What an Earl Wants. Kasey Michaels

what we do.”

      Richard stood up, preparing to go downstairs to his small room at the back of the house they’d rented only a few short months previously. “And is that what you’re planning to do with the Earl of Saltwood? I’d go easy with any such notion, I would. The man’s no fool. I saw it in—”

      “In his eyes. Yes, I remember. I’m not saying I’m out to destroy him, for goodness’ sake. All he has to do is give me my brother. He couldn’t want him.”

      “Nor his inheritance,” Richard told her. “Man’s rich as that Croesus fellow. But if it’s some gauntlet you threw down to the earl, and knowing you it was, you’ve put his back up, so’s now he wouldn’t give you a crust of bread, just because he knows you want it. Better to ply some wiles or some such thing, not that I’m saying you should.”

      Jessica averted her head, sure her cheeks were flaming, damn her fair coloring. “He’s got a mistress set up at the bottom of Mount Street.”

      “And another tucked into a bang-up to the echo flat in Curzon Street, some Covent Garden warbler. Then there’s his other lady birds, the widow Orford and Lady Dunmore, or so I heard it told just last night, while the two of you were up here and the gossip was flying about downstairs like shuttlecocks in a high wind. Sets them up like dominos, tips them over when he’s done with them, leaving them their fond memories, since not a one of them ever had a bad word to say about him, not any of the dozens of them. Dozens, Jessica. So, never mind what I said about wiles. You want this one to do your bidding, don’t do his. That’s what I’m thinking.”

      “You know I’ve never—”

      “After Jamie Linden, who would?” Richard said, sighing. “But I know you, and you dangled, didn’t you? Made promises you’d no intention of keeping, thinking yourself smarter than any man. Dangerous business, that, with one like Saltwood. Better to walk away now. The boy’ll come to no harm. Saltwood’s no fool. He has to know everyone’s watching him.”

      “Because he’s a Redgrave.”

      “Because he’s his father’s son, yes. You know what they say.”

      Jessica walked over to the pier glass and inspected her reflection. “His father was a rake and a libertine, and when he called out his wife’s lover in a duel, she hid herself nearby and shot him in the back before she and her lover fled to the continent, leaving her children behind as if they didn’t matter to her. Not that she was any better than he was in any event, having had more lovers than most of us have fingers and toes. Yes, I’ve heard it all. I would suppose it was either Saltwood buries himself in the cellars on his estate to hide his shame or he becomes what he’s clearly become.”

      “An arrogant, to-hell-with-you bastard only an idiot with more hair than wit would ever dare to say any of that to, in case you haven’t considered that.”

      “I don’t have to say it, Richard. The man knows his own family history. He should likewise understand I want my brother away from him. Gideon Redgrave may not be his father, as he claims he’s not, but he’s still that arrogant, to-hell-with-you bastard who clearly cares for no one save himself. Heartless, Richard, there’s no question. Adam was always such a quiet boy. Gentle, almost painfully shy. I left him once, having no choice, and it broke my heart. But now that I have a second chance, I can’t simply walk away. The Earl of Saltwood will have him for breakfast, otherwise.”

      “And you for lunch?”

      Jessica pulled a face at him and then turned to Doreen, who had just entered from the stairway. “You’re looking more than usually harassed. Is something wrong?”

      “There was a knock at the door, ma’am. A pounding, more like. So I went down and answered it so as whoever it was wouldn’t break the door down, because it sounded as if the wood was already splintering, it did, and there he was, ma’am, and there he stays until I can talk to you, because that’s what I told him after he was done telling me what he told me.”

      Richard bent his head and rubbed at his temples. “We don’t need to know it all, Doreen, as I keep telling you. Just the pertinent bits.”

      “Yes, sir, Mr. Borders, sir. I’m just saying I didn’t invite the fellow inside, but it was either stand aside or get myself bowled over, sort of. I told him the house was closed to callers until eight of the clock, but he paid that no nevermind at all, saying as how he’s here to stay and where’s his room. I told him, I said, there’s no room here for the likes of you—rough-looking fellow he is, you know—but he’s still standing there. Right where he was standing when he first stepped inside as I was telling him to stay out.”

      “And me out of headache powders,” Richard grumbled, getting to his feet. “Very well, lead me to him.”

      Jessica snatched up her bonnet, pelisse and gloves. “I’ll go down with you. The Saltwood coach will be here shortly, if the man meant what he said, and I don’t think he wastes his words on lies unless they’d be of some benefit to him, which my presence in Portman Square is not.”

      “That was nearly as convoluted as Doreen, my dear. I’d be careful of that,” Richard warned, holding open the door so that Jessica could precede him down the narrow staircase.

      Jessica was still smiling as she reached the first floor and entered the gaming room, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of tobacco. Other than the tables, covered each day with white cloths to keep off the dust, the room was empty…if she didn’t count the near mountain of a young man standing just inside the main door, turning a large-brimmed hat in his hamlike hands.

      “And you are…?” she asked, not certain she wished to approach any closer.

      “Seth, ma’am,” he said, lifting his huge bowed head, directing an innocent wide-eyed blue stare at her. “His lordship sent me.”

      Jessica relaxed for a moment, until it registered with her that the lad—for he seemed quite young—was dressed like a common laborer. “Oh, for pity’s sake. You’re the Saltwood coachman? He sent a dray wagon, did he? Well, you can just go back to his lordship and tell him thank you very much, but I can find my own way to Portman Square, as his insult may delay my arrival but it did not dissuade me.”

      “Ma’am?”

      Richard had already gone to one of the front windows and looked down onto the street. “There’s no coach out there, Jessica. Or dray wagon.” Allowing the heavy curtain to drop once more, he tapped Seth on his shoulder, or as near to it as Richard could reach, as Seth was as tall as he was wide. “Why did his lordship send you, my good fellow?”

      The boy flushed to the roots of his red hair. “To protect the lady, sir. In case of any rum coves making a fuss over losing their blunt or getting frisky or drunk or such like. His lordship will pay my wages, and that he’s already done, ma’am. All you need do, his lordship says, is feed me and give me somewheres to sleep. His lordship says that you got the bad end of it, ma’am,” he said, hanging his head once more. “I suppose I do eats a bit.”

      “Entire small villages just for breakfast, I should think,” Richard said, smiling at Jessica as he walked over to her. “Now here’s a turn-up for the books, isn’t it? The earl has sent you…protection. Puzzling.”

      Jessica was livid. “Maddening, not puzzling. He’s insulting me. Telling me I can’t protect myself.”

      “And how would he know that, Jess? No, answer me this instead. How do you know that’s why he sent the boy?” Richard asked, looking at her closely. “What did happen up there last night?”

      The jingle of harness followed by the sound of the knocker saved Jessica from answering. “That has to be the coach. Richard, if you’ll get Seth settled?”

      “We could bed him down in the stables. If we had stables. So we’re keeping him?”

      Jessica shot a quick look at Seth, who reminded her of a woodcut she’d once had, that of a gentle-eyed dragon spreading