Sleeping Engagement

XIV. What Happened At Grey's

"And what other odd things do you do out of whim?" he demanded.

"They really are not out of whim, my lord. I am quite sensible," she nonchalantly replied. "And," she added, pausing to give him a mysterious smile, "I'm willing to discuss a few of them in private."

His ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, giving her a moment to study him closely. The sharp arch of his brows was still the same, she noted.

Dark brown eyes landed on hers again. "Why are you doing this?" he repeated the question.

Margaret wrinkled her nose. "I told you—I need help with my servant. You were ignoring my missives."

His eyes narrowed, the same way they did years ago when he knew she was trying to hide something else.

"Well," she said with a sigh, squaring her shoulders and looking about to see if anyone was witness to their exchange. There was none. "Well," she repeated, looking him straight in the eyes. "Apart from the fact that I really do have an important concern, I also have another agenda in mind."

"Agenda."

She nodded. The thumping against her chest had long subsided and her mind had cleared. His presence no longer made her jumpy as they did minutes earlier. "Yes," she replied, her voice calm and composed.

He simply stared at her as though she was a rare creature from aboveground.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Are you not going to ask what it is?"

"No."

"I'll tell you anyway," she said, taking a brave step closer. He took a step back and she made another forward until he was trapped between her and the cold stonewall.

His face was similar to the stone behind him—dark and blank.

"My offer in Theobald stands still. I wish to be friends. One with benefits."

It took a few seconds before he allowed himself to react and when he did, his face contorted with disbelief and utter shock. "Impossible," was the only word he was able to articulate. Margaret believed that if he tried more, he would have stammered.

"Good God, Cole, I'm not asking you to marry me."

At her words, he stiffened. Something crossed his face that she made her almost afraid. Something dangerous.

"What I mean by benefits is that we get to help one another. For one, you can help me with the case of my servant," she said in one breath, eager to be rid of the hard look on his face. If this was what it was like to remind him of the past, then perhaps she should just let the past be. "And in return, as your friend, I shall also provide you with conveniences. Whatever you wish."

She watched his jaw twitch. If her ears were not fooling her, she thought she heard him curse under his breath.

"Go home," he said, he coldly said.

"But what about my servant?"

"I said go home."

"She really needs papers and I think she's in danger." As he walked away, she called out, "Are you not taking me home?"

"No," he said without stopping.

"I might go back inside and play cards."

He kept walking.

Margaret watched him leave with a satisfied smile. Her hand lifted to adjust the bowler hat over her head.

That was a small progress, she thought. Small, but progress nonetheless.

***

It seems, dear townspeople, that a pair of prominent names had escaped Wickhurst and drove to Tiny Town yet again!

It has come to the knowledge of this paper that Lady Victoria Ashdown climbed down her window last night with the help of Levi Everard!

Whoever would have thought that the two seemingly good friends could cause quite a scandal?

A good and reliable source (yes, one of them Everards) relayed that Victoria Ashdown and Levi Everard are in love. The perfect product of the last Wickhurst Season, indeed!

Someone must have known this was bound to happen!

We assure you, we never saw it coming!

-The Town Herald, Gossip Section

Cole shook his head with a scoff.

So, it was true.

Memories of the previous evening assaulted his thoughts yet again. His jaw tightened as he remembered the familiar feel of her skin in his hand, her pliant mouth as she talked about her crazy proposition and her servant. He remembered how they tasted like, how they made him feel. Last night, he almost lost control.

He harshly brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration. He could not believe that she managed to fool him into coming to Grey's.

Last night should serve as a warning. Shaking his head, he tried to drive her away from his mind and reached for the letter his assistant brought to him that morning.

"Bloody hell," he cursed as he began to read its contents.

Dear Lord Ashmore,

The case of our missing cat, Mrs. Beagle, has been a curious one for me.

She frequently goes missing at least once a month and we do not know where she goes.

I know that the law regarding the welfare of animals in the Town is almost nonexistent, leading me to acquire your expertise on the action of which I am inclined to do once Mrs. Beagle returns from her monthly disappearance.

Will it be against the law if we put her in a little cage during the evenings?

Yours,

Margaret Everard

Crumpling the paper in one hand, Cole came to his feet.

Whatever game she wished to play, he was not taking part in it. He could resist her.

But, of course, Margaret Everard would soon prove him wrong.