She’d spent fifteen years, her entire life, actually—at least all that she could remember of it—avoiding Lucy’s fate. And she had done it only for one reason: to not end up a whore. Nor had she ever changed her opinion about it. Lucy might have settled into the job, might not have complained as much after the fact as she had beforehand, but Danny still saw it as the worst sort of degradation.

For her, it would be the end of her life, and not just metaphorically, because she would rather starve to death in some alley than suffer strangers paying for the use of her body. But here was a man who could make her jump willingly into that role. Worse, he’d looked at her as if he knew her secret, as if he could see right through to her core—as if he wanted to touch her. Surely her imagination was playing tricks on her, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew, especially when his look turned so sensual, it nearly melted her on the spot.

He’d be alover. Lucy’s term. Lucy had put all men into one category or another, depending on how they wanted to use her and for how long. The names she gave them were mostly derogatory, and some were explicit, like thegrapplers and thebeasts. Good-bye Henrys she liked the best since they didn’t take up much of her time, in and out in under five minutes, not there long enough to say hello to, just good-bye. Lovers, she claimed, were rare, a man who actually wanted to give pleasure as well as receive it.

A definite danger, Lord Malory was. A danger to Danny’s senses, her peace of mind, her secret. The sooner she saw the last of him—well, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

Chapter 4

THE JOB THOSE YOUNG LORDS SENT HER ONwas so simple in comparison to her troubled thoughts that Danny did it almost without thinking about it. Just about every window in the large mansion was open. She climbed through one on the side of the house, made her way to the hall, then up the carpeted stairs.

No lamps had been left burning, but with all those opened windows, a good deal of moonlight filtered in. Not that Danny needed light, as she was used to working in pitch-dark. But even the upstairs hall had a window opened at the end of it.

A lot of closed doors were up there. It was a really big house, larger than anything she’d ever been in before. One side of the hall had more doors than the other, however, so she started on the side with less, thinking those led to larger rooms, the master bedroom in particular.

She was correct. It was the second door she opened. The sheer size of that room gave it away, as well as the lump in the bed. Heddings was sleeping soundly, his loud snoring making an uncommon racket. That was annoying. Danny prided herself on her catlike movements, never making a sound, but she didn’t need to be extracautious with all the noise that Heddings was making.

She moved straight to the tall bureau first. The second drawer held the jewelry chest. A large chest, it nearly filled the drawer. It wasn’t locked, didn’t even have any means of locking it. Too trusting by half, Lord Heddings was.

She lifted the lid and was dazzled for a moment at how much glitter spread across the bottom of that chest, not just rings, but bracelets, brooches, even necklaces. In fact, most of the jewelry it contained was feminine. More gambling winnings? Danny couldn’t care less.

She decided not to take the chest. It was too big and she wasn’t even sure she could lift it out of the drawer, so she stuffed her coat pockets instead. She ran her hand across the bottom of the velvet-lined chest before she finished, just to make sure she hadn’t missed a dull piece of jewelry. She didnot want to have to do this again if Percy’s two heirlooms weren’t in this stash.

With that thought in mind, she even did a quick search through the other drawers, but found nothing else of interest. She also checked the desk, but it contained only papers. Lastly she moved over to the vanity table where she discovered a fat wad of money, a gold watch fob, and another ring that had rolled back among the cologne bottles, as if it had just been tossed on the table. She swiped those up as well, stuffing the money in her pants pocket, since her coat pockets were full.

There was nothing else to look through. The night tables next to the bed didn’t have drawers, and she discounted the bookcase, reasoning that a man who left a fortune in jewelry unlocked in his bureau wasn’t likely to hide things in hollowed-out books.

Relieved to be almost done, she headed toward the door, but stopped cold when Heddings started a fit of coughing. She ducked down at the foot of his bed. The coughing was harsh enough that it could wake him. He might even get up for a drink of water from the pitcher across the room. She was prepared to slip under the bed if he did.

