A Loving Scoundrel

  He lifted a black brow at her. “Well? I doubt you’ve come to rob me. You wouldn’t have knocked. Or would you? D’you think you’re that good?”

  She felt a blush coming, but with it, some of her anger returned, too, which bolstered her enough to say, “I’ve retired from robbing. Got kicked out, thanks to ye and yer bleedin’ high-handedness.”

  “Did you? Well, now, that’s too bad. Indeed it is.”

  Not a speck of sympathy was showing in his expression to support his remark. He even smiled! And that smile hit her in the gut, started her pulse leaping, had her eyes so mesmerized her thoughts scattered. How was she going to blister him with a piece of her mind if her mind wouldn’t function in his presence?

  “Should have let me escort you home to do the explaining,” he added in a slightly scolding tone.

  “Wouldn’t ’ave ’elped,” she grumbled. “’Is mind was made up to get rid o’ me long ago. Ye just gave ’im the excuse ’e needed.”

  “He? Your boss?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So you were expecting this ousting?”

  “Not this soon, and not without a job lined up nor a penny in me pocket,” she snarled.

  “What happened to the money you earned that night?” he asked with only mild curiosity.

  Another blush. “I turned it over, ’oping it would change ’is mind. It didn’t.”

  “So you’re looking for a new band of thieves to join up with? Good God, you didn’t think you’d find one here, did you?”

  Her eyes snapped up to find his expression as appalled as his tone had been. She should say yes and give him several reasons why he fit the role of thief, at least in her opinion. After all, it hadn’t been her idea to rob Lord Heddings. But she’d rather just get to the point.

  “I told ye I’ve retired from thieving. Never liked it and ’ope to never ’ave to do it again. It’s a real job I’m looking for.”

  There was avid curiosity in his expression now. “What sort of job?”

  “I’m not particular,” she replied with a shrug. “Anything decent that will let me afford a roof over me ’ead and food on the table. I’ve been sleeping under the stars since I got kicked out. And being that’s yer bleedin’ fault, I figure ye owe me some.”

  “I find it rather admirable that you’d prefer to sleep in some alley than do what you do so well.”

  A third blush, but this one had her snarling, “Don’t. Ye were the preferred option, since ye do owe me, and I would’ve been ’ere sooner to collect if it didn’t take me so bleedin’ long to find ye.”

  He chuckled. “Since you are determined to blame me for your dire straits, I’m not going to send you off with your pockets full and never find out if that exonerates me in your mind. And, no, before you think to mention it, I wouldn’t trust you to come visiting from time to time to let me know how you’re getting on.”

  Her back stiffened. “I were going to ask for money, but the wench downstairs says yer short o’ staff here. I’ve decided I’ll be taking a job from ye instead.”

  “You’ve decided?” He burst out laughing. “What would you prefer, footman or maid?”

  She glared at him. He wasn’t taking her seriously. That was easy to tell. And then it dawned on her what he’d just said, bowled her over actually. He knew! He wouldn’t have mentioned the maid’s job otherwise.

  There was no point in denying it. She asked baldly, “When did ye guess?”

  He left his position, strolled casually toward her—more like a wolf stalking his prey, she thought nervously. He stopped in front of her, raised a hand, was going to touch her cheek. She leaned back, even though he stopped just short of touching her.

  He was smiling as he said, “There was no guessing, m’dear. I’ve an eye for beautiful women, no matter what they’re wearing. Though truth to tell, I do prefer them naked.”

  Nervously she took a step back from him. “Ye won’t be seeing me naked.”

  His brow rose. “No? Well, that’s a shame and leaves us nothing further to discuss, does it?”

  “The devil it don’t. We’re discussing the job yer going to be giving me.”

  He sighed. “We just did, and you turned it down without giving it the least bit of thought.”

  “Getting naked?” She gasped indignantly. “Ye call that a job?”

  He laughed. “More or less. I’m willing to take you on as my mistress. I find you quite amusing. Don’t mind admitting it. So I’m sure we’d both enjoy it for a while.”

