Free Lady Rosabella's Ruse by Ann Lethbridge Page B

blood. There was only one way to do break a woman’s hold. Get her into his bed. Once conquered, they lost their allure. ‘Goodnight, Mrs Travenor,’ he said silkily. ‘That is unless you wished to invite me in?’
    She ducked back into her room and closed the door, a flimsy panelled block of wood transformed into castle wall, but the challenge lingered and they both knew it.
    Something to look forward to on the morrow. He retreated to his chamber and poured a glass of brandy.
    The next morning, Garth stood in the corridor, puzzling over the noises emanating from Penelope’s room. They sounded oddly hushed. His jaw tightened. Had she, despite his careful warding off of Bannerby, found a way to lure him into her bed?
    He eyed the doorknob. Should he burst in and reveal her treachery once and for all? And if he did, would Mark believe him? His friend was remarkably obtuse when it came to his wife. And he used to be such a sensible chap.
    The door opened. Garth prepared to confront the scoundrel.
    Lil, Lady Smythe’s maid, stepped out into the corridor, closing the door softly behind her.
    ‘Lady Smythe not up yet?’ Garth asked.
    Lil gasped, putting her hand to her chest. ‘You gave me a proper turn, my lord.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Got one of her headaches, she has. Started last night it did. Sometimes they last for days, they do. But this one don’t seem so bad.’
    Really? Or was it a ruse? It wouldn’t be the first time she had faked one of her so-called headaches. It was how she had captured his friend. Sneaking out, when everyone thought she was ill in her bed, then getting caught so Mark had no choice but to do the right thing.
    She had caught his friend in the parson’s mousetrap; Garth would be damned if she’d use the same trick to cuckold him. He pulled a silver shilling from his pocket and tossed it in the air.
    Lil’s eyes followed the spinning coin.
    ‘I want the truth,’ he said sternly. ‘And this is yours. If you lie, I will know it and see you dismissed without a reference.’
    The girl swallowed and pressed her hand to her heart. ‘I swear it, my lord. Couldn’t bear me drawing the curtains to let in the light, this morn. She’s always like that when the weather changes, poor little thing.’
    The poor little thing had made mincemeat of his friend. ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Her ladyship heard she was ill,’ Lil said, tossing her head. ‘She sent Mrs Travenor with some of her powders. She came by with them and that nasty little dog. You can ask her when she comes back from the village.’
    Could he now? Something inside him smiled at the thought of asking Rose anything. It was the oddest sensation. He flipped the coin into the outstretched palm. ‘Let me know when your mistress feels better.’
    ‘Hopefully by this afternoon, my lord.’ The maid bobbed a curtsy and scurried off.
    Did he believe her? Lil had been with Lady Smythe for years. He did not discount female loyalty as some men did, even if it was often misguided or plain wrong, but he knew lies when he heard them. Lil had been speaking the truth.
    A smile pulled at his lips as he realised he had a morning to do as he pleased. And a fine morning it was, too. The sun was shining for once. The sky clear. And Mrs Travenor had walked to the village. Alone.
    He kept remembering the little flashes of ankle beneath her skirts as she had vaulted on and off the chair. Pretty well-turned ankles and glimpses of elegant calf. Not to mention the way the echo of her kiss had left him tossing and turning for what had remained of last night. No doubt her intention. He looked forward to their next meeting alone.
    Energised in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, he ran lightly down the stairs and out of the front door. A whistle came to his lips and a sense of well-being buoyed his spirits. The woman delighted him enough, he didn’t care that she was a liar and possibly a thief.
    After an easy half-hour stroll along a winding lane with