Long enough to establish to a suspicious and highly resourceful bluestocking that he was her new lord and master.
Hetty was getting desperate. She had no desire to be here when the devil returned to his lair. She searched through the rooms one last time. A rolled piece of paper wedged behind the desk caught her eye. She wriggled it out and spread it, fixing the edges with paperweights and an inkwell.
She quickly determined that it was an architectural plan of Rosehill Park. There were notes scrawled in the margins and large X’s drawn across certain areas.
She bent closer. That was the area of her vineyards. What did that large, black X signify? And why were the words “Thoroughbred stables” scrawled across her vineyards?
Panic surged in her breast. Mr. Ellis sought not only to own Rosehill Park, but to destroy it!
He was planning to rip up her vineyards and breed racehorses on the grounds of her beloved ancestral estate. It even looked as though he had plans to tear down the Temple of Bacchus her ancestor had built near the vineyards. This was even worse than she’d thought. Much, much worse.
She had to stop him.
Hetty hastily scrolled the plans, stuffed them back behind the desk, and headed toward the door, her heart racing. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with her father yet about the fake diamond necklace. Now she would confront him with the knowledge of Mr. Ellis’s plans for Rosehill.
“Now, don’t go running out the door when I leave,” Hetty told the cat. “Though, do you ever run? You appear to be more of a lounging sort of cat.” She planted a swift kiss on the cat’s silky head. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”
She was halfway through the door when a large hand caught and gripped her by the wrist.
“I’ve got you,” a deep voice growled. “Don’t try anything foolish.”
She shrieked. Mr. Ellis tightened his grip.
And the cat took one look at them and streaked between Hetty’s legs, escaping into the hallway.
Chapter Seven
“Deuce take it—you’ve let the demoness out!” Ash released his grip on Lady Henrietta and raced down the hallway. He’d seen a streak of gray fur disappearing around the corner. At least she’d run in the opposite direction from the stairs.
He cornered the beast at the end of the corridor.
“There’s nowhere else to run, succubus. You’re trapped. Hold still now . . .” Ash approached cautiously. He’d been the victim of her claws more times than he cared to remember in the first week of their acquaintance.
After a month they’d reached a sort of truce, but it was precarious, at best.
Come to think of it, the infernal cat and Lady Henrietta had much in common. Why had she been skulking around his room?
He’d tend to one problem female first, and then the other.
“I’ve caught you, she-devil,” he growled.
The cat hissed.
“You shouldn’t speak to her like that. Cats know when they’re being insulted,” said Lady Henrietta from behind him.
The cat rolled over on her back and squirmed voluptuously.
“There’s a pretty kitty,” Lady Henrietta crooned.
Ash glared at the cat. “It’s time to go back now. I’ve brought you some kippers from the shop. You like kippers.” He tiptoed closer.
Nearly there now.
He pounced on the feline, but she immediately exploded into diabolical motion, lashing out with her claws and launching herself back the way she’d come.
“Fuck, that hurts!” Ash cursed, nursing his scratched hand. “Bloody little fiend.”
“I’ve got her,” came a high voice from the next landing down. Ash bent over the balustrade to see Lady Henrietta holding the cat in her arms. “There’s a good girl,” she said, stroking the cat’s head. “I know you’re frightened by that horrid man who shouts expletives that should never be heard by our delicate ears.”
Ash pounded a fist against wood. “Bring her back to my chambers. I’ll deal with her, and then I’ll deal with you.”
“Would you rather come home with me, precious?” the lady asked the cat, her voice dripping with sweetness.
“You’re welcome to her. But not before I have a chance to interrogate you. Get up here this instant before I come down and throw you over my shoulder.”
“There’s no need to growl, Mr. Ellis. I’m the one who wishes to interrogate you.” She marched up the stairs with the cat held in her arms like a baby.
Ash opened the door and Lady Henrietta sailed through, head held high. She glared at him as she brushed by and entered his rooms.
Ash could swear the devil cat was glaring at him too.
He shut the door behind them.
Lady Henrietta deposited the cat back on a pile of linens, where she promptly began licking her front paws as if nothing had happened.
“Now then, what were you doing in my—?” Ash began, but the lady turned her back on him and walked into his study. She re-emerged seconds later holding the architectural plans of Rosehill Park.
“What, pray tell, is this?” she asked, brown eyes blazing with fury and chin tilted at an obstinate angle.
If looks could kill, he’d be writhing in agony on the floor, breathing his last, tortured breath.
Damn her! She hadn’t been meant to see that. Not until he’d already been declared the heir.
“I’m the one asking the questions here.” He folded his arms over his chest and moved to stand over her. “Why are you sneaking around in my apartments, and how the devil did you gain access?”
“A sovereign.”
“Is that all? I’ll have to have a word to Mrs. Dougherty. She let you in too cheaply.”
“I’m very persuasive. And you arrived home early. You never would have known I’d been here.”
“I would have known. You’d have left a lingering scent. Eau-de-meddling-bluestocking.” He advanced, wanting to intimidate her, make her show a little remorse for invading a man’s private chambers.
“And your hair smells flowery—my cravat is still scented like you from our first meeting. When you rested your head upon my chest. And lifted your lips to mine.”
A slight twitch of her luscious lower lip was the only indication that he’d shaken her composure.
“And then there’s the fact that you rearranged my bookshelf,” he concluded.
“I didn’t.”
“You did. I think you placed the books in alphabetical order, by the looks of it.”
Her hand flew to her lips as she studied the bookshelf. “I didn’t even know I was doing it.”
“Your compulsion for orderliness in all things overrode your ability to be devious. Please don’t attempt a career at thievery.”
“I wasn’t thieving,” she said curtly. “I was searching for incriminating evidence.”
“Unauthorized entry into a person’s private dwelling is a crime.”
“I’m not the criminal here.”
“What were you hoping to find?”
“No one could find anything in these rooms. How can you stand to live like this? So disorderly and chaotic.”
He shrugged. “I don’t like strangers in my room. Chambermaids and bluestockings alike.”