Clandestine (16 page)

Kit narrowed her eyes at him, a traitorous grin tugging at her lips.

“I say, Lord Vader, finding the kippers fascinating this morning?” Jedediah’s high-pitched drawl cut through the room.

Kit noticed Marc’s barely suppressed eye roll. “Of course. Do you not? I find they are particularly delicious when encased in jelly.” He cocked a challenging eyebrow in Jedediah’s direction.

Somehow Kit managed to swallow her mirth, though that stubborn grin still tugged at her lips.

Jedediah scowled, sensing a joke, but helpless to recognize it. “I find jelly quite tedious to eat.”

“Due to my festering rash,” Kit murmured to Marc as he turned toward the table.

Marc swung his head back to her, looking puzzled for just a fraction of second. Then comprehension dawned, causing his eyes to spark again. Fire and devilry.

She raised a challenging eyebrow and moved past him.

“Done. The first one who laughs owes the other a secret,” he whispered to her back.

Kit stiffened. Drat him! She hadn’t intended for the game to have a forfeit.

Marc sat down between Marianne and Jedediah, allowing Kit to sit opposite him, between Arthur and Lady Ruby. Kit eyed Marc for a second.

She
couldn’t
spill her secrets.

Though she wouldn’t mind knowing more of his.

So . . . she would just have to ensure she won.

Marc raised an eyebrow which asked all too clearly:
Are you going to back down from the challenge?

She gave a studied toss of her head.
Not a chance. Play on.

That signature slow-burn smile gradually expanded over his face. All rogue. Marc gave the faintest nod.

Lady Ruby leaned forward, her purple velvet turban nodding haughtily, drawing Marc’s attention. “I am delighted by your arrival, Lord Vader. It has been quite some time since I have enjoyed the company of an adventurer.”

Due to my festering rash.

The words hung in Kit’s head. She shot Marc a quick look. He responded with a slow wink.

Donotlaughdonotlaugh . . .

She forcibly pinched her lips together.

And just like that, breakfast was the most entertaining thing to happen in weeks.

Marc watched Kit bite her lips, a grin slipping through but not a laugh.

She was going to be a tough competitor.

Of course, that’s what made the whole game fun.

He studied Kit as she sliced her bacon into neat pieces. She had taken four slices, an amount Marc could respect. She wasn’t one of those bird eaters.

He had once briefly dated a French model who never actually ate food, at least not that he had seen. She just considered it something to poke and prod during mealtimes; she had not been particularly curvy.

But Kit dug in to her meal like she had never heard of calories or fat or carbs.

Which, now that he considered it, she probably never had.

She was wearing a simple gray muslin gown with the same red shawl pulled around her shoulders. Her
only
shawl, he was starting to realize.

He could tell Kit was poor. Or, at least, not as well off as Marianne and Lady Ruby, who vaguely shined in their expensive, tailored dresses and perfectly curled hair.

By comparison, Kit’s clothing appeared worn and didn’t quite fit right. Her dresses were generally too tight through the bodice, too loose in the hips and several inches shorter than he assumed was strictly proper.

Not that he minded. Seeing Kit’s trim ankles when he entered the breakfast room had instantly brightened his day.

But in all, her dresses seemed like they had been meant for a different woman. Someone a little shorter and stouter than Kit.

And yet somehow, despite her poorly fit dresses and haphazard hair, Kit shone as the most vibrant part of the room.

She just had a . . . presence about her. As if
she
knew she had intrinsic worth and forget anyone who thought differently.

When would women realize that confidence was the sexiest attribute of all?

Arthur cleared his throat and gestured toward Jedediah and his skin-tight gold satin pants. “Cousin, I thought you intended to accompany me shooting again this morning—”

“Ah yes . . . that.” Jedediah cut him off with a careless wave of his hand. “As you can see, I am hardly dressed for hunting today. I am afraid I will have to cry off.”

Due to my festering rash.

Marc’s lips twitched. Kit lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Amusement tugged the corners of her mouth, but otherwise she held firm. Every line of her body clearly stating,
Bring it.

“Any particular reason?” Arthur managed to look concerned.

