When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,15

smelled as nice as bergamot in St Giles.

Besides. Eddie had been dead nearly two decades now.

Gideon’s eyes snapped open to the weak light of dawn glowing in the bare windows.

He lay in his own bed. A bed acquired only a day before he’d departed for the north of England to fetch Messalina. He’d held Whispers for a matter of months and in that time hadn’t seen the need to furnish it with more than a few basic pieces—he came home only to eat and sleep. But he could hardly bring his wife to a house without an adequate bed.

His wife.

Gideon couldn’t help the satisfied curve of his lips. Against all odds he’d succeeded in marrying Messalina. She was his now.

He sat up and leaned over to contemplate her. She lay curled on her side, her cheeks flushed in sleep, her lips softly parted, vulnerable and sweet. Watching her made him want to lie back down, draw the coverlet up, and doze next to her. Perhaps wrap his arm around her.

Gideon frowned. And then she’d shriek and accuse him of assault.

He shook his head. He never slept in.

Gideon got up. Aristocrats lazed about. He hadn’t dragged himself up from the muck of St Giles by lying abed contemplating what he already had. He’d clambered, clawed, and scrambled his way out of St Giles by keeping his eyes fixed on what he could gain next.

With that firmly in mind, he unlocked his old trunk. He pulled out a banyan, wrapped it about himself, and, refusing to look back at the bed, left the room.

His stride was brisk as he made his way down the hall to a room nearly at the end.

He threw open the door to half a dozen lit candles and Keys yawning widely as he sat at a desk.

“Mornin’, guv,” Keys muttered. The man’s blue eyes were heavy lidded and his hair flattened to the side of his head. In all the time he’d worked for Gideon, Keys had not accustomed himself to rising early.

“Good morning,” Gideon replied, tossing aside his banyan.

A bowl of hot water stood steaming on a dresser next to a cloth. Gideon splashed water on his face before reaching for soap and a wickedly sharp razor lying ready nearby.

“What news?” he asked as he began to lather his jaw.

Keys stifled another yawn. A teapot and teacup were at his right elbow, and he poured himself a cup as he consulted a small notebook. “Pea says as ’e still can’t figure what the old man wants you to do in exchange for ’is niece. ’Is boys ’ave asked of the usual people, but if’n anyone knows they ain’t talking.”

Gideon raised his chin to scrape his throat free of soap and whiskers. “The old man’s keeping it to himself, but I have no doubt that it’ll be something filthy.”

Keys grunted, whether in agreement or because he’d just taken a gulp of his hot tea it wasn’t clear. “Shall I ’ave Pea continue investigatin’?”

“No. There’s no point when I’m to see the old man today.” Gideon grimaced. He disliked going into a meeting blind, but there was no help for it. The duke had refused to tell him his task before Gideon married Messalina.

“Maybe the duke just wants to keep you in ’is pay,” Keys said diffidently. “You’re the only one ’oo don’t piss ’is pants when ’Is Grace gets in one of ’is rages.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that he means to try to keep me,” Gideon said sourly. “The old man doesn’t like anything or anyone slipping through his grasp—particularly anyone he hasn’t first ground beneath his heel—but he’s very pleased about our bargain. I have the feeling that he has something specific in mind for me to do.”

Keys looked worried at his words, but he turned a page in his notebook without comment. “Staff reports that m’lord Bancroft played deep last night and just about lost ’is shirt. ’E borrowed from Staff to the tune of another two ’undred pounds. Staff wants to know if we keep ’im ’ooked or cut line.”

“Keep him,” Gideon decided at once. Viscount Bancroft was in a rather powerful cabal in the House of Lords. Gideon wasn’t sure how he might use that now, but it was always good to have a member of Parliament quite literally in his debt.

Keys nodded and made a notation in his little book. “Mr. Blackwell says ’e wants to talk to you soon as you can.”

Gideon had met William Blackwell years ago in a gambling