Page 37 of The Duke's Impetuous Darling
Bee padded down the hall on bare feet, her long black hair swishing around her shoulders as she made for her suite. Passing the grand staircase, she heard Simms' stentorian tones rise up the steps as he received a visitor in the foyer. Whoever it was, not only was he uncommonly early, especially for Christmas morning, but also he sounded vexed.
"Urgently, I must speak with the earl and his mother," the man requested of the butler.
Simms would climb the stairs any moment! Bee hurried along, turned the corner to her room and froze in her tracks.
From Marjorie's door emerged the unmistakable disheveled formof Griff Harlinger. He, like Bee, held his shoes in one hand, while the other drew her younger sister into his embrace. Marjorie's honey gold hair spilled carefree down the bosom of her translucent muslin nightdress. But she was uncaring of herdishabilleas she rose on her toes to kiss this man she'd spent her life unmercifully teasing.
Bee swallowed her shock and sank back around the corner, nestling into a niche in the wall. Behind her, a Grecian urn tottered on its shelf. Shutting one eye and listening to it tap-tap-tap, she strained to hear Griff's footsteps.
"How is he?" he asked her on a whisper as he passed.
"Better," she croaked.
"Go. Here comes Simms."
She stepped out but Simms was at the first landing.Oh, well.He knew everything that occurred in this house. Even where she'd been last night.Why was she hiding?
She departed for her room, lifting a hand to give him a wave.
He threw her the blithe smile of a conspirator.
"I'm to fetch the Countess," he said as he passed her, his stride even. "And the earl. Is he decent?"
"Give him a minute."
He barked in laughter, then walked on.
Garrr.Lest she meet anyone else in their naughty morning perambulations, she sped away. Gaining her room, she fell back against the door.
She clamped a hand to her chest, the tensions of the night and the morning swimming through her. How she longed for relief. A ride this morning would be just the remedy. She'd promised Alastair on that day long ago never to ride at dawn again, but staying on the estate would not qualify as failure to keep her vow.
She opened her dressing room door and pulled out her navy wool riding habit. She'd be out and back before anyone knew she'd gone. And she certainly didn't need any help from Mary to change into her clothes. She'd ride for only an hour and return refreshed, take a bath and dress in time to leave with the others for church.
Scooping up stockings and shift from the drawers of her tallboy chest, she carried all her clothes into her bedroom. And for the second time this morning, she halted in her tracks.
Lord Hallerton, red-eyed and pale from over indulgence, sat in her boudoir chair. He also aimed a pistol at her.
Insulted by his affront, she snorted, then raised a finger and directed he point the weapon away from her. "That's hardly in keeping with the generosity of the season."
"You'll have no happy Christmas," he said with venom.
"Nor will you if anyone sees you pointing that at me."
"Sharp-tongued, aren't you?" He got to his feet, his pistol an old one very similar toher grandfather's."Your words have gotten you into much trouble."
"Is that so?" She placed her garments on her bed and calculated the time it would take her to reach the bell pull. To summon Mary up the stairs. To run. All, sadly, much too long to save her from his shot. Assuming he was a decent shot. Furthermore, at this short distance, why wouldn't he be? She whirled around and he jumped back. "Why do you say so?"
Agitated, he sneered. The pistol wobbled, this way and that. "You've talked to the Customs men."
Customs. Hallerton? He was titled, owned profitable land, a respected part of Wellington's advisory group. Or so others said. He knew about trade...and Sussex trade, at that. So what did he know about smuggling?
She pretended indifference and strolled—and she hoped she did so rather idly—toward her sitting room. "Why is that of interest to you?"
"I know what you did. You saw Hagen and his gang on the shore. Thought you'd be a good citizen. Do your duty. Inform officials so they could send the revenuers out for them."
"What's your involvement in that?"
He scoffed. "I didn't say I had any."
