Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(13)
Cal had noticed his clean nails, his sharp shave, despite the bruises, his well-chosen clothes and agreed.
‘You know what I am,’ Flynn had blurted out. ‘You know why they were having a go at me?’
‘Because you’re a molly,’ Jared had growled as he squinted down the length of the fencing foil he was polishing.
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Lay one finger on my knee, lad, and you’re a spit roast,’ Jared drawled. ‘Otherwise you can be romancing the kitchen cat for all I care. But it’s not up to me, I’m not the one you’ll be helping into his small-clothes.’
In his innocence Cal had puzzled over how Jared had known. As far as he knew he’d never met a man who preferred to lie with his own sex, but he suspected he probably had and that it was his own inexperience showing. His uncle was intemperate on the subject, which seemed a good enough reason to take the opposite view. ‘You’re hired on a month’s trial,’ he said, waving towards the heap of portmanteaux that held his crumpled and unvaleted clothing. ‘See what you can do with that lot, and Mr Hunt’s while you’re at it.’
After a month Cal could not imagine how he had managed without Flynn. The valet moved from body servant to confidential servant to friend and Cal revealed his true identity, though not the reason for his travels. But Flynn was sharp, with an inbuilt level of wariness that a hard life had taught him. ‘What’s the danger in England then, sir?’ he’d asked one day when he was heaving off Cal’s boots. Cal told him and Flynn shrugged. ‘Bloody hell. Still, I suppose if you need a motive for murder, getting a dukedom is a pretty tempting one.’ In Cal’s opinion that summed things up nicely.
Now he trudged upstairs to find Flynn and a change of clothing, leaving Isobel telling Nanny all about the nice lady who had driven Papa home. Flynn, emerged from the dressing room and pursed his lips at the sight of Cal’s battered person.
‘Fighting, sir? Or courting?’
‘Impudent devil. I shudder to think what goes on in your imagination if you think I could get into this state courting.’ Although come to think of it, the afternoon had certainly advanced his relationship with Sophie Wilmott.
‘A jealous rival?’ The valet circled him. ‘Tsk. How did you get out of your coat?’
‘Painfully. I dislocated the shoulder joint and the doctor wanted to cut my clothes off.’
‘He might as well have done,’ Flynn said as he tossed the coat aside and held up Cal’s boots to study the scuffed leather. ‘This lot is fit for the rag and bone man. I’ll send for hot water, you’ll want to bathe before those bruises get any worse and you seize up completely.’ He paused with one hand on the bell pull. ‘And is the lady who brought you home unhurt herself?’
‘The lady almost ran me down,’ Cal said with a straight face, provoking a whistle of surprise.
‘And I thought Naples was dangerous.’
Ah yes, Naples. That had been fun. Dirty, dangerous, violent and full of dark-eyed, voluptuous women, most of whom came with knife-wielding brothers or husbands. He had been a married man of course, but even so, flirting had been almost obligatory. And Jared had been bedding one married beauty and he suspected that Flynn had been up to something with her younger brother… that evening the three of them, swords drawn, had only just managed to escape alive.
Good times – ‘Damn it!’ Having the strapping removed was almost as painful as having it applied and certainly an antidote to reminiscence.
Finally the large copper bath was filled and Cal sank into it with a wince, wondering if it was going to take a block and tackle to haul him out. But this was too good to worry about that now. He closed his eyes, inhaled lemon verbena-scented steam and contemplated courting Sophie Wilmott in earnest and not simply as a means to needle Ralph.
What was his equivalent of Sophie’s WWIGG list? W for well-bred – this theoretical woman was going to be a duchess, when all was said and done. I for Intelligent, definitely, or he’d be bored in a week. F for Faithful. He had no tolerance for infidelity. Beautiful? Not necessarily. What was inside was more important. Elegant was more like it. Beyond that he wasn’t fussy. Preferably not a brunette again, definitely not a vapid giggler and hopefully without irritating baggage in the shape of strange or impecunious relatives.
What did that make? W.I.F.E., of course. He’d take that as a good omen that he should proceed with courting someone. So, think about Sophie. Blonde, elegant in a lively kind of way. Intelligent. Good family. And beautiful. Very beautiful. That guinea-gold hair, those blue eyes, that slender, curved figure, those long fingers caressing the reins, closing round the whip handle…
‘Sweet dreams?’
Cal woke up with a painful jolt, slid beneath the water and came up spluttering to glare at Jared Hunt who lounged against the wall at the foot of the bath regarding him with an evil grin.
‘What?’
Hunt pointed at the bath. ‘I was expecting to find you battered, bruised and nursing your injuries, not daydreaming with an impressive cock-stand breaking the surface. Who is she?’
Cal looked down. Ah. Yes, probably another sign that he should be courting Miss Sophie Wilmott.
Chapter Four - Where Sophie Becomes Uncertain
‘I am not bandying a lady’s name about over the bathwater.’ Cal lobbed a wet sponge at Hunt who ducked, swearing.