An Inconvenient Arrangement: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Three Read online

  She waited for several seconds and he could almost see the steam coming from her ears. “I see. Since I am a mere woman, all I am good for is producing children and pandering to a husband, despite my talents, intelligence or skills.”

  Dante waved his hand. “I did not say that.”

  “Then what, exactly, did you say?”

  “I asked why a beautiful woman like you is not married. You must be an age to be considered on the shelf.”

  Miss Lydia Sanford’s face grew red, and she drew in a deep breath. He watched her attempt to control her temper, her eyes flashing and her bosom heaving. He could not take his eyes off her.

  She was magnificent.

  And major trouble.

  Bloody hell. This was going to be the worse assignment he ever worked.

  2

  Lydia had to tamp down the strong urge to wallop the arrogant Mr. Rose over his head with her parasol. If she weren’t afraid of breaking it—it matched her hat so nicely—she would have done it.

  She drew herself up. “Mr. Rose, we need to work together. Unless, of course you wish to disappoint Sir Phillip and back out of the commitment rather than work with a woman. I suggest we learn to get along. If we are to fool Society into believing that we are courting, you must refrain from insulting me, since I am afraid the bit of Irish in my blood will draw unnecessary notice to how much I dislike you.”

  He reared back, appearing genuinely surprised. “Dislike me? All women love me.”

  “You arrogant nodcock. I am sure the ladies fall all over themselves to garner your attention. However, I am not one of them. You are the owner of a gambling club, a rake, and a supercilious individual.”

  “Ah, you forgot bastard, as well.”

  That stopped her cold. She glared at him. “I am assuming you are not adding to my list of insults, but meant your parents were not married. I did not know that, nor do I care. I judge a person on how they behave, not their beginnings. However, based on your behavior, I agree to add bastard to my list of adjectives.”

  Just then the carriage pulled up to the front of a small tea shop. One that Lydia had visited many times before. As she gathered her things, the driver jumped down from his perch and opened the door. Dante put his hand out to stop her from alighting and left the vehicle first. He turned and held out his hand, his eyebrows raised.

  Ah, a dare. Well, she would not give into pettiness. She smiled brightly and reaching out with all the elegance and grace of her station in life, delicately placed her gloved hand in his. Warm and strong. She almost stumbled at the contact, then reminded herself there was nothing in the dastardly man’s hand with which she need concern herself.

  He glowered at her and she laughed.

  “Ah, Miss Sanford, how lovely to see you.” The man at the door welcomed them.

  “Thank you, Henri, is my favorite table available?”

  “Yes.” He looked at Dante. “This way, if you please.”

  They followed the man to a table next to a window overlooking Queen’s Square. Once settled, she chatted with Henri in French while Dante gazed out the window, appearing uninterested.

  “Do you mind if I order for both of us?” she asked.

  Dante waved his hand. “Please do, Miss Sanford.”

  She placed an order for her favorite tea blend as well as French pastries. Thank goodness despite her healthy appetite she was able to maintain her figure. Once Henri left, she cleared her throat. Dante drew his focus back to her, although she had the feeling his attention hadn’t wandered, he merely wished to appear indifferent.

  “I suggest we have our tea before we begin to plan our strategy.”

  Dante huffed. “Strategy? You mean what balls or other frivolous Society events we shall attend?” He shook his head.

  This was not the first time Lydia worked with a man who resented her being a woman. Well, not exactly that, but more having to rely on a woman as part of the investigation. A pleasant, cheerful person by nature, she refused to allow this man’s annoyance to dim her excitement at starting a new assignment.

  While attempting to plan how she was going to obtain his cooperation without having the urge to throw something at this head, she studied this man she’d been paired with.

  He might have been surprised when she showed up, but she’d known before her arrival who her partner was to be, and what the assignment was. Despite his attempt to fluster her, she was well aware that he was the half-brother of the Earl of Huntington and Mr. Driscoll Rose. Although he was his father’s illegitimate son, from what she’d learned he’d been raised right along with his two brothers and given every opportunity they’d received.

  Dante and his two brothers owned The Rose Room, an exclusive gambling club in London. While she had no repugnance for gambling, she did uncover that the youngest Rose brother was a bit of a rake, rogue, libertine, or whatever one wanted to call it.

  His reputation as an excellent lover was known far and wide among the ladies. Even though he shied away from Society events—either through a lack of interest, or concern about his birth—he was still well-known and admired among the Beau Monde.

  She had to admit from a very feminine point of view that the man was unusually handsome. Wavy brown hair, longer than current fashion, was tucked behind his ears. He possessed strong aristocratic features, and deep blue eyes that right now were still focused on Queen’s Square. His form was perfectly male, something she was sure had the ladies swooning at his feet.

  Not that he affected her. Not at all.

  “Ah, merci.” She leaned back as a waiter placed a teapot, two cups and saucers and a tray of sweets on the table. Once he left, she said, “How do you like your tea?”

  “With brandy.”

  She sighed. He was behaving like a spoiled little boy. She would not allow this.

