The Geek Girl and the Scandalous Earl (12 page)

Mrs. K painted a foul-smelling mixture into Jamie’s hair over the sore spot on her head. Jamie wrinkled her nose and looked up at him, obviously attempting to downplay her discomfort. “Please don’t worry about it, Mike. Even if you make her apologize, she won’t be sorry. She made it pretty clear that she hates me.”

“This was a grievous action. She might have killed you, and I will ensure that she bears full responsibility for her reprehensible behavior. I will leave you to Mrs. Knightsbridge’s care.” With a sharp bow, he strode from the room, determination and fury warring for the upper hand in his chest.

***

“Sorry, Mrs. K,” Jamie whispered.

“For what, dearie? Running afoul of a miserable, jealous harlot?”

“I screwed things up. How am I supposed to—ouch!”

Mrs. K pressed a poultice against the tender goose egg on the back of Jamie’s head. “On the contrary, Miss Jamie, I would say that things are progressing quite well. I am only sorry that Wilhelmina did not warn me of this mean-spirited action before it occurred. I will insist that she be more vigilant in her scrying when next we speak. But did you see his lordship’s face when he vowed to make Collette pay?”

He had been kind of pissed. Livid, actually. “You think that’s good?”

“That is quite good. He’s beginning to realize that he cares for you. Now, lie still. I will fetch you some tea, and in the morning, you will be right as rain and ready to resume your mission.”

Jamie wasn’t quite “right as rain” the next morning. In fact, it was Wednesday before she was ready to face the world again. Her frequent headaches had been accompanied by bouts of nausea and vomiting. That damn Collette had given her a real-life concussion. She spent Tuesday swinging between wanting to murder the bitch and being really, really grateful that it hadn’t been serious enough to kill her. Even a simple injury at this particular point in history could have had fatal consequences, and she wasn’t about to shuffle off this mortal coil quite yet.

After helping wash the smelly gunk from her hair that Mrs. K had applied like clockwork for the last thirty-six hours, Muriel dressed Jamie in a pale blue gown that she swore set off Jamie’s blue-green eyes to perfection. After the maid pinned up her now-clean hair, Jamie stood in front of the mirror for a good ten minutes, nerving herself to go down to breakfast. She wanted to see Mike, but she was worried about his reaction. He hadn’t come back to her room since the accident. Mrs. K kept saying he was concerned, but what if she was only saying that to make Jamie feel better?

What
if
Collette
told
him
I
lied? What if he believes her instead of me? What if he’s sitting at the table writing a love note to his Miss Lyons and planning a beautiful late summer wedding?
Well
, Jamie thought as she smoothed the patterned blue skirt down over her petticoats,
it’s time to get it over with.

As she walked down the stairs, the clatter of toenails on polished wood greeted her. Prancing at the bottom of the stairs with an unmistakable grin on his long face was Baron.

“Hey there, bud!” Jamie dashed the rest of the way down the stairs, so happy to see her long-legged friend. She hadn’t felt up to having an audience watch her puke yesterday morning, and she had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon napping, so the poor hound had to find somewhere else to sleep for the last couple of nights. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she sat down on the lowest step and cuddled the goofy dog. He showered her with long-tongued kisses all over her cheek.

“Ew, Baron, cut it out. Silly mutt.” She scratched behind his ears and hugged the long neck close.

“I am glad to see that you have suffered no permanent damage.”

The warm voice startled Jamie, and she stopped scratching Baron. Mike had come out of his office, followed by a mousy-looking short man. The stranger nodded to Jamie and disappeared out the front door.

“Yes, thank you.” Jamie stood. “Much better now.”

“Have you broken your fast? I’d be delighted to accompany you.” Mike held a hand out to her, and she took it with a self-conscious smile.

“Thanks.”

Mike escorted her down the hallway, Baron following behind them like a happy-go-lucky groomsman. Jamie tried not to notice how good Mike’s arm felt under her hand.

As they entered the dining room, a delicious smell assailed her nostrils.
Mmm
. She really hadn’t realized how hungry she was after the whole ordeal.

Mike slid the chair back for her, and she sat. Wow. This whole gentleman thing was serious. When she and Mike weren’t at each other’s throats, he really made her feel special. Delicate. Protected in a way that she’d not realized would be so appealing.

As Mike took his own seat, she started loading her plate to distract herself from how good he looked this morning. Midnight-blue pants hugged every muscle of his long legs. A buff-colored waistcoat was framed by a forest green jacket. An ivory cravat, as she’d learned they were called, was knotted expertly at the base of his strong throat. His dark, wavy hair was perfect, the ends long enough to curl over his ears. All in all, she was beginning to believe that modern movie stars had nothing on Micah Axelby.

