Josephine
She sat in the chair nearest the fire, trying to warm herself while Hero paced the width of the library. She could feel the restless, prowling energy radiating from him.
“You are certain about the rip in his cloak?” he demanded.
“Yes. Quite certain.” She held her hands out to the blaze, but for some reason, the heat did not seem to penetrate very far into the room. “My fingers brushed against it.”
The great house was hushed and dark, except for the fire that burned here in the library. Hero had not awakened any of the servants. Anne had not returned.
Hero had said very little after she had delivered her startling news. The journey home had been conducted in near silence. She knew that he had spent the time pondering the information she had supplied, no doubt drawing up theories and arriving at possible conclusions, She had respected his deep concentration.
But as soon as they walked into the front hall, he had escorted her into the library and lit the fire.
“We must talk,” he had said, tossing his black domino across the back of a chair.
“Yes.”
Hero unknotted his cravat with quick, impatient fingers and allowed the neckcloth to hang carelessly down the front of his jacket. He began to prowl the room.
“Did you comment upon his torn garment?” he asked.
“No. I said nothing about it. In truth, I did not wish to carry on a conversation with him.” She shuddered. “At that point, it was my great desire to be finished with the dance as quickly as possible.”
“He did not speak to you?”
“Not a single word.” She caught her lip between her teeth, thinking back to the scene in the ballroom. “I suspect he did not want to provide me with such a significant clue to his identity.”
Hero shrugged out of both his coat and waistcoat and dropped the garments on top of a round pedestal table.
She took a deep breath and concentrated very intently on the flames. The man did not appear to realize that he was practically undressing in front of her.
Calm yourself, she thought. Hero was merely making himself comfortable. A gentleman had a perfect right to do so in the privacy of his own home. His mind was clearly on murder, not passion. He did not realize the effect he was having on her nerves.
“That could mean that you have met him somewhere else,” Hero continued. “He may have feared that you would recognize him if he spoke.”
“Yes, it’s quite possible. The only thing I can say with any certainty is that I'm quite sure that I have never before danced with him.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
She risked another glance at him. He was still moving about the room with the restless energy of a caged lion.
“It is difficult to explain,” she said. “When he first came toward me through the crowd, I thought he was you.”
That brought Hero to a halt. “What the fuck made you believe that?”
“He wore the same style of domino and a mask that was almost identical to yours.”
“Fucking Hell. He intended for you to be confused. The similarity in costumes cannot have been a coincidence.”
She considered that briefly and shook her head. “I disagree. It could most certainly have been a coincidence. There was any number of gentlemen at the ball who wore very similar cloaks and masks.”
“Did you mistake any other man for me this evening?”
She smiled ruefully at that insightful question. “No, as a matter of fact, I did not. Just the man in the ripped domino and only for a short time.”
“How could you be certain that it was not me?”
She thought she heard an odd mix of curiosity and suspicion in his words as if he was asking another question entirely. Would you know me in a dark and crowded roam? No one knows me that well ...
I do, she thought. But she could hardly say that.
She pondered what she could tell him that would sound logical. She certainly could not explain that the killer’s scent had not been anything like his own. Such a remark would be far too personal, too intimate. It would reveal just how very aware of him she was.
“He was not the same height,” she said instead. “I have danced with you, sir. Your shoulder is somewhat above his.” She could rest her head on Hero’s shoulder, she thought wistfully. “And rather broader.” Hero’s shoulders were sleekly muscled and very inviting. “Also, his fingers were longer than yours.”
Hero’s expression darkened. “You noticed his fingers?”
“Indeed, sir. A woman is generally very much aware of a gentleman’s hands when he touches her. Is the reverse not true for a man?”
He made a noncommittal response that sounded like “Huh.”
“Oh, and there were two other things I noticed,” she continued. “He wore a ring on his left hand and a pair of Hessians.”
“Like a thousand other men in town,” he muttered. Then he glanced back at her, one black brow arched. “You noticed his boots, also?”
