Those two items seemed overlarge for her face, yet oddly enough they balanced one another.
He rubbed his chin, finding the mystery intriguing.
Perhaps it was her mouth that attracted such attention . . . something about it made her appear sensual. Now that he thought about it, the sulfi who’d held him prisoner had been most vocal in his admiration for the no-nonsense Miss Smythe-Haughton and her lush mouth. The man had been a positive idiot about it, even writing a poem. “A poem,” Michael muttered.
“Pardon?” Mary asked.
“Nothing.”
“Michael . . . is she wearing boots?” Mary’s voice held a strangled tone. “You can’t allow her to dress like that when she’s in town!”
“What does it matter how she dresses? No one is funding her.” He was a little envious of Jane’s freedom, truth be told.
Mary gave a puff of indignation. “Because she will be laughed at. Surely you don’t want that!”
His jaw tightened. “I dare anyone to laugh at her.”
Jane wasn’t like other women, who had to don silly finery to prove their worth. She already had worth, making his life go as smoothly as possible.
Jane laughingly left her new conquest, who sent a longing glance after her. Fool. Jane would never be interested in such a useless man. Jane never showed the least interest in any man, which Michael found quite satisfying. He paid her far too much to be forced to deal with female whims.
She finally reached them and he said “Jane, this is my sister Mary, the Countess of Erroll. Mary, this is Jane, Miss Smythe-Haughton.”
Jane instantly dipped a curtsy that even the biggest stickler couldn’t fault. As she rose, she held out her hand and smiled warmly. “Lady Erroll, I finally meet you! Michael has spoken of you frequently.”
Mary looked pleased. “He’s mentioned you quite a number of times, too.”
“Probably to complain about something, but I never take it to heart.” Jane chuckled. “You know how Mr. Hurst can be.”
Michael watched as Mary melted before that friendly chuckle and the genuine note in Jane’s voice. Mary was in the hands of a master. That was one of Jane’s gifts: no matter where they were, in the wilds of Africa or a sulfi’s palace or even the treacherous ballrooms of London, she knew just what to say and how to say it.
It was partly that ability to understand and blend into whatever society she was in, that made their expeditions so profitable. Where another explorer might be greeted with distrust, after a few deft words and gestures from Jane, Michael and his party were almost always welcomed. They remained that way, too, with Jane there to soothe over the inevitable awkward moments.
He watched as she worked her magic now. In just a few moments they were talking animatedly about marriages and children and other frivolous topics that Michael knew Jane cared nothing for.
She must have read his thoughts, for though she continued to chat with his sister, Jane sent him a laughing look beneath her lashes. He answered it with faintly raised brows and a mocking smile. He liked how she controlled a room without seeming to. It made his life so much easier.
After several more moments of female chatter, Michael yawned.
Jane halted in mid-sentence. “Mr. Hurst, do you wish to leave?”
“He can’t leave,” Mary exclaimed. “He hasn’t spoken to a single potential sponsor yet.”
“I’m not going to, either,” he said. “This damned neckcloth is too tight and I wish to go home.”
Jane tsked. “Mr. Hurst, you must speak to at least one potential sponsor. If you don’t, you will have wasted the time you have spent wearing such an atrocious neckcloth and will just have to don it again.”
He’d been yanking at the damned thing again, but now stopped. “Atrocious?”
“Oh, yes. Especially now that you’ve been tugging on it.”
“Oh, look!” Mary gestured to the crowd. “There’s Devonshire! He expressly asked to meet you. The duke is one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom.”
“He might support more than one expedition,” Jane said, looking thoughtful.
“So?”
“So if you speak nicely to him, he might be the only sponsor you’ll need for the next year or two, and you can get out of that neckcloth for a long, long time.”
“Fine,” he growled. “Let’s get this over with. Which asinine fop is he? Please tell me he’s not the man in puce who and—Bloody hell, are those diamonds on his shoe buckles?”
“He may be a fop, but he’s very interested in sponsoring the great Michael Hurst,” Mary said. “He told me that he’s an avid follower of the newspaper serial.”
Michael sighed. “Which means he thinks I wrestle crocodiles by the dozen.”
Jane burst into laughter.
Michael eyed her sourly, even more unhappy when Mary grinned. “Blast you both! I wish these fools would just mail me a checque and leave me the hell alone.”
“So do I,” Jane said in a soothing tone. She deftly smoothed his lapels and tucked a corner of his cravat back into his coat front. “But fools that they are, they seem to wish to speak to you first. If they knew you better they’d never wish for such a thing, for you’re by far the rudest man I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you,” he snapped.
“You’re welcome. Unfortunately, that’s what happens when you allow a nice person to write your newspaper serial—now the world thinks you’re nice. It’s a burden, but one that you must bear.”
“If I have to speak to that fool, you do, too.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve realized that though I’m wearing my best gown and my favorite hat, I’m woefully underdressed. So I must leave before I undermine your efforts.”
Michael was about to answer with a strong “Nonsense!” when Mary nodded. “Miss Smythe-Haughton, since you’re leaving, I’ll be glad to escort my brother to meet with the duke.”
“A perfect plan.” Jane’s eyes shimmered with mockery. “You’re such a fortunate man.”
“And you’re such a pain in the rear.”
Mary looked shocked. “Michael!”
Jane just twinkled up at him. “Mr. Hurst, I won’t work for you if you cannot pay me, so you’d best find a sponsor soon. For if I don’t work for you, then who will make certain your favorite pillow is there when you climb into your tent at night?”
“I don’t have a favorite pillow.”
“You do; you just don’t know it. You also like your meals on time, your notebooks stowed in a particular order, and clean socks at every stage of the journey. If you wish those things to continue, then you’d best set about earning my very respectable wage.” She turned to Mary and held out her hand. “Lady Erroll, it was lovely finally meeting you.”
Mary clasped Jane’s hand warmly. “It’s lovely finally meeting you, as well. I can see that Michael is in good hands when he’s on expedition.”
“Thank you, I do my best. Good-bye.”
She turned and went back into the crowd, her large hat wreaking havoc as she made her way to the door.
Michael grinned until he noticed that the bumpkin who’d so eagerly spoken to Jane was pressing through the crush, trying to reach her. But Jane was too swift and she managed to slip out of the room, her yellow hat disappearing from sight.
Michael turned to his sister. “Now, where’s this duke of yours? I’ll be damned if I wash my own socks on my next expedition.”
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Table of Contents
Cover
Back Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
/> Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Karen Hawkins, A Most Dangerous Profession
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