Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(38)

And yet she could not help but turn her head slightly and glance at Reading. He stood apart, his face upturned to the sky as sparkling flames reflected in his eyes.


“GET UP, M’LORD, she’s doin’ a runner.”

Griffin groaned, rolling from his stomach to his back and flinging a shielding arm over his eyes. “Go ’way.”

“Can’t do that, m’lord,” the cheerful voice of Deedle, his valet-cum-secretary-cum-jack-of-all-trades, replied. “You told me to wake you if she went out, an’ keep at it no matter ’ow you might complain until you stood up by yerself, and ’ere I am awaking you.”

Griffin sighed and cracked an eyelid. The sight that met his gaze was not a pretty one. Deedle was only a bit past five and twenty by his own reckoning, but he’d lost both upper front teeth in that time. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, judging by the wide smile that split his face. He wore a wig—one that Griffin had cast off—badly in need of curling and powdering. His muddy brown eyes were tiny and spaced too near, peering down a great angular nose that took up so much of his face that his small mouth and smaller chin seemed to have given up completely and retreated down his neck in defeat.

Deedle grinned at Griffin’s open eye and stuck his tongue through the gap in his teeth—a rather unfortunate habit of his. “Like some coffee, m’lord?”

“God, yes.” Griffin squinted at the window. True the sun seemed to be high in the sky, but they’d been out until well past midnight last night. He remembered that sweet kiss he’d shared with Lady Hero—and how she wouldn’t look him in the eye afterward. He winced. “Are you sure she’s moving?”

“The lad I got on watch came running to tell me not ten minutes ago,” Deedle replied. “The lady must like the mornings, eh?”

“But not keeping her promises.” He sat up, the sheets falling away from his nude chest, and scratched his chin as he contemplated the fair Lady Hero. She was attempting to avoid him. Had his kiss frightened her that much? “You’re certain she’s headed to St. Giles?”

“She’s got that big footman and she’s taking the carriage. Bit early for morning social calls.” Deedle squinted and shrugged. “Stands to reason that’s where she’s headed, don’t it?”

Griffin sighed. Yes, it did stand to reason.

He climbed wearily from the bed and began splashing in the basin of water. “Have we heard from Nick Barnes?”

Deedle laid out the razor, strop, and towels. “No.”

“Damn.” Griffin frowned. Nick usually sent word first thing in the morning. Griffin would have to see if Nick was sleeping in—or if something more ominous had happened. But first he must deal with the lovely Lady Hero—and the consequences of last night’s impulse.

Fifteen minutes later, Griffin ran down the steps of his rented town house. It wasn’t in the most fashionable part of the West End of London, but he’d long ago decided that lodgings separate from Thomas were essential for familial accord.

Rambler was waiting at the bottom of the steps, his head held by a young groom. Griffin patted the gelding’s glossy neck before swinging into the saddle and throwing the boy a shilling.

The day was sunny, and Rambler made good time, weaving through the London traffic. Griffin found Lady Hero’s carriage not twenty minutes later, stalled behind a herd of pigs.

Lady Hero’s coachman merely nodded as Griffin waved at him and entered the carriage.

“Good morning,” he said as he sat.

“Go away,” she replied.

He clapped a hand over his heart. “Such cruelty from such a fair lady.”

She wouldn’t even look at him. She stared fixedly out the window, her profile remote and reserved. Only the faint spots of pink on her cheekbones gave lie to her serenity. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, yes.” He stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankle, grappling with a wholly foreign surge of guilt. Outside, a chorus of squealing rose alarmingly. “I should be abed, still dreaming, but it’s not my fault you decided to rise early and sneak off to St. Giles without me.”

She pursed her lips irritably. “This isn’t wise.”

He noted that she didn’t deny her destination. “Have you told your brother or Thomas about your jaunts to St. Giles?”

“No, but—”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

She closed her eyes as if pained. “You know we can’t do this.”

Had he hurt her so much? He cleared his throat, feeling uncharacteristically diffident. “About last night…”