There was something familiar about that hand.
"Bloody hell." Harry stepped away from the wall and put the ebony stick on the desk. He opened the window with a brusque, angry motion, planted both hands on the sill, and leaned out.
"Thank goodness you are still here, my lord." Augusta threw back the hood of her cloak. The pale moon revealed the relief in her face. "I saw that the light was on and I knew you were in there and then quite suddenly the lamp went out and I was afraid you had left the room. What a disaster if I had missed you tonight. I have been waiting for over an hour at Lady Arbuthnott's for your return."
"If I had realized there was a lady waiting for me, I would have made it a point to return much sooner."
Augusta wrinkled her nose. "Oh, dear. You are angry, aren't you?"
"Whatever gave you that notion?" Harry reached down, grasped her arms through the fabric of the cloak, and hauled her bodily in through the window. It was then he saw the other figure crouching in the bushes. "Who the devil is that?"
"That is Scruggs, my lord. Lady Arbuthnott's butler," Augusta said breathlessly. She righted herself as he released her and straightened her cloak. "Lady Arbuthnott insisted he accompany me."
"Scruggs. I see. Wait here, Augusta." Harry swung one leg over the windowsill and then the other. He dropped down onto the moist earth and beckoned to the stooped figure in the bushes. "Come here, my good man."
"Yes, your lordship?" Scruggs came forward with an awkward, limping gait. His eyes glinted with laughter in the shadows. "May I be of service, sir?"
"I think you have already done quite enough for one night, Scruggs," Harry said through his teeth. Aware of Augusta hovering in the open window, he lowered his voice as he confronted Peter Sheldrake. "And if you ever assist the lady in another adventure of this sort, I shall personally straighten out that extremely poor posture of yours. Permanently. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir. Most definitely, your lordship. Quite clear, sir." Scruggs bobbed his head in a servile bow and edged backward, cowering pathetically. "I'll just wait out here in the cold for Miss Ballinger, sir. Never mind that the night air brings out the rheumatism in these old bones. Don't concern yourself with my joints, my lord."
"I do not intend to concern myself with your joints unless I find it necessary to take them apart one by one. Go on back to Sally's. I'll take care of Miss Ballinger."
"Sally is planning to send her home in her carriage with a couple of other members of Pompeia's," Peter said softly in his own voice. "Do not fret, Harry. No one except Sally and myself knows what is going on here. I'll wait for Augusta in Sally's garden. She'll be safe enough once you get her back there."
"You cannot know how that knowledge relieves my mind, Sheldrake."
Peter grinned through his false whiskers. "This was not my idea, you know. Miss Ballinger came up with it all on her own."
"Unfortunately, I can believe that."
"There was no stopping her. She asked Sally to let her sneak through the gardens and down the lane to your house and Sally very wisely insisted I come along. Wasn't much else we could do except make certain she did not come to harm in the process of getting to you."
"Be off, Sheldrake. Your excuses are too lame to interest me."
Peter grinned again and faded into the shadows. Harry went back to the open window where Augusta stood peering down into the darkness.
"Where is Scruggs going?" she demanded.
"Back to his employer's house." Harry climbed back into the library and closed the window.
"Oh, good. That was very kind of you to send him back." Augusta smiled. "It is very cold out there and I would not want him standing around in the damp air. He suffers from rheumatism, you know."
"That is not all he will be suffering from if he tries anything like this again," Harry muttered as he relit the lamp.
"Please, you must not blame Scruggs for my appearance here tonight. It was all my idea."
"So I understand. Allow me to tell you it was a distinctly unsound notion, Miss Ballinger. An addlepated, idiotic, entirely reprehensible idea. But as you are here now, perhaps you will explain exactly why you felt it necessary to risk your neck and your reputation to see me in such a fashion?"
Augusta gave a small, frustrated exclamation. "This is going to be extremely difficult to explain, my lord."
"No doubt."
She turned to face what was left of the fire, allowing her cloak to fall open as she stood in front of the glowing embers. The large red gem above her breasts glowed with the reflection of the flames.
Harry caught a glimpse of the sweet curves revealed by the low neckline of Augusta's gown and stared. Good lord, he could almost see her nipples peeping out from behind a couple of strategically placed satin roses. His imagination soared, providing a vivid image of those barely concealed buds. Firm and ripe, they would be made for a man's mouth.
Harry blinked, suddenly aware that he was already half aroused. He fought for his normal, unshakable self-control.
"I suggest you start the explanations, whatever they may be, immediately. It's getting late." Harry propped himself against the edge of his desk. He folded his arms across his chest and contented himself with an expression of severe reproof. It was hard to maintain the scowl when what he really wanted to do was pull Augusta down onto the carpet and make love to her. He sighed inwardly. The woman had bewitched him.
"I came here tonight to warn you that a disaster is imminent."
"May I inquire as to the nature of this disaster, Miss Ballinger?"
She turned her head to give him an unhappy look. "There has been a dreadful mistake, my lord. You apparently paid a visit to my uncle this afternoon?"
"I did." Surely she had not pulled this stunt just to tell him she was going to reject his proposal, Harry thought, seriously alarmed for the first time.
"Uncle Thomas misunderstood you, sir. You see, he thought you were offering for me, rather than my cousin. Wishful thinking on his part, no doubt. He has been fretting about my spinster status for ages. Feels he has a duty to see me wed. In any event, I fear he has already sent the notices off to the papers. I regret to inform you that the announcement of our betrothal will be all over town tomorrow morning."
Harry jerked his gaze away from the satin roses and glanced down at the highly polished toes of his Hessians. In spite of the growing heaviness in his groin he managed to keep his voice free of any inflection. "I see."
"Please believe me, my lord, it was an honest mistake on my uncle's part. I questioned him carefully and he was quite certain you meant to offer for me. You know how he is. He lives in a different world most of the time. He can remember the name of every one of his ancient Greeks and Romans but he can be distressingly vague about the names of the members of his own household. I expect you can understand that."
"Hmmm."
"Yes, I thought you would. You no doubt suffer the same problem. Now, then." Augusta swung around, her cloak sweeping out behind her like a dark velvet sail. "All is not lost. It will be difficult for both of us tomorrow when the news bursts upon the world, but never fear, I have a plan."
"God help us," Harry said under his breath.
"I beg your pardon?" She pinned him with a glare.
" 'Twas nothing, Miss Ballinger. You said something about a plan?"
"Precisely. Listen closely, now. I know you have not had much experience with schemes and such due to your interest in scholarly matters, so you must pay strict attention."
"I assume you have had experience with this sort of thing?"
"Well, not this sort of thing precisely," she admitted, "but with schemes in general, if you see what I mean. There is a knack to carrying out a good scheme. One must be bold. One must act as if nothing at all is out of the ordinary. One must be calm at all times. Do you comprehend me, my lord?"