“As soon as I realized that he was not you, I became curious about his identity.” She looked into the fire. “Whoever he was, he was definitely not an elderly man. He danced with fashionable ease about his movements. There was no stiffness or hesitation in him. I can assure you he was not of your great-uncle’s generation.”
“That is a very useful piece of information,” he said slowly. “I shall have to give it some close thought. Did you happen to note anything else?”
“It is difficult to explain, but at the time I sensed that there was something odd about his manner. He appeared to be in the grip of an unwholesome excitement.”
“He had just come from killing a man.” Hero stopped in front of the window and looked out at the moonlit garden. “The horrid thrill of his deed was no doubt still upon him, riding him hard. So he sought you out and danced with you.”
“It seems quite bizarre, does it not?” She shivered. “One would think that after committing murder, one would want to go directly home and take a hot bath, not go to a ball and dance.”
“He did not go to the Fambridge ball to dance with just any woman,” Hero said evenly. “He went there to waltz with you.”
She shivered. “I must admit it did appear that he deliberately sought me out. But I cannot understand why he would do such a thing.”
“I can.”
She turned her head very quickly, astonished by his bleak statement. “You comprehend his motive?”
“Tonight he no doubts learned from Zach that I am hunting him. In his arrogance, he decided to celebrate what he perceived to be a triumph over me.”
She pursed her lips. “Mayhap you are right, sir, but that does not explain why he danced with me.”
Hero turned to face her. She almost stopped breathing when she saw the savage anger that blazed in his eyes.
“Do you not understand?” he said. “There is a very ancient, very foul tradition among men who wage war against each other. More often than not, the winners seek to proclaim their victories by taking possession of their opponents’ women.”
“Possession? Sir, you speak of rape.” She leapt to her feet. “I assure you, it was only a dance.”
“And I assure you, Miss Langford, that in the villain’s mind that dance was symbolic of another act entirely.”
“That is ridiculous,” she began stoutly. Then she recalled how much she had disliked the feel of the stranger’s hand on her waist. She took a deep breath. “Regardless of how he viewed the situation, from my perspective, it was nothing more than a short waltz with an unpleasant partner.”
“I know. But your opinion is rather beside the point.”
“I disagree,” she said fiercely.
He acted as if he had not heard her. “I must concoct another plan.”
She could tell that he was already formulating his new strategy. “Very well. What shall we do, sir?”
“You will do nothing, Josephine, except go up to your room to pack. Your employment in this household ends tonight. I will send your wages to you.”
“What?” Outraged, she stared at him. “You are letting me go?”
“Yes. I intend to send you away to one of my estates until this affair is ended.”
Raw panic jolted through her. She was not going back to the country. Her new life was here in London. Whatever happened, she would not allow herself to be packed off to some remote village estate where she would have to cool her heels for heaven knew how long.
But getting hysterical would only make matters worse, she told herself. This was Hero. The logic worked best with him.
She fought to keep her voice even and controlled. “You intend to send me away merely because the villain danced with me?”
“I told you, to him it was more than a dance.”
She flushed. “For heaven’s sake, Hero, it is not as though he forced himself upon me.”
“What he did,” Hero said in a startlingly rough voice, “was demonstrate that he sees you as a pawn in this game that he is playing with me. I will not permit him to use you in any way.”
She must make allowances for his rigid manner, she told herself. After all, he was attempting to protect her.
“I appreciate what you are trying to do,” she said, striving to maintain her patience, “but it is much too late. I am involved in this affair, whether you like it or not. My lord, I fear that you are not thinking with your customary clarity.”
He watched her very steadily. “Indeed?”
At least she had his attention, she thought. “Hero, you are obviously deeply concerned about my safety. That is very gallant of you. But what makes you think that the villain will forget about me if you send me away to rusticate in the country?”
“Once he understands that I have changed my strategy, he will lose interest in you.”
“I do not think that you can depend upon that outcome. Have you considered the possibility that the killer may well decide that I possess even more valuable information about you and your schemes than Zach did?”
There was a short, shattering silence. She saw the grim comprehension on Hero’s face and knew that he could not deny her logic.
“I will provide you with an armed guard,” he said.
