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Authors: Lois Greiman
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bodice. “The baron’s old sire.”
“What sort of deal?”
“I ’eard Gregors tell Margarite that if ’er ladyshipbears a rightful heir, she’ll gain her ’usband’s inheritance. And my lord’ll be left ’igh and dry. Old Gregors is to keep an eye on ’er to see if she sidles up to another, if you take my meaning.”
He was pretty sure he did.
She nodded sharply, important with her secret knowledge. “But the good baron will ’ave none of ’er even though ’e knows nothing of the arrangement.”
But he did know. In fact, that very arrangement was the reason the baron had hired him to come to Knollcrest, but that wasn’t the part of the story that particularly intrigued him. “So they’ve not…shared a bed?” For reasons entirely unknown to him, this unlikely news soared through his system like swallows in flight.
“Well, he left the very day he brought her to Knollcrest, didn’t he?”
“But that doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“My lord’s too good for the likes of ’er,” she said. “A thoughtful, kindly man. The very reverse of the lady, and ’andsome as the day is long.”
Thoughtful and kindly? When Sean had met him, he’d been well on his way to gin poisoning. But not so far into his cups that he couldn’t hire a passing stranger to seduce his wife and make sure his spying butler knew enough about it to report it to the man who held the purse strings. At the time, Sean had justified the idea in his own mind, for it coincided cozily with his ownplans, but now he wondered about this baron. “So he didn’t spend a single night here with her?” he asked, baffled by the idea.
She nodded again and looked a little peeved by his disbelief, but he couldn’t help questioning further.
“And why would that be, do you think?”
Emily made a sound like a hissing snake and arched away from him, voice still hushed. “You’ve got a taste of her tongue, sure.”
“She can be a bit harsh, perhaps, but—”
“A bit harsh? I seen adders with more ’uman kindness than she’s got. Say…” she said and narrowed her eyes at him. “You ain’t set your cap for ’er yourself, ’ave you?”
He raised his brows at the girl’s absurdity. “I’m Irish, lass, not mad.”
She stared at him a moment, then laughed. “And here I was a’thinking it was all one and the same.”
“I’m wounded that—” he began, then paused to peer past her plump shoulder. “What’s that, then?”
“What?” She jumped, making him suspect she wouldn’t be entirely eager to share her feelings with Lady Tilmont.
“Someone seemed to be near the garden gate,” he lied.
“It’s not the baroness, sure,” she said, and glowered into the darkness.
“I don’t know who else it might have been.”
“God save us,” she said, and flipping her dampenedshawl back over her head, turned with a scowl. “Even a peahen has enough sense to come in out of this weather. I don’t know why Gregors sent me . It ain’t my job to…” Her voice dwindled as she stepped outside and hurried into the darkness.
Gallagher waited until the count of three, then snuffed out the lantern. In a moment he was back to the supposedly empty stall.
“Unless you’re spending the night, lass, you’d best leave now,” he said. “I don’t—”
“What did she want?”
He jerked in surprise, finding her behind him. “How the devil did you get out there?”
“What did she say?”
He peered into the shadows of the stall. The side walls were constructed of solid planking. Designed to house amorous stallions, they were seven feet tall if they were an inch. He scowled.
“I don’t believe she’s overly fond of you.”
She raised a brow. “It’s going to be difficult to bear up under that devastating disappointment,” she said, “but why don’t you tell me her exact words nonetheless.”
He was becoming accustomed to the darkness and could just make out the soft glow of her eyes. “If you don’t care, why
“What sort of deal?”
“I ’eard Gregors tell Margarite that if ’er ladyshipbears a rightful heir, she’ll gain her ’usband’s inheritance. And my lord’ll be left ’igh and dry. Old Gregors is to keep an eye on ’er to see if she sidles up to another, if you take my meaning.”
He was pretty sure he did.
She nodded sharply, important with her secret knowledge. “But the good baron will ’ave none of ’er even though ’e knows nothing of the arrangement.”
But he did know. In fact, that very arrangement was the reason the baron had hired him to come to Knollcrest, but that wasn’t the part of the story that particularly intrigued him. “So they’ve not…shared a bed?” For reasons entirely unknown to him, this unlikely news soared through his system like swallows in flight.
“Well, he left the very day he brought her to Knollcrest, didn’t he?”
“But that doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“My lord’s too good for the likes of ’er,” she said. “A thoughtful, kindly man. The very reverse of the lady, and ’andsome as the day is long.”
Thoughtful and kindly? When Sean had met him, he’d been well on his way to gin poisoning. But not so far into his cups that he couldn’t hire a passing stranger to seduce his wife and make sure his spying butler knew enough about it to report it to the man who held the purse strings. At the time, Sean had justified the idea in his own mind, for it coincided cozily with his ownplans, but now he wondered about this baron. “So he didn’t spend a single night here with her?” he asked, baffled by the idea.
She nodded again and looked a little peeved by his disbelief, but he couldn’t help questioning further.
“And why would that be, do you think?”
Emily made a sound like a hissing snake and arched away from him, voice still hushed. “You’ve got a taste of her tongue, sure.”
“She can be a bit harsh, perhaps, but—”
“A bit harsh? I seen adders with more ’uman kindness than she’s got. Say…” she said and narrowed her eyes at him. “You ain’t set your cap for ’er yourself, ’ave you?”
He raised his brows at the girl’s absurdity. “I’m Irish, lass, not mad.”
She stared at him a moment, then laughed. “And here I was a’thinking it was all one and the same.”
“I’m wounded that—” he began, then paused to peer past her plump shoulder. “What’s that, then?”
“What?” She jumped, making him suspect she wouldn’t be entirely eager to share her feelings with Lady Tilmont.
“Someone seemed to be near the garden gate,” he lied.
“It’s not the baroness, sure,” she said, and glowered into the darkness.
“I don’t know who else it might have been.”
“God save us,” she said, and flipping her dampenedshawl back over her head, turned with a scowl. “Even a peahen has enough sense to come in out of this weather. I don’t know why Gregors sent me . It ain’t my job to…” Her voice dwindled as she stepped outside and hurried into the darkness.
Gallagher waited until the count of three, then snuffed out the lantern. In a moment he was back to the supposedly empty stall.
“Unless you’re spending the night, lass, you’d best leave now,” he said. “I don’t—”
“What did she want?”
He jerked in surprise, finding her behind him. “How the devil did you get out there?”
“What did she say?”
He peered into the shadows of the stall. The side walls were constructed of solid planking. Designed to house amorous stallions, they were seven feet tall if they were an inch. He scowled.
“I don’t believe she’s overly fond of you.”
She raised a brow. “It’s going to be difficult to bear up under that devastating disappointment,” she said, “but why don’t you tell me her exact words nonetheless.”
He was becoming accustomed to the darkness and could just make out the soft glow of her eyes. “If you don’t care, why
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