Before the Fire Page 12

  “Yes,” Kane confirmed. “Mother Julia and I are going into downtown London tomorrow to visit the home of Lady Jane Masters whose deceased husband was a member of the Royal Botanical Society. Chester says the dead lord has a truly marvelous library in his study.”

  “Downtown London?” the earl inquired through narrowed eyes.

  “It’s alright, George,” Lady Julia assured him. “We will have footmen with us at all times to see to our protection.”

  Kane frowned, hating that she couldn’t confide her ass kicking abilities to her husband without thoroughly shocking him. No, that would be too much too soon. She’d bide her time for now, just as Lady Julia had suggested.

  George tapped his fork against his plate as he considered the merit behind his mother’s plan. “I’d rather you take an escort of the nobility, madam,” he quickly decided. “Alex and I have other pressing matters to attend to on the morrow. Mayhap Lord Blake can escort you?”

  Chester readily complied. “Of course I can. I would be honored to do so.” He turned to the ladies of Blackmore and smiled. “Truth be told, I was going to ask if I could come along anyway. While the countess is busy searching for her plant, I can scour the drawings looking for new specimens to add to my own collection.”

  “A worthy notion,” Lady Julia assured him.

  Alex furrowed his brow as he gazed at Kane. “For what reason do you look for this plant, milady?”

  Kane darted her eyes toward her plate, then back to the marquess. She decided to tell him the truth and let him glean from it whatever he would. “It has powerful healing agents in it, my lord. The seeds of the flower can be used to concoct useful potions.”

  “Are you a healer?”

  “Of sorts.”

  Alex nodded absently, satisfied with her explanation. “’Tis worthy, that.” He turned to the earl and smiled. “Will you and your lady wife be at the Walcott ball this eve?”

  George groaned. The idea of suffering through yet another ball was far from appealing. He’d much rather spend the eve with his new wife. Yes, a repeat of last night’s performance was definitely in order.

  He and Kane had made love hour upon hour. His beautiful, passionate wife had given him three orgasms before the sun rose. Yet still, he needed more. He seriously wondered if a night would ever pass where he wouldn’t desire to indulge between her thighs until dawn.

  “’Tis up to my lady wife,” he decided in earnest. “Would you like to go to another ball, my dear?”

  Kane frowned, turning her stare discreetly toward her plate. “No,” she quietly admitted.

  “But why ever not?” Alex asked. “You’re all the rage, you know. Especially after the dressing down the king gave Montieth on your behalf.” He chuckled, winking at her from the shared memory. “I’m sure the Walcotts would be elated by your presence, madam. It adds prestige to their affair, you realize.”

  George studied his wife’s forlorn expression and knew in a heartbeat why she carried no desire to attend. “Is it because of the dancing, sweet?”

  She nodded her head forlornly, her dejected pose tugging at everyone’s heartstrings.

  “Now, now,” Chester soothed as he reached across the table and patted her hand. “The three of us can teach you. Can we not?”

  The lot readily agreed, none of them wishing for Kane to refuse the eve’s social gathering merely because she didn’t know the fashionable dances that were currently all the rage.

  “As point of fact,” Chester decided, “we shall commence immediately after dessert.”

  “What’s this, Blake?” George teased. “You would actually forgo dicing to teach my wife to dance?”

  Alex grinned. “Amazing, is it not?”

  “I don’t see what’s so amazing,” Chester argued. “I can win money from you two fops any time I see the right of it.”

  “Fops?” George laughed. “I would never have labeled myself thusly, Blake. And,” he added as he saluted the viscount with his glass of wine, “you shan’t win another shilling from me. Best resign yourself to that fact.”

  Chester rolled his eyes. “I resign myself to nothing, Blackmore.”

  Lady Kane and Lady Julia looked at each other and laughed. Alex joined in, bemused by the banter betwixt the earl and viscount. “Why not put it to the test, gentlemen?”

