across from the staircase tower. There Jean-Pierre stepped out from behind a wide trunk, his axe tucked into his belt and a pistol in each hand.
“I’ve changed the plan,” Ruban told him. “As soon as the guests and the servants leave for the night, come in through the tower door. I will be waiting in the study.”
“You cannot fool de Raven,” Jean-Pierre pointed out, and gestured at Ruban’s costume. “You stay behind, he know.”
“We have yet to discover who the Raven is.” Ruban thought for a moment, and then smiled. “But perhaps there is someone who already knows.”
Chapter 10
Once he righted himself, Greystone brushed the potting soil from his costume and strode out of the hot house. He could see Jennet already inside the reception room, but she did not linger or look back at him. She disappeared from sight a moment later.
The fiery bliss he had experienced from taking her still hummed through his limbs, intensified by the pleasure he had given her in return. That she had remained a virgin all these years also gratified him, although he had no right to feel so smug about it.
Greystone had wondered too often about that since leaving her. Jennet was a beautiful woman, and unafraid of passion. He knew he had awakened her needs. Although she had chosen never to marry, she might have discreetly taken a lover.
Why had she remained chaste? Surely not to save herself for him.
“You’ve done enough to the lass, milord,” a hard voice said from behind him. “Let her go now.”
He turned to see Pickering’s man Foray standing at the corner of the hot house. The smug look on his homely face made Greystone’s hands fist.
“You watched us, you bastard?” he demanded.
“No, but I’ve ears like a cat, and orders to patrol the grounds tonight.” The valet cocked his head. “Couldn’t find a way upstairs to a proper bed, then? Poor girl. Now I see why she tried to reshape your face.”
The fact that Foray was right didn’t soothe Greystone’s temper. “Keep talking and I’ll see to yours.”
“Aye, I expect you would. Here.” He tossed the sacking mask at him. “Pickering said you’d be riding out with him. You’ll want a look at the nag.”
After one last glance at the house, Greystone turned and accompanied him through the gardens and out to the stables. Although everyone believed him to be nothing more than Pickering’s manservant, Foray’s particular talents had been learned as a street brat in the Devil’s Acre. He had survived London’s most notorious slum to join the Army, which had taught him even more lethal skills, and eventually found his way into Pickering’s service. Foray had learned to dress his master as if he were Brummel himself, but he could also cripple a man with a single blow of the lead-filled sap he always carried.
He also knew that Greystone could easily do worse, and he’d never live to limp through his remaining years.
“I’d keep to the back roads until you reach Hackney,” the valet said as he unlatched the stable door. “You’ll be more likely to spot shadows. I’ve put two pistols in the satchel pack, but they’ll be handier tucked in your belt.”
Greystone disliked firearms; the blade or the garrote proved far more reliable. “Leave them.”
In the stall stood a sturdy farm gelding, with a saddle suitable to his role. Greystone checked over the mount before he adjusted the bridle to his liking. The animal was young and strong, and capable of the long ride ahead. As he stroked the mount he kept thinking of Jennet, and how her hands had felt on him. He should never have touched her. Worse, he wished nothing more than to return to the house, find her, and drag her to the nearest bed.
“You’re not coming back to this wee corner of heaven, are you?” Foray asked idly. “Once it’s finished, I mean.”
Greystone eyed him.
“Just curious.” The other man smiled, making his plain face look utterly menacing. “She’s lovely–”
“–and much too good for me, as Pickering has already said.” Despite knowing how deadly the valet was, Greystone felt tempted to test him. Then he understood his interest. “Are you questioning my loyalty? Arthur well knows that I burned down my life for this.”
“Aye, and now you mean to take a torch to hers.” As he took a step toward him the valet held up a broad hand. “Ever I’ve had a soft spot for the ladies.”
Every word he spoke was true, and still Greystone wanted to