Laurie Brown (9 page)

Mrs. Binns sidestepped Estelle’s machinations. “Oh, la.Young people shouldn’t be looking backward. That’s for us old folks
on a cold winter’s night.”

“It is rather chilly in here,” Estelle said. “Don’t you think so, Mrs. Binns?”

“Not at all. I’m quite comfortable.Thank you.”

After a moment of silence, Dev picked up the conversational lag. “Did you get to see much of London, Miss Drummond?”

Josie felt the force of his attention. A hot blush spread from her stomach upward to her ears and downward to the tips of
her toes. “No...I...uh...came directly here,” she stammered. She couldn’t have felt more conspicuous if she’d been standing
there naked.

Mrs. Binns came to her rescue.“I was just telling Miss Drummond about your grandfather’s portrait. Miss Drummond has quite
an interest in artwork, and I’m sure she would enjoy viewing the Gains-borough. I was hoping you would take a moment and show
it to her.”

Josie blinked at the spate of lies rolling off her chaperone’s tongue with sincere ease.

“We’ll be going in momentarily,” Estelle said, laying her hand on Dev’s arm, staking her claim as the highest-ranking female
to the host’s escort.

Not that Josie had any big-time craving to see the painting, but she hated to see some upshot fake countess consistently put
down dear Mrs. Binns.

Josie glanced up at the clock on the mantel, just beyond Dev’s shoulder. “Oh no,” she said, pasting on an innocent expression.
“Dinner won’t be announced for at least another twenty minutes.”

“Crown me if the chit ain’t right,” Galway said from behind Josie.

Did he just call her a chit? What the hell was a chit?

“Aren’t you going to do your duty as host and show her your paintings?” Galway asked.

Dev turned to look at the clock, thus breaking Estelle’s possessive hold. “I suppose...”

“And while you’re gone, I’ll entertain the delectable Estelle with my latest ode to her beauty.” Galway insinuated his tall
lanky body into Dev’s former spot.

Mrs. Binns placed her hand on Dev’s arm, flashing a triumphant grin.“Come along, Miss Drummond. Lord Waite is taking us into
his private study.”

Of course, Josie wouldn’t be allowed to be alone with him. She breathed a sigh. Not only did she not trust him. She didn’t
trust herself even more. She’d met handsome men before, met men who turned her on in bed, but she’d never had such a potent
reaction to simply being in a man’s presence. Thank goodness she could depend on her chaperone to keep her safe.

When Mrs. Binns gave her a wink, Josie realized her relief may have been premature.

Seven

A
s she trailed Dev and Mrs. Binns down the hall, Josie tried to bring her riotous libido under control. A modern, educated
woman of her age should not react like a...like a horny college student. The man had done little more than look at her and
touch her hand.

Once in Dev’s private study, Mrs. Binns collapsed on a sofa and plied her fan vigorously.“My, my. I’ll sit here for a bit.
Go on, go on,” she said, motioning Josie forward with her free hand. “There it is. Dev will tell you about it.”

Josie took a spot next to him, carefully maintaining two feet of space between them. She clasped her hands behind her back
and gazed up at the painting over the fireplace.

“Tradition dictates that each earl or heir to the earldom have his portrait painted on his thirtieth birthday.As you can see,
this is not a typically posed portrait. Great-grandfather requested that he be painted in what he considered his element.”

The large painting, a full eight feet in length and reaching far up into the fourteen-foot ceiling, depicted an autumn landscape
with the castle on a far hill. In the left foreground a man resembling Dev except for the lighter color of his hair sat on
a bench under a spreading oak in a casual pose, coat off, hat carelessly held between his fingers.

While Dev explained the details—a monogrammed handkerchief, a skin flask, a half-eaten loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese—Josie
tried to stay focused. His whiskey-smooth voice and nearness intoxicated her, raising her body temperature.

The picture before her faded, replaced by one of a tropical beach. Sun-warmed sand and exotic flowers. A man, looking suspiciously
like Dev only nearly naked and smiling, lounged beside a stand of palm trees. The large screen of her imagination played and
he rose and beckoned her closer. Her breath came in little gasps.

For the first time in years, Dev struggled to maintain control of his traitorous body. He had acceded to the transparent request
to view the painting as a convenient escape from Estelle, who had become blatantly possessive. A hasty decision he was beginning
to question.

“You will note the artist’s expert use of light,” he said, keeping up the one-sided conversation while his private thoughts
whirled in another direction.

He had assumed himself capable of handling Mrs. Binns’s innocuous ploy with the ease of long practice dealing with marriage-minded
mothers and chaperones. Perhaps he had been overconfident.

