Free Gentlemen Prefer Mischief by Emily Greenwood Page A

eyes were, even if she couldn’t see them in the dim light: clear, silvery green, exactly the look of sunlight when it dappled the Ionian Sea at dusk.
    “Yes,” she said a little more breathlessly than she would have liked. She smiled in what she hoped was a sophisticated manner. She knew Ivorwood thought of her as his friend’s younger sister, but she was determined to make him see her as a man sees a woman. “Did you catch the Fiend? I want to hear everything!”
    “Nothing to tell,” said Ivorwood with a rueful grin. He had the most knee-weakening grin. Almost, the sight of it now was enough to take to bed with her and dream on. “The fellow never showed.”
    “Not surprising,” Hal said, “as he knows we’re onto him. I shouldn’t be surprised if we’ve seen the last of the Woods Fiend.”
    Ivorwood covered his mouth as he yawned again, and Eloise sighed inside. She loved his long-fingered hands, the hands of a sensitive man.
    “Though I rather think,” he said, “that I’ll be disappointed if he’s never caught and brought to justice. And there’s Hal’s wager to consider.”
    “Yes!” she agreed. She always agreed with him, even when she didn’t exactly agree—she couldn’t seem to help herself.
    “Well,” she said in her best gracious voice, “there are sandwiches in the breakfast room. Won’t you come in and refresh yourselves?” Even as she said them, the words sounded stupid, like something an elderly lady would say to weary travelers. Her smile felt a little stiff.
    Hal’s eyes settled on her in a kind look, and the compassion in them made a lump start forming in her throat. “That was thoughtful, Ellie. But I think we’re both for our beds.”
    “Right,” said Ivorwood. “Most thoughtful of you, Eloise. I’m afraid I’m just about dead on my feet, what with all the standing about.” He gave her a sweet smile that almost made up for the disappointment pinching her heart. So stupid of her, to think they’d want a snack when it was so late.
    The lump in her throat threatened to make her mouth quiver, and she swallowed hard, forcing it down. “Of course. It was just a trifle. I couldn’t sleep anyway, and it gave me something to do.”
    She refused to meet her brother’s eyes because she felt certain they were looking on her with pity, and she wouldn’t have it. She quickly blew out the four candles in the breakfast room while Hal extinguished the ones in the corridor, and she followed the men up the stairs.
    There had been, anyway, another reason she’d stayed up late, and after Ivorwood bid them good night and entered his bedchamber, she followed her brother down the corridor toward the family rooms.
    “I want a word with you, Hal.”
    “Yes?” Hal said, making sure to keep the exasperation out of his voice, because the frustration wasn’t with his sweet, love-struck sister but with the Mayfield trespasser. Perhaps the man had been scared away by them last night, but Hal was annoyed that he’d been prevented from capturing him, especially now that work had been stopped on his folly because of him. Too, there was the possible loss of his new hunter, since the terms of the wager had specified he must catch the Fiend within ten days.
    And he’d had not a free minute all day, what with his hosting duties, and then there had been an awkward conversation with Prescott, who’d refused to acknowledge hinted suggestions that his hearing was going. Everard would doubtless have handled the situation better.
    So he hadn’t yet had a chance to poke around in that journal of Lily’s, which was, actually, the thing he was most looking forward to at the moment.
    His sister bit her lip. The poor thing obviously had a tendre for Ivorwood, never mind that the man was a good fifteen years older than she was and rightly saw her as merely the charming sister of his friend.
    “It’s about that journal of Lily’s,” she said. “But before I say more, Hal, I want you to swear you