Page 28 of A Scoundrel in the Making

“Mr. Russell,” she whispered.

* * *

Abigail’s heart jumped to a gallop. Reade pressed a finger to his lips and she wanted to box his ears. Did he think she didn’t know to be quiet?

She scanned the room and caught sight of a door in the far left hand corner. Abigail hurried across the room. Reade reached the adjoining door first and she forced patience as he inched it open. She glimpsed a fire crackling in a small hearth on the opposite wall as he leaned forward and scanned the room.

He stood aside, and whispered, “It’s a washroom.”

Abigail looked at the wall where the secret passageway was located. The bedroom doorknob rattled.

“No time,” Lord Reade whispered, and pushed her into the washroom.

Firelight, and the moonlight that streamed in through the small right-hand window, illuminated a claw-footed porcelain bathtub sitting to the left of the hearth. A chaise lounge covered in emerald green brocade was located against the wall to the left of the tub, and a mirror hung over a table where sat a men’s shaving razor, soap dish and brush. Lady’s perfume, hairbrush and mirror sat on the far side of the table. Mr. Russell did quite well, indeed, to have a private washroom. Abigail whirled back toward the door as Reade closed it to a sliver. She wanted to scream when he blocked her view and peered through the slit.

The bedchamber door creaked open. She laid a hand on Reade’s arm to pull him away so she could peer into the room but froze when a woman giggled. Mr. Russell had brought a woman to his room. His wife? She had a feeling the answer was no.

“I have prepared something special for you, my sweet,” Mr. Russell said in a voice laced with lust.

“I should hope so,” she purred.

Lady Julia.

What would Lord Reade think about that?

“Otherwise, I will be very disappointed,” Lady Julia said.

Mr. Russell laughed. “I wouldn’t think of disappointing you, my lady.”

She gave a low, throaty laugh. “You haven’t yet.”

“Come,” he said, “let me help you with your dress.”

They grew quiet and a too-vivid image flashed in Abigail’s mental vision of Mr. Russell dragging the sleeves of Julia’s dress down her arms. Devil take the man. He would choose now to engage in a tryst. She had no intention of waiting in this room while he bedded the woman. Lord Reade, however, seemed to have other ideas, for he still stared through the slitted opening.

Abigail reached to grasp his arm, then stopped when he eased the door closed. To her relief, he closed the door so quietly that no audible click of the mechanism followed. He turned and she caught sight of his thinned lips. The thought struck that he didn’t approve of Mr. Russell’s assignation with a lady who wasn’t his wife. She shook off the thought. More likely, he was peeved that Mr. Russell had beat him to bedding the woman.

Reade turned from the door and she scanned the room for the door leading to the lady’s chambers. Abigail froze when she discovered no door. The window to the right was too small, she realized with rising horror, for her to fit through, much less Lord Reade. How could there be no door to the lady’s chambers? She started toward the window at the same time he did, and her attention riveted onto the bathtub as she passed.

Abigail halted at sight of the filled tub. She looked sharply at Reade. His brow furrowed in question and she pointed to the tub. His gaze shifted to the tub and understanding dawned in his eyes. They weren’t just stuck in the washroom adjoining the lovers’ room. Mr. Russell’s surprise for the lady was clearly a shared bath. There was simply nowhere to hide in the room. Perhaps Mr. Russell would forego the bath. Abigail took two steps to the tub and stuck a finger in the water. A perfect temperature for a bath.

“You rogue,” Lady Julia cried. “What is it?”

“A muffled answer followed, then “...for a naughty minx like you.”

They were closer to the door.

Abigail’s mind raced. If she were alone, she would strip down to her chemise and pretend like she’d been waiting for Mr. Russell.

In an instant, Reade reached her side. He grabbed her sleeves and yanked them down her arms.

“What the—” She broke off at the warning look he gave her.

“This is what you brought me here for,” he whispered.

Then she understood. He intended for them to be caught in a tryst. He pulled the dress past her hands. To her surprise, his gaze didn’t so much as flick to her breasts, which pressed tight against the thin fabric of her chemise. He let the fabric drop to the floor. She leaned into him with the intent to throw her arms around him as if they stood in embrace.

He swung her into his arms and, in the next instant, plunged her into the warm water. She cried out before catching herself. He dropped to one knee beside the tub and yanked her into a kiss. The door banged against the wall. Lord Reade broke the kiss and sprang to his feet. Mr. Russell stood in the doorway with Lady Julia behind him.