Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) (6 page)

She was a fascinating woman with the body of a goddess.

He was seated across from her at the table.  She was blowing
on a spoonful of soup.  He watched with rapt attention as she slid the spoon
between her full lips.  She closed her eyes, as if savoring the soup – which
was too salty by half – then slowly swallowed.  Arthur was, once again, hard. 
In all honesty, he’d been that way most of the day. 

He was about to engage in yet another fantasy when she asked
him, “Are you going to eat the rest of your pie?”

Arthur looked at his half-eaten kidney pie.  Even if he were
hungry for more of the mediocre fare, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to
watch Vanessa savor her food, regardless of how much torment it would cause
him.  If she enjoyed lovemaking only a pittance as much as she liked food, he’d
be a happy man indeed.

“May I” she asked, breaking into his reverie.

It took him a moment to recall the subject of her inquiry,
then he pushed his plate toward her.  “Enjoy,” he said. 

“You have an odd look about you,” she said.

“Do I?” he asked, with a voice too husky by half.  He pulled
his jacket closer about him to conceal his erection as he rose.  He cleared his
throat.  “I’ll settle the bill and have our horses readied.”

The blinding smile she gave him strengthened his resolve to
leave her side before he embarrassed them both.

CHAPTER THREE

They finally reached Cambridge in late afternoon.  Arthur had
spent little time in the university town, having followed generations of Kellingtons
to Oxford.  And at the moment, all he really looked forward to was getting off
his horse and spending the night on an actual bed indoors.  He didn’t like to
think of himself as spoiled in any way.  Or, at least, no more spoiled than the
average nobleman.  But one night spent sleeping on the ground was an experience
he wasn’t looking forward to repeating.  Not that he’d ever admit as much to
Vanessa.  She seemed to positively thrive on primitive conditions and it rather
wounded his pride to think she was more cut out for this work than he.  The
very thought that he could be found wanting by the woman he very much desired
made a shiver go up his spine. 

“Are you cold?” she asked.  “Professor Dumbarton’s home is
close.  We can have you by a fire in no time at all.”

He distrusted the tone of her voice.  “Are you, by any
chance, implying I’m in need of coddling?”

She fought to keep a straight face.  “Not at all, my lord. 
I’m sure there have been any number of instances where you’ve slept out of
doors and not had the services of a house full of retainers.”

Arthur said nothing.  He couldn’t bluff, for fear the chit
would call him on it.  That’s what he got for being attracted to a female with
brains.

After making their way through town, they came to a home in
the university district.  Attached to houses on either side, it was a
three-story building in a distinguished neighborhood.  After leaving their
horses at the nearby mews, they raised the knocker.

The door was opened by a butler who looked like he’d been
with the house when it was built some two centuries earlier.   But far from the
impassive mien exhibited by butlers in London, this one looked like he’d been
awakened from a nap.  And was none too pleased with the intrusion.

“What do you want?” the man yelled at them, once he’d opened
the door and stared at them for a good long moment.  He was without any hair at
all on top of his head, but had a fringe of gray extending all the way around
the back at ear level.  His white eyebrows were bushy and looked to account for
half his weight.

“I’m Vanessa Gans and am here to see Professor Dumbarton.”

“If you’re a chit, why are you dressed like a lad?” asked
the butler, blocking their entrance.

It had been a long day and Arthur had no desire to spend
even one more moment of it outdoors.  He gently pushed the man aside, motioned
for Vanessa to enter, then followed her inside. 

“See here, now,” said the fossil.  “You hooligans can’t just
barge in here.  I’ll set the watch on you, I will.  See if I don’t!”

“Sedgwick,” said a man who entered the foyer from a nearby
room.  “Who are you calling hooligans?”  The man looked to be in his late ‘40s,
was of middling height and had brown hair flecked with grey.  He looked at his
guests for just a moment, before breaking into a smile and approaching Vanessa.

“My dear Miss Gans,” he said as he bowed over her hand. 
“How delightful it is to see you again.  And at my home, this time.”