  “Your nephew has a sound point,” George agreed. “Why don’t we? How about here, one week from this night?”

  “Agreed,” Chester readily complied.

  “And the stakes?” George asked.

  “What do you wish for?”

  The earl tapped his fingertips together thoughtfully as he contemplated the matter. He smiled, realizing at once what he most coveted. “The last painting you acquired in Rome.”

  Alex whistled through his teeth, shaking his head in mirth. “The earl must be serious, uncle. That painting is worth nigh a fortune.”

  Chester grinned. “And if I win, I shall demand a fortune as well.”

  “What do you wish for?” George asked with leisurely good humor.

  “’Tis not a question of what, but whom.”

  “Whom?”

  Viscount Blake nodded, a cat’s lazy smile smothering his features. “If you win, you get the Italian piece. If I win, I get the Lady Julia’s hand in marriage.”

  At that pronouncement, the dowager countess’s head shot up. She lifted her hand to her bosom and sighed becomingly. “Oh, Chester. Do you really mean that?”

  He winked at his ladylove, then turned to regard her son. “’Tis high time I made an honest woman out of your mother, my boy.”

  * * * * *

  Kane closed the fifth book she’d gleaned through in the last hour with a small bang. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair in agitation. She sat that way for a moment or two, allowing herself much needed time to relax.

  As impressively grand as her husband’s book collection had turned out to be, there wasn’t a single drawing of the kabitross plant to be found in the entire Blackmore London library. There were tons of botanical books within, each of them containing drawings of literally hundreds of different types of plant specimens.

  She had viewed colorful etched plate depictions of flowers that ranged in variety from roses, daffodils, and chrysanthemums to holly and mistletoe. There were plates of trees, plates of mosses, and plates of vines. There were even depictions of how best to fertilize them all. She grimaced at that recollection, remembering a vividly detailed drawing of a smiling cow bending over a garden patch. She could have done without seeing that one.

  She rubbed her tired eyes, deciding to put off any further investigations until later. She could only hope that her scheduled outing to the Masters’ domicile tomorrow with the viscount and the dowager countess would prove to be more fruitful than her time in the Blackmore library had been today.

  Kane opened her eyes, releasing another deep sigh as she did so. She drummed her fingertips on the top of the oak desk she was seated at, contemplating the next move she would make if she, Lord Blake, and Lady Julia met with no luck during tomorrow’s sojourn.

  Her thinking was interrupted a moment later by a light rap on the study door, followed by the dowager countess sashaying into the chamber with a grin on her face that Kane had come to understand meant that the woman was up to no good. Kane grinned back at her mother-in-law, stretching out her muscles languidly as she regarded her.

  The look on the dowager’s face meant that the two of them were about to become embroiled in some sort of mischief together. What that mischief was to revolve around, Kane could only speculate. Oh, she had an idea or two, but one was never entirely certain where Lady Julia was concerned.

  “Good evening, Mother Julia,” she drawled. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  The dowager countess glided closer to the desk, removing her gloves as she assumed the seat across from Kane’s. She plopped down in her typically regal fashion, then gifted her daughter-in-law
with a sly, conspiratorial wink. “I’m ready, my dear.”

  “Ready? For what?”

  Lady Julia smiled bemusedly at Kane as she flexed her long, elegant fingers before her. “Why for my next lesson, of course,” she admitted, balling her fingers into fists. The dowager countess inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes, pulling her right fist back toward her side in the process. Just as Kane had taught her to do, she let her fist fly forward on an exhale, screeching “hiii-yaaa!” as she did so.

  Kane all but tripped over her feet as she shot to a standing position and insisted that her mother-in-law lower her voice. “Shh!” she chastised, placing a finger to the dowager’s lips. “The servants might overhear us.”

  “Then let us retire to the gardens for a ‘walk’, my dear. We can lose ourselves beyond the shrubbery within the estate.”

