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Authors: Barbara Pierce

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance

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BOOK: Courting the Countess
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“Mallory,” Brook said the instant they were alone. “Where did you meet Gill?”
“I really do not want to talk right now.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the sofa guests sometimes used to observe him at work. There were nights it had also served as his bed when he was too tired to climb the stairs to his bedchamber. Plopping down, he dragged her onto his lap.
Struggling to get free of him, she could not help but think of the last time he had pulled her onto his lap. “Release me, you fiend!” Ignoring her, he began kissing the side of her neck. She laughed because it tickled. “This is hardly appropriate. Anyone could walk into this room.”
“I prefer doing the inappropriate with you,” he murmured against her throat. “Besides, Gill will keep Miss Hamblin distracted. She is rather good at it.” He bit the curve of her neck.
Brook sighed against him and then shook herself when she realized what he was doing. Gill Revil was not the only one who had a talent for distraction. “Oh no. I refuse to let you get away with this.” She gave him a shove and stumbled out of his tempting embrace. Brook tugged on the sleeve he had pulled down. “I was asking you about Gill. Who are her people?”
Glowering at her through the strands of brown hair that had come loose, Mallory was not happy that he was being denied. “Are you asking if she is related to me? Mayhap my
natural daughter from a youthful indiscretion?” The prominent muscle in his jaw ticced his displeasure.
Appalled, she exclaimed, “No! The thought had not occurred to me.” It truly had not. From the look of the girl’s odd tattered attire and her rough dialect it was clear that she came from humble circumstances. Brook could not imagine Mallory denying a child of his anything. “I was simply curious about how you had met. The young girl obviously adores you, though why that surprises me I do not know. You seem to enthrall every female you meet.”
Taking advantage of her being distracted, Mallory rose up from the sofa and captured her. He spun them around, and they collapsed onto the sofa. This time he pinned her in place with his body. “Are you enthralled, Countess?”
Oh yes. There was something about Mallory Claeg that coaxed even the most sensible woman into doing the unthinkable. Loath to admit it, she said, “You will have to figure that one out for yourself. Now about Gill …”
Mallory groaned and lightly pressed his head to hers. “Egad, you are persistent.” Understanding that she was not likely to melt in his arms until she had gained the answers she sought, he said, “Gill was selling her sketches on the street when I met her six months ago. Her natural ability impressed me and since then I have been trying to help her. Naturally, this chafes against her independence, so she rejects most of my attempts to assist her. Her life and family are a mystery. Often she reminds me of you.”
She was positive the observation was not a compliment. “Is she living with you?”
“No. She is too wary of me. The pair of you share that in common. Nevertheless, I have spent enough time with her to understand how her mind works. It is one thing to accept a meal here and there from me. Sleeping under my roof gives me power over her, and that she will not accept. Piecing together what she has told me over the months, I suspect
someone, probably a man, has given her trouble. As to whom, I cannot say.”
Trouble with a man was something she understood. It was not a far leap to identify with Gill. Nibbling her lip, she wondered if she could approach the girl.
“Your face is so expressive, I can see what you are thinking,” Mallory said, tracing the line of each brow with soft kisses.
“Do you?”
“I doubt she will accept your help. Neither one of us understands what it is like to live on the streets, enduring poverty and running off the predators that want to enslave you. Gill does not trust anything offered without a price. The key to helping her is to go about it slowly.”
His hand playfully skimmed her breast. “And you are a man of immeasurable patience, hmm?”
“Tremendous,” he assured her. He kissed the soft swell of her breast. “Leave Gill to me. I have a plan.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Unconvinced?” He unexpectedly lifted his head and she felt the impact of his sorcerer’s eyes. “I have coaxed her into accepting the position as my apprentice, have I not? Six months ago she would have spat on the offer.” His grinning confidence was so engaging that she found herself smiling, too. “See, patience.”
“Astonishing,” she marveled. “You waited six months to make the generous offer of making her your personal slave. How kind of you.”
“No,” he countered, sensing he was being teased but showing all the signs of an aggravated man reaching his limits. “I will be her teacher. If she can learn to accept instruction from me regarding the arts, I will persuade her into accepting other gifts.” He suddenly leered at her. “It is you who I hope to charm into the position of my personal slave.” He caged her head with his arms, and she was trapped. His long lashes
lowered seductively as he focused on her mouth. “I can envision the benefits of keeping you by my side day and night.”
She could as well, so she said nothing. Unless she wanted to give his servants something to gossip about, one of them would have to be sensible. It appeared she was elected. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed. “A lovely fancy for you, I am certain. However, there is nothing endearing about slavery to a man. So off. May will not remain in Gill’s company forever, and we have paint to stir.”
He hesitated. When he realized she was quite serious, he climbed off her. “You are not dressed properly to play with paints.”
“It was your excuse, not mine,” she blithely replied, and sat up. “Though why you thought I would be interested in such a task is beyond me.”
“As you said, it was an excuse. You were supposed to be interested in
me,
” he grumbled. “Come on, you can watch me while I do all of the work.”
Following him into a smaller room that reminded him of a tiny kitchen with its wooden sinks, she said, “It sounds like the perfect job. I like watching you.”
He gave her a measured stare. “Well, is it not fortunate that I like having you watch me?”
Moving away from her, he went to the wall lined with sturdy shelves and chose a glass jar. Removing the top, he sniffed the contents.
“You are not going to drink that?”
“No. This is linseed oil. If the scent is sweet, then I know the oil is not rancid.” He set the jar down on the worktable and returned to the shelves and studied his inventory.
“What do you do if it is rancid? Toss it out?”
“Not necessarily. I could add some pulverized quicklime to a pint of oil and heat the mixture until it neutralized the acid.” Selecting a small bottle, he said, “Interested in becoming my apprentice, too?”
“No, just curious,” she said, watching him add a small amount of pigment to a palette. Next he added the oil. Picking up a wide-bladed painting knife, he began to vigorously mix the two into a semi-dry paste. “Does this ever get tedious?”
“At times,” he conceded. “I could purchase my colors. However, the quality is never the same as mixing your own pigments. Of course, grinding colors for me will be one of Gill’s tasks as my apprentice.”
For a few minutes she listened to the faint sounds of the blade striking the palette as it scraped and rubbed the paste. “Are you expecting me to assist you in this endeavor?” She had produced a number of watercolors until her mother had proclaimed her accomplished at the task. Art was never the passion it seemed to be within Mallory.
“Your lack of enthusiasm, Countess, tempts me into agreeing. Luckily for you, this is proof of our chasteness. Be grateful.”
“For what?”
“That I cannot think of a good reason to lock our companions out,” he said, giving her a heated glance. “If I had, we would be lying on the sofa enjoying a lazy afternoon of lovemaking instead of standing here grinding color.”
“Is that how you imagined our little visit when you invited May to your town house so you could finish her painting?”
Since his hands were occupied, he used the side of his arm to scratch an itch on his nose. “Not exactly. When I saw Miss Hamblin and her brother at the Vinings’ card party, I acted on impulse. An impulse, might I remind you, which brought you to me without offending all of your sensibilities about causing a scandal.”
“Unfair,” she accused, feeling like he was ridiculing her concerns. “Just because I ask you to be discreet while we are in public does not imply I am—”
“Ashamed of what we share? Afraid to defy the family?
Or simply hypocritical?” Mallory helpfully queried. The paste he was grinding was looser and had a glossy elastic quality to it.
“Blast you!” She put her hands onto the rough worktable and leaned toward him. “Mayhap I should admit all apply and leave you to your work. Alone.” Sometimes she felt so transparent around him. She did not like that he stripped her fears so neatly and then made her feel foolish.
“Calm down. Everything is fine.” Tipping the palette, he scraped the paint into a small empty jar. He sealed the jar and plucked a rag out of the sink. “You have a right to be vexed. What I said was low and undeserved. Stay.” Mallory wiped the painting knife clean with the rag and then scrubbed the palette clean. Wiping off the smudges on his hand, he carelessly tossed the soiled rag back into the sink.
“Why should I?”
He came around to her side of the table and gently eased her into his embrace. “Because seeing you and not being able to touch you properly will torment me. You should especially like that part.” He kissed her on the tip of the nose.
“Do not start,” she begged.
He exhaled noisily. “I hate that you are right. Still, I am pleased you came.” Mallory could not resist kissing her. “Talk to me. Ask me something.”
Thinking of May’s earlier tale, Brook said, “I heard you attended the Vining sisters’ card party recently. So tell me, what happened betwixt you and Miss Nost to cause the poor woman to collapse at your feet?”
Mallory’s eyes rolled upward at the mention of the young woman’s name. Groaning, he laid his forehead on Brook’s rigid shoulder. “The swiftness with which gossip circulates through the
ton
boggles my brain.”
 
