“What is so amusing?”
“The fat fool fell on his face twice as he ran to his door. You would have thought the devil himself was nipping on his heels.” Boris snorted.
“Fool he might be, but he is a dangerous fool.” With an elegant motion, Edmond was on his feet and moving toward a nearby window. It took only a moment to spot the thin man who was attempting to appear nonchalant as he strolled up and down the cobbled street. “He left a guard to keep watch on the house.”
“Good,” Boris muttered as he moved to Edmond’s side. “I will kill him.”
“No, Boris.” Edmond gave a regretful shake of his head. “Not yet. Once I have discovered who is attempting to harm Stefan, I will deal with Thomas Wade and his inept servants. Until then, I must not draw unnecessary attention.”
“Then why not hand the wench back over to the bastard? That would put an end to this man’s interest, and we could concentrate on more important matters.”
Edmond abruptly turned and moved to lean against the white marble fireplace, careful to keep his expression unreadable.
“Because I have decided that she will be of use.”
“Use?” Boris grimaced. For all his skills, the man was remarkably shy when it came to the fairer sex. “When is a female ever of use?”
“You have spent too much time on the battlefield, Boris, if you have forgotten there is at least one use for a female,” Edmond drawled.
Boris muttered a curse beneath his breath. “You can have that sort of use in the nearest alley. No need to bother with the fuss of bringing her into your home.”
Heat feathered through Edmond’s body at the thought of Brianna pressed against the wall of an alley, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pumped deep inside her. It could hardly compare to a soft bed and hours to devote to her satin heat, but there was a certain charm to a swift, heated coupling.
Grudgingly, he forced the image away.
“On this occasion it is actually her presence that I do need, as aggravating and annoying as that presence might be.”
Boris narrowed his gaze, a hint of suspicion in the hazel depths. “Why?”
Edmond stretched his arm along the mantle, his slender fingers drumming an impatient tattoo on the smooth marble. He did not want to explain his reasoning for keeping Brianna at his side. Perhaps because he had not yet completely convinced himself of those reasons. But Boris deserved some explanation. He was, after all, putting his own life at risk.
“It occurs to me that while my presence in London, posing as Stefan, has diverted the danger away from my brother, Howard might be more reluctant to strike,” he said, smoothly. “After all, it is far easier to plan an accident on a lonely country road than in the midst of London.”
“I thought that was the reason you were so eager to seek him out?” Boris countered. “To prod him into showing his hand.”
Edmond shrugged. “I have found a better means to prod him.”
Boris’s suspicion deepened. “The woman?”
“Yes.”
“Why the hell would he care if you have Miss Quinn living with you?”
“He will not.” A cold smile twisted his lips. “Not until I allow gossip to spread that she is soon to be my wife.”
“Your…” The hazel eyes bulged. Edmond had never made a secret of his grim resolution never to wed. Not even Alexander Pavlovich had been capable of compelling Edmond into cementing his place in the Russian court with an advantageous match. “Wife?”
“Precisely.”
Boris took a step forward before forcibly coming to a halt.
“Have you taken a blow to your head, or did the wench simply bewitch you?” he growled.
Edmond’s expression hardened.
“It will be a cold day in hell before any woman can bewitch me to the altar, old friend,” he snapped, uncertain why he was angry.
“Then it was a blow to the head?”