  Kane shook her head in mirth, giggling at the sight of such a refined woman eager to master the deadly body arts. “Fine,” she agreed as she motioned toward the door. “Let us be gone.”

  Twenty minutes later, the countess and dowager countess crept quietly through the gardens, losing themselves in their green and flowery surroundings. They found a secluded area of terrain near a set of water fountains off the main path and marked it as secure.

  The women quickly helped each other out of their clothing, both of them now wearing nothing save two black, body-sculpted catsuits made of a shiny, Vegas system nylon. The result was a highly flexible material that allowed for ease of bodily movement, but with the look of having donned buttery black, body molded leather.

  In the tradition of the high masters of the Beijing colony, whose women were the last humanoids to still teach the deadly body arts in any known solar system, Lady Kane and Lady Julia wore shiny red maltas over their catsuits, which covered both breasts and groin and were made from an armor-like material.

  “I feel wanton in this outfit,” Lady Julia muttered red-faced, still as flustered by wearing the warrior suit as she had been from the first lesson following her data injection.

  “For what reason?” Kane inquired, truly not comprehending how any humanoid woman could fail to feel anything but honored in the traditional warrior’s garb.

  “The way this suit and these breast and…and…you know”—she couldn’t bring herself to say “groin” so she merely pointed downward—“plates mold shamelessly to our figures.” She shook her head and groaned in embarrassment. “We look like two strumpets headed for a night at the local brothel.”

  Kane laughed, thoroughly enjoying her mother-in-law’s discomfit. “In my time, you would feel blessed wearing this suit. If a man or woman saw you dressed thusly, they would never try to do you a harm for fear of your retaliation.” She cocked her head as she studied the dowager, immediately growing serious when she realized Lady Julia was going redder and redder in the face with each passing moment. “Would it make you feel better if I explained the function of the suit’s plates?”

  Lady Julia nodded, but said nothing else. Kane smiled warmly at her, relaying without words that everything was going to be fine. “First of all,” she began, pointing toward her chest, “I realize you can’t tell this is armor by looking at it because the material looks as soft and buttery as the rest of the catsuit.” She waited for her mother-in-law’s nod before continuing. “However, this is indeed armory.” She banged on her chest, inducing the sound of thumping on hollow metal to rise up from her breast.

  “My goodness,” Lady Julia breathed, “I had no notion.” She struck at her own chest, then regarded Kane with a comically befuddled expression of awe. “It looks like silk. How amazing!”

  Kane nodded, then plowed on with her demonstration. “The breasts of a woman are highly sensitive. Therefore, if your enemy was to strike you in one or both, it could render you witless long enough for the opponent to gain the advantage over you.” She thumped on her chest again. “This prevents that. They would break their knuckles trying.”

  The dowager countess giggled, thinking she’d love to see the look on the face of a fool man who should presume too much were she sporting this armor at the time. “I take it then that the uh…uh…”—she flushed, casting her gaze toward her groin—“I take it this plate serves the same purpose?”

  “Exactly.” Kane whirled around, giving the dowager a view of her backside that would have made her giddy with lust had she been a virile man. “And the reason there is only a small string of garment wedged in between your buttocks rather than covering them totally is because your muscles here are very tough.” She patted her left buttock in the spirit of demonstration. She whipped back around, faced her mother-in-law, and shrugged. “The material between your cheeks merely holds the groin plate together in the front.”

  Blushing from their bold conversation, but much more at ease, Lady Julia nodded her acceptance of the foreign garment as legitimate wear. Kane smiled, stroking the dowager countess’s arm. “Besides Mother Julia, when you become more advanced in your skill, I will teach you the art of weapon fighting.” She thumped on her groin plate, causing another hollow thud to sound. “Your weapon will be attached to the top of this plate, off to the side.”

