Regency Steele
Chapter 3: Tuesday

Laura rolled over.  A quiet, insistent knock on her door had her stumbling out of bed.  “Who is it?”

“Mildred,” came the soft reply.

In weary resignation, Laura let her in.  Mildred held a small candle, chattering up a storm.  

“Hold on.  I’m not awake yet,” she begged.

“Sure thing, Miss Holt.”  Mildred set the candle on the dressing table.

“Why are you up so early?”

“Making bread.  Gotta start early.”

“I didn’t know you could make bread.”

“Just one of my many hidden talents.”

“You sound like Mr. Steele.”  With a huge yawn, Laura ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh Lord,” she mumbled.  She realized that due to the glass of wine at dinner, the scant catnap of the previous night, and the glass of wine with the girls, she’d fallen sound asleep—probably in the middle of the conversation—and left Remington hanging.

“What?” Mildred asked sympathetically.

She fumbled for an excuse.  “Oh, it’s early.  I was up late … getting to know a couple of the guests.”

“I heard.”  Mildred chuckled as she settled on the spindly chair in the corner.

“You did?”

“Sure.  The maids told the night cook, and she passed it along.  Seems that not everyone stayed the night in their own rooms.”

“Really?”  That made Laura’s eyebrows go up.

“Let’s see: His Grace and Her Grace were seen walking in the garden last night.  Miss Tate and Lady Esterberg were with you.  Lord Remington and Sir Lockwood shared scotch in the parlor until well after you ladies finished polishing off the bottle of wine Lady Esterberg lifted from the cellar.  Lord Gray was keeping company with Lady Gray.  Not so much with the Marquess and his wife.  And no one knows where Lord Royce was, but he didn’t stay in his room.”

Her jaw dropped.  “Good Lord, Mildred.”

“If you think that’s bad, you should have heard all the dirt on the servants.  This place is a veritable hotbed of hormones.”  

“Did you discover anything that might pertain to the case?”

“Uh huh.”  A satisfied smirk appeared.  “Housekeeper takes inventory twice a week.  And either everyone is keeping quiet, or the thefts haven’t been mentioned.”

“Now that’s odd.  How do you keep something like that quiet?” Laura wondered.

“Got me.  Someone should have been investigating, asking questions.  Which would have these magpies chattering.”  

Laura tapped her cheek.  “Which makes me wonder again if the thefts have really occurred.  Do you know where the inventory records are kept?”

“Sure thing.  Housekeeper has an office just off the kitchen.  What’s Daniel up to this time, Miss Holt?”

“I don’t know.  If there isn’t a theft, maybe Daniel wanted Mr. Steele here for another reason.”  

Mildred winced.  “Something shady.”  

“I hope not.  We’ve got enough to worry about right now.”

With a knowing look, Mildred nodded.  “The letter.”

“The letter,” Laura agreed.

“What are you going to do?”

Laura sat on the corner of the bed, scrunching her face up as she admitted, “I sealed the letter and gave it to Mr. Steele.  He doesn’t know we’ve read it.”

The dismay in Mildred’s voice came through loud and clear.  “Oh, Miss Holt!  Why are you making such a big deal about it?  You told me about how you got him a birth certificate years ago.  Seems like you could give INS a copy, and that would be the end of it.”

“Someone tipped off INS, Mildred.  It’s the only reason anyone would have for looking into Mr. Steele’s passport at this late date.  If someone can prove the documents are fraudulent, he’ll be deported and I’ll go to jail.”

“So then what?”

Laura looked down at her hands.  “There’s always marriage.  Marriage to an American automatically confers citizenship.  It doesn’t matter what the other documents say at that point.”  

“Would you marry him?”

She ran her hand through her hair in frustration.  “I don’t know.”  

“Would you want him to marry someone else?” Mildred said rather acerbically.

“No,” Laura snapped.  “Oh, Mildred.  We’re finally getting somewhere with our relationship.  But this?  This is … too much.”

“Are you in love with him?”

Laura didn’t answer.  She only held up her hands to ward off the question.  

Mildred leaned in.  “Miss Holt, this might be one of those moments where you have to take a leap of faith.”  

She closed her eyes.  “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.  

“Think about it.  You’re in danger of letting everything important to you slip through your fingers—and I’m not talking about the agency.  Are you willing to do that?”  The older woman didn’t wait for an answer.  Instead, she strode to the door with her candle in hand, pausing long enough to give Laura one last hard look before slipping out again.