  Danny’s cheeks bloomed red, not with embarrassment this time, but with anger. “Forget it, mate. It’s a decent job I’m wanting, and ye will give me one, or I’ll be paying a visit to Lord ’Eddings. I’m sure ’ e’d give me a job in exchange for the information I can supply ’im with, o’ where ’is jewels ran off to.”

  The nabob was flushing with some angry color himself now. “This is preposterous. You don’t know the first thing about propriety or how a household like this is run. And you talk like a guttersnipe,” he said contemptuously.

  “I can speak properly,” Danny replied slowly.

  She did have to think it out though, since she wasn’t quite familiar with it yet. And it wasn’t going to be easy, especially when she was angry or even nervous, which seemed to be the perpetual case around Malory. After fifteen years, she was much more used to the slang.

  She’d managed to surprise him, but only for a moment. “So you can mimic your betters? But you don’t know how to behave like them, do you? How d’you expect to get on here without embarrassing yourself as well as this entire household?”

  “By learning. Yes, you heard me right. I will learn the job as well as how to conduct myself.”

  “Why?” he demanded in exasperation. “Why go to all that trouble when you’re much more suited to—”

  She took a swing at him. He ducked, but he probably got the point, that she was sick and tired of being insulted today. Just to make sure, she snarled, “Because I’m getting m’self a respectable husband and then lots of children. Those are me goals, mate. A good job, a husband, then to get started on a big family, in that order. And ye’ll be ’elping me with the first goal or there will be ’ell to pay.”

  “Bloody hell,” he snarled back, then sneered. “What’s it to be then? Footman I suppose?”

  The nabob was trying to insult her again and doing a good job of it. Or was he just stressing how difficult the task that she’d set for herself was going to be? Could she really fit into this handsome aristocrat’s world, even if only as his maid?

  Chapter 13

  JEREMY WAS SO FURIOUS he was having a hard time containing it. It was so unusual for him to be angry at a woman, but blackmail! Bloody hell, that would get a saint furious.

  It boggled his mind that she had resorted to that, but he should have expected it. She was smart, after all. He wouldn’t have expected that either from someone who came from the slums, but she’d proved it the night of the robbery, when she’d extricated them from a sticky, even somewhat dangerous, situation.

  Remembering that he did owe her for that took a small chunk out of his anger, though only a small chunk.

  This was absurd. He knew how to handle women. Where was his bloody finesse with this one? He ought to be looking on the bright side. Now that she was going to be living under his roof, he didn’t doubt he’d get her into his bed eventually.

  He was nothing if not confident where women were concerned. And this one was rather unique, adorable in her manly togs, amazing in her height, incredibly lovely with those big violet eyes, and not the least bit susceptible to his charms—yet.

  She was attracted to him, though. He bloody well knew when a woman was attracted to him. But she gave every indication that it didn’t matter. “Don’t touch me, don’t even get near me” was the subtle message she exuded. Was that partly responsible for his anger? Another first for him. No, he simply didn’t like being blackmailed, and by a wench he’d prefer to be making
love to. Bloody hell.

  He sighed. The sound brought her out of her pensive state and had her informing him, “I’ll take the maid’s job.”

  “Too bad. It would have been amusing watching you bungle your way through as a footman.”

  She glared at him. He raised a brow. “You don’t think so? And by the by, you don’t scowl at your employer. You ‘Yes, sir,’ ‘No, sir,’ ‘Very good, sir,’ and with a smile or no expression a’tall. When you’re my mistress, you can scowl at me all you like.”

  She started to snap something at him but turned her back on him instead. A stiff posture, full of indignation and ire.

  “Counting to ten, are we?” Jeremy said dryly.

  She turned back around, gave him a tight little smile, and gritted out, “Yes, sir.”

  He burst out laughing. He simply couldn’t help it. And it removed the rest of his anger for the moment. It was going to prove amusing, after all, her attempt to “better” herself. He supposed he could tolerate being blackmailed as long as the blackmailer was going to end up as his mistress.

