Page 46 of The Art of Sinning
He bit back an oath. He really needed to clear his head. “I want you to try to learn what they know about her suitors or other male admirers. ’Specially Knightford, but anyone else they might mention, too.”
After all, this was for her own good—to make sure this brothel visit wasn’t the result of some devious fellow scheming to harm her.
With a scowl, Damber crossed his arms over his chest. “Why d’ye want to know? I like her ladyship. She’s nice. Sounds to me like you want to stir up trouble for her.”
Great. Damber actually had a notion to protect Yvette. Probably had an infatuation with her. Just what Jeremy needed.
Or maybe itwas. “Actually, I’m trying to look out for her. I think a man is trying to... harm her, and I’m hoping to find out who so I can help her. But she won’t tell me.”
That was the truth. Perhaps not all of it, but still the truth.
Damber’s face cleared. “Well, she does seem distracted of late. That’s what the servants say.” He lifted an eyebrow. “They blame it on you.”
“It’s not me. Her troubles began before we came here. I can’t tell you more than that.” He didn’tknowmore than that.
His apprentice nodded. “I’ll see what I can learn.”
“Don’t be too obvious. But try to find out something before tomorrow night.” He would be armed with ammunition before he and Yvette headed off to that brothel if it killed him.
“What’s tomorrow night?” Damber asked.
“A masquerade that the Barlows and I are going to.” He grimaced. “And Knightford.”
“Ah. Then I won’t fail you in this, sir. You can be sure of it.” Damber walked off.
“One more thing!” Jeremy called out.
The earl’s words earlier about the younger Barlow brother nagged at him:By the time I found out about the women he...What exactly had Samuel Barlow done? The earl couldn’t have meant the kidnapping that Manton had thwarted, because everybody already knew about that. But Jeremy couldn’t see any other way that Barlow’s shenanigans could relate to Yvette.
When Damber halted, Jeremy murmured, “See if you can also learn what got Samuel Barlow banished from the family.”
Damber blinked, then nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
As Damber left, Jeremy headed for his bedchamber and an ice-cold pitcher of water. He meant to dunk his head in it a few dozen times, until he had better control of his senses. Because he needed to be sober by the time he saw Yvette.
He refused to head off to a brothel with her tomorrow night without having some idea of what he was getting into. And that meant acquiring information about her past however he must. Even if he had to coax it out of her himself.
Eleven
Yvette raced up the stairs to the schoolroom. She’d remembered to bring the costume that he called achiton, but had forgotten to throw her shawl on over her wrapper and nightdress. Pray heaven no one caught her roaming the house like this. She was so flustered she’d never be able to lie her way out of it.
She wasn’t late, but she had only minutes to spare. Jeremy was going to complain, the dratted grump. Well, let him. She wasn’t his to order about.
Still, she hadn’t meant to stay gone from home so long. But between Clarissa’s amusing dithering over what to wear and Warren’s dry remarks, she’d been having so much fun that dusk had turned into full dark and then dinner before she even knew it. Only her maid’s remark about the advancing hours had prompted her to leave.
And now it was back to dealing with Jeremy. As amusing as he could be, he also exhausted her. She spent all her time trying to figure him out. For once, she’d rather be anywhere but here. But she’d made a bargain, and she meant to keep it.
She slipped into the schoolroom just as the hour struck eleven.
“Where have you been?” he barked from behind his easel.
Oh, Lord. “You know where I’ve been.”
She headed for the coat rack to hang up her wrapper. Odd how she’d begun to feel perfectly comfortable half-dressed around him. No man had ever seen her in her nightdress, not even her brothers, yet here she was prancing about in front of a known rogue without a thought.
As she turned, he moved into the open space between them. His cravat and coat were missing and he was in his shirtsleeves, though the temperature in the room fell well below comfortable. His hair was disheveled, his features drawn.
In short, he looked rather wild. It did something disturbing to her insides, especially given how his gaze ate her up. He seemed somehow more dangerous than usual. She couldn’t put her finger on why until he neared her and she smelled brandy.
