Page 12 of The Confessions of a Lady
She ignored the voice of warning. He requested honesty. As a servant, it was her job to give her employer exactly what he asked for.
I’m going to regret this.
But it was too late. The words poured forth, ‘Without domestics, the peerage would be no better than the fishmonger selling his wares or the blacksmith swinging his anvil. Less, in fact. Most of the lords and ladies we serve lack the skills to toast bread, let alone create a meal, mend a dress, or saddle a horse. You prance around like kings in your castles, yet if the servants left, every duke, marquess, viscount or earl wouldn’t be capable of tying their own cravats. So, do I believe my thoughts are valuable? My opinions worthy of consideration? I do, sir. But I question your worthiness to consider them.’
Immediate remorse swelled like a giant wave.
Blast. I’ve done it now.
Penny pressed her lips together. Her sharp tongue would be the death of her. She’d allowed him to provoke her, and her reckless response was unforgiveable. She would lose her position and any hope of gathering the rest of the letters for Constable Sweet and the only one to blame was Penny herself.
Stupid, impetuous girl! Letting him provoke me instead of shutting my mouth and remembering my place.
She could only pray the letter she stole held enough evidence to earn the reward.
Or Mother’s fate is on my head.
She was usually so controlled. So guarded in her thoughts and words. While her anger was often stoked, she kept her face a calm mask. Yet with a few simple words, she allowed this exasperating, despicable man to dig beneath her shields andpoke at the tender flesh beneath. Why did she risk so much to rise to his taunt?
Because I want to prove I’m just as worthy as he is. With all his riches and power. Better even than the man who helped destroy my childhood. And now, I’ll lose everything.
‘Well, that was certainly honest.’ The marquess’ chin tipped up as he continued to stare at Penny with those fathomless eyes.
4
It was a lamentable and incredibly inconvenient fact that Liam’s housemaid was stunning. Insolent, brash, and brazen. Yes. But he had asked for her honesty. He could hardly fault her for giving it to him.
Hazel eyes flashed like a forest caught in a lightning storm. Her Cupid’s bow mouth pressed together, flattening the delectable curve of plump flesh into a determined line. A curl had escaped her cap again, brushing against a cheek flushed with passion. The vicious creature within her called to his own violent beast. He ached to wage war with her and see who emerged the victor.
Dear God. Gain control this instant.
As if either of them had the freedom to battle as equals. Impossible. Regardless of how much he might wish they could. Which was another problem. He shouldn’t be wishing anything in relation to Miss Smith.
Why mustshebehere?
Best-laid plans ruined by a delectable maid.
The last thing he wanted to encounter when he walked into his study was the confounding woman who had already takenup too much space in his head. She’d stolen any chance he had of sleep the night before. As he lay in bed, restless despite his body’s fatigue, his mind had replayed their conversation in the kitchen instead of settling into peaceful slumber. He’d spent several unsettling hours tossing and turning, watching the dawn paint the black sky pink, then purple, until weak sunlight finally succumbed to gunmetal-grey clouds. It would storm later in the day. He welcomed the wild weather, wanting something to echo the turmoil within him.
As he had dressed, he thought about her acute dislike of him. Her open disdain was a puzzle he couldn’t ignore. A problem he was compelled to solve for reasons remaining opaque despite having neither time nor freedom to indulge such inappropriate desires.
Aren’t all my desires inappropriate?
A patently unhelpful observation.
Liam had thrown off his covers far too early in the morning, frustrated with his own base need for a woman dependent upon his patronage and deserving of a safe work environment free of lusty marquesses.
Unacceptable.
He descended the stairs that morning determined to focus on his new mission. He needed to review the information he’d discovered amongst his brother’s personal effects and plan his next steps to fully infiltrate the Devil’s Sons.
Step one: arrange a meeting with Reynard’s connection in the Devil’s Sons. Lord Charles Barrington. The second son of a baron and one of Reynard’s feckless friends from Eton. The idiots had been corresponding for months, and Reynard kept all of the letters.
Step two: convince the bastard to allow Liam to take his brother’s place in the fraternity. Liam had recently and very publicly purchased a large shipping company. It would be easyto outline the benefits of his membership in the Devil’s Sons by promising access to large ships willing to transport undeclared cargo.
Step three: convince the leaders of this diabolical group to sign a contract ensuring a percentage of profits would be delivered to Liam from the sale of ‘goods’ in return for use of his ships. A contract that would condemn them all, and therefore ensure equal liability.
Step four: burn the entire organisation to the ground, even if it meant crawling on the pyre himself and lighting the oil-soaked kindling with his scorching rage.