  Still grinning, he said, “Let’s get you settled then. Shall we start with your name?”

  She unbent enough to answer, “It’s Danny.”

  “No, I meant your real name. If you were sincere about turning over a new leaf, as it were, then you’ll want to start with a clean slate.”

  “That is my real name,” she replied with a stony stare.

  “Truly? It’s not short for Danielle or—?”

  “It’s the only name I ’ave any memory of. If I were given another at birth, it ain’t one I’ll ever be knowing.”

  Jeremy found himself slightly embarrassed. Of course an orphan might not know her real name, and this one apparently didn’t even have a surname. Deuced odd, to go through life without a last name.

  He asked hesitantly, “Would you mind if I called you Danielle?”

  “I would mind. I ain’t no Danielle. My friends call me Danny. Since you ain’t one o’ them, you can call me Dan.”

  She was delightfully amusing in her stubborn adherence to being standoffish. Wouldn’t give an inch, he was guessing. Habit, he was sure. But he supposed she would have had to be defensive, growing up where she did.

  “But we are going to be friends, dear girl, so I suppose I will get used to Danny. Actually, it’s a nice name, has a nice ring to it.”

  “Get over it, mate,” she grouched, then at his raised brow, added, “Sir.”

  He grinned. “Very well. On to the next subject then. Have you any dresses in that sack you’re guarding with your life?”

  She shook her head. “Just my pet and one change o’ clothes.”

  “More pants, I presume?”

  “Course more pants,” she said tersely. “I’ve been a boy for fifteen years.”

  “Good God, really?”

  She was blushing now, profusely.

  “Well, you do realize that you picked the job that will require feminine togs? My father might thumb his nose at convention, but I’m not my father. I don’t expect uniforms, though,” he assured her. “No indeed. This is a bachelor residence, and as such, I expect my servants to enjoy working here. No worrying about collars not being stiff enough or wrinkled skirts or the like.”

  “I was expecting to wear a dress,” she said stiffly. “Did I mention I ’ave no money?”

  “You did, didn’t you?” He grinned again. “Not to worry. My housekeeper will be able to help in that regard and to get you otherwise situated and instructed. Come along. Much as I enjoy your company, I suppose I should turn you over to her now.”

  She followed him, but stopped when they reached the bottom of the stairs, told him, “You’ll let her know you hired me? That she can’t fire me? The last time I tried to be a maid, soon as I met the ’ousekeeper I got fired. She didn’t like the way I talked, or looked.”

  “I can imagine,” he said dryly.

  “No, ye can’t,” she snorted. “Ye’ve never tried to be a maid b’fore.”

  “Well, no, I don’t suppose I have.”

  “Don’t be laughing at me again, Malory. I won’t tolerate it. And that was in a lower-class ’ousehold, not one up ’ere on the bleedin’ rich end o’ town.”

  He wiped the grin off his face. “So you have tried honest work before?”

  “Never got a chance to. Either got fired quick or couldn’t get ’ired. Can’t read, ye know, which don’t give me many choices for jobs.”

  “Would you like to be able to read?” he asked curiously.

  “Sure I would, but I’m too bleedin’ old for any schooling now.”

  “But you’re never too old to learn. Regardless, you needn’t worry about anyone firing you here. You didn’t exactly get hired under normal means, now did you?”

  He was surprised that she actually looked embarrassed by that reminder. She wasn’t going to be easy to deal with. Stepping on eggshells around her came to mind. It was that defensive stance of hers, ingrained, that so easily took offense. And she didn’t have a deferential bone in her body. Cocky guttersnipe was what she was. But that was to be expected from someone who’d never had to deal with their betters before—except to rob them.

  “Come along,” Jeremy suggested. “Mrs. Robertson is probably in the back of the house somewhere. You’ll like her. Motherly sort. She—”

  He got no further before the front door opened and his cousin Regina barged in. Bad habit, Reggie had, of not knocking. Of course, she did live just down the street, and she did know that he’d yet to find a butler.