Jedediah shook his head, a little too vigorously. “No, no, none at all. Just not feeling the thing today.” He turned to Lady Ruby. “In fact, I was hoping you might help me with a small matter, Mother. You know, that issue we have been having . . .”

Due to my festering rash.

Caught off guard, Marc managed to turn his bark of laughter into a cough at the last second.

That had been close.

Kit maintained her serene expression and took a piously unconcerned sip of tea.

The wretch.

Jedediah looked pleadingly at Ruby, who instantly smiled a little too brightly and reached over to pat his hand.

“Of course, my dear. I had nearly forgotten about that . . . issue. It has definitely been a concern for both of us.”

Now it was Kit’s turn, choking a little on her tea as she set her cup down.

Man, he loved to watch the play of emotions across her face. The way her beer-colored eyes lit when she was teasing him.

No, not beer-colored. Describing a woman’s eyes like that would likely get him slapped.

He thought for a moment.
Honey-colored
. Much better.

Marc dug into his pile-o’-bacon. Mmmmm . . . bacon. He felt magnanimous enough to tolerate the lack of plumbing and Jedediah Knight’s idiocy as long as he had bacon as a consolation.

It really made up for so many of life’s deficiencies.

Suddenly, the door opened and a footman entered with a bow.

“Lord Linwood,” he said in suitably reverent tones.

Right behind, a tall, lean dark-haired man strode in, scrupulously—Marc would actually say
fastidiously
—groomed.

Linwood was dressed and pressed in a perfectly tailored greatcoat which hung in sculpted lines to his mirror-shined boots, a darker coat and ivory waistcoat underneath. Not a hair out of place on his head nor speck of dust on his clothing, despite the fact he must have ridden over.

Everyone at the table instantly stood. It took Marc a second to catch on, and then he scrambled to his feet as well.

Really, he had to
stand up
for this?

Linwood handed a beaver top hat to the footman and removed leather gloves from his hands with precise movements, folding them and placing them neatly inside his hat. All done with military precision.

Marianne instantly went to him, rising on tiptoe to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Welcome, brother. How lovely to see you. Will you not join us for breakfast?” She smiled warmly and gestured toward the table.

Everyone sat down as she said this. Again, Marc was a little late and fumbled back into his chair.

So
this
was the infamous Timothy, Viscount Linwood. The man radiated cool reserve and haughty superiority. Emme had nothing kind to say about him, as there had been a bit of an
incident
which Marc had heard all about. Something about Linwood making improper advances which Emme had to ward off.

Remembering at the last moment that Linwood wasn’t to know that he was Emme’s brother, Marc fought to school his features into some semblance of blandness.

Or at least not blatant hostility.

He pasted on his movie-pleasant face. The one he used when meeting someone for the first time. Linwood would never suspect a thing. Marc wasn’t an actor for nothing. Despite what the occasional scathing online reviewer may say.

Fortunately, Linwood was still focused on his sister.

“No, thank you, sister. I breakfasted before riding over.” He gave her a small bow as she returned to her seat. “Besides, I have little desire to sit.”

Due to my festering rash.

Unbidden the words bolted through Marc’s mind.

Kit choked across from him but bit back her laughter in time.

Ah, so they were still playing despite the interruption, were they?

Great.

It would definitely add a whole new level to what was sure to be a dicey conversation.

Linwood entered farther into the room and clasped his hands behind his back, coming to a stop behind Kit’s chair. Fixing Marc with his icy gray gaze.

Absently, Marc noted that the viscount sported silver embossed buttons on his coat. Not brass with a crest. So far, Marc hadn’t met a gentleman with brass buttons on his coat. Granted, he had only been in 1814 for two days, but that attacker was Marc’s ticket home.

“I take this to be your new visitor, Knight.” Linwood kept his eyes on Marc, even while addressing Arthur.

“Why, yes, indeed,” Arthur said with a strained, forced laugh.

Damn. Now was
not
the time to realize that Arthur Knight was a terrible liar. Arthur cleared his throat. The noise self-consciously loud in the small room.

