Chapter 22

MADELEINE AND LIBBY were laughing even before Barnacle was out of the drawing room, and Barnacle knew it, bowing his shoulders and tottering even more.

When Barnacle and his back were out of sight, Thomas ignored the laughing women and said to his wife, "Lord Kipper is an old smuggler who was knighted by George way back in 1809 when he accidently managed to sink a French warship. He really believed it was a boat of English soldiers bent on taking him to Newgate."

"You're making that up," Meggie said.

"Young lady, my son never makes anything up," Madeleine said. "Lord Kipper is a very brave man, not like that wretched Lord Lancaster, who, thankfully, is finally six feet underground. Had I been there, I would not have worn mourning nor thrown a rose atop his casket. I would have spit."

"Meggie's father, the vicar of Glenclose-on-Rowan, gave the service. He surely wouldn't have appreciated that, Mother."

"My lord. Ladies."

Meggie looked up to see a man stride into the drawing room. He was as tall as Thomas and twice his age. He was very possibly one of the most beautiful men Meggie had ever seen in her life. He looked like a fallen angel, fair and blond, but the compelling strength in his face, the planes and shadows of the bones, the blueness of his eyes, the way all of him fit together was incredible. She imagined that Uncle Douglas's twin sons, James and Jason, would be as beautiful as Lord Kipper when they were his age, and that was saying something indeed since her dratted cousins had been so beautiful since early boyhood that her uncle Douglas and aunt Alex had been constantly bombarded with gifts from all the girls in the neighborhood, hoping to be noticed by the twins.

It was amazing, this male beauty. Lord Kipper looked toward her and smiled, an absolutely devastating smile, all white teeth and intimacy, and it made her toes curl in appreciation. Six maids with him in a locked bedchamber? Hmmm.

"I am Meggie Sherbrooke-"

"You are now a Malcombe. I am her husband, Niles."

"And he's an earl now, not just a mangy baron," Barnacle said from just on the other side of the still-open drawing room doors.

Lord Kipper laughed. "I was always too big to walk Barnacle's back," he said, "and he's never forgiven me." In that moment Meggie knew to her toes that he was as outrageous and as charming as both of her uncles. She wondered what her uncle Ryder would have to say about the six maids in a locked bedchamber.

As Lord Kipper walked across the wide expanse of dismal drawing room, Meggie noticed that he limped. When he reached her, he gave her an intimate smile again, devastating it was, took her hand and slowly raised it to his lips, never looking away from her face. "Meggie. What a lovely name, my dear."

"You will not try to seduce my wife, Niles," Thomas said, just the barest hint of menace showing through the amusement in his voice. "Drop her hand this instant."

Lord Kipper didn't drop her hand, rather, he very gently lowered it until it was nearly touching her breast. Then he eased free, pressing her fingers lightly downward until she was touching herself. He smiled. Meggie was so shocked, so utterly mesmerized by what he'd done, that she just stood there like an idiot, gaping at him.

"You are such a tease," Libby said, a wealth of knowledge and a touch of coyness in her voice, Meggie wasn't mistaken about that. And a dollop of jealousy perhaps because Lord Kipper hadn't done it to her?

"Do you have a wife, sir?" Meggie asked, pulling herself together by the simple act of taking three steps away from this dangerous man.

"Oh no, my dear. Well, there was Nell. She gave me my heir, then departed to her reward very shortly thereafter, bless her, and she did it quickly, with little fuss. Unfortunately my heir died at the age of six. I admit I worried about an heir for a while, but no longer. No, I decided I didn't want another wife. Far too confining, you know. Since I am English and I have money, why, I much enjoy keeping a mistress now and again. My nephew is my heir, a good boy, at Oxford now, and so he isn't around to sniff after them."

Meggie knew he was now looking at her bosom, and she was so disconcerted she said, "You are speaking of your mistress, sir, in polite company?"

"Ah, this group isn't at all polite," Lord Kipper said. "Just ask that husband of yours, one of the wickedest young men I've met in a long time."

He grinned over at Thomas, who'd taken a step away from the fireplace when he'd threatened to kill Lord Kipper, now moved back, relaxing again against the mantelpiece, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Thomas isn't wicked," Meggie said, frowned and paused, tilting her head to one side. "At least I don't think he is. We haven't known each other all that long, you see."

"Yes," Lord Kipper said, "I see."

"Niles hasn't ever changed his stripes," Thomas said to his wife. "He was a terror when he was a boy, sowed more wild oats than an entire class at Oxford, and decided he quite liked it. Meggie, I am not wicked at all. He is the master and he's always wanted a student to follow in his path, but it isn't me. I doubt not that Niles will go to his grave a terror."

"Praise the Lord," Libby said. "Thomas, you are teasing your bride. My dear, he is quite wicked enough. Now, Niles, who is your latest mistress?"

"Well," said Lord Kipper, "I just dismissed a young lady who returned last week to her home in St. Ives." He looked down at his hands for a moment, utterly distracted. Was he still thinking about her?

"Ah, yes, Melinda," he said. "I expect I shall miss her, particularly as the days grow longer and there is so much light to see and to enjoy and-well, perhaps with the addition of your wife, Thomas, the company is polite enough now to forego specificity."

Meggie looked frankly disappointed. Her husband grinned at her.

"Then why did you let her go?" Madeleine asked.

"Unfortunately my nephew paid me a surprise visit and nearly lost what few wits he possessed when he saw her. He refused to go back to England, read poor Melinda love poetry from below her window, standing in the rain. I was afraid he would catch an inflammation of the lung, so what was I to do?"

"Send the fool packing," Thomas said. "Not Melinda."

"Ah, well, such a pity I didn't think of that at the time. What's done is done. Now, I am on the lookout, you could say." He paused a moment, stroking his long fingers over his jaw. "I think I just might be in the market for an older, more experienced female person. Will you consider it, Libby?"

"Will I have to lose flesh?"

"I have decided that a bit of strategic padding on a woman's body isn't as distasteful as I have always believed. How could a man dislike such a lovely expanse of white flesh? No, my dearest Libby, you may continue eating to your heart's content. I will come back on the morrow and we will discuss how this is to be accomplished."

Libby nodded and bowed her head, a lovely smile on her mouth. She was humming under her breath.

Meggie's uncles were outrageous, no doubt about that, even though they did try to keep their hands off their wives and keep all their drawing comments to a whisper when any of the children were near. But since she was the next generation eavesdropper after her aunt Sinjun, she'd heard quite a bit over the years, but never anything like this. She stared at her husband. He had no expression at all on his face. No, that wasn't right. He was looking a bit amused, maybe a touch of irony mirrored in those dark eyes of his. She wanted to go to the stable, find herself a stout horse, and ride back to Cork Harbour. Maybe there would be a boat headed back to England.

Thomas said abruptly, "Niles, you remember Bernard Leach, do you not? He and his wife own the Hangman's Noose near St. Agnes?"