Her Notorious Viscount Page 5

  Jane swallowed. That might explain the disarray of the chamber. So this man could not even control himself enough not to brawl in his own home. She had a large job in front of her to make him into a gentleman, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  “If I am to train you, you must realize that fighting in the front parlor is not done,” she said.

  He folded his arms, and in the process his silk robe rose a few more inches, revealing a tanned expanse of very muscular thigh. With a gasp, Jane looked away.

  “Are you training me, Jane Fenton?”

  She nodded, making certain she did not look at him at all. He was far too distracting in his current state. “If you would still agree to help me find my brother, I shall.”

  “That was my initial offer,” Nicholas said on a low chuckle. “I see no reason to change the terms. Unless there is something else you would like to barter with.”

  There was no mistaking his meaning. For a brief moment, Jane considered what he was saying. The idea of bartering her body for his help was not as distasteful as it should have been. She recalled the way her pulse had quickened when he brushed her hair away from her face the night before.

  With a shiver, she pushed the thoughts away. Stiffening her spine, she shot him a glare. “You are shameless, sir.”

  “So I have been told.” Nicholas moved to the poor boy across the room and poured two glasses of sherry. He held one out to her.

  She took it carefully. “My first lesson to you is that a gentleman does not meet a lady in his robe.”

  For a moment, Nicholas stared at her. Then he set the fresh drink down on the tabletop and moved for his robe tie. Jane staggered back, splashing alcohol onto the wooden floor in her hasty retreat.

  “No!” she yelped as she covered her eyes with her free hand.

  “A pity,” he said. When she didn’t uncover her eyes, he said, “Jane, you may remove your hand, I will not do it.”

  Slowly, she lowered her fingers, half believing he would actually be standing naked in front of her when she did. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment greeted her when she found him still clothed in the dressing gown. And she also felt a very strange desire to laugh at the boyish grin on his face. That flash of amusement was something she had not felt for a long time.

  Instead, she straightened her shoulders and tried to remain distant and businesslike. “Very well, we are agreed on the terms of the bargain. So let us speak about the mechanics, shall we? I cannot come here during the day. Lady Ridgefield is a little—”

  “Daft?” Nicholas supplied.

  “Flighty,” Jane retorted sharply. “But not so much that she wouldn’t notice my absence if I left her constantly. I have a job to do and I cannot abandon those duties.”

  Nicholas nodded. “There is more of a chance of you being caught if you come here during the day at any rate. I do not think either of us wants that, for it can only lead to more damage to both our reputations.”

  Jane shivered at the thought. “So what are we to do?”

  “Why not come at night as you have been doing?” Nicholas asked. “I assume leaving Lady Ridgefield in the evening is easier.”

  Jane pondered that. “She often entertains guests and gives me the night off. When she does not, she almost always retires early. Nights of balls or parties are different, of course, but after those events I am generally free.”

  He nodded. “Very well. Then you will come here in the evenings. How have you gotten here before?”

  “Hack,” she admitted.

  He moved on her a step. “Hack?” he repeated. “That is far too dangerous, and I imagine it is very expensive. I shall send an unmarked vehicle for you in the alley behind Lady Ridgefield’s.”

  “But I—” Jane began, though she could admit the idea of not having to take a smelly, drafty hack was a nice one.

  “No buts. That is part of the arrangement.”

  He waved off any further arguments with every bit of the arrogance of a man of his station, and Jane stifled a smile. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  “As for you, I would like to receive a report about your progress in your search for my brother each time we meet,” she said.

  He wrinkled his brow. “I may not uncover information for some time. You are asking for a very difficult trade from me, you know.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care. I want to know what you are doing to look for Marcus, and whether or not those searches bear fruit. Otherwise, how am I to know this isn’t just some fraud on your part?”

  “You cannot trust my word,” he said, leaning closer. “As a gentleman?”

  She pursed her lips. “You aren’t a gentleman yet.”

  He chuckled. “Very well, I agree to keep you informed of my attempts to determine where your brother has gone.”

  “Then it seems we are agreed, Viscount Stoneworth.”

  The smile faded from Nicholas’s face, and he turned away a fraction. “Don’t call me that.”

  Jane watched him in surprise. “I-I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t wish to be ‘my lorded’ or called viscount,” he snapped, his tone suddenly harsh.

  She folded her arms, refusing to be intimidated by his peevish demeanor. “Whether you like it or not, that is what people will call you. You should become accustomed to it with me so that you will answer and not pull that angry face each time someone does it in polite company.”

  He spun on her, and the anger she had seen before was even stronger. Only it was laced with something else. Pain. And she realized in that moment exactly why Nicholas Stoneworth did not want to be called viscount.

  Her lips parted. “It is because of your brother, isn’t it?”

  He stiffened, all his normal rakishness gone. “Don’t be foolish.”

  “It is.”

  She moved toward him and hesitated before she placed a hand on his arm. She meant the gesture as one of comfort, but she couldn’t ignore the snap of attraction touching him caused. His arm was muscular, like the rest of him, and warm beneath her palm.