  “Mr. Rose.” Something in her voice had him turning toward her with raised brows. She could feel her face beginning to flush. “I do not care if you are annoyed. I do not care if you wish to behave like a spoiled urchin. I am a professional, and I was under the impression after my conference with Sir Phillip that you were one as well. So far you have done nothing to confirm that assurance.”

  The reprehensible man had the nerve to smile at her. He dipped his head as she picked up the teapot. “You are correct, Miss Sanford. I have been behaving like an ass.” He looked up at her with an air of remorse that she didn’t believe for one moment. Probably another way to maneuver his way under a lady’s skirts.

  “I assume since you are a professional that my language doesn’t disturb you?” he continued.

  Oh, how she wished to hit him over the head with the teapot. She raised her chin. “I prefer good manners, Mr. Rose. To my way of thinking that means polite conversation, which does not include coarse words.”

  She poured his tea and since he hadn’t answered her question, she pushed the cup and saucer in front of him. Let him fix it himself. She offered her own bright smile. “However, I must agree with your assessment. You have been behaving like a bloody ass.” She smiled and politely poured her own tea.

  Dante threw his head back and laughed so hard he drew attention to them from the other customers. “Miss Sanford, I believe we will get along just fine.”

  She dipped her head and took a sip of tea.

  Dante put a drop of cream and a teaspoon of sugar into his tea, still smiling at the set-down Miss Sanford had given him. He hated being wrong, but it appeared this woman was not what he’d expected.

  When he’d first seen her, he’d been sure her only contribution to the assignment would be her knowledge of languages. Otherwise, he’d expected her to be merely a bit of fluff on his arm to garner invitations to where he would conduct the investigation.

  He might hate being wrong, but he was wrong. This woman was not going to allow him to lead her around, merely asking her to translate something. She had fortitude and determination. This assignment might just work.

  He watched her delicate han
ds pour tea, fix her own cup, select two pastries to add to her own plate, all the time ignoring him. It was up to him to smooth things over between them.

  “Miss Sanford,” he began. “Perhaps we need to start over. I must admit I was stunned by Sir Phillip presenting me with a female partner. ’Twas not something I was expecting.”

  “Clearly.”

  “However, I am anxious to proceed with the assignment, as I am sure you are as well. I have a business to run and no doubt you have other interests to take care of as well.” There. That should do it to smooth her ruffled feathers. Just to make certain he’d done the right thing, he smiled at her.

  Miss Sanford grinned back. “Don’t try that on me, Mr. Rose. That smile all of the ladies in London are familiar with is not going to sway me.” She took a sip of tea. “However, I accept your apology—” She stopped. “I assume that was an apology?”

  He nodded.

  “Excellent. I suggest we finish our tea and then begin our plan.”

  They were even able to have polite conversation while they enjoyed their tea. The typical subjects of weather and road conditions took up some of the time, as well as observations on those strolling past the window.

  Once the waiter had cleared their things away, Miss Sanford whipped out two pieces of paper from her reticule. “I have a list here—actually two lists of the same events—for which I have accepted invitations. In case you are wondering, I have already mentioned when I sent my acceptance that I will be escorted by a friend.”

  He lowered his eyelids and tilted his lips up in a soft half-smile. “Is that what we are, Miss Sanford. Friends?”

  “Stop that!”

  He jumped. “What?”

  She waved her finger at him and spoke in a heated whisper. “I am not one of your potential conquests, sir. I am here to do a job with you. I want to be treated with respect. If you want our pretend courtship to appear real, then save your heated looks and lazy smiles for when we are at social events.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he snapped. This was probably not the best time to tell her that when she grew angry like that, with her eyes flashing and her bosoms heaving, everything male in him emerged and all the methods he’d honed over the years to placate a woman and get her into a more amorous mood rose up.

  She gave a curt nod. “Just so.” She slid one of the pieces of paper across the table. “Here is your list. I have noted the type of event, so you may dress appropriately, the date and time. I will expect you to arrive at my home in your carriage to escort me. If you can arrange to use the Earl’s carriage, that would be even better.”

  “And the Ambassador will be at all these events?”

  “As far as I know, yes. He is known to converse in French, German, Spanish and English. Since he spent part of his childhood in Russia, he has been known to slip into that tongue if he feels he’s being overheard.”

  “And those are all languages you are familiar with?” Dante let out a low whistle. “Which is why you were selected for this assignment.”

  She nodded.

  “Sir Phillip mentioned seven languages. What else?”

  Without any sort of superciliousness, she rattled off, “Italian and Arabic.”

  Beautiful, charming, intelligent and gracious—when not goaded. Yet she came out with swear words he would never expect to hear uttered from that sweet, plush mouth. He had to admit she fascinated him.

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  Her head jerked up from where she was studying the list. “What do you mean?”

  Dante leaned forward. “I have never met anyone, man or woman, who could speak seven languages. The best educated men I know can’t handle more than three.”

  “Perhaps it is time you moved onto higher circles.” She sniffed.

  “Touché, Miss Sanford.” He gave her a slight salute. “How does a beautiful woman such as yourself end up working for the Home Office on secret assignments, able to speak seven languages?”