Laura tried to go back to sleep.  Fat chance.  Somewhere between “marriage” and “what was Daniel doing anyway?” along with lusty fantasies of her gorgeous partner sleeping a mere closed door away, she tossed and turned fitfully.  Should she go to him?  Pick up where they left off yesterday?  

She’d almost summoned enough courage to do just that when another knock at her door killed that notion.  “Yes?”  

“’Tis Meg, Lady Holt.  I’ve come with your riding habit.”

Apparently, Lady Holt was going for a ride.  She dressed with Meg’s help, drinking her morning chocolate that didn’t measure up to the coffee she craved.

Sunrise didn’t seem to mind her periodic yawns as they explored the terrain together.  The property was nestled on a broad plain flanked by hills on either side.  Laura found a cool stream and interrupted a flock of birds roosting in the trees.  Their mad squawks brightened her mood.  She took Sunrise on a fast gallop across a long meadow, ending it only when a line of trees blocked their path.  

The sun was well over the horizon by the time Laura turned the mare in the manor’s direction.  They made good time back to the stable, where a groom met them at the doors to give her a hand down.  He stripped Sunrise of her tack and began rubbing her down from her long ride.  

“She deserves a treat,” Laura complimented as she rubbed Sunrise’s nose.  The mare whickered, nudging her hand.  “I’m sorry, darling.  I’ll bring you something tomorrow.”  

“How was your ride, Lady Holt?”  Anthony leaned against the doorway of the stable. 

“Quite pleasant.  Good morning, Lord Royce.”  

He reached a long, stocky arm out to stroke the mare’s neck closed in, inconveniently trapping her between him and Sunrise.  “She’s a beauty.  You must have arisen early today.”

“I did.”  She jerked when she felt something tug a strand of her hair.  Anthony held out a leaf.  

“Nature must have wanted to come home with you.  I think I’m jealous.”  She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.  A frission of discomfort flared in her.  Without warning, Sunrise jerked her head up, and Laura ducked under the mare’s neck to put the horse between her and Lord Royce.  

“Clever move, Lady Holt.”

“Good instincts, perhaps.  I think I’ll go change for breakfast.” 

Anthony blocked her path.  “Perhaps you’ll join me this time.”  His voice husky voice made his interest clear.

Another voice, amiable and layered in a rich accent that Laura adored, came from the doorway.  “Perhaps she’ll choose her own dining partner.”  Impeccably elegant, Remington stopped a yard away from her and bowed.  “Lady Holt.”  He turned his head.  “Lord Royce.”  

She sidestepped Anthony and curtsied.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Royce’s frustration at the interruption.  “Lord Remington.”

“It seems you prefer the mornings as well, Antony.  Lady Holt certainly appreciates them.”   

“So I’ve discovered,” Lord Royce retorted, his veneer of sophistication slipping.  

Remington jerked his chin to the groom, who had been waiting patiently throughout the exchange.  While the man led Sunrise away, he held out a hand to Laura.  “Shall I walk with you to the house?”

“Ah, of course.”  Laura hesitated, not knowing what manners were called for here.  Should she invite Lord Royce?  Ignore him?  Assume he would come along?  In the end, she settled for a nod of the head.  “Good day, Lord Royce.”

Remington and Laura walked away side-by-side.  Dismissing the other man entirely, she gave her partner a quick sideways glance.  “I’m sorry for last night.  I hadn’t planned on having company.”  

“I gathered that.  It was rather interesting to hear Miss Tate’s view on the various anatomies of the male half of the guest party.”  

“You heard her?”

“Our door isn’t very thick, Lady Holt.  But I didn’t listen much in any case.  You girls were having a good time.  I had a scotch with Lockhart.  He’s a good chap.  Rather enamored of Lady Esterberg.”

“I think he’ll be happy to discover that Lady Esterberg isn’t likely to ward off his affections.”  

“Is that so?  And what about Lady Holt?  She seems to have a pair of suitors on her hands.”  Remington’s tone bore a hint of jealousy.

She stopped, facing him.  “I do seem to have a problem.  But there is only one suitor for whom I have affections.”  Laura liked her own turn of phrase, and her lips curved up when the uncertainty cleared from his face.  

Remington abruptly escorted her to the maze around the corner of the house.  After two lefts and a right, he found a hidden alcove with a statue and a stone bench in the corner.  The tall hedges gave them complete privacy.  “Bloody hell, Laura.  One taste of you isn’t enough.”

He slid a hand to the small of her back and pressed so that she connected with him from breast to knee.  And then she was lost in his kiss.  His hands burned through the fabric of her bodice as he held her still to ravage her mouth.  She ached for him to cup her breast as he had the day before, to feel his mouth recreate all the dizzying sensations.  

