The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(53)

For her daring, she got a twitch of his lips. After teaching her how to pleasure him, he’d given her a third climax before sending her back to her room. In fact, he’d absorbed her senses so completely that she’d forgotten all about the hellfire until she was alone again. Which was why she’d sent a note this morning, letting him know she’d be down earlier than usual.

“We have to talk.” Casting a glance down the empty hallway, she said in a hush, “About you-know-what.”

Some of the humor faded from his eyes. She was learning to read his emotions better, and the deepening grooves around his mouth told her that he had discovered something.

“Bennett, you promised you would keep me apprised—”

The rattle of an approaching cart cut her off.

“Not here,” Bennett muttered, opening the door. “We’ll talk inside.”

Entering, they were greeted by Jeffries, the butler, and Will, the first footman. Light streamed through the tall arched windows, gleaming off the silver domes on the sideboard. The place setting at the head of the table was untouched, an ironed newspaper next to it. Grandpapa had not yet come down to breakfast. She and Bennett could have a few moments of privacy…once she got rid of the servants.

She went to the sideboard. Lifting the domes, she released the delicious aromas of coddled eggs, bacon, deviled kidneys, kedgeree, and kippers. There was a selection of crusty rolls, pastries, and toasted bread as well, accompanied by an assortment of preserves.

Turning to the grey-haired butler, she gave her brightest smile. “Jeffries, I don’t suppose Cook has any of her delicious lemon curd left? I have a craving for it this morning.”

“I’ll send William to fetch some.” The butler nodded to the footman.

Once William was out of the room, she said, “I was noticing that The Times is on the table.”

“Yes, miss. That has always been the master’s preference.”

“True, but just the other day, Grandpapa told me that he enjoys Bell’s Life even more than The Times,” she said innocently. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to surprise him with this week’s edition?”

“I’ll procure a copy,” the loyal retainer said at once. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind…”

“I can manage on my own.” She gave him a cheery wave.

After the butler departed, she turned to Bennett. His firm mouth was quivering.

She arched a brow. “What is so amusing?”

“You. The way your mind works.” He shook his head. “And you wonder why I call you ‘sprite’?”

In truth, she loved his pet name for her. Loved him, moreover. But she couldn’t get distracted.

“We haven’t much time. You were home earlier than expected last night. I take it you’ve made progress?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“What have you discovered?” When still he paused, she prodded, “I’ve kept my end of the bargain, stayed at home and out of trouble. If you don’t want me investigating on my own—”

“All right, all right. You win.” His eyes gleamed. “Again.”

She’d found a brooding Bennett attractive. A flirtatious one was downright devastating to her senses. Although his reference to her “victory” last night quickened her pulse, she kept her gaze determined and steady on his.

He sighed. “I’ve located a suspect. A man who I believe was connected to the inventor of the explosive. Tonight, I’m searching his house to look for any connection to the hellfire.”

“Let me go with you,” she said immediately.

“No.” His jaw set. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Which is why you need me.” Her concern for him made her rush on. “No one knows the stews better than I do. Why, think how I helped you escape that first night—”

“First of all, I won’t be in the stews. Second, as I recall it, I was helping you to escape.”

“Not the stews? Where does the blighter live—Mayfair?” Her facetiousness faded at Bennett’s slight flinch. Blinking, she said, “The suspect lives in Mayfair? He’s a blue-blood?”

“Devil take it.” Bennett shoved a hand through his hair.

“Who is he? You promised—”

“I ought to have nicknamed you ‘bulldog’ instead of ‘sprite’.”

“‘Sprite’ is more flexible; ‘bulldog’ works less well for intimate moments.” Instead of arguing, she switched tactics. “After everything we’ve shared, don’t you trust me?”

“That’s hardly playing fair.”

“Please, Bennett.” Because he seemed to be responding, she worked up the courage to say, “I care about you. I couldn’t stand it if you came to harm because you were helping me.”

He stilled. A panicked feeling came over her. She’d exposed too much, too soon. She was just beginning to win him over and now she’d scared him away with her talk of feelings…

“I’ll tell you his name if you’ll remember your vow to do as I say.”

With trembling relief, she dipped her chin in answer.

“Sir Aloysius De Witt,” Bennett clipped out. “He’s a scientist, a member of the Royal Society.”