Free My Lady Below Stairs by Mia Marlowe Page A

one. And might not his health follow his fortunes?
    Sybil sighed. Had the earl passed guilt on to her along with his eyes and the soup girl's face?
    She stood and paced the small room. Giovanni was bohemian enough in his lifestyle not to ask her to marry him. He was content with warming her bed and that was fine with her. It kept their relationship blissfully uncomplicated.
    Emphasis on bliss.
    Then an idea struck her.
    Why not go ahead and marry Lord Eddleton?
    She swallowed a shudder of distaste at the idea of cou pling with someone other than Giovanni, but she supposed she'd have to in order to make the contract valid. Then, once the Pearl made port and her father's finances were settled, she and Giovanni could run away together and live in delicious sin beneath a blue Tuscan sky.
    It was only a matter of a quick wedding and a few months of pretended wedded harmony. She wouldn't even need to give up Giovanni, so long as they were dis creet.
    But that meant Sybil had to appear at Lord Hartwell's Christmas Ball this night to accept Lord Eddleton's pro posal.
    She dressed quickly and then sat down to write Giovanni a short note. Yes, this would be best for all concerned. It would give her time to plan and pull together some traveling money as well. She'd go with Giovanni in any case, but why not go in style?
    “I wonder if I can convince my fiancé to hire Giovanni to paint our wedding portrait,” she said with a laugh. She sealed the note with a glob of candle wax, then dashed down the rickety stairs and into the snowy night.
     
     

Chapter Nine
     
     
     
    Ian led Jane down the corridor and into the staircase hall. One floor below them, more guests were being admitted at the front door with loud announcements of Lord and Lady Somesuch-or-Other ringing in the grand foyer. The porter was minding his position. But at the second-story landing, Ian and Jane tiptoed past a liveried servant who nodded at his post, like a tired cart horse, snoring softly. The scent of gin wafted about him.
    Too much Christmas spirit, Ian thought thankfully as they climbed the gracious main staircase, their steps silent as the snow falling outside.
    Halfway up to the next landing, Jane tugged his hand and whispered, “This leads to the family's floor. Someone's bound to see us there.”
    Ian shook his head. “His lordship is playing politics and Lady Hartwell is busy with her guests. All the servants are either running up and down the back staircase in service or in the kitchen, enjoying their own Christmas feast.”
    He hoped Edward was enjoying his beef.
    Ian had a feast of his own in mind, if only she'd start up the stairs once again. “Come, love.”
    Jane pushed around him, lifted her skirts, and took the steps two at a time, her slippers making a soft swish against the polished oak. Ian hurried to catch up to her. When he threw a sidelong glance at Jane, her face was set in a frown. He'd smooth that away in short order if she'd give him his way just this once.
    Ian ducked into the marquess's chamber. The gas lamp had been left burning low, softening the dark edges of the masculine room with a golden glow.
    Jane was still scowling at him as she followed him in. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
    He started to embrace her but she straight-armed him.
    “Not now.” She spoke softly, but her determination was unmistakable, a spine of steel wrapped in silk. He wondered if she knew how fetching she was when blood heated her cheeks and spread down her neck to the tops of her breasts. “Out of those clothes, Ian. And I mean it.”
    “Willingly.” Even though she was angry with him for dragging her up here, his body roused to her with an aching cockstand. A smile tugged at his mouth. “But re member your bargain. You're here to help me out of them.”
    “You'll have to tell me what to do, since I've never undressed a man before.” She cocked her head at him and arched a not-so-innocent brow. “What do you want?”
    You, Janie love,