Her face lit up with a radiant smile, setting Arthur on edge. 
Was there something between the two besides Home Office business?  The man
currently ogling Vanessa was nothing like the professor type Arthur had been
expecting.  He did have a bit of the absent-minded manner Arthur generally
associated with academics, but the way he was holding onto Vanessa’s fingers
for a scandalously long amount of time also lent him the air of a wolf.  Why
wasn’t Vanessa threatening to pull out her arsenal to use on him?

Arthur cleared his throat to get their attention.

Vanessa pulled back and motioned to him.  “Professor, may I
present Lord Arthur Kellington?  He’s assisting me in an investigation.”

Dumbarton glanced briefly at Arthur, then once again turned
his attention back to Vanessa.  “And you must tell me all about your latest
work at supper, my dear.  But first, let’s get you and Kellington settled.” 
Dumbarton sent a pointed look in Sedgwick’s direction, which the servant answered
with a long, mumbled complaint that couldn’t quite be heard by his employer,
but whose meaning was clear.

Sedgwick showed Vanessa to her room first, whose location
Arthur couldn’t help but commit to memory, then deposited Arthur in a room as
far from Vanessa’s as geographically possible.

“I should like to have a bath, Sedgwick,” he said, as he
surveyed the room.  It was small, but surprisingly well furnished.  In addition
to the tester bed with green velvet hangings, the Aubusson carpet and ormolu
clock were of the quality seen in the finest homes in Mayfair.  To find them in
the lesser guest room of a university professor was unusual. 

After promising that a bath would be sent up, but being
rather vague on exactly when that would occur, Sedgwick took his leave.  Arthur
unpacked his satchel and did what he could to make his clothing presentable. 
He’d never enlisted the services of a valet, in part because as one who made
most of his blunt from gaming, he never knew how flush he’d be from one month
to another.  He’d become quite adept at looking after his clothes himself, or,
in a pinch, paying Ned’s man Rigg when he needed something out of the
ordinary.  But, as he looked at his muddy boots, he realized there was merit in
being dependably wealthy, even if he probably couldn’t attain a fortune on his
own. 

If he wanted more security than his inheritance provided, he
could marry for money.  Being the third son of a duke might not appeal to some
marriage-minded mamas, but there were plenty of fathers who’d earned their
fortunes in trade who were looking to buy into the peerage.  He only hoped that
his future wife had even a modicum of the personality, looks and intelligence
of the captivating Vanessa.   

The water did finally arrive and wasn’t as cold as he’d
predicted, though it was none too warm, either.  He’d already laid out his
clothes for dinner, so he had time for a leisurely soak.  The copper tub proved
more of a match for someone of Vanessa’s height than his.  That was a thought
worth dwelling on:  Vanessa, naked, lying in the tub.  In desperate need of
someone to wash her back, her front, her other bits.  As he folded himself into
the tub, with limbs hanging over the edge, he thought about soaping up Vanessa
while worshipping every inch of her.

His fantasy was getting particularly good when the door
opened and Vanessa entered, as if summoned by his wayward thoughts.  Except in
his fantasy, she had a sultry, wanton look in her eyes, rather than the
no-nonsense, let’s-go-hunt-some-villains expression that was there now.  When
she realized he was in the tub, she blushed delightfully then averted her eyes,
but only after a quick peek.

Arthur took some satisfaction in that.  While she was
strictly off limits for the time being, he still wanted her to find him
attractive.  Especially since he wanted her so very much.

“Pray forgive my sudden entrance,” she said to the wall
opposite his tub.  “I should’ve knocked, but I just thought of something and
need your counsel.”

“No apology necessary,” he said, as he purposely splashed water
to get her attention.  He thought she almost turned around.  “You hereby have
permission to enter my bed chamber at any time, day or night.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said primly, as she tugged
at the oversized gown she was wearing. 

“Did you bring that gown with you?” asked Arthur.

“No.  Professor Dumbarton was kind enough to lend it to me
while my clothes are being laundered.  It belongs to his sister.”

“She’s a rather large woman,” said Arthur.

“So it would appear.  The reason I barged in on you is that
I just thought of something.” 

“I’m all ears.  Well, almost.”

