“I was afraid you wouldn’t return,” he said. He found her lips with a hungry kiss that ravaged her mouth.
Despite her physical reaction, she had to make sure Teddy wouldn’t die in a duel. She pushed on Shermont’s chest. “Wait. First we have to talk. I’m here on a particular mission.”
Her use of that last word acted like a bucket of cold water. He dropped his arms and stepped away to pour a drink and gather his thoughts. Was she here to pass on information about the foreign agent ring? Why would she come to him? He didn’t think anyone here, other than maybe Alanbrooke, knew he was working for the Crown, but Scovell had sent a warning that his security may have been breached. “Won’t you sit down? Can I get you a drink?”
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip.
He returned to stand in front of her. “I can see the wheels turning.” He tapped her on the forehead. “What’s on your mind?”
She took a deep breath. “I wanted to make sure that if Teddy did something incredibly stupid like challenge you to a duel, you wouldn’t—”
“A duel?” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I remind you of your earlier words. This is not the Dark Ages.”
“But dueling is not uncommon?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s frequent, but on occasion, when the matter is serious enough and cannot be resolved any other way …”
“Then Teddy didn’t challenge you?”
“Of course not. And if he had, I would have simply apologized for the imagined slight, and that would be the end of it.”
“Hmmm, so you say now,” she said. “But if he does—”
“Why are we talking about him? There are so many other things I’d rather talk about.” He set his untouched drink on the table near the door and cupped her face in his hands. “Such as your lovely forehead.” He kissed her there. “If I were a poet, I would recite a sonnet about your eyes.” And he kissed each eyelid. “Your attractive ears. Your charmingly stubborn chin.” He touched and kissed each spot he named.
Now that she’d been reassured, she was free to enjoy his attentions. She wiggled in anticipation. “Hurry up and get to the good stuff.”
“I want to take my time and adore every inch of you.”
“I think I like that plan.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with fervor.
A loud pounding on the door caused them to jump apart.
“Open up, Shermont,” Teddy called from the hall.
Shermont laid a finger over his lips to signal for silence. He pointed to the large bed and helped Eleanor scamper up the steps. He pulled the heavy tapestry bed curtain halfway closed, motioning for her to draw the rest of the curtains to enclose the bed, while he messed up the coverlet and punched the pillows. Eleanor sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed where she would be out of sight from the door. He gave her a smile and a wink.
“Shermont,” Digby called. “I would have a word with you.”
“What, ho?” Shermont responded. He undid the tie of his robe and mussed his hair. “Bloody hell. Keep your pants on.” He paused to glance behind him to make sure the room looked as if he’d been asleep. He assumed a squinty-eyed, slack-jawed expression and opened the door just as Digby raised his fist to knock again. “Is the house on fire?” Shermont closed his robe over his nakedness and retied the sash with deliberate fumbling.
“No,” Alanbrooke answered from his stance behind Teddy. “We saw the light under your door and thought you were still awake. We wanted to talk—”
“You have dishonored my sisters,” Digby said.
Eleanor couldn’t see what was happening, but she heard. She covered her mouth to keep from speaking out. The truth would only make matters worse.
Shermont felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten. Digby’s accusation besmirched the Shermont name. His gut reaction was to tell Digby to sod off, but thanks to Eleanor he’d been forewarned the fool might take matters to an unreasonable conclusion. Adding another insult would only serve to escalate the problem.
Instead, he blinked a few times and said, “Don’t be ridicluu … ridcluu …” He brought up a respectable belch. “I would never do such thing.”
“Alanbrooke has agreed to act as my second,” Digby continued undeterred.
“Only to dissuade you from this course of action.” Alanbrooke turned to Shermont. “Your apology—”
“I demand satisfaction.” Digby removed a glove from the pocket of his waistcoat and raised it to slap Shermont’s cheek.
According to the Code Duello of 1777, Rule Number Five, no verbal apology could be received after such an insult. Shermont ducked the blow by stumbling sideways. He bumped into the table and acted surprised to see his glass there. “So that’s where I left it,” he muttered under his breath. He picked it up and drained the amber liquid with one gulp before flashing the others a supercilious grin. “Ah! I think we all need a drink. Won’t you come in?” He bowed low and stumbled forward a step, forcing Digby and Alanbrooke to back up.
“Perhaps you’ve had enough,” Alanbrooke said.
“I’m not so drunk as to forget the Code forbids a challenge to be delivered at night,” Shermont said, speaking slowly and slurring his words. “Rule Number Fifteen.”
“He’s right, Digby. Let’s leave him to sleep it off.” Alanbrooke put a hand on the hothead’s shoulder.
Digby shook it off. “There is still the matter—”
“Not tonight,” Alanbrooke said. “The Code provides a time of reflection for good reason. Obviously no disrespect was intended. In fact, we should have ensured our foxed friend made it to his room without incident. If you must blame someone, perhaps we should look in the mirror.”
Shermont set his empty glass back on the table and leaned against the doorjamb.
“I suppose you have a point.” Digby’s shoulders sagged. “As the host I should not have been so reluctant to fold my hand and leave the gaming table.”
“And it would have saved you twenty quid,” Alanbrooke said, clapping Digby on the back good-naturedly, turning him away from the door. “Let’s just forget the matter, as I’m sure Shermont will. At least I had enough sense to not play cards with the countess.”
Digby laughed and shook his head. “I swear she was cheating. No one is that lucky. Impossible odds for her to have four queens against my four tens.”
Alanbrooke glanced over his shoulder as he propelled the younger man down the hall toward the master’s suite in the north tower. “Improbable, maybe, but I’ve come to believe nothing is impossible.”
Shermont had the distinct feeling Alanbrooke had seen through his playacting. He nodded his thanks for his friend’s role in averting a disaster that would have done only harm. He stepped back into his room, closed the door, and turned the key in the lock. He made a point of blowing out the lone candle that had betrayed his lack of slumber. The nearly full moon provided more than enough light for what he had planned.
Several long running strides took him across the room, and he launched himself onto the bed, landing on his left side and propping himself on his elbow. “Now, where were we?”
Eleanor had been standing to open the bed curtains. The sudden weight in the middle of the bed knocked her backwards, and she sat down facing him.
“Hello,” he said with a grin.
“You were wonderful.” She giggled as the tension of the previous situation dissipated. “The belch was an especially effective touch.”
“A talent that has come in handy a time or two.”
“I’ll bet. Do you suppose Teddy will forget the matter?”
“By morning Alanbrooke will have convinced him he owes me an apology, which I will graciously accept, even though I will profess to remember nothing.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what? Your name was never mentioned. Do you care for Digby that much?”
“Not at all. I was speaking for the girls,” she said.
“I am not interested in them. I am, however, very interested in you.” He rose to a kneeling position and leaned over her. He brushed her hair from her forehead and placed a kiss there. Then eyelids, nose, cheeks, and chin. He lingered a breath away before gently touching his lips to hers.