Page 59 of Would I Lie to the Duke
“I agree with Rowe,” Curtis said. “She’s a genius.”
“Finally,” Noel said, “and least of all, this is Major Duncan McCameron, late of the 79th Regiment of Foot.”
“The hero of the Battle of the Pyrenees.” Jess couldn’t stop herself from staring.
“You’re well-read,” Rowe said with a smirk.
Noel sent her a look full of admiration. “There’s no one—Holloway included—who’s got a thirst for knowledge like her.”
“When you know things,” Jess said, “you can take over the world.”
“You best Wellington for ambition.” Noel beamed. “That’s a compliment, my lady.”
“I took it as such. And you keep distinguished company.”
“Ma’am.” McCameron bowed again, all military precision. “It was duty, nothing more. I’d take issue with the liberal use of the wordhero.”
“But that’s what the press dubbed you,” Jess objected.
“They are out to sell papers, ma’am. Nothing more.”
“McCameron is, as usual, nauseatingly modest.” Noel walked to the Scotsman and thumped his fist against his chest. It was a measure of the major’s strength that he swayed only slightly from the forceof Noel’s wallop. “Ply him with enough whiskey, he’s sure to tell you a thrilling tale of him against an entire battalion of Bonaparte’s best riflemen.”
Jess turned a wondering gaze to Noel. “You told me they were your friends with a ridiculous name—you said nothing about being bosom companions with some of England’s shining lights.”
All four of the men laughed. “Shining lights?” Rowe repeated. “Good Lord, the things that pass for respectability these days.”
“What the deuce are you reprobates doing here, showing up without a word of warning?” Noel asked, though there was no irritation in his voice.
Curtis shrugged his massive shoulders. “Rowe wanted to delve into some manuscript archive in Leicester, and, as we were passing by Carriford, we thought we’d duck in and give our regards.”
“It’s the height of the Season, and you assumed I’d be here.” Noel’s gaze was steady. “Or perhaps you hoped I wouldn’t be here. You know there’s an open-door arrangement for the Union regardless of whether or not I’m in residence. Free beds and a meal for any of you.”
It was a generous policy that went above his usual bonhomie. Clearly, he cared very much for the men who made up the Union of the Rakes.
“You ass,” McCameron said with affection. “Of course we hoped you’d be at Carriford. The beds and meals here aren’t that exemplary.”
Noel snorted. “And Holloway? Where’s our scholar?”
Curtis rolled his eyes. “Too busy in London with his wife. Only a new book can make him as happy.”
“I think books fall a distant second to Lady Grace,” Rowe noted. “Would be that we’d all find someone who gave us the same contentment.” His expression turned suddenly melancholy, and he moved to look out the windows that fronted the house.
Was Jess imagining it, or did Curtis send Rowe a look fraught with longing? She’d heard that some men preferred the company of other men. Was Curtis one of them?
She wondered if Rowe knew how Curtis felt.
Jess glanced at Noel. He watched Curtis with a faint frown, as if trying to puzzle out a riddle. Was it the fact that a man might desire another man? Perhaps his confusion came from another possibility—one of his dearest friends seemed to desire one of their close circle.
“I’ve a houseful of guests currently,” he said after a moment. “If two of you don’t mind sharing a bed, then I ought to be able to accommodate you.”
“Sleeping on the floor should present no difficulty for me,” McCameron said.
“You’re not sleeping on any floor in my house,” Noel replied.
“I can sleep outside, too.”
“Goddamn it, McCameron, you’re getting a bed at Carriford.”
