"My lord, no… " Her voice came out breathy and foreign to her ears.
James reached for her and she felt herself swaying toward him, tipping her chin back to look in his eyes. He rubbed his thumb across her lips, and then bent down, two inches, one inch. She rose slightly off the floor. His hand travelled down her arm. Her eyes started to close.
Air. It was the only thing touching her. She r opened her eyes and saw his retreating back, the extra blanket that had been covering the bed in his hand.
Calliope’s jaw sagged slightly.
"I will leave at daybreak. The servants will be up and about and you will be perfectly safe."
He dropped onto the settee, his long legs hanging off the end. It had to be uncomfortable, but he didn’t make a peep.
She was outraged. Calliope stomped to the wardrobe and withdrew her nightclothes.
She looked over at him, but his back was to her.
She changed her clothes with difficulty, not ringing for Betsy. She watched to see if he peeked. He didn’t. And there was no offer of help.
Calliope’s teeth gnashed together. She should be relieved. Instead, she was confused and irritated. And she couldn’t explain any of it.
Slipping under the covers, she stared at the ceiling.
She was still staring at the ceiling when he rose and quietly left the room at dawn, as promised.
Chapter 10
What a terrible night.
Every muscle in his body ached. Between the lumps in the settee and his overactive libido, he was certain he hadn’t slept a wink. Calliope had set the terms of their relationship and he had abided by them. Yet she had slammed the wardrobe and acted like a mad bee that had lost its honey. He knew she had slept as poorly as he-her breathing had never gained the even wave of someone comfortably settled. Sometimes he didn’t understand the fairer sex.
James threw the blanket on the floor and rose from the uncomfortable settee. Calliope finally appeared to be asleep. She was a small lump under the bedcovers. How to deal with her? She was the most skittish courtesan he had ever met. She acted like an outraged virgin, a category of women that he avoided like the plague. He wondered if she was even aware of the mixed signals she sent.
He had never needed to woo any woman, yet sometimes he felt that was precisely what he was doing with her.
James exited the room and quietly but firmly locked the door. He trudged across the hall to his room. His valet, Rogers, was waiting.
"I’m not in the mood for a long, drawn-out affair, Rogers. Let’s try to keep this to a minimum."
Rogers sniffed. He had probably spent an inordinate amount of time brushing James’s trousers and polishing his boots. Rogers liked to be appreciated, but James wasn’t in the mood.
After sending Rogers off in a snit, James walked down to breakfast trying to divine the workings of the female mind. Fortunately, Roth was the only one at the table.
"Good god, Angelford, you look awful. Wouldn’t have expected such a scowl after seeing you retire with Esmerelda." Roth looked positively cheerful. "I anticipated an expression of the cat stealing the canary, not such a woebegotten air."
James sent him a withering look and snatched a plate from a waiting servant, who scurried off.
He helped himself to the delicacies at the sideboard. " Did you tup the countess without trouble?"
Roth’s grin widened as he poked a sausage on his plate. "l did not, much to the dismay of Lady Flanders, who was hoping to enjoy an early celebration in honor of Lady Pettigrew’s birthday. Supposedly she’s inexhaustible. And while that’s an admirable trait, her other attributes don’t entice me into spending the requisite time."
James smiled. "I’m quite sure she was irritated, since she appeared ready to have you unwrap and sample her overly abundant charms." Roth was a font of information and James decided to use Roth’s knowledge to his advantage. "By the way, speaking of birthdays and gifts, Holt was talking about taking Edmund out for some debauchery now that he’s older. Can’t recall how old the lad is, but seems Holt thinks it will be amusing, what with his birthday approaching soon."
"Boy will be twenty. Time to join up, just like we did."
Two ladies sauntered in for an early breakfast, giving James no time to glean additional information from Roth. Considering Roth a suspect didn’t help his investigation. His instincts told him Roth had nothing to do with Stephen’s disappearance or Salisbury ’s death, but he was unable to rule him out yet.
Roth had always been deep cover and one of the country’s best agents. The betrayal of Salisbury screamed deep cover, and lately Roth had been acting more cryptic than usual. There had been a subtle, yet unmistakable withdrawal from public events. It was actually surprising he had shown up at Pettigrew’s. As soon as this investigation was over, James planned on having a long chat with his inscrutable friend and colleague.
But for now, he had the information he required. Roth’s unerring memory never mixed up facts. If he said Edmund was going to be twenty, then the birth certificate in Ternberry’s room didn’t make sense. According to the document, he was twenty-one.
Why would Ternberry possess a birth certificate for Holt’s son? True, he was Holt’s secretary, but if what James suspected was true, Holt wouldn’t entrust the certificate to anyone. In fact, the information might be something that Holt was willing to guard to the death.
Things were looking worse.
Calliope breezed into the room looking superb in a lemon morning gown. Swirls of delicate white lace edged the cuffs and hem, making her appear as light as a fairy.
"Roth, how lovely to see you this fine morning."
She didn’t so much as glance in James’s direction. She looked relaxed and refreshed and showered attention on Roth, ignoring James.
"What a beautiful weekend for Lady Pettigrew’s birthday. I’m certain the celebration she has planned will be creative. As birthdays go, I was thinking of attending Edmund Crane’s birthday celebration next week. That dashing boy will have the ladies at his feet. Why, he’s nearly what, twenty-one?"
Roth sent James a quizzical look. "Twenty, I believe."
James was ready to throttle her. Roth donned a thoughtful expression as Calliope rattled off some of the incessant banter that she used as part of her Esmerelda guise. She continued a diatribe about the ladies of the ton, regaling him with anecdotes and the latest gossip. But Roth was no fool. Social intrigue was second nature to him.
"By the by, have you seen Ternberry this morning? I remembered something I must tell him," she said.
"My dear, Ternberry would scoff at getting up before noon. There is to be a hunt and croquet later. He will likely rouse in time to ride."
"Oh, good. Well, I will leave you two gentlemen to your breakfast and see if Lady Pettigrew has stirred."
She breezed out of the room. Roth raised his brows at James. "Well, she certainly has energy and spirit this morning. What happened to you?"
James scowled and pushed his untouched plate aside. He didn’t reply as he rose to follow her. He was going to wring her beautiful neck.
A swirl of lemon skirts rounded the landing at the top of the stairs.
She was heading to her room.
He took the stairs two at a time. He heard a door close as he gained the top step. She had been moving quickly. Reaching her door, he knocked. There was no answer. A door opened down the hall and he heard a lady titter. He gritted his teeth. "Let me in."
Still no answer. "I swear I am going to-"
The door opened and Calliope stood, panic-stricken, tears in her eyes.
He stepped inside and closed the door. Softening his voice he said, "What’s wrong?"