Regency Society. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
let the cloak slip from her shoulders and drop to the floor around her.
There was a long pause, as he took in her appearance. And then, he said, ‘Oh.’ And his face went blank.
She waited, but no response was forthcoming. He stood, rooted to the spot, silent and staring at her as though he did not quite understand what he was seeing.
Dear God, what had she done? She had assumed that she recognised his interest. And he had kissed her. Twice. But perhaps he was thus with all women when he was alone with them.
It had been the servant who had given her the direction to this place, not Mr Smythe. She had not thought, before coming here, to question whether he wished to entertain her in his home. He had certainly never invited her to it. After the afternoon in the library, he might not wish to see her at all, much less see her nearly naked in his study.
He might have other plans for the evening. He might not be alone. Worse yet, he might be married, although there was nothing about the rooms to indicate the fact. And she had blundered forward, dressed like a courtesan and expecting a warm greeting.
She stared down at the cloak on the floor, willing it to jump back into place around her shoulders, and then she looked back at Mr Smythe.
He was still staring at her, taking in every detail. He forgot himself and sat down. And then sprang from his chair, and motioned to her. ‘Please, sit. May I offer you a drink? Tea?’
She sank gratefully on to a nearby settee. ‘Sherry?’
‘Of course.’ She noted the speed with which he summoned a servant, and the eagerness of his voice. He did not let his man come fully into the room, blocking the entrance with his body and taking the tray from him at the door. Then he returned to her, busying himself with the pouring of wine as though he did not know what to do with his hands.
Did this mean he was still interested in her? Or had she embarrassed him in some way? Until he spoke, it was difficult to tell. But whatever he felt, it wasn’t anger, for he showed no sign of turning her out, and he’d have done it by now, surely.
He offered her a glass, but still said nothing. She took her sherry and sipped, crossing her legs, and watching as he watched the movement of her skirt and swallowed some of his own wine.
At last she could stand the silence no longer. All the witty conversational gambits she’d imagined had involved two people who were capable of speech. There would be no clever sparring around the truth, or coy avoidance if she could not get Tony to respond beyond a monosyllable. Finally she gave up and went directly to the reason for her visit, without preamble. ‘I need your help.’
‘Anything,’ he breathed. And then he remembered to look into her eyes. He cleared his throat, and his face went blank again, as he pretended that he had not just been trying to stare through her clothes. When he spoke, his voice had returned to its normal tone. ‘How may I assist you? I am at your service.’
Very well. He wished to pretend that there was nothing unusual about her appearance? Then so would she. She stared unflinchingly into his eyes. ‘I need something taken. Stolen, from another person.’ Her nerve began to falter. ‘It was mine to begin with, so in a sense, it is not stealing at all.’
His voice hardened, as he responded. ‘Do not justify. I trust that you would never ask this of me if the reason were not a good one. You need something taken? Then I am your man. Direct me to it.’
‘Jack Barton has the deed to my house. My house, mind you. Not my husband’s or my nephew’s. It was promised to me.’ She heard the whine in her voice, and took a deep breath. ‘I assume you can guess the reason why he might wish to keep it. It is very economical on his part to allow me to remain in my own house, in exchange for my hospitality when he visits me there. He needn’t even let some rooms.’
She was pleased to see the murderous look on the face of Mr Smythe as the situation sunk in.
‘And I would like to have it back. But I am not sure where he might be keeping it.’
‘That is all right,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I have a pretty good idea of its location. It was a rum trick to play on you, and I have no objection to settling the score. I’ll fix the bastard so that he’s ill inclined to try it again.’ He seemed almost relieved not to have to think about her, and his eyes lost focus as he began to plan the job. ‘The thing will take several days, but you must be patient and allow me to know what is best in this matter. I will bring the deed to you as soon as I have it safely away.’
‘I need it before Monday. That is when he means to…take occupancy.’
His attention snapped back to the present, and he was aware of her again. There was a long pause, and for a moment, she feared that he was about to retract his offer of help. Then he said, ‘Monday? This is not an easy thing you are asking. But I understand that your need is urgent. I will adjust my own plans so that I may help you. You will have it by Monday.’
‘Thank you.’
There was another long silence. She had expected that this was where he would explain to her the cost of the service, and she took another sip of the sherry, wetting her lips to agree, when he asked.
But he said nothing. He just continued to gaze at her, watching her lips as she drank the sherry, scanning slowly down to admire her breasts, making no effort to clarify her position. She could feel her skin grow warm under his gaze, and her nipples tightening.
At last she could no longer stand the silence. She stared down into her wine glass and said, ‘If you were to do this for me, I would be very grateful. Once it is done, of course. Once the item is returned to me, there is nothing that you would ask that I would refuse.’
‘Nothing,’ he said flatly.
‘Nothing,’ she affirmed.
‘Anything I might think to ask in payment, any request I might make, you would be willing to comply?’
She ignored the heat rising in her. ‘Yes.’
His voice dropped to a sensuous murmur, and she could feel the words dancing along her nerves. ‘Be warned, I have an extremely vivid imagination.’
Suddenly, so did she. She closed her eyes tight and the fantasies that rose at the sound of his voice became more intense. Her blood sizzled as she imagined what it might be like to submit to the whims of a man who was little more than a stranger—a hardened criminal, accustomed to taking what he wanted. ‘Anything you wish.’
‘But what will you say in the morning, I wonder?’ His voice had returned to normal again.
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she responded, a little too easily.
‘I should think it’s obvious. It was to me, at least. I am not good enough to be seen with, when you are in the presence of your friends. It is much safer here, is it not, where there is no one you know?’
The words stung her. ‘And how could I have introduced you to Endsted?’ she retorted. ‘This is Mr Smythe. We met in my bedroom, when he was stealing my jewellery. Really, Tony, you ask the impossible of me.’
‘Tony, is it, now? I had no idea, your Grace, that we had progressed to that level of familiarity. I suppose I should be flattered. When you meet me in the future, you may call me whatever you choose. You need not mention knowing me in my professional capacity at all. We have been introduced at a formal gathering, although you did not pay a great deal of attention at the time. You have danced with me. We have made polite conversation. I had hoped that you might be able to treat me as you treat others. And as I have treated you: with courtesy and respect.’
‘Courtesy and respect? That is beyond enough. You have taken liberties with my person.’
‘I apologise,’ he responded stiffly. ‘I rather thought, at the time, that you enjoyed them. And if I do not miss my guess, you just invited to do as I pleased with you. But if I was mistaken, and have been taking unwelcome liberties, then I humbly apologise. It