Jamie took a bite of ham and snuck a piece under the table to the warm chin resting on her knee. Baron gobbled up the treat with delicate greed.

“I trust you are feeling well? You are looking so much better that I assumed so without asking.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. The concern in his eyes made her stomach flutter a little. “I’m a lot better. I think it was just a mild concussion.”

He shook his head at the unfamiliar term.

“A lot of bad headaches. I feel a lot better now. Thank you for taking care of me—after it happened, I mean.” She looked down in her lap. Large brown eyes stared up at her, pleading. She snuck Baron another piece of ham.

“It was my fault you were injured,” he said seriously. “Had I not teased you, leaving you behind, you would not have faced Collette alone. It was unforgiveable of me, and I beg your pardon.” There wasn’t a discernable shred of duplicity in either his words or his face.

She wiped her fingers on the cloth napkin, unable to explain the knot of awkwardness that swelled in her throat. “Have you been thinking about that since Monday? Honestly, Mike, it wasn’t your fault. I appreciate you taking the time to teach me how to ride. You didn’t have to do it, and you were a really good teacher. I just let my mouth overload my a…er, bottom, with Collette. You weren’t to blame. I was.”

He kept his stare trained on her. “Nonetheless, I beg your forgiveness. I know my own blame in the matter.”

She shook her head but agreed. “Okay. If it will make you feel better, you’re forgiven for something that really wasn’t your fault to begin with.”

Some of the darkness left his face, and he nodded solemnly. “I thank you, Miss Marten.”

She gave him a half smile and attacked her breakfast. Mike also turned his attention to the steaming plates of goodness in front of him. They ate in silence for a while, but it was a friendly silence. Every third bite Jamie took, she shared a bit with Baron. The hound showed his appreciation by resting his chin on her leg. All in all, it was as comforting a breakfast as she’d had in a long time.

When Jamie sat back, replete, sipping her tea, Mike spoke again.

“I have been unable to locate Miss Dubois, but I assure you that my secretary, Amberson, is awaiting her return most anxiously, with orders to inform me at once. Her protector, Mr. Waites, has apparently whisked her off for a jaunt, presumably into the country.”

Jamie set her teacup down on the table, chagrined to see the way her hand shook a little. “I’d like to forget about it and move on, if you don’t mind. Can we drop it?”

He tilted his head quizzically. “Am I to understand that you would prefer to leave her unpunished for her crime?”

Jamie twisted the cloth napkin in her lap. Baron sniffed at it eagerly, probably hoping it was stuffed with ham or eggs or toast and jam. “I don’t want her to get away with being a bi…um, horrible to me, but I think karma will kick her later on. I’d rather focus on happier things than Collette.”

A wry twist to his mouth was answer enough without him speaking. She hurried to change the subject.

“Anyway, are you busy today? I was thinking I’d like to work on a project.”

“I have to meet with my solicitor this morning, but I will be free for the afternoon. I will be at your service after luncheon, if you wish.”

“That’d be great.” She smiled. He returned the expression, and she sighed inwardly. Another afternoon in his company. Now that his days as a bachelor were numbered, these hours were becoming more and more precious to her. She rose to her feet, watched him bow and leave the room. Now she had to figure out what the hell kind of project she could possibly come up with for them to do without any electricity, computers, video games, board games, cars, comics, or anything else she was used to. She had a feeling embroidery wasn’t going to cut it.

Mrs. K wasn’t really much help. When Jamie cornered her in the kitchen to beg her for ideas, the housekeeper just stared at her. For that matter, the rest of the kitchen staff did too. She should have remembered to ring that stupid bell that called someone into the sitting room, but she hated treating people like trained monkeys. It was only a kitchen, for crying out loud. She was perfectly capable of walking into it and begging the housekeeper for something to do.

“It is quite simple, Miss Jamie. Play the pianoforte. Walk in the park. Sketch a portrait of him. I would suggest going for a brisk ride, but since your last outing ended so badly, perhaps a jaunt in the carriage would be safer.”

Mrs. K went back to arguing with cook over what to serve with boiled beef. Apparently, it was really important that cabbage be served alongside it. Jean Philippe was in favor of potatoes and greens. Such a big decision surely couldn’t be trusted to a mere cook.

The heat and noise of the kitchen disappeared behind Jamie as she moped her way from the house into the back garden. She dropped onto the bench and stared at the toes of her dark-blue slippers.

If she were back home, she’d take Mike out to the movies or maybe even the mall. He was so fascinated by gadgets that she was sure he’d love the escalators. If they were stuck at home, they’d probably watch some TV, or she could show Mike her game characters. He might even like to make one of his own.
He’d probably be a melee class,
she mused with a smile.
Huge, strong, and completely dominant.
Bossy types usually made great tanks, and Mike was definitely tank material. She probably wouldn’t mind healing if Mike were running point for their group.