  Lady Julia beamed at the notion of fighting with weaponry, suddenly feeling as shy as a sotted tavern doxy. She had always been the most brazen member of her family whilst growing up, much to her poor parents, the Duke and Duchess of Browning’s, chagrin. But they had loved her nevertheless, then came to depend upon her in later years when her only brother died at two and twenty and George became their new heir. “All right then dear, let us begin. What will we learn today, hm?”

  Kane considered that question for a drawn-out moment. She looked around, making certain they were indeed alone. “How long did you say George would be gone?”

  Lady Julia waved her hand casually throughout the air, dismissing the idea of calling a halt to today’s lesson. “He’ll be gone for the better part of two hours. We can spend at least another hour out here.”

  “Fine.” She tapped her finger to her cheek, her eyes squinting in thought. “Let’s see. Between the data injection I gave you and my instructions, you know all there is to know of the deadly body arts. What you require now is mere practice.” She lit up like an exploding star, smiling brilliantly at her mother-in-law. “Today we shall put it all together and spar!”

  Chapter 18

  George William Frederick Alexander Wyndom, the ninth Earl of Blackmore and the heir apparent of the Duke of Browning, was in an intolerably bad mood. He stalked up the steps to his London townhouse, Viscount Blake and the Marquess of Asherby flanking his sides.

  “I say, George,” Chester announced as the butler opened the door and gave the noblemen entry into the hall, “put it from your mind, my boy.”

  “My uncle is right,” Alex insisted, shrugging off his gloves as he spoke. “Montieth is a nobody. Do not concern yourself over his antics.”

  George shook his head and pounded down the hall toward his study. He pulled Lord Blake and Lord Asherby in behind him and closed the door with a bang. “I vow to the both of you that I shall kill that bloody baron if it’s the very last thing I do,” he gritted out.

  The earl stalked over to the study cabinet and produced three glasses and a bottle of port. He poured without paying attention, causing alcohol to splash over the sides of the glasses. He didn’t care. He was too furious to consider it. “Who in the hell allowed him entrée into our clubs anyway? He’s hardly of peerage.” George gulped down three large swallows of port, then refilled his glass as he eyed them with speculation.

  “I’ve no notion,” Alex admitted, reaching for the glass George had poured him, then handing one to his uncle. “He must have been given entrance to White’s as a guest, though who should be desirous of being seen in Montieth’s company after his debacle with the king is beyond my comprehension.”

  Chester laughed humorlessly. “Agreed.” He shook his head, trying to sort out the scene that had just transpired at one of their clubs. “
I can’t believe the blackguard’s nerve. His words came dangerously close to warranting an issue of challenge.”

  The earl smirked, then swallowed down the remainder of his port. “The next time he dares to defame my lady wife, I will challenge him. Make no mistake.”

  “He didn’t exactly defame her, George,” Alex pointed out pragmatically, hoping to assuage his anger somewhat. “Though I can’t say I blame you. He did, after all, somehow insinuate that her morality was less than sound.”

  Chester let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head again. “’Tis amazing, his play on words. He managed to insinuate without out-and-out saying so. Hell, he managed to insinuate without even insinuating.” The viscount squinted, looking up at the earl and marquess. “Did what I just said make any sense a’tall?”

  George and Alex grunted simultaneously. “Completely,” they agreed in unison.

  “That’s the very reason I didn’t call him out just then,” George concurred through narrowed eyes. “Were I asked what Montieth had said to provoke me, I would be hard-pressed to come up with a single word.”

  Alex nodded. “You did the right thing, my friend.” He patted the earl on the back and smiled. “But never fear, the scapegrace will eventually foul up and give you enough to issue challenge over.”

  “’Tis my only consolation,” George muttered.

  A knock on the study door interrupted the trio. George bade the interloper entrance whilst Alex and Chester helped themselves to more port. “Ah, Brantly,” the earl mumbled, “what can I do for you?”

  The butler made his way toward George, silver salver in hand. “This note was left behind for you by the countess, my lord. She left with your mother.”

  “Where the devil did they go off to?” he inquired, finding that the littlest annoyance could set him off this evening.