Page 65 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
Nothing.
As with the pages of the professor’s journal, no letters appeared before her eyes. No mysterious symbols. Nothing to indicate even the slightest hint as to the map’s hiding place.
Unless… Had the professor written a secret message on thebackof his letter?
She flipped over the leaf.
And then, the bit of heat told the tale.
Before her eyes, images and symbols materialized. Expertly drawn, the faint markings reflected the professor’s tidy script.
Good heavens, she had not uncovered aclueto the map’s whereabouts.
She had discovered the blasted map.
…
“Might I suggest the gray tie this morning? I expect it would complement the dark circles under your eyes.”
Roderick affected a somber expression, the dour set of his mouth posing a contrast to the flagrant insolence of his remarks. The man positively enjoyed seeing his employer in a state of dishevel.
“An excellent suggestion,” Benedict replied, taking the neckwear from the butler’s hand. “And Roderick, make a note that I should begin the search for your replacement upon the morrow.”
“Very good, sir,” Roderick replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Perhaps then I will enjoy a proper night’s sleep without fear of being roused before the blasted rooster crows.”
“You had no reason to awaken. It wasn’t as if I expected you to greet me at the door, pistol in hand.” Scowling, he looped the tie around his neck and tied a four-in-hand knot. “Devil take it, man, I thought you would take my head off my shoulders.”
“Never,” Roderick replied. “After all, an employer must possess a head in order to authorize my weekly compensation.”
“I would certainly believe that to be the case,” Benedict said. “In all seriousness, I do not expect you to roam about this place like a half-addled sentry.”
“Believe me, sir, I am not up and about at the stroke of four as part of a well-thought-out plan. You have been dealing with unsavory sorts, blokes who attract the attention of the Colton Agency. Did you believe that has escaped my notice?”
“I cannot blame you for feeling a bit…jumpy. But next time, I would appreciate being able to enter my own home without staring down the barrel of your revolver.”
“I’ll have you know I am a crack shot,” Roderick said with a touch of pride.
“Still, do take care not to aim that gun at me. The sight of it was like a pail of ice water thrown in my face.”
“Point taken,” Roderick replied. “I take it you have rekindled your…friendship…with Miss Quinn.”
“Not that it is any of your bloody affair, but yes, I suppose one could say that.” Benedict smiled despite himself.
“She is a lovely young woman. I have always held her in the highest regard,” Roderick said.
“That’s good to know I have your approval.”
“Miss Quinn would make a suitable viscountess. Of course, that is only one humble servant’s opinion,” Roderick said.
“I had not taken you for a matchmaker,” Benedict replied drily. But damned if the notion did not possess a singular appeal. Not that he could entertain the idea. Not now. Possibly not ever. Alexandra deserved a far different life than a man like him could offer.
“Merely an observation,” the butler said. “The lady is a cut above the usual husband hunters you’ve encountered.”
“You will get no argument from me on that.” Benedict regarded his reflection in the mirror. He’d freshly bathed and shaved, but the lack of sleep showed on his face. Not that he cared. He would sacrifice sleep seven nights a week if it meant spending the hours with Alexandra in his arms, her soft murmurs and moans of pleasure like a sonata to his ears.
“Shall I bring tea? A potent blend, preferably,” Roderick said, his implication clear. “Or would coffee be more to your liking?”
“Coffee,” Benedict replied. “A spot of cream and a lump of sugar as well.”