  She shook her head and recalled her purpose, shoving her strange reactions to him aside. “I can imagine this is all very difficult for you. To lose someone so close to you as a twin brother and to have to take his place—”

  He yanked his arm from her grasp. “I will never take his place.”

  She tilted her head in acquiescence. “Of course.”

  He moved away from her. “You may call me Stoneworth or Stone, hell, even Nicholas. But I shall not answer if you ‘my lord’ me. Or if you call me viscount. That is not up for debate.”

  Jane folded her arms in frustration. Although she understood the emotional reaction Nicholas was experiencing, it did not change the fact that he was, indeed, viscount. But perhaps that was a fight to have with him another day. When he was a bit more…tamed.

  “As you wish,” she said softly.

  He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “As for my part, I will require more information if I am to find your brother. Why don’t we discuss that instead of this highly unpleasant topic?”

  She bit back a bark of humorless laughter. As if talking about her own brother’s disappearance was any more pleasant.

  “What do you need to know?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “You say he disappeared,” Nicholas pressed, tilting his head to examine her as she spoke. “What does that mean? Was he abducted? Did he leave any indication of his whereabouts? What precipitated the break with your family?”

  She shut her eyes but couldn’t block the pain of memories. “I don’t know much. Unfortunately, my father ‘protected’ me from most of what occurred during that time. I know they fought. My brother’s behavior had grown increasingly erratic and my father tried to rein him in.”

  Nicholas grunted, as if he understood that.

  “Our interactions with him grew further and further apart and finally they ceased all together.” She gripped her hands into fi
sts. “I pressed my father, but he would not tell me anything. It was only after his death that I realized my brother had apparently developed some kind of dependence on opium. My father had reason to believe he went into the underground to feed his demons.” She shook her head, willing tears not to fall. “That was where he conducted his investigation.”

  “I see.”

  Nicholas gave no indication of his feelings or thoughts on her story, which she had all but torn from her heart. He simply stared at her, unreadable. Unfeeling. She shifted.

  “I have brought some materials my father collected during his own search for Marcus,” she said as she reached into her reticule and pulled out the items.

  Nicholas took them and scanned over the neat lines of her handwriting. “These are not the original notes.”

  She shook her head. “My cousin refuses to allow me to take the originals from the house. These copies are the best I can do. I assure you, I was careful to leave nothing out.”

  “Nothing you could see.” Nicholas’s lips thinned. “There may be things in the originals that I could use in my search. Nuances. You are certain your cousin will not allow them to be removed, even temporarily?”

  More angry tears stung Jane’s eyes as she thought of Patrick’s stubbornness earlier in the day, but she blinked them away. “He refuses to relinquish control of anything that could prove his claims false. I would not put it past him to destroy my father’s papers entirely just to keep me from the truth.”

  Nicholas’s gaze slowly moved to her face, and he examined her closely. Jane shifted under the scrutiny, trying not to look away and show him weakness, but uncomfortable under his stare.

  “Could your cousin have been involved in your brother’s disappearance?”

  His tone was utterly cool for such a devastating question. Jane sucked in a breath of shock as she realized what Nicholas was implying. That Patrick would—would—

  “No,” she whispered. “I cannot believe he would do such a thing. He was out of the country when my brother first went missing. It was only after my father’s death that he came forward and began his foolishness about Marcus being dead as well.”

  She shivered. Strangely, as much as she despised Patrick at present, she couldn’t believe him capable of any kind of murderous intent to obtain the title. His crime was the fraud he had committed, it could not be anything deeper.

  Or at least she hoped that was true.

  No, according to her father’s notes, it was Marcus’s own sad desire for opium that had driven him further and further into the madness of the underground. Something Jane found equally difficult to believe.

  She shook away her troubling thoughts and dipped back into her reticule. When her fingers touched the smooth round disk of metal within, she shivered. Slowly, she withdrew the item and held it out.

  “I also brought this, in the hope it will aid you in your search.”

  She clicked the release on the side of the silver and the disk opened, revealing it as a framed miniature. On one side was a portrait of her beloved mother, but on the other was an image of Marcus, as he had been a few months before he disappeared. Young and handsome, his face filled with hopes for the future.

  “This is your brother?” Nicholas asked, his voice suddenly more gentle as he took the frame from her shaking palm.

  On reflex, Jane lifted her hand to cover her heart, hoping the ache of losing this last vestige of her lost family would fade quickly.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You share his eyes,” he murmured, though he did not look up to verify the statement. “Is this woman your mother?”

  She nodded, blinking back more tears. “She was. She died when I was just a girl. My lor—” She cut herself off when Nicholas’s stare came up to hers. His brow arched in warning. She sighed. “In the four years since my brother’s disappearance, I have never let these miniatures leave my possession. Please…” She hesitated. “…take care of them. I would like them back when you have no further need for them.”

  He snagged her gaze with eyes so bright and blue that they almost hurt to look at. Then he nodded, as solemn and serious as she had ever seen him.

  “I swear to you, I will be careful. And I will return these to you as soon as I am able.” He closed the frame and placed it on the table beside his drink.

