Page 90 of Along Came a Rogue

“Sir, I insist! You must return in the morning.”

“Grimsby,” a female voice called out from the landing, “who is it?”

Grey turned to look up the curving staircase at Lady Henley. Even in the middle of the night, even wearing a dressing robe, the dowager exuded an imperialness that would have awed half the ton. And undoubtedly had at some point in her eighty years of life.

Odd, then, that Grey was most likely one of the few people in London whom the old woman could not intimidate. “I need to speak with you.”

“It is the middle of the night.” She tightened the belt cinched around her waist. “Must we do this now?”

“Yes.”

She arched an elegant brow. “A proper gentleman would call at a reasonable hour.”

“I’m not a proper gentleman, though, am I?” He pinned her with a hard gaze. “Unless I am after all.”

With a slight hesitation, understanding the full meaning behind his cryptic words, she pursed her lips and nodded curtly. “You can wait in the drawing room. I shall be down in a moment.”

She disappeared back into the shadows of the first floor, Grey assumed to dress properly before heading into the battle that awaited her.

“This way, sir.”

He followed Grimsby into the drawing room and waited while the old butler lit the candles, then stirred up the fire. It was clear from every grudging move the man made that he disliked being woken in the middle of the night.

“Thank you,” Grey said quietly when the butler straightened away from the hearth and then shuffled out of the room, presumably to hurry back to his quarters before her ladyship could send for tea and biscuits.

But there was a decanter of scotch on the side table, and that would do far better than tea for what was to come tonight. Without waiting for an invitation, he poured himself a glass.

“Pour me one as well,” the viscountess ordered as she walked regally into the room. It hadn’t taken her long to don a morning dress and pull up her silver-gray hair.

He obliged and poured scotch into a second glass, then held it out to her. “You know why I’m here, then?”

“Why else would you pound on my door at midnight, Nathaniel?” She eyed him cautiously over the rim of her glass. “I heard what you did this evening, by the way, how you saved Emily Matteson’s life. The rumors are already circling through Mayfair.”

That didn’t surprise him, knowing how much the society hens loved juicy bits of gossip. “She had the baby.” With a faint smile, he swirled the scotch. “A boy.”

“Well, then, here’s to the new marquess.” She lifted her glass slightly in a toast, then took a large swallow. The tough old woman could handle her liquor better than most men he knew. “Lady Emily is well, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” She gave him a long, assessing look, then turned to sit on one of the chairs before the fire, gesturing for him to take the other. “They will promote you, you know. For saving her life and the life of the littlest marquess.” Then she emphasized, “Colonel Grey.”

“No, they won’t. I’m leaving the War Office,” he informed her.

“They will,” she corrected with firm certainty. “And a nice position in London for you as well.”

The way she said that pricked at him, and he clenched his teeth. “Because of your doing, then.”

“Don’t be foolish, my boy. You’re far too intelligent for such nonsense.” She pointed a finger at the chair in a silent command and scowled when he didn’t obey. “Of course, it was my doing. As soon as I’d heard what you’d done, I contacted Lord Bathurst to make certain he knew how valuable an agent you are.”

“What else has been your doing over the years?” His jaw tightened. “The position offer in Spain, my rank in the cavalry, being assigned to the First Dragoons…or did it start even before then with my very first job as a stable boy?”

“You were always an excellent horseman and a dedicated soldier. I merely put in a good word for you along the way. There’s no sin in that.”

“Not in that,” he challenged. Finally, he sat, and the two of them stared at each other like two enemies sizing up each other before battle. “But there was sin before that, wasn’t there?”

She said nothing, but when she raised the glass to her lips, he saw her hand tremble.

He leaned forward. “Tell me,” he ordered.