She shook her head as she rubbed her nails against the stone bench.
Stupid
. Mike would never touch a computer. He’d never drive a car, never listen to an iPod, never know the wonders of a cotton-polyester blend shirt. She was still thinking like a modern woman. Despite the week-plus she’d spent in old London, she still wasn’t good at finding ways to kill time enjoyably. She wanted to wow Mike. To show him something he’d never get to see with anyone else in the world. To give him a taste of what it was like to live in her time.

That’s it!

Jamie rocketed off the bench and flew into the house. She nearly tripped over a sleeping Baron at the foot of the stairs, but she jumped over him in the nick of time. Getting to her bedroom was the work of a moment, and the door shut behind her with a resounding click.

When Muriel answered the bell, she looked curious. Jamie hadn’t ever really rung for the maid before. When Jamie explained the idea, Muriel was horrified, then dubious, then reluctant. But she helped a lot. With her assistance, Jamie changed into her tank top and shorts, and together they transformed a spare room to her exact specifications.

Jamie had to put a robe on to talk to Jean Philippe, the cook. He shook his head, not even stopping his potato peeling when she told him what she wanted him to do for her. He was completely against it. But when Jamie went toe-to-toe with the volatile Frenchman, looking him straight in his nearly black eyes, he had no choice. It probably didn’t hurt that she threatened to tell Mrs. Knightsbridge about his boiled beef mutiny. He paused on his potatoes to complete the mission she’d given him. She looked over his shoulder as he worked, giving tips and pointers.

When lunch was in the oven, Jamie bolted back up the stairs with strict instructions for Thornton to send Mike up as soon as the earl arrived. Muriel would bring their lunch up to them when it was done. Jamie sent George out to the nearest pub for the other stuff she needed, and before she knew it, the clock downstairs struck one. Showtime.

Jamie waited nervously by the open door of the spare room, which happened to be located next door to Mike’s bedroom. He probably wouldn’t like this idea at first. He’d most likely hate it. But she knew, if he gave it a chance, that he would really have fun. And, she thought as she tugged on her shorts, it certainly would be an afternoon that he’d never, ever forget.

The sound of Mike’s feet on the stairs made her heart jump into her throat. She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, the weight of it unfamiliar on her shoulders after so many days of it being tucked into pins atop her head. She hoped he would give her a chance to explain all of this before he judged it. It might be a hard sell for her proper earl.

“Miss Marten?” he called when he reached the top of the stairs. She poked her head out of the doorway.

“Hey, Mike! Come on in. I hope you don’t mind, I set us up in here for the afternoon.”

He crooked his brows at her but took a step forward. She stopped him with a finger in the air. “Oh, one more thing. No jackets allowed. Or waistcoats. Or cravats. You can keep your boots on, but just a plain old shirt and pants.”

Drawing himself up to his full height, Mike gave a doubtful sigh. “Miss Marten, it is hardly proper—”

She stopped him by stepping into the hallway. His eyes bugged at her bare legs. “Don’t give me that. I know that my living in your house for the last week and a half hasn’t been proper either, but we’re both still kicking. Come on. Do this for me? Please? I promise it will make sense soon.”

He pursed his lips but disappeared into his room. She hoped he was doing as she’d asked but honestly felt like she might be left standing alone in the hallway for a very long time. Fortunately, she was wrong, and he came out of his room in his form-fitting trousers and shirt, open at the throat. She’d never seen him out of his formal earl-type-wear, and the difference was astounding. He looked even more gorgeous, if such a thing was possible.

“At your service, Miss Marten.”

She grinned. “Thanks. Oh, and this afternoon, it’s not Miss Marten, and it’s not my lord. I’m Jamie”—she pointed to her chest—“and you’re Mike.” He looked down at the finger she poked into his sternum. “Nothing fancy. Just a couple of friends hanging out. Come on.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room.

“What is all this?”

Muriel and Jamie had done an excellent job of turning the formerly stuffy sitting room into a replica of the twenty-first century. The rose-patterned embroidered settee was covered in a woolen blanket with pillows strewn everywhere. A desk in the corner held a small wooden box, liberated from the kitchen, to represent a computer screen. Jamie had drawn out letters on a piece of paper, and laid it out keyboard-style in front of it. A small book with a string wedged between the pages represented the mouse. Another larger box sat opposite the couch, their makeshift TV. Stacks of cards and books lined a side table, and a sheaf of blank paper lay on the desk chair, with a quill and inkwell at the ready.