“You could do that, but it would not necessarily stop the villain. He moves freely in Society. What am I to do? Avoid all gentlemen? And for how long? Weeks? Months? You cannot keep me under guard indefinitely. No, I am better off here with you, helping you find the killer.”
“For fucks sakes, Jo—”
“And what of Anne? If I am no longer conveniently at hand, the killer may well try to use her instead. After all, she is not only a member of this household but a member of your family. Removing me from the game may make her the villain’s next target.”
“Fuck,” he said again, very softly this time. “You are correct. I have not been thinking clearly.”
“Only because you have been under a great deal of stress this evening,” she assured him. “You must not be too hard on yourself. Walking in on the scene of a murder would have a nasty effect on anyone’s reasoning processes.”
His mouth curved in a strange smile. “Yes, of course. I should have realized that was the source of my poor logic tonight.”
“Do not concern yourself,” she said, trying to sound bracing. “I’m certain that your customary powers of reason will return soon.”
“I can only hope that is the case.”
She did not trust that tone, she thought.
“Hero, let me remind you that I have been very helpful in this investigation,” she continued, anxious to get back to the important matter. “If you continue to allow me to assist you, we will likely solve this puzzle far more quickly than if you work alone.”
“I’m not at all sure of that,” he muttered.
“Furthermore, if you keep me by your side in my role as your fiancée, not only will you be able to protect me, but the killer will assume that we know nothing more now than we did before Zach was murdered.”
His jaw tightened. “That is the truth, unfortunately.”
“No, it is not the truth.” It was her turn to pace the room. “I paid close attention when the villain danced with me. There is a very good chance that I might recognize him if I were to come into close contact with him again. At the very least, I can rule out any number of gentlemen based on their general age, height and physique and the way they move, not to mention the shape of their hands.”
He narrowed his eyes, and she knew that she had made her point.
“Don’t you see, Hero?” She gave him an encouraging smile. “If we continue with your original plan, we will have an edge because the killer will never realize that we made a connection between my waltz partner and Zach’s killer. He won’t know that we are aware of a few important physical details about him.”
“You are right,” he admitted. He flexed one hand in a small gesture of anger and frustration. “If I send you away immediately, he may suspect that we know he danced with you. If he thinks we know that much, he may wonder if we know more than we do.”
“And that, in turn, would cause him to be more cautious. Surely it is in our best interests if he is emboldened instead, and becomes more reckless.”
He considered her for a long, meditative moment. “Very well. You have convinced me that you would be no safer in the country than you are under this roof.”
She stopped in front of the spiral staircase and smiled in relief. “Precisely.”
“However, from this moment on, neither you nor Anne will leave this house alone.
Whenever either of you goes out you will be accompanied by me or one of the male servants.”
“What about Felix? Surely he is an acceptable companion? We know he is not the killer. Aside from all else, he is simply too short.”
Hero hesitated and then nodded once. “I think it is safe to say that Felix is no mad alchemist bent on conducting a crazed experiment. I would trust him with my life. Very well, he qualifies as a suitable escort. I shall speak with him as soon as possible. He must understand that there is some danger afoot so that he will keep a close watch on you and Anne whenever you are with him.”
“Yes. We must also tell Anne about this secret investigation.”
A thick, heavy silence gripped the library. Josephine became acutely aware of the crackle and sputter of the flames. The discussion had ended. They had arrived at a compromise, one that would allow her to stay in this house and help Hero find the killer.
The sensible thing to do now went upstairs and seek her bed.
She glanced at the door but could not muster the will to walk toward it.
For his part, Hero showed no interest in leaving, either. He continued to contemplate her with his fascinating eyes.
“Hitchins was right about you,” he said after the silence had stretched to the breaking point. “You are a very strong-minded, very determined woman, Miss Josephine Langford. You have spirit. I do not believe that, in the whole of my life, I have engaged in as many quarrels as I have with you in the past few days.”
Her heart sank. He considered her a quarrelsome female. Everyone knew that men did not find difficult women attractive.
She cleared her throat. “I believe that we have had a few heated discussions, sir, but I do not think it is fair to say that we have quarrelled.”
