No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(13)

Digger drove its point home. “You never could resist family matters.”

Mr. Cross lifted his chin defiantly.

Digger tipped his hat to Pippa, using the movement to give her a proper leer. “As for you, Lady . . . this won’t be the last time we meet.”

“If you know what’s best for you, it will be.” Mr. Cross’s words were cold and unwavering, leaving no room for resistance.

“Nonsense. The lady ’as questions.” Digger’s blue eyes bored into hers. “I’ve answers, I do.”

Mr. Cross took a step toward them, a low, dark sound rumbling in his throat, catching Digger’s attention. He turned his wicked smile on Mr. Cross. “Another reason for you to come see me, then.”

Mr. Cross’s fury was unmistakable, sending a ripple of something not altogether pleasant through her. “Get out.”

Digger did not seem impressed, but he did not tarry. “Two days, Cross.”

With an insolent wink for Pippa, he was gone.

They stood in silence for a long moment, watching the thick velvet curtains sway with his exit, listening for the heavy sound of the main door closing behind him before Pippa released the breath she had not known she had been holding.

At the sound, Cross turned on her, grey eyes flashing and furious. “Perhaps you would like to explain how it is that you are still here?”

Chapter Three

“It occurs to me that I should have considered this course of action prior to now. After all . . . if one wishes to understand the inner workings of the goose, one must observe the gander.

The common grey goose (Anser anser) boasts one of the most easy to identify ganders in the entire goose genus. Ganders are larger than females, with broader heads and longer necks, and when they reach sexual maturity, they have a tendency toward aggressive behavior around female geese. Interestingly, males can also display intensely protective behavior toward females, though it’s often difficult to distinguish between the two types of conduct.”

The Scientific Journal of Lady Philippa Marbury

March 22, 1831; fourteen days prior to her wedding

In the interest of self-preservation, Pippa said the first thing that came to mind. “He knocked.”

“And it did not occur to you that one knocking at the door to a gaming hell might not be the kind of person with whom you would wish to become acquainted?”

For someone with a reputation for being charming and affable, he did not seem to be at all such. “I am not an imbecile, Mr. Cross.”

He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Speaking the words does not make them so, Lady Philippa.”

She considered lifting her skirts and naming all the bones in her foot. Instead, she stayed quiet.

“Remaining silent might well be the first intelligent thing you’ve done today.”

“There was no one else to answer. I waited. Indeed, I was rather surprised that the gentleman was allowed to bang upon the door to his heart’s content.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “I assure you, such neglect will not occur again. And, for the record, Digger Knight is no gentleman.”

“Yes. I gather that now.” Her blue eyes narrowed behind thick lenses. “Of course, by the time I realized it . . . he was already in.”

“Would you like to explain why his hands were on your person?”

She thought it best not to reply to that. She would not like the situation to be misconstrued.

He pounced on her hesitation. “Did you ask for it? Was he your next choice for research partner?”

She hedged, looking to the door, considering escape. “Not . . . precisely.”

I do have some questions. He wouldn’t like to know she’d said that.

He took a step toward her, blocking her exit. “How, precisely?”

She looked up at him, feeling more guilty than she should. After all, it wasn’t as though she’d tossed herself into the man’s arms. “Did you proposition him?”

“No!” She did not hesitate. She hadn’t. Exactly.

He heard the thought as though she’d screamed it. “I’m not certain I believe you. After all, you propositioned me not thirty minutes ago.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.” If you’d said yes, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

“No?” He rocked back on his heels.

“No!” She exhaled on a huff of displeasure. “You were part of a plan.” A plan you then thoroughly mucked up.

His gaze was narrowed on her, as though he could hear her thoughts. “I suppose that makes sense in a strange way.” He turned away from her, stalking across the dark floor of the club, tossing back, “I suggest you return home and await your brother-in-law, Lady Philippa; he will no doubt come looking for you when I tell him that you’re a complete madwoman.”

He could not tell Bourne. Bourne would tell Father, and Father would lock her away in Surrey until the morning of the wedding. Without question. And Pippa would be without the information she required. Without the security knowledge brought. Without the safety of it. She could not allow it.

“No!” she cried across the room.

He turned back, his tone dark. “You are under the mistaken impression that I am interested in doing your bidding, my lady.”

She hesitated. “I didn’t approach him. There’s no harm done. I shall go. Please . . . don’t tell Bourne.”