And Arthur was worried about
Marc
giving something away—

“Lord Linwood, may I present Lord Vader, an old school friend of James’ who has just returned from the East Indies.”

Marc and Linwood cautiously nodded to each other. Two bulls, carefully assessing strengths. Looking for weakness.

“A pleasure, Lord Linwood.” Marc managed to trim
most
of the irony out of his words.

“Indeed,” was Linwood’s cool response. “I was unaware James had a friend named Lord Vader. Did you meet James during his time at Eton?”

Clever man. Linwood had been with James at Eton, so he clearly already knew Marc had not. Fortunately, Marc knew James like a brother.

“Cambridge,” he said, unable to keep the hint of challenge out of his voice. “We studied together there.”

“Ah.” Linwood flicked his gaze up and down Marc’s figure, obviously looking for some sign all was not as it seemed. “I understand James enjoyed his time at Cambridge.”

“Naturally. He had me to ensure things stayed lively.” Marc allowed himself a leisurely smile. Linwood was welcome to probe his understanding of James’ life.

Another quick glance from Linwood. “Were you aware of James’ death before arriving here?”

Marc swallowed at the unexpectedly direct question. Weren’t people supposed to be all circumspect and closed off during this time period?

“I had heard rumors of James’ demise, which given the depth of our friendship, I had to ascertain for myself. I have been profoundly saddened to learn the rumors are indeed truth. James was the best of friends.”

Giving a small catch of his breath, as if he were fighting off strong emotions, Marc looked to the side, schooling his face into movie-devastated mode. Marianne reached out and gave his hand a comforting pat.

Really, this was
such
a masterful performance. Too bad a certain snarky online reviewer wasn’t here to witness it.

For his part, Linwood merely narrowed his eyes, his body language remaining skeptical.

“I was alarmed to hear you were robbed en route to Haldon Manor,” Linwood said. “How unsettling for you.”

Linwood regarded Marc with those icy eyes of his. Nearly unnervingly pale and colorless. As if even his eyes would never do anything so messy as have color to them.

Man, he was such a . . . a . . . stuffed shirt.

Marc smiled tightly. “I haven’t survived so many years in the East Indies for nothing. I can take care of myself.”

Linwood didn’t smile. Did the man
ever
smile?

“Of course. Which is why men robbed you and left you with only the clothing on your back.
That
kind of taking care of yourself?”

Marc blinked. Go figure. Linwood was turning all smart ass.

Though wouldn’t
arse
be the more appropriate nineteenth century term?

Pity ‘smart arse’ didn’t have the same ring.

Marc allowed himself another grim smile. The kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I was taken by surprise and decided a horse and pair of saddlebags were hardly worth my life. Given that the thieves only wanted my possessions, I didn’t want to do anything . . .
rash
.”

Marc lingered on the last word. Knowing Kit, at least, would get the joke.

Out of the corner of his eye, she pinched her lips together.

Linwood stood still, almost unnaturally so. As if relaxing and slouching and the things other humans did were beneath his dignity. He seemed always primed for a fight.

The childish part of Marc wanted to shake a red cape under the nose of Linwood’s bull. Just to see if he would charge.

“I am, naturally, relieved you escaped unharmed.” Linwood’s tone, however, indicated his complete indifference to Marc’s health. “As you most likely know, I am one of the magistrates of this area. I would like to ask you some questions regarding this incident—”

“Actually, Linwood—” Arthur cleared his throat. “—the robberies took place near Leominster, so the entire affair is not within our jurisdiction. I do not see the point in questioning Lord Vader.”

Linwood turned his stony gaze to his brother-in-law. Only the haughty raising of an eyebrow indicated his annoyance at Arthur’s interference.

“Be that as it may, Knight, I am sure Vader would not mind answering a few questions. Given that you and I are responsible for the welfare of those living in this area, it behooves us to investigate any disturbance which might threaten—”

“If you must know,” Marc interrupted, “I did not get a close look at my attackers. They had kerchiefs around their faces . . . though I do believe one of the men had blue eyes. Or were they gray? In any case, they were upon me and taking everything, giving me little opportunity to do anything else other than cooperate.”