Miss Drummond was the problem. She was different from the other women of his acquaintance, an intriguing mix of uncertainty
and straightforwardness. She had the mien of a timid miss, and yet there was intelligence in her eyes. When he had held her
close that afternoon, her gaze had seemed to pierce directly into his soul.A ridiculous thought. However, he had been loath
to let her go, and the immediate rush of blood to his loins had nearly robbed him of his common sense.The desire to kiss her
luscious lips had been overwhelming.

Lust he was familiar with and knew how to handle. But not in his mother’s parlor in front of witnesses.

“Gainsborough had originally sketched out the painting to represent spring; however, great-grandfather nixed the frolicking
lambs and overwhelming green in favor of the vivid colors you see.”

If he was going to nip the problem of Miss Drummond in the bud, he could not just stand there and spout artistic nonsense
while he grew more physically uncomfortable by the minute.

“Although the south wing, the area in which we are currently standing, was still under construction at the time of the painting,
the artist used the architectural drawings to show it complete.”

Dev needed to act and swiftly, either that or get as far away from her as possible. The prospect of London and its myriad
distractions held great appeal at that moment, but since he had promised his mother to attend her silly séance, he could not
leave.That left the choices of either scaring her into running away from him or slaking his desire and thus causing it to
dissipate.

A passionate kiss would accomplish both.

He glanced over his shoulder at her chaperone to confirm that the gentle snoring he’d heard meant Mrs. Binns had nodded off.

Dev sidled nearer to Josephine and slipped an arm around her shoulder to turn her into his embrace. She did not act surprised
or resist, but raised her arms to his shoulders and stepped closer. As he leaned forward, she closed her eyes and tipped her
head back.

Josie wasn’t sure exactly when she realized her dream had become reality.When her hands touched fabric rather than flesh?
When his lips attacked hers? His kiss wasn’t one she would have fantasized. His kiss was hard, relentless, demanding. She
pulled away, a whimper of disappointment escaping her throat. She pushed against his shoulder, her strength no match for his.
He didn’t let her go.

She ducked her head and braced herself to knee him in the groin when he said, “Let me try that again.”

She shook her head without looking up.

He loosened his hold enough to lift her chin with one hand. Before she could seize the chance to spin away, he said, “Please,”
in a deep throaty whisper.Then he flashed her a charming smile, and that damned appealing dimple winked.

Any woman would have agreed to another kiss, Josie rationalized even as she nodded.

His embrace gentled, caressing rather than holding. He leaned closer slowly, so slowly, until his lips barely touched hers,
exploring their shape, expectant, as if patiently waiting for her to make the next move.

She breathed in his scent, relaxed in the warm cocoon of his arms, and leaned into his chest. He increased the pressure of
his lips slightly and, still exploring, kissed the corner of her mouth, her chin, along her jawline, that spot just below
her ear before retuning.

Which was all very nice, but she was no simpering Regency miss. Josie was ready, more than ready for some heat. She responded
by grasping handfuls of his coat to lift herself up and pull him closer. She deepened the kiss and parted her lips.

When Dev tasted her lips with a tentative flick, she sucked his tongue in deeper and slid her hand up to the back of his neck.
He gathered her tightly, one hand supporting her head, the other sliding down to cup her derriere. As he pressed her closer
she ground her hips against the hard length pushing against her stomach.

A particularly loud snore brought Dev to his senses like a splash of cold water. He disengaged himself and set Josephine at
arm’s length with his hands gentling her shoulders.

“My sincere apologies,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I meant no insult to you.”

“The insult is in stopping,” she whispered back. “In leaving me wanting...more.”

He raised an eyebrow at her response.“Although I am more than willing to oblige, now is neither the time nor the place,” he
said with a significant nod toward her chaperone.

She folded her arms and bit her tongue to keep from asking, where and when, then?

Mrs. Binns dropped her fan and it clattered to the floor. She sat up with a start.“What was that?” She looked around the room
with an accusing glare.

Josie picked up the offending object and handed the fan back to the older woman.

“Thank you, dearie. My, oh my, is it time for dinner? I’m fair starved.”

“We should be getting back,” Dev said.

His words seemed prophetic to Josie. She should be getting back, to her own time. She soon would be getting back to her life
in the future.What was she thinking?

That was the problem. When she was close to Dev, her brain melted to mush. She couldn’t let that happen again. She needed
to do the job she’d been hired to do and then get the hell out of Dodge. Before she did something stupid.

Thanks to Amelia’s training, Josie managed the intricacies of Regency dining without problems. When in doubt, she simply watched
Honoria and copied her actions. As the lowest-ranking woman, Josie was seated near the middle of the long table between the
curate Barstow, who concentrated on his meal, and the morose Hargrave, who barely spoke at all, resulting in long silences.
She caught bits of conversations, but as far as she could tell nothing was said about the séance planned for later that evening.
Near the end of the two-hour meal, she heard Dev speak to Lady Wingate, who was sitting on the other side of Hargrave.

“I have recently discovered a fascination with artwork,” Dev said.

