Free The Most Wicked Of Sins by Kathryn Caskie

actually supposed to stay here—tonight?
    Ivy stopped and turned around. “Cheatlin will show you to your bedchamber. Your…man will come with your personal effects in the morning. I shall arrive at noon to begin your training. Good eve, Lord Counterton.”
    Cheatlin jogged past her and swung the door open. “My lady.” He bowed his head.
    Training? Dear God.
What else did she have planned for him? Nick reached the door just as she stepped outside onto the stoop. “Please, Lady Ivy, do allow me to escort you to your carriage.” He offered his arm to her.
    She gave a furtive glance around the west end of the square.
    “I am supposed to be courting you, after all,” Nick added, raising his elbow higher.
    “You are correct, of course. But as a maid, it is not permissible for me to call upon a bachelor—especially in the dead of night.”
    “The carriage is only a few steps from the door. Please.”
    Sighing with resignation, Ivy looped her arm around his, and together they descended the stairs to the carriage.
    Nick did not hesitate, but opened the door for her and hurriedly handed her up the stairs and inside. She had just seated herself, when he leaned into dimly moonlit interior of the cab. “Allow me just one more moment of your time, Lady Ivy, if you do not mind.”
    “Of course not.” She scooted forward on the bench toward him to listen.
    Sliding his hand around the back of her neck, he drew her forward so quickly that she had no time to resist and pressed his lips to her warm mouth, drawing her soft body against his chest as he kissed her firmly.
    When their lips parted, he felt the flutter of her breath on his face as she gave a pleased sigh. She lifted her lids lazily and straightened herself on the seat, sitting there as if dazed.
    “It is important to rehearse,” he whispered to her. “I am a professional after all.”
    “Oh, my.” Ivy lifted her fingers to her lips. “I admit, you are a very, very good actor, sir.”

    Nearly noon, the next day

Berkeley Square
    “Damn you, Felix, what the hell did you pack in this trunk—or by the weight of it, should I be asking whom did you pack?” Nick balanced most of the weight of the boulder-heavy trunk as they climbed the stair treads to the third floor.
    “Your clothing is still missing,” his cousin replied, panting from the exertion of carrying the trunk up the long staircase. “So I had to pack
everything—
of mine.” Felix set his end of the trunk down as they reached the passage that led to the room designated as Nick’s, the master’s, bedchamber. Grimacing, Felix whisked his hands behind him and kneaded his lower back. “Had to pack it all. I have no notion what might fit you properly. If you recall, we are not exactly the same measure, Nicky.”
    It took another moment before Nick, who was still holding his end of the trunk by a brass handle, realized his cousin was not going to offer a moment’s more assistance. “You were supposed to be at the house by first light,” he huffed as he dragged the trunk down the passage to the first door on the right. “Lady Ivy might arrive at any moment…to begin my training, whatever that means.”
    He kicked open the bedchamber door and pulled the trunk inside.
    “She plans to
train
you this morning? How, pray, was I to know that? Suddenly a man claiming to be in the Sinclair family’s employ raps upon the door and shoves a note in my hand, bidding me to bring your clothing to him at once.” Felix followed him into the room and immediately began his perusal. “I laughed, thinking you were having me on, until I saw the Sinclair carriage in front of the house. Since you had no clothing, I proposed delivering them to you, wherever you were, at first light this morning. Thankfully, the man agreed.” He walked to one of four large windows and drew back the curtain to peer out at the square. “So tell me, Nick. Why the hell are you here at the Berkeley Square house? I thought you were going to