle?”
Her eyes shot upward and were caught and held by a pair of mocking black eyes.The sound of her heart pounding in her chest almost deafened her.His ravaged face, strong and less pale beneath its scars, relieved her, but the deep lines around his eyes still worried her.
She snapped her jaw shut and lifted her chin into an aristocratic pose perfected over centuries of breeding.“You, sir, shouldn’t be standing up.”
“I quite agree.Harley and I were just working on that.Excuse us so we can get on with it,” he said.“Unless, of course, you would like to assist me in using the chamber pot.”
Blood drained from her face and then rushed back.She could feel her cheeks burn.He lies.He is goading me to leave.
He almost succeeded, but Georgiana wouldn’t allow it.She called his bluff in a swish of skirts and presented her back to him.
“Don’t let me keep you from your comfort, Mr.Mallet.I can wait, but I do need to talk with you.”
“Oh give it up.”She could hear his uneven steps moving toward the chair and the fire.Chamber pot, indeed!
A pink-cheeked, out-of-breath Eunice appeared at the door where Georgiana stood a moment before, her eyes fixed firmly down at her feet.John Footman knew his duty.He sent her companion to lend countenance as soon as she arrived back from the bakery.
Georgiana chanced a backward glance.Andrew sat in a high-backed chair while Harley tucked a coverlet around him and pulled the ends of his robe together under his chin.Mallet batted the man’s hands away.She turned to face him.
“This isn’t a good day to conduct business, my lady.I know Harley is grateful for your assistance, but I’m not in a position to reciprocate.”
He gave her the perfect lever, the very tool she needed to compel cooperation with her work.She watched him shrewdly for a moment and savored the thought.
Questions about their past sprung to her lips, but she bit them back.Not now,she thought.That particular business would have to wait until they took time to get reacquainted.
The work mattered more.
“As a matter of fact, Mr.Mallet, there is a way you can help me.I have a proposition for you.”
* * *
A “simple business matter”she called it.Andrew thought the woman should be in the Exchequer if this “simple matter” demonstrated her negotiating skills.
“First of all, Mr.Mallet, you are aware that I have been able to provide you with some assistance.There were the premises near Magdalene College, the nursing staff,”—he glared at Harley but didn’t interrupt— “some other minor details that don’t require enumeration, and, of course, the redesign of one of my better traveling carriages for your transportation.”