  She was startled by his presence there in the hall. “Goodness, didn’t expect to find you this quickly. Were you on your way out?”

  “No, just getting my new servant situated.”

  She looked at Danny then and tossed her a brief smile, but to Jeremy she said, “Well, that settles that.”

  He raised a brow at her. “Dare I ask what?”

  Reggie sighed. “I came to offer you one of my footmen. Billings returned from his leave of absence. Have to have him back, of course. He’s like family. But that new man who took his place has worked out splendidly, too. But I don’t need three foot-men, only two, so I was hoping you could take the new man. But you don’t need two, one will do you fine. And—”

  “Hell’s bells, Reggie, don’t write a book about it. Spit it out.”

  She gave him a reproachful look. “I was getting to the point. This fellow here is too young to be a butler, so it’s obvious you’ve just hired your footman. Which is perfectly—”

  Danny interrupted her this time. “I’ve taken the maid’s job, ma’am. Decided footman would be too easy.”

  Reggie blinked at her, then rolled her eyes at Jeremy. “Very funny. I see why you’ve hired him. He’ll amuse you endlessly with drollery like that. Now I must run. I’ve hundreds of things to do today. And don’t forget you’re coming to dinner.”

  “I am?”

  “You did forget!” she said, appalled.

  He grinned at her. “No, I’d say you did. This is the first I’m hearing about it.”

  “But Nicholas was going to stop by to—famous, I suppose he forgot. Well, never mind. Now you do know, so don’t be late. Uncle Tony and Ros will be there. And Drew. Derek and Kelsey, too. I’ve even invited Percy.”

  “Drew is back in town?” Jeremy asked in surprise.

  She nodded. “His ship docked this morning. And since your father and George are visiting Uncle Jason at Haverston, I imagine Drew will be at loose ends. Though I also expect George will be rushing back to London as soon as she knows her brother is here.”

  “So you thought to entertain him?”

  “Of course. Your father might still hate his brothers-in-law, but the rest of us like them well enough.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “You know he doesn’t hate them. He just— well, doesn’t like them. Principle, don’t you know.”

  “Yes, just like he doesn’t like my husband,” she grouched.

  Jeremy lau
ghed. “Well, old Nick did try to get him hanged.”

  “So did George’s brothers, but who’s counting,” she huffed on her way out the door.

  Jeremy almost felt out of breath after that brief visit. But Reggie was like that, a whirlwind of chatter. He glanced back at Danny to find her looking a bit dazed as well. He imagined all that rapid chatter hadn’t made a bit of sense to her.

  Considering the conclusion Reggie had drawn, Percy as well, for that matter, Jeremy asked her curiously, “Am I the only one who sees the woman in you?”

  Her lips twisted in disgust. “Aye, you are. It’s the pants. They usually serve me well, but didn’t fool you none.”

  He took a step closer, but he only had to glance down a few inches to meet her eyes. “No, I’d guess it’s the height. You’re taller than many men. That’s very rare.”

  She broadened the space between them again before she spat out, “Like I can bleedin’ well ’elp that.”

  “Don’t get defensive. It’s not a bad thing to be tall. Though come to think of it, Mrs. Robertson will probably have trouble finding you any ready-made clothes. Having you making the beds wearing your—”

  He stopped that thought abruptly. Thinking of her near a bed quite undid him.

  “Was that yer sister?”

  A safe subject, thank God. “No, m’cousin Regina Eden. She and her husband, Nicholas, have a town house just down the street from here, though they are more often at Silverley, his country estate.”

  “It were easy to tell ye were related. Yer whole family like that?”

  “No, most of the Malorys are big and blond like m’father. There’s just a few of us who took after my great-grandmother’s side, m’self included. Why, I look so much like my uncle Tony that most people who meet us think he’s m’father.”

  “Ye look like ye find that amusing.”

  “But it is.”

  “I’ll bet yer father don’t think so.”