Page 31 of Stolen By the Rogue
She might well have agreed to go into this venture with him, even permitted his tender regard, but would Jane ever truly trust him again?
“There you are.”
He snapped out of his daydream and turned as Jane appeared out of the back of the house. As she approached him across the pale brown dirt which covered most of the yard, a thought struck him.
I was certain I had secured the front door.
“How did you manage to get in?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “You Europeans might think you invented everything, but a great many of the world’s innovations were actually born in other places. I have my own set of skeleton keys—so I picked the lock.”
George couldn’t stop himself from grinning. This woman was a marvel, his equal in so many ways. The mere thought of her being able to break into the house had his manhood giving its own twitch of appreciation.
Calm down. There is plenty of work to be done. Save your lust for later.
“I was just giving the place a bit of a look over. It certainly seems that no one has lived here for quite some time,” he said.
Jane came and stood at his side. “The state of the house is favorable for our venture, but not so good for us actually living here. I’ve examined upstairs, and there are two bedrooms which we could use if we so chose, but at the moment I would rather leave them empty. Spaces kept clear are easier to search. The downstairs parlor is clean enough for us to use. We can set up camp in there. Alice kindly gave me some blankets and pillows, so our sleeping arrangements should be set. If the rest of our efforts prove fruitless, we will search that room last.”
George silently chided himself. He hadn’t got to the practicalities of their situation. Rather, his focus had been on the house and where Jane Whorwood might have stashed the jewels.
The most he had managed to achieve before coming here this morning was to visit his parents and explain that he was going to take up residency at the RR Coaching Company offices for a time in order to help Stephen with Toby. His mother had given him a most quizzical look at the mention of him minding a small child, but instead of saying anything about it, she had immediately summoned a footman to retrieve George’s travel bag.
He had muffled a wince when her tight hug pressed on his wounded shoulder. For once he had made his mother happy. It was a rare thing.
George could, of course, understand her reaction; it was most out of character for him to actually take responsibility for someone other than himself. His mother had been begging him for several years to grow up and find a good woman to share his life. He dreaded to think how many more names Mrs. Hawkins had added to the list of candidates for the role of future-wife of her errant son during his absence.
He glanced at Jane. As far as he was concerned, his mother could stop adding names.
Don’t waste your time, Mama. I think I might have already found the right one.
Convincing Jane of that life-altering fact might, however, be a different story.
Chapter Nineteen
It took the better part of the rest of the day to make the small kitchen and front parlor room clean and habitable for the two of them. A great deal of scrubbing was required to remove the thick coating of greasy dust which seemed to cover every surface. The fireplace in the kitchen was old and broken, the chimney blocked with years of soot and grime.
“I don’t think we will be doing much cooking in there,” said Jane, stepping into the parlor.
George nodded. “I dread to think what has crawled into this place over the years and died. If we want a hot supper, there are plenty of taverns around here that serve decent food. The rest we can get from the local markets. Worst case, we pay Harry and Alice a visit in the evenings.”
She frowned at him. “I think Harry and Alice have already done more than they should for this little project. Which reminds me, they said you were not going to tell any of the other members of the RR Coaching Company about all this. Can I ask why? I understand why you would want to keep things secret, but not trusting all of your closest friends seems a little odd.”
George swept the last patch of dirt on the floor into a pile, then rested his broom against the wall. If he was going to win her trust, he would have to let Jane in on a few secrets. “The rogues of the road, as we like to refer to ourselves, have always operated on a need-to-know basis. From what I understand, Stephen and Gus are both involved in a matter of great importance at the moment. They are helping an old friend of ours from Spain who is trying to locate a missing noblewoman. They have enough to deal with.”
“And what about the Duke of Monsale? I would have thought since he is your leader you would tell him.”
George paused for a moment.
Monsale, now there is a whole other sordid story. You think my life is complicated—you have no idea what that man has lived through.
“Monsale might be our notional leader, but I can’t say he is someone whom you would blindly place your trust in. While he is rich, he is also a man who gets a thrill out of screwing the very last penny out of a situation. If he knew about the treasure, he would find a way to cheat us out of it.”
“But I thought he was your friend,” she replied.
George nodded. “He is, but Monsale has limited capacity when it comes to loyalty.”
“What do mean?”