“Heated discussions. Is that what you call them? Well, I suspect that we are fated to have any number of them so long as you live in this household. A daunting thought, is it not?”
“You are teasing me, my lord. I doubt that such a prospect will cause either of us to tremble in fear.”
His mouth lifted faintly at the corner. “is there anything at all that would cause you to quake in fear, Miss Langford?”
She gestured in what she hoped appeared to be blithe unconcern. The truth was, she was trembling a little at that very moment, but not in fear. She prayed that he would not notice.
“Any number of things,” she assured him.
“Indeed.” He started toward her with a deliberate tread, his voice darkening with sensuality. “What about the possibility that if we continue to work together in such an intimate fashion, we may do more than engage in a series of heated discussions? Is that one of the things that could cause you to quiver and shake, Miss Langford?”
She met his gaze, saw the rising heat in them and nearly melted into the carpet.
“We are both exceptionally strong-minded individuals,” she said, feeling oddly breathless. “I am certain that we are each quite capable of keeping our association entirely professional in nature.”
He halted in front of her, the toes of his boots mere inches from the tips of her shoes. If she took a step back she would come up hard against the wrought-iron balusters of the spiral staircase.
“We may both be capable of maintaining a professional relationship,” he said very softly. “But what if we choose not to do so? What happens then, Miss Langford? Will you tremble?”
Her mouth went dry. Excitement snapped through her. She felt the knee-weakening warmth pooling in her lower body. She could not bring herself to look away from the smouldering fires in his eyes.
“I do not find myself trembling at that prospect either, sir,” she whispered.
“No?” He raised his arms and reached around and behind her to grip the balusters on either side of her head. “I envy you, Miss Langford. Because every time I contemplate the prospect of an intimate connection with you, I do tremble.”
He was not touching her, but he had effectively imprisoned her. He was standing so close she could breathe in his unique, intriguing scent. Her head began to spin. She had to dampen her lips with the tip of her tongue before she could speak.
“Rubbish,” she managed. That sounded rather weak, she decided. Unable to resist the very closeness of him, she touched his jaw with her fingertips. “You are not even quivering.”
“That statement only proves how little you know about me.”
He did not take his hands off the bars on either side of her head, but he leaned forward until his mouth hovered just above hers.
He intended to kiss her, she thought, but he was giving her time to protest or bolt for the door.
A wild, reckless rush of sensation swept through her. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was run from him. Quite the opposite. Everything in her yearned to plunge into his embrace and allow herself to experience the mysteries of the passion that she knew she would find in his arms.
She flattened her palms on the front of his white linen shirt. When she touched him she heard a low, hungry groan deep in his chest. The knowledge that she had such a powerful effect on him made her feel as though she were a sorceress.
She sensed rather than saw his hands tighten into fists around the iron bars, and then his mouth closed over hers.
Sensation whipped through her; a glorious, heady, dizzying whirlpool of passion. She knew that if she did not explore these thrilling emotions with him she would carry the regret with her for the rest of her life.
Her hands slipped upward to encircle his neck. He reacted immediately, crowding against her until she was pressed tightly between his aroused body and the staircase. He gripped the balusters as though they were the only things that kept them both fastened to the earth.
“Jo...” He drew a deep breath. “My brain tells me that this is not a good idea. But I do not seem to be able to listen to any more logic tonight.”
“There are other things in the world besides logic, Hero.” She smiled up at him. “Things that are equally important.”
“Until tonight, I did not believe that.”
He kissed her again, deeply this time.
She responded eagerly, parting her lips for him and pushing her fingers through his dark hair.
He took his right hand off the baluster next to her left ear and began to unfasten the bodice of her gown. It fell away with shocking ease. When she felt his palm close over her left breast, surprise and pleasure rushed through her. A strange, delicious tension began to build deep inside. She heard herself utter a soft, husky cry.
He raised his head and looked down at her breast cradled in his palm.
“You are lovely.” He used his thumb to circle her nipple.