The coughing got much worse. It even sounded as if he were choking. The horrid thought came to her that he could die, and a vision flashed across her mind of her being accused of murder, standing before a judge, being sentenced to hang. Her palms broke out in a cold sweat. For a moment she wondered if she should try to help him. For a moment she was paralyzed with fear and couldn’t move to help him even if she was temporarily that stupid.

It took still another moment to realize he was peacefully snoring again, the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. Well, actually, it quickly became an annoying sound again now that the crisis was over, and she wasted no more time in getting the hell out of there.

All was still quiet downstairs. She quickly slipped back into the room she’d first entered and was immediately yanked back against a hard chest, a hand clamping over her mouth to keep her from screaming. She had no wits to scream with her heart in her throat. She nearly fainted…

And then she heard hissed in her ear, “What took you so bloody long?”

Him!And her relief lasted about a second before fury took over. She jerked about, snarled, albeit in a whisper, “ ’Ave ye lost yer flippin’ mind? Wot are ye doing in ’ere?”

“I was worried about you,” he replied somewhat contritely.

She snorted to herself. What a whopper. Worried that she was going to take off with their precious rings was more like it.

“The next time ye want to scare someone ’alf to death, pick yerself. I’m done ’ere.”

“You got the rings?”

“This ain’t the place to discuss it,” she shot back. “I am so gone from ’ere I left yesterday.”

“Quite right,” she heard behind her as she headed to the window—and tripped over a rug on the way.

Falling took her by surprise. She wasn’t the least bit clumsy, and that rug had been nice and smooth when she’d walked over it on her way in. No doubt Malory had bunched it up. She reached for something to prevent the fall, but the only thing nearby was a tall pedestal with a bust on it. The pedestal was heavy and did stop her from falling, but she knocked the bust off it in doing so. It hit the floor with a loud thud.

She groaned inwardly. In the still of the night, that noise had been loud enough to wake the dead, or at the least, one of the servants sleeping on the same floor. She turned back to tell Malory to get out immediately and saw the man standing in the doorway with a gun pointed at the nabob.

Danny went so still she stopped breathing. The man was fully dressed, obviously already up and nearby even before the bust had crashed to the floor. Maybe Malory had made some noise on his way in and roused the man to investigate.

He was within his rights to just shoot them and figure out what they were doing there later. That’s what she would have done if she caught a pair of men sneaking around her house in the middle of the night.

Malory’s back was to the door. He’d leapt forward to try to prevent her fall, but had stopped when she’d managed it on her own. He was still looking at her, but in good light now, since the man had a lamp in his other hand. She wasn’t even sure if it had dawned on Malory yet that someone was there holding that lamp.

“Don’t turn around,” she whispered as quietly as she could. “If ye get recognized, yer in bigger trouble than if ’e shoots ye.”

Gathering her wits about her, she moved around him to block him from view somewhat and told the man holding the pistol, “There’s no need for guns, mate. We were just looking for a place to wait out the night. Our coach broke down in the woods nearby. M’lord ’ere thought ’e recognized yer ’ouse. ’E’s foxed to the gills, so if ’e were wrong, I wouldn’t be surprised none. And we did knock. Bleedin’ lord wouldn’t give up though when we didn’t get an answer, insisted on coming inside and sleeping in the parlor. ’E said that ’Eddings wouldn’t mind. Were ’e wrong? This ain’t ’Eddings place?”

The man’s tense expression altered immediately. His pistol lowered as well, though not completely. So Danny laid it on a bit thicker.

“ ’E tried to blame that wheel fallin’ off on me, ’e did, when I warned ’im just last month that ’e needed new wheels on that old coach o’ ’is. Course ’e’d rather spend all ’is blunt on fancy women and gamblin’, so ’e didn’t pay me any mind as usual.”

The man coughed. “Should you be mentioning this in front of him?”

She managed a laugh. “ ’E’s so foxed, ’e won’t remember. Don’t know ’ow ’e’s still standin’, I don’t.”