Tugged her pelisse over her shoulders, he uttered a mild oath as he ran a hand along the throat of her riding habit.  “Laura, next time wear a dress that gives me a bloody chance.  I’ve seen nuns with fewer layers and lower necklines.”

“Improvise, damn it,” she breathed.  

He rewarded her order with a brilliant grin.  “That I can do.”  He found the peaks of her breasts through the fabric and circled them with his thumbs.  He used the material to create friction, and she had to stuff a hand in her mouth to stifle her own gasps as every nerve ending sizzled.  

Remington pulled her hand away, replacing it with his own.  He ran a thumb over her bottom lip; she bit it lightly as he plucked a nipple--then trembled at the sensation.

Abruptly, he stopped, pressing her head to his shoulder.  “Bugger me.  I’m not tripping the light fantastic with you in the maze.  Not yet, anyway.”  

The front of his breeches bulged.  He had to be in some discomfort, but the “not yet” made her laugh.  “You want a better setting?” she asked.

“I want you without five layers of clothing, Miss Holt.  Give me a chance to make love to you properly.  After that, a quick shag in the hedges is perfectly acceptable.”

Laura leaned back to give him what she hoped was a seductive smile.  “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Steele.”

His amusement was evident as he helped her to straighten her clothing.  “Like the idea?”

“More than you know.”  

“Perhaps I should reconsider the moment.”  

But Laura slipped from his hands and began walking backward through the maze.  “I think you’re right.  I want my hands on you as well.”  Then she pivoted and fled, pausing long enough to make certain he understood her invitiation.

*****

Daniel paused as someone opened the door to the gardens.  Framed by the sunlight, Laura turned her head to look over her shoulder.  Then, with a brilliant smile, she gave him a nod and slipped past without a word.  

He watched her for a moment before resuming his course to locate his prodigy.  Harry was swiftly scaling the stairs, apparently in pursuit of Miss Holt.  

Ah, perfect time to discuss their pairing.   “Lord Remington, my boy.  Come; walk with me.”  He waved in the direction of the gardens.  

“Now, Daniel?”  Harry gave him a pained look.  Daniel could hear the whine reminding him of a certain fourteen-year-old boy.

“Yes, now I think.”  That tone, too, bore a similarity to one he used nearly twenty years ago.  A flash of desperation on Harry’s face made him wonder what he’d interrupted.  But he could guess when the younger man discretely adjusted the button on his breeches.  He placed a hand on his boy’s back, turning him so they walked away from the house.   “Harry, you must be careful this week.”

“How so?”

Daniel was proud of the way Harry covered his annoyance with a careful layer of manners—and responded in kind.  “However much you might believe these parties to be parodies of the real thing, the participants take them very seriously.  This little game you and Miss Holt play is not acceptable by Regency society standards.  Your ‘interest’ in one another has been noted and remarked upon.  You would do well to avoid her for the remainder of the week.”  

The manners slipped.  “Bloody hell, Daniel!  It’s the most fun Laura’s had in months.  I’m not going to spoil it for her.”  

“Keep this up and by Thursday her reputation will be ruined.  She’ll be shunned by everyone here.  The only saving grace would be for you to marry her.”  

Harry choked.  “Ruining her reputation?  Marriage?  This isn’t Regency England, Daniel.  We’re merely playacting.”

“Don’t be stupid, Harry.  The participants and servants love nothing more than to gossip.  Don’t underestimate their ability to wreck your week and drive you to the altar.”

“It’s still a game, Daniel.”  He shook his head in disbelief.

“Yes, and the wedding might be as well, but do you want Laura thinking about orange blossoms?  I’m certain the ladies will begin pressing her to make a match with you by tomorrow.  It’s part of the role-playing here.  Is that what you want?  Even if nothing comes of it, she’ll be prone to look at you in an entirely different light.”

The odd look on Harry’s face unsettled him.  Daniel had expected to see automatic revulsion at the thought of marriage.  Instead, the younger man looked … almost sad.  

“Marriage,” Harry said thoughtfully, “has been on my mind as of late.  I rather like the idea of Laura thinking about orange blossoms.”

Daniel was flummoxed.  He hadn’t seen this coming at all.  “You’ve asked her to marry you?”

“Not yet.  And now … I have a rather large problem, and I don’t know what to do,” Harry admitted.

“Do tell.”  

Harry crossed his arms, automatically scanning the area for anyone in range to listen in on the conversation.  “Ah, INS caught wind of my latest passport, courtesy of an old chap with a nasty disposition towards me.”

