CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“A truly modest woman has an air of ease in all her movement; she feels her heart sound, her mind calm, her senses under the control of reason.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
“In truth,” Amelia murmured to the back of her captive’s tousled blond hair, “it’s Miss Lambert, but for the sake of your household, and as your governess still, we will continue with Miss Jones.”
The scoundrel grunted. “I knew you were up to something.”
“How?” She placed her carpet bag down and swung to stand before him.
A red blotch marred his cheek,Gastronome-knotted cravat skew-whiff and coat undone. With his hands tied behind the chair, his broad chest was thrust to the fore.
It would be rather unprofessional to run a hand over that chest.
Although…
Lord Rainham had left him to her.
And surely he deserved a modicum of teasing after binding her wrists in his study.
So Amelia stepped near.
His shoulders tensed.
With a light touch, she trailed the curtain tie beneath his chin, over his askew cravat, along his shoulder and down his chest. It was a heady pleasure to have mastery over such a dangerous creature – even if one had to tie it up first.
Mr Cadwalader cleared his throat. “I saw you in my bedchamber.” His mouth curved upwards at her widened eyes. “You smoothed my pillows.”
Amelia stooped and placed lips to his ear. “I was searching for incriminating documents.”
Her lips brushed his cheek as his head turned. “If you say so.”
With a sniff, she drew back. “Lord Rainham has informed me fully of Phoebe’s father and wishes us to work together.”
His teeth gritted; a frown knotted.
“Do you not think women capable?”
“What? Lud, yes. Or no, I failed to grasp the negative in that question.” He raised a wry brow. “The female can be far more deadly than the male. And do you trust me?”
She stooped once more, caged him in the chair as he had done to her only yesterday.
It affected her in the same way – a yearning that refused to be quelled.
“Not in all matters, no,” she whispered. “Now, I wish to read the information you have compiled on the Brotherhood of Ravens. Where is this meeting taking place tonight?”
“If they see a gently bred female like you in the ale-house, they’ll know something is amiss.”
“I realise that, you lackwit.” Amelia tutted. “But if you don’t return, I’ll need to know where to send undertakers to collect the body.”
“Very well. It’s the Prospect of Whitby.”
“By Execution Dock?” She grimaced. “And I know about the list of ladies’ names.”
“I suppose you found it in my desk drawer?”