Bracing his back against the framing of one of the windows overlooking the street, Mallory was perched with one leg
dangling out the window as he watched the activity below. The scene below rarely changed. Carriages and wagons rumbled down the street on their way to their destinations. Street hawkers mingled with pedestrians, singing out their goods. Children ran a zigzag course between all of them. Some played games. Others were not so innocent, plying their sly craft of pickpocketing on the unwary. Mallory recognized all the scents and sounds of his street. It was home. Since his return, it was rare for him to have time alone. If he was not tending to his father’s business interests, then he was catching up with his own business that he had neglected. He grinned slightly, thinking of his recent meeting with Lord Ventris. It had been a very profitable day indeed.
Hearing a scratching summons at the door, he ducked his head and shouted his permission to enter.
“Mr. Claeg.”
“It is you, Messing. Good. Did you deliver my
Seduction of Cressida
to Lord Ventris?” he asked, not bothering to leave his post at the window.
“Yes, sir,” the servant replied. “The proportions of the picture were not appropriate for the wall His Lordship had chosen.”
“Ah well, the man had been warned,” Mallory said unsympathetically. There had been an occasion years past when he had had the opportunity to view the interior of the gentleman’s house. The former owner had been a notable opera singer who had enjoyed entertaining after her performances. The lady had been a generous hostess, he recalled fondly.
“Yes, m’lord. We remained with His Lordship as you had ordered. I took the liberty of offering a few suggestions when the gentleman seemed overly vexed with his quandary.”
“I knew you would not disappoint me, Messing.”
His face impassive, the manservant straightened his shoulders. This was the only indication he was pleased by his master’s praise. “The gentleman eventually decided due to the
subject of his new acquisition that the library was an appropriate location. It appeared to be the perfect setting where he might admire your work and yet not offend the gentle spirits of his lady visitors. Lord Ventris desired me to pass along his compliments.”
Rubbing his palm on his breeches, he said, “This went well for us, Messing. I do not believe we have seen the last of Lord Ventris.”
“I agree, sir.”
At the man’s hesitation, Mallory asked, “Was there something else?”
“Yes, my lord. There is a lady downstairs who wishes to see you.”
The countess. Could a man be so fortunate twice in one day? The day had started with a profitable business transaction and now Brook had come to him. Three days had elapsed since the ladies had departed his town house, and he was already missing Brook. Perhaps she had found a respectable excuse to escape Miss Hamblin. Slipping his leg through the window, he jumped down. “Who is it? Lady A’Court?”
BOOK: Courting the Countess
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