She continued on, ignoring the innuendo.  “How did Mortimer
and Portia know the chest was at Riverton Farms?”

Arthur reluctantly turned his thoughts to their mission.  “I
don’t know.  How did you know it was?”

“I was sent there by the Home Office.  My superior, Lord
Willingham, had received a tip and I was sent to investigate.”

Arthur thought about that.  “Perhaps whoever alerted
Willingham also told Mortimer and Cassidy.”

“But for what purpose?  Why alert the authorities and the
villains who want to steal it?”

Arthur watched the emotions play across her face.  “Do you
think there’s a mole in the Home Office?”

“I wouldn’t like to think so, but I cannot ignore the
possibility.  If there is, it would make one thing clear…”

“That Mortimer and Cassidy went to London when they realized
the papers were fake.”

“Yes!”  She was so excited she turned toward him, apparently
forgetting his state of undress.  But it was obvious the moment she registered
it.  Her gaze drank him in.  From his broad, muscled shoulders, to his defined
chest with a smattering of hair.  The flat male nipples, the definition of his
stomach which led downward to what was just barely visible through the water.

Arthur watched her growing arousal.  She was very aware of
him as a man.  And not the flustered way that a virgin would be.  It was an
intriguing thought.

Then she remembered herself and turned away once again.

“I should leave you to your bath,” she said quickly.

“Please do not do so on my account.  I’m enjoying the
conversation immensely.  You must forgive my rag manners for not rising when
you entered.  I can do that right now, if you…”

“No!”

Her panic brought a smile to his face.  He could almost feel
sorry for her, if he weren’t so painfully aroused himself.

“We can talk about this at dinner,” she said, as she
hastened toward the door.

“If you wish,” said Arthur.

She departed quickly and he swore he heard her running down
the hall.  He laid his head back on the rim of the tub.  The rapidly cooling
water was exactly what he needed. 

*                    *                    *

Dinner was an odd affair, Arthur concluded some time later. 
The food was excellent, courtesy of Dumbarton’s French cook.  On the rare
occasions at university when Arthur had dined at a professor’s home, the fare
had been only a step or two better than what was served to students.  But,
somehow, Dumbarton was living quite well. 

“Would you like more wine, Kellington?” asked Dumbarton.  “I’m
particularly fond of this vintage.  It comes from a quaint little vineyard in
the Bordeaux region of France.”

A beleaguered Sedgwick was at Arthur’s elbow, already
beginning to pour.  Arthur nodded at the butler, who simply grunted in reply. 
“Have you travelled extensively in France?” Arthur asked Dumbarton.  If they
were looking for a mole, perhaps they had already found him.

“Travel is both a necessity and an interest of mine,”
replied the professor, who was slightly foxed from his excellent wine. 
“Whenever possible, I like to explore the world, which has become much easier
now that the wars are over.  And, of course, I can get funding for my trips,
seeing as how I’m one of the university’s most acclaimed professors.”

“Professor Dumbarton has published several articles which
have received praise from around the world,” said Vanessa, as she smiled at the
annoying man.

“Have you done much travelling, Kellington?” asked
Dumbarton.

“Not yet.  Although it’s certainly a dream of mine.”

“Well, what’s keeping you?” asked Dumbarton, as he motioned
for more wine.  “It’s not like you have a career or a wife and children to hold
you back.  And I’m sure Lynwood keeps that family of yours in line.  What’s to
stop you from travelling the globe?”

Arthur took a sip of wine, unable to provide an answer. 
What was keeping him from his dreams of travel?   While he didn’t have
unlimited funds, he did have enough to spend an extended period of time
travelling the continent.  And, if he was careful with his spending, he could
go to the Americas or even the Orient.  He’d grown up with such dreams.  What
was keeping him in England?

Then he turned and looked at the bewitching woman across the
table from him.  Perhaps he’d always known he had unfinished business.  Once he
knew she was safe, he would be free to live his life as he wished. 

Dumbarton cleared his throat.  “I suppose it’s time we got
down to business, isn’t it?  Kellington, make yourself at home with my wine or
a glass of port.  Vanessa and I shall retire to the study.”