“Yes, that. Doubtless I would wait until you were asleep, and then I would attack your fair person.”
“That is a possibility, but I’m willing to chance it.” She raised her head and looked at him intently. “I want to get this mess solved, Rohan. I want to find out about this map and why these men are so desperate to get it.” She paused just a moment, then drew a deep breath. “But most important, I want to find out who George really was.”
She was serious and he’d been goading her about sex. He sighed. He still wanted to take a strip off her, but now wasn’t the time. “I’m not certain it’s safe to take you with me,” he said finally. “Our Mr. Lambert, God give him grace on the high seas, wasn’t a nice man. I don’t expect that the others—there are always others, I’ve found, when it comes to sin—will exceed his level of civility. They will be dangerous.”
She leaned toward him, her elbows on the table. “I was thinking about that. I understand your concern, but remember, George was my husband—”
“Do keep your voice down, my lady.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s critical that you wipe all of it from your mind. I caution you, anything known by the master and mistress is usually known by the staff. We must be very careful. Fitz has ears that extend to the stables and beyond to the east pasture.”
“I understand. I will be very careful. Now, regardless, I have given this a good deal of thought. You must have friends at Oxford, a family we could visit for a week? Marianne and I would have the protection of the family, would we not? Wouldn’t it be safer than if we were all staying at an inn?”
“You didn’t spend your entire night finding ways to thwart me, Susannah? Damn you, don’t draw back in fright. Very well, I will think about it. As to a place we can visit, I had planned on that already. I have a longtime friend whose country home is very near Oxford. His name is Phillip Mercerault, Viscount Derencourt. We went to school together. It’s more than likely that he is in London. I wrote him last week, telling him of our proposed visit to Oxford. I have no idea if he received it or if he is even now at his country estate, Dinwitty Manor. No, don’t giggle. Dinwitty Manor was named after a wife brought into the family way back in the seventeenth century.”
“She must have been an heiress.”
“No doubt. But to force the house to carry her name is asking a lot, isn’t it? We’ll leave for Oxford tomorrow, if that pleases you.”
“Ow!”
Rohan laughed. The kitten had just climbed up Susannah’s skirt, digging his claws into her leg along his journey.
She was laughing then, grabbing the kitten and shaking him lightly, all the while giving his little nipping kisses.
Just like he’d wanted her to nip his tongue.
19
“RO-HAN!”
It was Marianne, in high good humor, balanced on Lottie’s hip. She immediately scrambled down and ran to him, reaching up her skinny arms until he picked her up and set her on his leg. “You hungry, pumpkin? I see, you don’t care a whit about food. This little fellow is named Gilly and you’re to be very gentle with him. He’s just a little fellow, not a big girl like you are.”
Within five minutes Marianne was chasing the kitten throughout the breakfast room, shouting, laughing, the kitten having a fine time himself.
“I will have to tell Ozzy that the kitten had his first lesson today,” Rohan said. “It’s called survival. A racing cat can never learn about survival too soon. Just look at them. Look at him fly. I’m hopeful that we just might have a champion, Susannah.”
She was staring at him. This man—her new husband—was a libertine? A womanizer? A lecher? And yet here he was laughing and quite enjoying himself watching a kitten and a little girl. He knew all about gillyflowers? She said slowly, not looking at him, “Did you know you can use gillyflowers for flavoring? In jams and in sauces?”
“Certainly. It’s an excellent flavoring since it has the smell of cloves.” He suddenly stilled at the expression on her face. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Susannah.”
“I was thinking that you’re a pu
zzle, my lord. I was thinking that many of the pieces appear to be unrelated, as if the puzzle the world sees isn’t the puzzle you really are.”
He laughed. “Does this mean that from now on you won’t preface every comment with ‘a man of your reputation’?”
“Reputation,” she repeated slowly, frowning now at him. “Those three old biddies believed I was a slut before you jumped in with both feet and your wits to save me in your own peculiar way. It would have become my reputation. But I am not a slut. All this is curious, don’t you think?”
He looked at her and wanted her desperately. He couldn’t think of a thing to say and thus simply nodded.
His wife wasn’t a virgin, and that, strangely enough, made things worse. He had never before encountered a problem of this sort. It would require a lot of thought, a lot of planning and strategy.
He posted another letter to Phillip Mercerault, this one to Dinwitty Manor, informing him again of his imminent pleasure if he chanced to be there. Then he brooded. That bored him quickly. He got Marianne from Lottie and took her for a ride on Gulliver. She screamed with pleasure and Gulliver snorted over his shoulder at her. He had just wheeled about on the country road when Lady Dauntry came by in her landau, a tall bonnet on her head, sporting four ostrich feathers dyed purple. It was difficult not to simply stare at those purple feathers.
He smiled at her, bidding her good day.