  “Very good,” she said softly, forcing herself not to stare at the silver circle that held so much of her heart. “Now I should return to Lady Ridgefield’s home. I do not want to rouse any suspicion. Shall I return tomorrow night for our first lesson?”

  Nicholas nodded. “Yes, I am agreeable to that. If you give me a moment, I will have a carriage brought around to the servants’ entrance for you.”

  She nodded wordlessly and watched as he departed the room. Once he was gone, she let out her breath in a whoosh. Finally she had someone on her side in her search for Marcus! Now she was certain she would find the answers she had sought for so long.

  And if those answers came at a price, then that was the way of the world. She was willing to pay it, no matter how high, no matter how tempting.

  Chapter 5

  “I heard your little mouse returned. Your charm is commendable. It seems it stretches beyond opera singers and courtesans, after all.”

  Nicholas started. He had been staring out the window to the street down below where Jane had disappeared more than an hour before. He’d been so focused on his musings, he hadn’t even heard the entrance of his best friend, Ronan “Rage” Riley.

  He turned with a smile. “She did, indeed, Rage. Walked back into my lair like she wasn’t even afraid of me. Fascinating creature, that one.”

  Rage tilted his head. “Fascinating. Who ever would have thought that a virginal fallen debutante would inspire you to look her way, let alone call her fascinating. She must be a pretty little mouse, indeed.”

  Nicholas shrugged, dismissing the comment as if he hadn’t noticed Jane’s appearance. But the truth was that he couldn’t get her beauty out of his mind. It was so strange. Innocence didn’t normally attract him, but there was something about this girl. Something about her full, red lips, her dark, haunted eyes that he found himself wanting.

  “I can only assume she returned tonight because she changed her mind about helping you,” Rage continued, interrupting Nicholas’s thoughts.

  He nodded. Since he had returned to London, Rage had been staying in the town home, acting as Nicholas’s confidant, affairs manager, even sometimes-valet. In short, his best friend was the only person Nicholas could fully trust.

  Rage poured himself a drink. “How dreary, to have to take gentleman’s lessons.”

  Again, Nicholas shrugged wordlessly. Actually, the thought of Jane being the one to teach him made the idea of lessons far less unpleasant. She would be here, alone with him, close to him. It could actually be quite entertaining, especially since she was so bent on pretending she didn’t notice he was a man.

  But he had caught her looking at his bare legs, his chest, watching his mouth move. On some secret level, Jane Fenton wanted him.

  He was accustomed to that, of course. Women had desired him since he was out of short pants. And even more of them since he became a boxer. Pugilists, especially successful ones who managed to keep their teeth, were in great demand from women of all stations. Christ, after the party, where he was decried as a heathen, he had still gotten several clandestine notes from women of the ton, making all kinds of offers for sin and passion.

  And that was the problem. He didn’t need rich women throwing themselves at him for secret affairs. What he needed was the attention of the right kind of woman. The fastest way to get back into the good graces of the ton and repair whatever damage he had already done to Anthony’s reputation was to marry someone of good name and fortune.

  Not sleep with every widow in heat. And not, sadly, pursue the charms of a woman fallen in station like Jane. If he could manage to clean himself up, he would be on the lookout for a wife, n
ot a mistress.

  “Stone?”

  Nicholas shook his head. Again, he had been utterly distracted by thoughts of Jane. “Yes?”

  “So what about Miss Fenton’s brother? A man who disappeared into the underground so many years ago is likely going to be impossible to find, even if he is alive, which we both know is highly doubtful.” Rage leaned back on the edge of the desk. “How do you intend to get what you want without Miss Fenton discovering that nasty little truth?”

  Nicholas flinched. When he’d first offered to find Jane’s brother, he hadn’t cared if he misled her. He still intended to do so, since it would garner him what he desired, but now it left a rather unpleasant taste in his mouth. Especially when he thought of her crumpled face when she turned over the miniature of her mother and brother.

  He knew something of her grief. He certainly felt some version of it whenever he thought of Anthony. If only he could pretend his brother wasn’t dead, but lost somewhere.

  “I will make some effort to find the man,” Nicholas said as he fingered the silver frame he had put into his pocket when he got dressed after Jane’s departure. “But if she has more faith in my ability than I deserve, who I am to disavow her of that notion? Especially if her continued confidence affords me her assistance?”

  Rage smiled. “Ah, well, her inexperience will come in handy then. From a distance, she certainly looked innocent. Like a—”

  “Fresh lily,” Nicholas finished quietly.

  Rage arched a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.” He paced the room and returned to his spot looking out the window.

  After years living a profligate life, Nicholas had to focus. To become a “better” man, at least on the surface. And Jane Fenton was going to be there to ensure that happened.

  Nothing more.

  Jane twirled a loose lock of hair around and around her finger as she stared into her rapidly cooling cup of tea with unseeing eyes. In the background, Lady Ridgefield chattered happily, completely unaware that Jane was lost in her own world.

  Actually, that was the problem. She wasn’t in her own world. She was in the dark and dangerous world of Nicholas Stoneworth. And she had been for more than twenty-four hours. Every time her mind was not occupied, it seemed to drift to the man. And more often than not, in her mind he was in the same state of undress as the last time she was with him.