Page 8 of The Trouble with Tigers
With no alternative but to do his bidding, Kitty skirted past him, retracing her steps. He stalked at her heels.
The earl’s heir was turning out to be a regular curmudgeon. No matter. He could bark at her till the cows came home so long as he never discovered her secret and sent her back to Garrick.
It always came back to that. Should she simply confess to Lord Thurgood and beg for mercy? But then, the earl hadn’t opted to go that route. He must have his reasons.
Evidently her hesitation lasted beyond Lord Thurgood’s patience because his hand darted past her to twist the brass knob. The paneled mahogany door swung inward.
At least the brute had the decency to wait to enter until she crossed the threshold and turned to face him.
He stepped into the small chamber, hands clasped behind his back, and cast a critical eye over the interior of the room, starting with her neatly made bed.
Kitty gave the familiar surroundings a cursory scan. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Nothing to let on he was she. She smiled inwardly.
Her triumphant feeling faded when the odious man wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something foul. Oh Lord, he was heading for the chest of drawers. Leaning forward, he sniffed the basin like a bloodhound.
She closed her eyes briefly in horror, as he picked up her still damp soap, and held it to his nose.
He shot her a glance, brows arched. “I thought I smelled rosemary.”
She glowered at him, and resisted the urge to tell him the soap was infused with both rosemary and lavender.
His deep blue eyes sparkled with amusement, and he placed the soap back on its porcelain dish with exaggerated care.
“It’s medicinal,” she burst out, hoping he would accept her statement without question since she had no notion what malady the herb might alleviate.
When he didn’t immediately scoff, she forged ahead. “May I go now, my lord?”
He gestured with overstated politeness toward the open door.
She stepped into the hall and waited.
A moment later he emerged, shaking his head. “Allow me.” He closed the door. “After you?”
“Tha—” She broke off when his sarcasm registered. “After you, my lord, ofcourse.” Two could play the sarcasm game.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
She blanked her expression and held her breath.
He moved forward at a brisk pace, leaving her to stare after him. Two divergent thoughts sprang to mind. One—he hadn’tquestioned her disguise. And two—had she really found the arrogant ass handsome?
She waited for his footsteps to recede down the stairs before following. She really did have to hurry now, she thought, irritated. Lord Thurgood’s curiosity had eaten into her breakfast time. Instead of heading for the kitchen to grab an apple and some porridge with the rest of the servants, she’d have to go straight to the breakfast hall or risk being late.
Thurgood’s booming voice spilled out the open doorway, reaching her before she reached the hall. “…mind telling me why the devil you have a servant staying in guest quarters?”
She held utterly still, awaiting the earl’s reply.
“I thought it best. This way, I can call on Kit whenever I need him. He’s close at hand, so to speak.”
A brief silence elapsed before the younger man’s low voiced, “Who is he?”
She closed her eyes, anticipating the earl’s confession. Her late grandfather had been one of the earl’s closest friends, but Lord Ezekiel Thurgood was his beloved grandson. He’d likely feel compelled to tell him everything, and that would be fine unless—unless Lord Thurgood decided to send her back.
“He’s my helper and I’ll thank you to mind your own business. And do not go barging into his private chamber again. He’s”—the earl paused—“rather timid.”
Another pregnant pause ensued, then came some sort of rhythmic tapping. She risked peering around the corner into the breakfast hall. Ah, what a surprise. Lord Thornton drummed his fingers on the dining room table.
“All right, my lord. For now.”