She wanted to touch him just as intimately. She lowered her hands and went to work unfastening his shirt. He muttered something. She could not make out the words, but the exciting promise in them was crystal clear.
By the time she got the garment open, her pulse was racing, causing wave after wave of tiny shivers to pulse through her. She drew her fingertips down his bare chest, entranced by the sensual feel of his firm skin.
Unable to resist, she kissed his neck and then his shoulder.
He shuddered.
His response encouraged her to move her palm lower, gliding across the sleekly muscled expanse of bare flesh until she was stopped by the waistband of his trousers.
He made a sound that was half groan and half-muffled laugh and captured her exploring hand.
“We are playing with fire,” he said against the curve of her shoulder. “It is not a sport in which I often indulge. But tonight I am convinced that some flames are worth the risk.”
She was not certain what he meant by that. But before she could query him on the subject, he released the other bar behind her head and picked her up, holding her snugly against his chest. The skirts of her partially unfastened gown spilt over his arms and brushed against the back of a chair.
He carried her swiftly across the room and put her down on the carpet in front of the fire. Before she could reorient herself to this new position, he lowered himself alongside her.
Cradling her in his left arm, he seized a fistful of her skirts in his other hand and crumpled the soft fabric all the way up past her thighs. She stopped breathing when she realized that she was exposed to him in the firelight.
A woman of the world would no doubt find this quite normal, she reminded herself. And it was certainly exciting to feel the heat of the flames on her bare skin.
She closed her eyes very tightly against the bright, shivery thrills that were tripping through her. His hand left her thigh. She realized that he was fumbling with the opening of his trousers.
A moment later she felt the firm thrust of his erection pushing against her bare hip. Curious, she opened her eyes just far enough to take a quick peek. She had seen aroused farm animals but she had never seen a man in such a condition.
The sight of his fully erect body rendered her nearly speechless.
“Good heavens,” she gasped before she could stop herself. He was big, much bigger than she had expected. And so very thick.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, bending his head to kiss her neck. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
She shut her eyes again very quickly. She wanted to ask him if such size was normal, but she feared that the question might disturb his current mood. She certainly did not want him to think that she was another Sydney terrified of his lovemaking. She would have to be subtle about this, she thought.
Before she could summon the right words for such a delicate inquiry, she got another jolt when he casually removed a linen handkerchief from a pocket and placed it to one side. Did he expect to sneeze in the middle of this business? she wondered.
But before she could ask about the handkerchief or the matter of size, his fingers threaded their way through her most private parts.
And then he was touching her in the most intimate fashion, setting off a delicious aching sensation. She twisted against him, seeking something more, something she could not describe.
“You are ready for me, are you not?” he said against her mouth. “So moist and plump and soft.”
“Yes, yes.” She had no notion of what he meant by those words, but she could give no other answer other than yes to him tonight.
He rolled on top of her, separating her thighs with a deliberate pressure of his own. She was aware of his erection probing the damp, throbbing entrance of her body and wondered if it was too late to discuss the question of size.
It was too late. Much too late. He was already easing himself into her body, pushing steadily, filling her until she thought she would burst.
A sharp, unexpected pain splashed through her. Startled, she cried out softly and dug her nails into his back.
“Fucking hell.”
Her eyes snapped open. She found herself looking up into his fierce gaze.
“Josephine...” His face was taut with an emotion that might have been anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” She wriggled a bit, aware that her body was already adjusting to his. It was a very tight fit, she concluded, but he did fit. Barely. That was the important thing.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a virgin?” he said through his teeth.
“Because it wasn’t important.”
“I consider it important.”
“I don’t.”
“Fucking hell, I took you to be a lady of some experience in this sort of thing.”
She smiled up at him. “I have good news, sir. As of this instant, I am, indeed, a lady of some experience.”
“Do not taunt me,” he warned. “I am exceedingly annoyed with you.”
“Does that mean that you are not going to finish what we have started?”
His face was fierce in the firelight. “I cannot seem to think clearly at the moment.”
She speared her fingers through his hair. “Then you must allow me to make the decision for both of us. I would prefer to finish if you feel that you are capable of doing so.”