  Miss Sanford sighed. “Please don’t refer to my looks, Mr. Rose.” She circled her face with a finger. “What you see here I had nothing to do with. The good Lord provided me with this face and body. I, on the other hand, took the brain he gave me and used it for more than ton gossip, and discussions on the latest fashions.”

  “You must have been a pariah among the other young ladies.”

  “To some extent. However, much to my disgrace, when I made my debut several years ago, I took on the persona of the typical giggly, blushing, fan-waving young lady.”

  “And?”

  “I hated myself.” She looked out the window and he swore there were tears in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. “One gentleman with the brain of a sheep offered for me. Fortunately, my father was inclined to allow me a say in who I married. I turned him down. As I did more than ten after him.”

  Another low whistle from Dante.

  She took a deep breath and looked back at him. “It was then that I decided marriage and the typical ton wife existence was not for me. My father was friends with a man who knew Sir Phillip. Sworn to secrecy, I was permitted a visit with the man.”

  She shrugged. “The rest is clear to you, I am sure. I now work on secret assignments. Mostly by myself, but on occasion, as now, with a partner.”

  “Who is your father?”

  “The Viscount Sterling. He is a wonderful man. My mother passed away shortly after I refused my tenth offer of marriage. Father ceased at that point to insist that I attend Society events. However, I do keep up with it because I enjoy being there, as long as I am not considered on the Marriage Mart.”

  “You, Miss Sanford, are an amazing woman.”

  Much to his surprise and pleasure she blushed. This woman had a spine of steel and for the first time in his life he was interested in a woman for reasons other than her body. Not that he wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy taking her to bed, but she was right. There was so much more to her than her face and form.

  He looked down at the paper she’d placed in front of him. “I see the first event is a garden party.” He looked up and smiled. “I shall try very hard not to groan.”

  Miss Sanford laughed. “Yes, that is probably not the best event to begin with since I assume you abhor Polite Society, and garden parties are the worst, but the Ambassador and his assistant will both be there, and there is a chance that it is his assistant who is acting as a messenger between the Ambassador and Germany.”

  “It sounds like you’ve started this assignment before today.” He hoped he didn’t come across as petulant.

  “Actually, yes. Sir Phillip spoke to me about it last week, and I spent the time from then until now doing some pre-investigation of my own.”

  “Which you, of course, will share with me.” She might be beautiful and intelligent, but he would not be led around by the nose working with her on this assignment.

  “Of course.”

  He tucked the list into his pocket and called for the bill. After making payment, they strolled to his carriage where she gave the driver her home direction.

  She told him a bit about the Ambassador that she had learned, and he took notes with the small pad and pencil he always carried with him to meetings with Sir Phillip.

  Soon the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a luxurious townhouse in Mayfair. “Your father’s home, I assume?”

  “Yes. Although he is quite lenient and forward-thinking, he will not permit me my own residence.” She smiled and every bit of common sense he ever possessed flew from his head. He reached over to take her hand and when she leaned forward, he pulled her closer and covered her mouth with his.

  She was sweet and tender. Warm and moist. Her mouth tasted like tea and honey. At first, she remained stiff, then she firmly planted her hands on his chest and shoved him back.

  The crack from her palm firmly meeting his cheek could no doubt be heard in Grosvenor Square. Without his assistance, she climbed from the carriage and stormed up the steps, her parasol swinging, and her hips s
waying.

  So. That went well.

  3

  Dante looked up from the newspaper he was reading when Hunt walked into the private dining room on the upper floor of the Rose Room.

  “What are you doing here? I thought dragging me away from domestic bliss was necessary because you were on an assignment for Sir Phillip.” Hunt headed to the sideboard and poured coffee, then loaded up his plate with breakfast items.

  “I am on assignment. This afternoon I am cursed with attending a garden party and since I’m assuming there will be no more than a few dainty edibles available I thought to fill up on real food first.”

  Hunt sat and shook out his napkin. “A garden party? It appears I was indeed dragged away from home for no reason. What sort of assignment is this?”

  Even though they were alone in the dining room, Dante lowered his voice. “Matters that the Crown prefer not to be known have been passed along to Germany. The German Ambassador himself is under suspicion. Since there is reason to speculate that it is at social events where he gathers his information, we are attending as many as we can.”

  “We?” Hunt’s brows rose.

  Dante shrugged, attempting to make it appear that he was unconcerned about the assignment and that there was a woman involved. Knowing Hunt, he would not let the matter go until he was fully cognizant of the facts. “I am working with a woman who is well known and received by Polite Society and the recipient of numerous ton invitations. She is my entrance to the various events.”

  “Sir Phillip is using a debutante on such a delicate matter?”

  “Not precisely.”

  Hunt leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his food forgotten as he examined his youngest brother with something akin to delight and curiosity. Apparently Dante had not done a good enough job of hiding his angst with the situation. “Then tell me, brother. Who is this woman?”

  “Miss Lydia Sanford, Viscount Sterling’s daughter, apparently does work for Sir Phillip, also. She is beyond the debutante age. I would guess she is close to her mid- twenties.”