One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,54

and a small, lopsided pile of the volumes he had already collected threatened to topple from one corner of the desk. At the sound of the door, he turned.

Whether his spectacles had slid slightly down his nose, or whether he had adjusted them so, the better to aide his search, he looked over their top rim at her, just as she had imagined him doing earlier that day. And just as she had known would happen, her insides went slightly wobbly at the sight, though his expression was more amused than reproving.

His dark brows lifted as he looked her up and down. “I win.”

“I—I beg your pardon?” she stammered.

“The game of push and pull we’ve been playing all day. Cat and mouse. You’ve walked right into the trap I set at dinner.”

Clearly, Langley imagined himself as the cat.

She mustered a tinkling laugh. “Have I? Oh, dear. Well, the boys will tell you I’m not very good at games.”

Having declared victory, he seemed to expect she would accept defeat and go. He half turned toward the bookshelf again.

Instead, she glided toward the desk, squaring the books into a stack as she passed. Then she went to the bookcase next to the one on which he was ostensibly searching—he’d gone perfectly still at her approach—and ran her hand into the narrow crevice above a row of books about seafaring expeditions, exploration, and travel. The shelf on which they sat formed part of a ledge across that end of the room.

With the soft snick of a lever being pressed and the mechanical cre-e-eak of infrequent use, the entire shelf, books and all, swung forward to reveal a hollow space behind, filled with crystal decanters and matching tumblers. She picked up a tumbler, blew away the dust—not even Mr. Matthews or Mrs. Hepplewythe knew of the existence of her late husband’s secret liquor cabinet—and turned toward Langley, who was, as she had intended, now watching her every move.

“May I offer you a drink?”

With unnecessary force, he thumped down the candlestick he still held. “No. Thank you.”

She shrugged. “As you wish.” She trailed one fingertip over the collection of stoppers, at last pausing to pluck one from its bottle. Lifting the decanter, she splashed a generous swallow of amber liquid into the glass she still held. After returning the bottle to its place, she nudged the cabinet closed with her hip.

Langley watched that movement too—or so she thought. The gleam on his spectacles made his eyes impossible to read.

With exaggerated slowness, she carried the drink back to the desk and leaned against its solid bulk. “No luncheon. No dessert. No French brandy.” She lifted the glass to her mouth, let the liquor’s warmth coat her lips, licked it away. “Haven’t you any vices at all?”

By the flickering candlelight, she watched his throat bob in a hard swallow. “Vices? I’m sure I do. Let me see…” He mirrored her easy posture, propping himself against the ledge, crossing his feet at the ankle. “I drink entirely too much coffee, for one. I don’t sleep particularly well, you see. Haven’t for years—though perhaps the coffee is as much the cause of that problem as it is a solution for it.”

“I daresay I could make a similar confession.” She smiled around the tumbler’s edge. “Lately, something has been interfering with my sleep as well.”

His brows rose above the rim of his spectacles.

After another moment, he carefully passed the palm of his free hand over the light of the nearby candle. Almost, but not quite, touching the flame. “I deliberately seek out adventure, excitement, danger. A more serious vice, certainly.” And a warning? When her lips parted to form a retort, he shook his head. “Pray do not try to convince me it is one we also share.”

For just a moment, she doubted herself. Perhaps she ought not to have come tonight.

But no. She had made up her mind. She knew what she wanted from him—and she thought she knew how to get it.

She lifted one shoulder, set the tumbler on the desk beside her. “Well, I am here with you, at your…invitation, shall we call it?”

He pushed his spectacles into their proper place and looked from her to the liquor cabinet and back again. “I believe I underestimated you, your ladyship. Nevertheless, I’m certain it would be a better use of your time to take a solitary stroll through the garden.”

“There’s a chill in the air tonight.”

“Then fetch a shawl.”

“Skitter off like a good little mousie, glad of my