“Capable? I am incapable of doing anything else.”
He braced his elbows on the carpet, caught her head between his palms and kissed her ruthlessly. She felt him begin to move, slowly, cautiously within her. She sensed that he was at the limits of his usually exquisite control, and she delighted in the knowledge that she had been the one to push him to this dangerous edge.
He rocked against her, driving himself deeper, moving faster now. The muscles of his back were rigid bands beneath her palms. A sweet tension built inside her. She clutched him closer, eager to explore this new, uncharted territory.
“Josephine. Fuck I can't hold back..”
Without warning, he pulled himself free of her body, reared back on his knees, and grabbed the handkerchief that he had placed conveniently at hand a few minutes before. He wrapped the square of linen around the head of his shaft. His mouth opened on a heavy groan and his eyes narrowed into intense slits as he spent himself.
When it was over, he collapsed, sprawling partway across her breasts, one leg flung over her thighs, his arm curled possessively around her.
She lay quietly for a time, taking in the sensations of the moment; the weight of Hero’s body, the warmth of the fire and the lingering tenderness between her thighs.
Hero stirred eventually, raising himself on his elbows to look down at her.
“Not quite what you were expecting, was it?” he asked.
“It was ... interesting,” she said.
He winced. “Talk about fucking with faint praise.”
She had hurt his feelings, she thought. “Parts of the experience were quite ... stimulating,” she assured him.
He bent toward her, resting his forehead on top of hers, and kissed the tip of her nose. “I must apologize, my sweet.”
Panic shot through her. She wriggled out from underneath him and sat up quickly, holding the bodice of her gown over her breasts.
She glared at him. “You must not blame yourself, Hero.”
He rolled onto his back, folded his arms behind his head and studied her with an unreadable expression. “No?”
“Of course not. I encouraged you if you will recall. My grandmother once told me about certain stimulating sensations that can only be experienced in the arms of a man. I have been curious about those feelings for some time now, and I assure you I was eager to discover the truth of her words.”
“You used me to satisfy your curiosity?” He raised his brows. “And here I was under the illusion that you were simply attracted to me.”
“I was attracted to you.” She was horrified that he might think otherwise. “Very intensely attracted. Indeed, I have never been so attracted to a man.”
“Kind of you to say so, but I cannot help but think that you are only trying to make me feel somewhat better about what just happened.”
“There is no reason for you to feel badly about it, I assure you, Hero. It was all my idea.”
“You do realize, do you not, that if you had bothered to mention your own lack of experience at some point, things would have progressed in a somewhat different fashion?”
He was not going to let this go. He was still annoyed. She flushed, aware that she was starting to feel the pangs of an emotion that might well prove to be guilt.
She sighed. “Yes, I am well aware that if you had believed me to be inexperienced, your excessively strict sense of responsibility would no doubt have prevented you from making love to me.”
A smile ghosted through his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“There is no need for you to speak the words,” she muttered. “I am well aware that I had no right to put you into such a position.” Anger jumped within her. “But I must tell you that it is extremely irritating to experience such an exciting sensation one moment and then be obliged to feel so much guilt and responsibility about it the next.”
He startled her with a wholly unexpected, exceedingly wicked grin. “In that, we are in complete agreement, Miss Langford.”
She glared. “Sir, I would remind you yet again that I am not in the same category as the young ladies on the marriage mart this Season. I am not another sweet, innocent, overly sheltered Sydney.”
He sat up slowly. “Whatever else you are, Josephine, you are no Sydney.”
“Yes, well, I just wanted to make certain that you understood quite clearly that what happened here tonight was in no way your fault. You bear no responsibility whatsoever for any of it.”
He considered that for what seemed an eternity. Then he nodded once and rolled to his feet with a smooth, easy movement.
“Do you know, my dear, I believe I do, indeed, concur with you on that point.” He went to stand in front of the fire and shoved his shirt back into his trousers. “Very well, you have convinced me. I shall be happy to place the whole weight of the blame on your charming head. I might even go so far as to say that I feel that I have been used.”
