“I’m expecting my cousins shortly. Don’t stand on ceremony. Show them in here immediately when they arrive.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He picked up his coat and rummaged in the pocket. Pulling out some coins, he said, “If they get here within the hour, a lad will arrive at the back door. Give him these, and thank him for the good job.” He dropped the money into her palm.
“Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else?”
“That’s all for now.”
Mrs. Frost turned away, and Race went to the window and looked out. As the duchess came to mind, a peaceful calm settled over him. So Susannah was her name. A lovely name for a beautiful, confident lady. He couldn’t see her house from this window. He would need to go into his book room at the back of his house for that. Somehow just knowing she was not far from his back door pleased him immensely.
He smiled and then chuckled to himself. All it took to get her to tell him her name was a quick albeit possessive kiss on the street. That had been risky. Downright foolish, in fact, especially if she had been ruined years ago, as he suspected. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He had wanted to kiss her since he first saw her walking toward him in his crowded music room. After Gibby’s foolhardy stunt and their wild ride through Town, Race’s inhibitions were down, and his senses were acutely aware of his surroundings. He’d kissed her without forethought. He was glad he had, and now he couldn’t wait to kiss her again. But next time he wanted to linger over the kiss and take time to taste her sweetness. He wanted to hold her close and feel the warmth of her pliable body in his arms.
She was surprised he had kissed her, but she wasn’t angry. That pleased him.
There was something exciting about her, something intriguing and elusive. Because she withheld her past from him, it made him want to know everything about her. And he wanted to know it from her, not past copies of scandal sheets or anyone’s faded memory of that time. Not that he thought her past would change how he felt about her. It wouldn’t. He was much more interested in the present.
Did it matter that she wanted his grandmother’s pearls? Not one damn bit. He had no intentions of giving them up, no matter what her documents said.
And all that aside, he wanted her. That was as plain and simple as night and day. She wasn’t indifferent to him, either. He was sure of that. He’d sensed passion in her that afternoon in his home when he had stood so close to her he felt her minty breath caress his lips.
He wasn’t being foolhardy. He realized there was still the possibility she was working with Captain Spyglass, Winston, Smith, or possibly some other person in order to obtain the necklace. So why was he so attracted to her that he risked kissing her on the street? Because she enchanted him. Because she was so different from the usual London lady that caught his fancy.
The priceless Talbot pearls were rare and had a long history. No one had collars made like that anymore. He really wasn’t surprised so many people wanted them. But the pearls would remain safely tucked away in his safe hidden behind some books on his bookshelf.
Race stared out at the side lawn of his immaculately kept grounds. Even the vegetable and herb gardens were tended to perfection. Race liked order in his life, and Susannah was disturbing that, but in a way that was exhilarating. Even now he should be concentrating on Gibby and his problem, but instead Race was remembering a warm, firm kiss on soft, sweet lips, and astonishment sparkling in cool green eyes.
“Race, what the devil is going on?” Morgan said, walking into the drawing room with his usual swagger. “I was at home when some lad showed up and said for me to come to your house right away.”
“Good, you’re here. Sit down.” Race turned away from the window and walked over to the mahogany sideboard that was inlaid with ivory swirls, and poured a splash of claret into two glasses.
“All right,” Morgan said and seated himself in a large upholstered chair. “I don’t like that pensive look on your face. What’s going on?”
Race walked over and handed him a glass. “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to tell you.”
A wrinkle formed between Morgan’s eyes. “That sounds ominous. There’s nothing wrong with Blake, is there?”
“No, it’s Gibby.”
Morgan leaned forward. “Is he hurt?”
“Not yet.” Race took a drink from his glass. The deep red wine went down hard and settled like a rock in his stomach. Race was frustrated that he hadn’t been able to stop the insanity in the park. “He’s been challenged to a duel, and he intends to fight.”
Morgan jumped up from the chair, wine sloshing out of his glass over his hand, to stand toe-to-toe with Race. “Damnation, Race, you had better be lying to me or pulling a prank, but either way this is no way to amuse yourself.”
Morgan was an inch or two taller than Race, but Race still managed to look him square in the eyes and hold his ground. “I assure you, Cousin, I’m not doing either one.”
“This is lunacy. He is too old to duel, not to mention it’s been against the law for years.”
“I know all that and told him so, but he insists he’s going to go through with it.”
“This is unbelievable. Why didn’t you tell him he couldn’t do that and put an immediate end to this?”
Race’s frown deepened. “There is one small problem you seem to be overlooking, Morgan. Gib is a grown man. Besides, didn’t it cross your mind that I might have already told him that, as well as every other reason I could think of to insist this fight will not take place?”
“One of you had better be dead or dying,” Blake said, striding into Race’s drawing room with a grimace on his face. “But no, you both look healthy as horses to me, so why was I told to get over here for an urgent matter? I was already in my carriage, about to take my new bride for a ride in the park, when a ragamuffin showed up and told me I had to get over here in half a shake.”