“And—”

“And they are threatening to deport me unless I can prove I’m an American citizen or married to one.”  

“Surely you have an American birth certificate lying around somewhere; they aren’t that hard to obtain.”

“Of course I do, Daniel.  But that won’t be enough this time, I think.”  

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve a bloody prick breathing down my neck telling the INS the documents are forged.  Miss Holt obtained them for me.  I’m not about to put her at risk.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped open.  “Laura forged documents for you?”  

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “Twice now.  When I first arrived, she made sure I had a driver’s license and a social security card.  Then, when I was in London last year, she came up with a passport in my name on twenty-four-hour notice.”  

“Clever girl,” Daniel remarked while his mind spun in confusion. “I’d always thought her too prim for something along those lines.”

Harry gave him a wry smile.  “Yes, she does seem that way.”

“So what’s your problem, Harry?  Marry her.  Get clear of INS; then divorce her if you like.”  

“I won’t do that, Daniel.”

“Why not?  She’s been using you for years to front that agency for her.  The least she could do is cover for you now.”

Harry frowned at him.  “It’s not like that.”  

“Oh?  Who is conning whom, Harry?  My boy, she’s kept you dangling for years now.  Exactly when are you going to wake up to her machinations?  Or are you going to be her pretty puppet for the rest of your days?”

For a moment, Harry’s face went black with rage.  But unlike the wild days of his youth when he would have shot out a fist, he stilled—his expression changing to one of idle curiosity.  It was that sort of ability that had honed a wild street kid into the elegant young man before him.  

Daniel coughed to clear his throat.  Damn lungs.  

Harry forcibly relaxed at the sound.  “I don’t expect you to understand what Laura and I have together.  Bloody hell, I don’t understand what we have half the time.  But it—whatever it is—is real.  If she’s using me, it isn't anything I haven’t allowed.”  Harry’s face brightened with a rare light.  “Do something for me, my  old friend.  Assume—just for a moment—that Laura cares for me.  A great deal.  Then think about everything she has done from the day I stepped into her life.”  Harry adjusted his cravat.  “Excuse me, I’ve promised Lady Holt my company, Your Grace.”  He gave Daniel a proper bow and strode toward the house.  

As he watched his protégé ascend the stairs, Daniel wished desperately for a drink.  A whole host of assumptions had to be reconsidered—and in short order—before the game played out entirely in the wrong manner. 

*****

Remington found Laura exactly where he’d hoped—in his room and in his bed.  With the quiet grace of a cat, he eased down to sit next to her and stroke her hair.  He laid a kiss on her brow, taking care not to wake her.  

It’s always something, isn’t it, Miss Holt?   He stayed that way, letting one of her curls spiral around his finger again as he played with it.  Daniel was right about one thing, though.  Laura didn’t need to be thinking about weddings right now.  

With a deeply regretful sigh, Remington gathered her into his arms, crossed to the next room and laid her in her own bed—all the while wishing desperately for more time.  

*****

Laura woke when Lady Esterberg knocked on her door with Meg in tow.  

“Lady Holt, wake up.  You missed breakfast.”

She rolled over, confused at finding herself in her own room.  “Did I?”

“Yes.  Meg said you went riding early this morning.  Lord Remington expressed his concern when you didn’t appear.”  Sally took a seat on the chair while Meg laid a tray of meat, cheese and fruit on the corner of the bed.

Laura groaned as she sat up, knowing she’d done it to Remington again.  She reached for a cube of cheese.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s a good thing you took a nap.  Our dance instructor will be here in a while.  We’ll be practicing this afternoon for the ball on Friday night.  Can you dance?”

“I’ve had a few lessons.”

“Oh good.  This will be easy.  Tonight we’ll have informal dancing after dinner.  Do you mind playing the piano so we can practice?  I can plink out a few notes too.  On Friday, we’ll have a real orchestra.”

“Ah, that would be fine,” Laura replied politely.  She wondered when she would be able to slip free to investigate the housekeeper’s records—perhaps tonight after everyone went to bed.  Not for the first time, she understood why her partner had developed such night owl tendencies.  

Laura didn’t see Remington again for the whole afternoon, although Anthony made a point of hovering in the ballroom while the instructor took the guests through their paces.  When it came time for the waltz, she tried to sit out, citing her expertise.  

But Lord Royce replied, “Good.  Then you won’t step on my toes.  Let’s dance, Lady Holt.”  He held her in the correct stance as they waited for the music.  “Relax.  I promise I won’t bite.”  She flicked a dark look at him, but he only chuckled as the waltz began.  “You don’t like me.  Why?”  