Was Josie imagining it or had he raised his voice slightly to make sure she could hear?

“I find the simple activity of viewing a fine painting to be...stimulating.” He glanced at Josie and caught her looking at
him. “Don’t you, Lady Wingate?”

“I would find your artwork fascinating,” she responded, leaning toward him to display her ample bosom.

Josie stifled a snort of disgust.

“Are you an artist?” Lady Wingate asked.“I dabble in watercolors, myself.”

Dev raised his glass. He rubbed the rim across his lips before taking a sip.“My talents lie in...other activities.”

Even though he wasn’t speaking to her, Josie felt a hot blush creep up her neck.

“Lavinia Satterly raved about your garden statuary,” Lady Wingate said, obviously fishing for an invitation to view his artwork
firsthand.

“We should plan a picnic,” Estelle said from his other side, laying her fingertips on Dev’s forearm. “Then all of our...I
mean your guests may enjoy the gardens.” Her self-correction was accompanied by a fluttering of eyelashes.

Dev turned his head but did not shift in his chair to face her. “You can certainly make that suggestion to my mother. She
may even agree with you. To my mind she has already planned too many activities for her guests.”

Estelle snatched back her hand as if burned.

“As for my guests,” Dev continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “the lads were speaking earlier of hunting. I would enjoy an invigorating
diversion. However, tomorrow I’ll remain at home and pur-sue... other pleasures.”

When he said the last words, he looked directly at Josie. Was he making a threat or a promise? Either way she was in trouble.

Honoria chose that moment to stand, the signal for the women to withdraw and leave the men to their port and cigars. Josie
left the dining room determined to use the opportunity to wrangle an invitation to the séance. In the parlor, Deverell waited.

“Whatever took so long?” the ghost demanded, ignored by all except Josie, who was forced to pretend she didn’t hear him either.“Can
you get away? We need to talk.”

Josie turned to Mrs. Binns, who had already settled herself on the sofa and pulled out her embroidery. She not only wielded
her needle with amazing speed but also did it while wearing gloves.

“Can I get you anything? Your shawl? Your...”

“No, thank you. I am quite content, though I do hope they hurry up with the tea. Sit down. I’m sure the gentlemen won’t be
long. Not with such lovely company so close at hand.”

“I think I’ll step into the library and choose a book for later. In case I can’t sleep.”

“That’s a good idea,”Mrs. Binns said with a sigh. She started to put away her needlework.

“Oh, you don’t need to come with me.”

Mrs. Binns hesitated.

“I hardly need protection since all the men are safely ensconced in the dining room. And I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I suppose...”

Before her chaperone could change her mind, Josie headed for the door, only to be stopped by Estelle.

“And where is our little American guest off to so soon?” she asked in a snide tone.

Josie was short on time, so she simply answered, “I’m going to the library for a book.”

“In such a hurry? My, my. Are you running off to an assignation?”

“Why? Were you planning on using the library?”

“What?” Estelle blinked, but she recovered quickly. “No, of course not. I can’t imagine why you should even think such a thing.”

“You brought it up.” Josie tried to step around the taller woman, but Estelle again blocked the way.

“I wanted to have a word with you, Miss Drum-mond, to clarify a matter about which you seem to be confused.”

Josie had had just about enough of the woman. “I can’t imagine what you could possibly elucidate that would have eluded my
comprehension.”

Estelle’s brow furrowed.

“Now if you’ll excuse me?” Josie stepped to the other side and around the other woman.

“It’s about Dev,” Estelle blurted out. Josie hesitated and turned around.

Estelle smiled a superior smile.“I wanted you to know Dev and I have an understanding. We are practically engaged.”

Not only had Deverell never mentioned the fact, but Dev certainly hadn’t behaved as if he was
practically engaged
. He had acted more as though he only tolerated the woman for his mother’s sake.

“We’ve had an understanding since we were children together. Our union has always been his mother’s fondest wish. And, of
course, my own.” Estelle ducked her head in a shy schoolgirl move that wouldn’t have fooled an imbecile.

“Too bad that wasn’t your fondest wish seven years ago.”

Estelle sucked in her breath and narrowed her eyes.

Josie could have kicked herself. She should have kept her mouth shut. No sense making an enemy over the issue, especially
when she knew Deverell had never married.

“Let’s get something straight. I’m not interested in Dev, okay? I’m not setting my cap for him, or any of those other cute
little euphemisms you have for husband hunting. In fact, if I were to stay in this...country, which I’m not, I’d seriously
consider becoming a spinster so I could retain control of my property, my purse, and my person.”

“Good God. You’re a bluestocking,” Estelle said with a laugh.“Wait until Dev hears about this.” She turned and walked away,obviously
no longer worried.

Josie found Deverell in the library, seated in his favorite leather chair, holding a brandy.

“I find waiting quite tedious.”

“Yeah, well, your fiancée wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Who?”