“No.” Shocked, she scrambled to her feet. “No, indeed, I never intended to use you, Hero.”
“Nevertheless, that is what it comes down to, does it not?” Finished with his trousers, he turned around to face her. “You took advantage of my great weakness where you are concerned to explore a stimulating new experience, did you not?”
She felt herself turn very warm. “You are most certainly not weak, Hero.”
“I appear to be when it comes to you.”
“Nonsense.”
He held up one palm. “Ah, but you knew full well that I could not resist kissing you. Admit it.”
She thought she saw a suspicious gleam in his eyes. Was he laughing at her? No, that made no sense. This conversation was far too serious.
“That is absolutely untrue, sir,” she said stiffly. “I had no notion that you could not resist me. Furthermore, I don’t believe it for one moment.”
“I assure you, it is the truth.” He finished adjusting his trousers. “I fear I am merely a hapless victim of your charms.”
He was teasing her, she thought. Or was he?
She searched his face, but she could not be certain. She was growing more confused by the moment.
“Hapless is the very last word I would ever employ to describe you, Hero,” she said.
“Now you are trying to evade the blame by implying that I should have been more resolute and strong-willed.” He shook his head as he walked toward her. “You disappoint me, Miss Langford. I believed you to be far too honourable to try that trick.”
Bloody hell, she thought. She could not figure out what he was about.
“It is not a trick,” she said. “Furthermore, I must tell you—”
The muffled sound of the front door opening interrupted her. Voices sounded in the hall. A fresh wave of panic rolled through her. Anne and Felix had arrived.
She looked around wildly, seeking escape. Perhaps she could slip out the window into the garden. But then how would she get back inside the house?
“What’s the matter, Josephine?” Hero asked very softly as he fastened his shirt. “Did you fail to plan for the possibility that your night of seduction might be interrupted at an inopportune moment?”
“Do not dare to taunt me, Hero.” She kept her voice to a hoarse whisper. “They might come in here at any moment. What are we to do?”
He swept her a gallant bow. “Do not fear. Although I am not at all sure that you deserve it, I will save you from the embarrassment of being caught in such an extremely compromising position.”
“How?” she asked baldly.
“Leave the details to me.”
He collected his domino and carried it to the far end of the room near the window that looked out onto the garden. He shoved the used handkerchief out of sight beneath the folds.
Then he scooped up her costume and draped it over her shoulders.
Taking a firm grasp on her arm, he urged her toward the spiral staircase. She frowned at the balcony that rimmed the library. “You expect me to hide up there?”
“One of the bookcases is actually a hidden door that opens into a linen closet.” He hurried her up the narrow steps. “No one has used it in years. I had almost forgotten about it until I realized that it is where Zach must have hidden when he eavesdropped on our conversations.”
“A secret panel? Really?”
“Really.”
“How thrilling,” she breathed, going swiftly up the steps ahead of him. “Just like in a horrid novel.”
“I see that you find the notion of a hidden door even more stimulating than my lovemaking.”
“Oh, no, truly. It is just that, well, I have never had occasion to make use of a secret doorway.”
“Do not try to make excuses. You have battered my delicate sensibilities quite enough for one night.”
“If you expect me to take that remark as a jest,” she said, “I must tell you that your sense of humour leaves much to be desired.”
“What makes you think I am joking?”
On the balcony, he turned to the left, grasped the edge of a bookcase and tugged. Josephine watched, fascinated, as the entire section of shelving slid aside to reveal a darkened linen closet.
“In you go.” He ushered her inside. “The door in the closet opens onto the hall very close to your bedchamber. I suggest you make haste before Anne finishes saying good night to Felix and makes her way upstairs.”
She stepped quickly into the shadows and whirled to face him. “What about you?”
The suspicious gleam disappeared from Hero’s gaze. He turned coolly thoughtful. “I believe that this is an excellent opportunity for me to have a chat with Felix. I shall ask him to help me keep an eye on you and Anne.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“Good night, my sweet seductress. Next time I promise to do my utmost to provide you with a more stimulating experience.”
He closed the bookcase door in her face before she could recover from the notion of a “next time.”