“Lord Royce, I don’t know you well enough not to like you.”

“That’s a pretty answer.  But not an honest one.”  

Against her will, Laura looked away in amusement.  

“Ah, there’s an honest smile anyway,” he said.   

His brusque attempts to charm her finally got through.  With a friendly look, she settled into the dance and let Anthony steer her about the ballroom.  When the music ended, he spun her around once and led her into a quick dip that had the rest of the girls clapping in appreciation.

Laura came up laughing a little breathlessly.  She curtsied to Anthony, who bowed with a saucy wink.  When he did, Laura caught sight of Remington standing in the doorway.  The fury in his blue eyes sent a chill across the room.  

“Lord Royce, ladies, I must take my leave.  I’ll see you at dinner.”  She darted out of the room, oblivious to the whispers behind her.  Hastily, she followed him down the long hallway and up the stairs, in time to see Remington shut the door to his room.  She knocked, only to be ignored.  Rapping once more with the same result, she turned the knob and slipped inside anyway.  

“Did you forget your manners, Lady Holt?”  The icy tone as he yanked off his neckcloth made her own temper flare.  

“I believe I’ve missed something significant, Lord Remington.  This morning, we were planning a long-awaited tryst.  This afternoon, you’re sending me daggered glares.  Care to fill me in?”

“You’ve missed something significant?” he barked.  “The last thing I expected was to find you in another man’s arms.  You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”  

“I was.”

“Then go to it.”  

Furious and at a complete loss to explain his temper, Laura wanted to pick up the inkwell on the desk and brain him with it.  But not wanting a repeat of the scene at the Friedlich Spa, she swallowed her irritation.  “What have I done to make you so angry with me?” she asked softly.  

“Why am I still here, Laura?  Do you still need me to front the agency for you?  Is that all I’m doing?  Is that all I’ve ever done?  Is that why you’ve strung me along all these years—to keep my interest so that I’ll protect your damned business?” he asked bitterly.

The weight of his queries made her knees buckle.  She leaned against the desk for support.  She’d asked herself variations on the same any number of times in the past, but had long ago accepted that he made an excellent partner—just as she’d accepted that they were moving well along the path to becoming a real couple.  That he would question her now—  She straightened in shock, stunned he hadn’t drawn the same conclusions.  

“No—to all your questions except the first.  I can’t answer that one.”  She clasped her hands together.  “I can run the agency without you.  It wouldn’t be easy, and I’d lose a number of good clients.  I certainly wouldn’t enjoy it as much.  But it can be done if you want out.”  The thought twisted her stomach.  Nausea rose in her throat, and she tamped it down by sheer force of will.  

His anger seemed to lessen, but not entirely.  He held up a hand.  “If you don’t mind, Miss Holt, I need a bit of time alone.”  

Without a word, she walked to their connecting door and closed it in silence.  

An hour later, she waved off Meg, citing a headache in favor of missing dinner.  She yanked her own black clothing out of her trunk, slipping out of the house to find Sunrise.  The mare whinnied and came to her in the paddock.  Laura glanced around, opened the gate, and pulled herself onto Sunrise’s bare back.  A click and a nudge with her booted foot gave the mare all the incentive she needed to rocket off into the evening sun.  

Freed of the restrictions of the manor and the role-playing, Laura’s cheeks were soaked by the time darkness flooded the estate.   

He’d blindsided her.  She could deal with his jealousy over Anthony.  Despite Remington’s overt confidence, he had a streak of self-doubt when it came to their relationship—not that she faulted him for it.  She frequently suffered the same.  

But the other—to accuse her of merely keeping him around for the business—she bit her lip.  If he doubted her that much this far into their relationship, then perhaps he was right, and their partnership was merely a glamorous sham.  But if it was, why did her heart hurt so damned much in the face of his charges? 

A startled groom jumped to his feet when Laura returned.  Without a word, she took the curry comb from the shelf and began smoothing away the dirt and sweat from the long ride.  The groom checked Sunrise’s hooves, picking out dirt here and there. When they were done and Sunrise had her nose buried in grain, Laura thanked him.

“’Tis my pleasure, Lady Holt.  If only all riders were like you.”  He tipped his cap in her direction and returned to his nook at the rear of the stable.  

Laura stared at the manor house, frowning at somebody’s attempts to play a waltz on the piano.  Then she listened harder, creeping closer until she sat under an open window.  Yes, there was Daniel’s voice—and Remington’s.  She used servant’s stair to reach Daniel’s room.  He was occupied.  This was the perfect time to search for clues.

Chapter 4: Wednesday