She looked up at him, entirely fearlessly, as she always had. Studied him in that calm, collected way of hers; then, it seemed, she looked inward.
A frown formed in her eyes, then she refocused on his. She drew in a quick breath, seemed to steel herself a little. “Thank you for the offer, Ro, but this is my quest. I know going into Barham’s house carries a certain risk, but I want to do it, to sneak in there, search for Tab’s letter, and sneak safely out again. Or at least try. As you said, I’m the sensible sister, the wise, cautious, never outrageous sister.” She paused, then said, “This is my time to act precipitously, to be just a little wild-to do something exciting.”
She held his gaze, then quietly added, “I suspect you, of all people, will understand that.”
He looked down into her clear blue eyes, and wished he could say he didn’t. But he did.
Jaw setting, he bent and swung her up in his arms.
She smothered a shriek, then, as he carried her across the mud-clogged lane, she studied his face.
His features felt like stone; he didn’t meet her eyes.
Reaching the inn, he set her down on the stoop; while she slipped out of her pattens, he scraped his boots on the bar by the door. She opened the door; he followed her through.
Stopping just inside, she looked into his face. “What did that mean?”
It took a moment before he could force the words out. “It means I’ll take you to the Grange. I know how to get you inside.”
Her eyes lit. “You do?”
He was quite sure he was insane even to be thinking of it. “Yes.” He took her arm. “We can discuss it in the parlor.” He propelled her toward the door. “I haven’t had breakfast yet and I need to eat. My brain works much better when I feed it.”
“Lord Alconbury requests the pleasure of Lord Gerrard’s company for revels unfettered to be held at Upton Grange between the 23rd and the 27th of February.” Lydia stared at the invitation Ro had pulled from his pocket and handed her. “That’s from yesterday to three days hence.”
She glanced at Ro, seated at the other end of the small table in the parlor. He was busily consuming a large pile of sausages, eggs, bacon, and ham, washed down with copious drafts of coffee; she’d consented to being served with tea. “What are ‘revels unfettered’?”
He chewed, swallowed. “Exactly what they sound like.”
Looking back at the card, she raised her brows. Apparently she was about to experience an orgy firsthand.
“If you’d rather not go, I’m sure I can manage by myself.”
She looked up to find Ro pushing aside his empty plate. Across the table, she met his gaze. “No, no-as I said, I’m set on excitement, and who knows? It might be quite…illuminating.”
She wasn’t sure but she thought he growled; ignoring the low rumble, she refocused on the card.
Tapping it, she frowned. “This says nothing about any companions. Won’t they think it rather odd if you turn up with a lady in tow?”
She glanced up in time to see an odd look pass through his eyes-wary, cautious, and resigned all at once.
He met her eyes, hesitated. She raised her brows higher.
“A lady, yes.” His accents were clipped. “But a courtesan…no.”
She felt her eyes widen. “I’m to pass myself off as a courtesan?” This quest of hers got better and better. Tab would turn green with envy.
Ro’s lips, already thin, tightened into a grim line. “As I said, there’s no need for you-”
“How do I go about it?” She sat forward, fixing him with eager eyes. “I don’t look like a courtesan-no one seeing me would imagine I am. I presume I’ll need a disguise, or to at least in some way change my appearance. How are we going to manage it? What should we do?”
The look in his eyes made her feel terribly daring, as if she were baiting a tiger. As long as the table remained between them, she felt perfectly safe in doing so, confident she could hide the effect he had on her enough to keep it from him. When he touched her, was close to her, she found it difficult to think; when he’d swung her up into his arms, she’d had to struggle to relocate her wits, but luckily he hadn’t asked her anything while he’d carried her across the road. Interacting with him in this not-quite-acceptable fashion was exhilarating, as if she were flirting, but with something far more dangerous than inconsequential phrases.
As if she were taking a real risk.
Quite why she felt so tempted, why she was giving in to the temptation to tease him she wasn’t sure, but she could see from his expression that he wasn’t, even now, sure if she was intending to or not. Regardless of what his reputation might suggest, she knew he would never step over the line, never retaliate in any way that would shock or frighten her, not Ro. With her, he would always be the perfect gentleman.
That didn’t mean that she hadn’t-wasn’t-fantasizing over not being a perfect lady with him.
Inwardly she sighed; she looked again at the card. Of course she wouldn’t actually do anything outrageous, because as everyone knew, she was the sensible, well-behaved sister.
“The first thing we have to do is find you a gown.” He spoke slowly, each word distinct. “And…we’ll need to do something about your hair.”
“Oh?” She opened her eyes wide. “What?”
“Lord Gerrard! Good afternoon, my lord-welcome to Upton Grange. It’s been some years since we’ve had the pleasure.”
“Good afternoon, Grafton.” In the front hall of Upton Grange, Ro smiled, distantly charming, at Barham’s butler, and continued in a bored drawl, “I’m sure it will prove a pleasure to be back. Getting here, however, sadly was otherwise-my carriage broke an axle in this atrocious mud.”
Ro cast a heavy-lidded look at Lydia, beside him. She was swathed in her cloak and hanging on his arm, doing a reasonable imitation of a petulant pout. Her hood was up, anchored with pins, screening her face from idle observers. “My…lady and I had to make do with that cart you see rattling away.” He waved languidly back at the drive. “We’re hoping the comfort here will eradicate the memories.”
“Indeed, my lord. Of course.” Grafton, a large, physically imposing, barrel-chested man of limited imagination, signaled to his footmen with exaggerated self-importance. “I trust there were no injuries?”
“My coachman suffered a knock on the head, but is recovering. Our luggage will follow in due course…unless I’m summoned back to deal with the situation. Regardless, as after all these years I’ve finally managed to find time to attend another of Stephen’s excellent events-and my lady, having heard tales of these affairs, was eager for the experience-we came on.”
“The master will be delighted, my lord. We’ve a chamber prepared, if you care to go up?”
“Thank you. I believe we will.” Ro allowed his gaze to linger, openly lasciviously, on Lydia, then he looked at Grafton. “One thing, however-while the lack of our luggage will not severely inconvenience me, my lady dressed for travel and is therefore without a suitable gown for the festivities. As I recall, Stephen keeps a store of attire for just such emergencies.”
“Indeed, my lord. In the Green Room.” Grafton bobbed and bowed as Ro strolled slowly to the stairs. “I’m sure the master would be only too delighted for your companion to make her choice.”
“Thank you.” Ro waved a languid dismissal as he and Lydia started up the stairs in a footman’s wake. “Pray convey my compliments to your master when he awakes.”
“I will, my lord. Certainly.” Halting at the bottom of the stairs, Grafton went on, “I’m sure you recall our schedule, my lord-breakfast will be available in the dining room from four, with dinner to follow at ten o’clock.”