Page 88 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Of course, she could have picked up such language backstage at the theater or even from her own mother, which was an appalling thought. It was time for him to put his foot down and get the poor girl under some semblance of control.
Once Lia finished tying on her mask, she gave one more upward yank on her bodice and marched to the door.
“Wait,” he hissed, leaping after her and slapping his palm onto the door. “Let me check first to make sure no one’s out there.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be such an old miss, Jack. Lord Stanley and his friends got bored and wandered off long ago.”
“Can you for once try not to be entirely reckless?” he asked, exasperated.
She let out a heavy sigh but stepped back with a look of long-suffering patience, as if she found him singularly lacking.
He cracked open the door and cautiously stuck his head out. Except for one rotund, middle-aged gentleman snoring loudly on a bench, the corridor was empty. He took Lia’s hand and drew her out into the hall.
“Told you,” she said smugly after a quick glance around.
“Could you please not talk? I would truly love to escape from this godforsaken affair without you being recognized.”
“Whatever you say, your lordship,” she said in that horrific accent she feigned.
He led her swiftly toward the front entrance hall. Astonishingly, they met very few revelers on the way. It was now well past midnight, so the celebrations in the ballroom had likely reached their debauched peak. They passed two or three late arrivals who cast curious glances, but after retrieving his hat from the footman, Jack shepherded Lia safely down the front steps of the mansion.
Their luck held when he was able to hail a fortuitously passing hackney. Hauling Lia over to the curb, he bundled her inside, gave the direction, and squeezed in after her.
She glared at him. “Was it really necessary for you to shove me in by my backside, you brute?”
“I was just trying to get you the hell away from here, you peagoose.”
She whipped a finger up to his nose. “Now, you listen to me, Jack—”
He grabbed her finger. “Do. Not.”
She yanked her hand back and subsided with a grumble, then refused to look at or speak to him on the ride back to Upper Wimpole Street. That suited him perfectly because he was convinced neither of them would have anything productive to add to the already gruesome conversation.
When they pulled up in front of the Sir Dominic’s town house, Lia waited for him on the walk, fuming, while he paid off the driver.
“Thank you for escorting me home, Lord Lendale,” she said in a frigid tone. “I do not, however, need your assistance in climbing over the back wall of the garden, so I will bid you good night.” She spun on her heel, clearly intending to head to the back alley.
Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the steps of the house. “I know how much you love to engage in theatrics, but be assured that Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter know you are not asleep in your bed. That being the case, we will use the front door like civilized people.”
“I’m not smashing in there like a brazen hussy,” she snapped. “You know very well what sort of assumptions they’ll make.”
“You should have thought of that before tonight’s little escapade.” He took her by the arm and marched her up the steps, then banged the knocker.
A moment later, Smithwell, looking unusually harried, yanked open the door. “Miss Kincaid, thank goodness,” said the butler in relieved tones.
She managed a smile. “No need to worry, Smithwell. I had my faithful sheepdog with me, scaring away all the wolves.” Her smile turned ferocious as she turned to Jack. “Good night, Lord Lendale,” she said, starting to close the door in his face.
He wedged his foot against the doorframe. “I swear to God, I will take you over my knee and spank you if you try to slam that door on me.”
Her eyes went wide with outrage. Even Smithwell made a slight choking noise. Lia spun around and stormed to the staircase in the hall. Jack followed her inside.
She was halfway up the stairs when Chloe rushed out of the drawing room, her husband on her heels.
“Thank God,” Chloe exclaimed, staring down at her. “I was so worried.”
Lia faltered a bit, then trudged up the last few steps into her aunt’s embrace. All the starch seemed to go out of her as she rested her head on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I caused you concern, Aunt Chloe. But there was never anything to worry about. I’m completely fine.”
“That may be the most demented statement I have ever heard,” Jack said.