“Who is he?”

Danny hadn’t been expecting to come up with any names, but considering how she ended up being there herself, one came easily to mind. “Lord Carryway o’ London town.”

“Why didn’t you just let him sleep it off in your coach then?” the man asked next.

“Would ’ave, but I saw some movement in those woods we were passing through near ’ere. Could ’ave just been some animal, but could ’ave been some bleedin’ highwaymen, too, I was thinking. Didn’t want ’im adding getting robbed to the tally against me. I’d prefer to be keepin’ me job, even though it means puttin’ up with a lord who’s foxed more often than ’e’s not.”

There was a long pause where Danny was sure the fellow was going to call her bluff and laugh in her face. She was calculating which way she should run, or if she should just dive at his legs and try to take him by surprise.

“Bring him along then,” the man said. “We have several empty guest rooms upstairs. There’s a comfortable couch in one you can use yourself.”

Danny hadn’t really expected the man to believe her. He must be no more than a servant himself, probably the butler, and so he couldn’t bring himself to kick a member of the nobility back out into the woods. He could have thought to lock them up until the morning, when what she’d told him could be verified. But he must not be a suspicious sort, to have believed her outright.

A good opportunity to bolt through the window presented itself as soon as the man turned his back on them to lead the way upstairs. But he hadn’t put his pistol away yet. And with that weapon still in his hand, Danny preferred to play out the charade and not risk a bullet or two flying her way. Besides, there were two of them to get out that window, and no way they could both manage it before one of them got shot for trying.

The nabob hadn’t said a single word, thank God. He could have spoiled the whole story if the servant realized he wasn’t foxed at all. He was either smart enough to play the part she’d set up for him or nervous enough to keep his mouth shut.

No, she doubted he was nervous, at least not as much as she was. He’d handled that barkeep tonight too easily for him to be bothered by the mere possibility of flying bullets. Stupidly brave was probably what he was, and a high-handed blackguard for getting her into this mess.

She grabbed his arm now and dragged it over her shoulder so it would look as if she were holding him up, then blanched to see the pistol in his hand. He’d had it trained on the man the whole while, just hidden behind her back. Bleedin’ nabob could have gotten them both killed!

She snatched it out of his hand and stuffed it back in his pocket, only to hear him chuckle at her for doing so. God protect her from half-wits!

She hissed at him now, “I ’ope ye know ’ow to play the drunkard, mate, and ’ang yer ’ead so ’e don’t get a good look at ye.”

It was easy to get him upstairs. She was too nervous to take note of the closeness of their bodies, and he only rested his weight on her when the servant glanced back at them; otherwise, he was mostly getting up the stairs on his own, was in fact leading her instead of the other way around.

“In here,” the servant said, opening a door. “We should be able to find someone to fix your coach in the morning so you can be on your way.”

“ ’Preciate it, mate.”

He’d followed them in, lit a lamp for them, then headed toward the door. He still hadn’t relinquished the hold on his pistol other than for a moment to light the lamp. Danny began to wonder if he’d believed her tale after all. And as soon as the door closed behind him, she threw off Malory’s arm and hurried to the door to hear if the fellow was actually leaving. What she heard instead was the soft click of the lock on the door.

Chapter 5

LOCKED IN TO AWAIT… what?

Danny lost what little color she had left in her cheeks. Had the man not believed their story, or was he simply being cautious?

She hoped he was just being cautious. After all, they were strangers until his employer verified otherwise. But if he was going to stand out there and guard their door the rest of the night, then this mess was just going to get worse.

She turned back to Malory to see him watching her curiously, one brow raised in question. She rushed back to him to whisper, “ ’E’s locked us in.”

“Bloody hell,” he growled low.

“Ye got that right, mate. So go stick yer ’ead in a pillow and start snoring, eh, and loudly. ’E needs to think we’re sleeping so ’e’ll go back to bed ’imself.”