Page 42 of The Notorious Lady

He raised his head. “I might need to use your talents.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “To break into a safe, perhaps.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You might be mistaking me with the master lock-picker. I am simply a harlot, and my talents lie elsewhere.”

He waved a hand, his attention back to the papers in front of him. “Fine, go guard the door. If someone approaches, either run straight to warn me or if it’s too late, stall them and yell as loudly as you can.”

She curtsied mockingly. “As you wish, good sir.” Then she exited the room and went to stand by the edge of the corridor, hiding in the shadows and watching for anyone who might want to approach this wing of the house.

Chapter 12

Grace stood at the edge of the corridor, her body tense as she strained to hear over the party’s noise. The sound of every passing person’s footsteps made her heart race. She hid in the shadows, close enough to see the stairs and every approaching person but far enough to dart farther into the corridor without anyone seeing her—or so she hoped.

The time was ticking by, her face twitching from the nerves. What did she sign up for? She was a harlot, not a spy!

Granted, she had worked with spies before. But obtaining information from drunken fools was different from guarding a man who was going through the papers in another man’s home.

Porter’s voice drifted up, clear and unmistakable. “I just need a moment in my study.”

Panic surged through her veins. Grace spun on her heel, her skirts swishing as she dashed down the corridor. She burst into the study, breathless. “We have to go,” she gasped, “Porter is—”

Her words died in her throat as she took in the scene before her. The study was in complete disarray. Papers littered the floor, drawers hung open, and books were strewn haphazardly across every surface. Grace’s eyes widened in horror. “Did a storm visit while I was out?” she hissed. “Porter is coming here and there is no way he won’t see this mess when he comes in. There is no way for us to explain how this happened!”

Ford, still rifling through a stack of documents, cursed under his breath. He began shoving papers into random drawers, but it was clear they didn’t have time to undo the damage.

“What are you doing?” Grace hissed. “We need to leave. Now!”

Ford dashed toward her just as Porter’s voice rang out. “I will be right there, darling. Just give me a moment.”

Footsteps sounded louder in the corridor, followed by a pause that made Grace’s blood run cold. The muffled sound of conversation drifted through the door. It was clear that Porter was not alone.

Grace glanced at Ford, her gaze panicked, and saw a reassuring calmness in him. “Let’s go,” he whispered and led her out of the study.

They rushed out of the room, Grace’s heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would give them away. The hallway was shrouded in near darkness, broken only by the flickering light of a distant candelabra. Porter was still a few feet away. She saw the white of his cravat, suddenly grateful she had made Ford take his off.

As they inched their way toward the servants’ exit, Grace held her breath, acutely aware of every creak of the floorboards beneath their feet.

“Is there someone here?” Porter called as he moved closer.

In a flash, Ford whirled Grace around, pressing her against the wall. His mouth found her neck, lips firm and insistent. One hand slid up her skirt, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh. The sudden closeness sent a jolt through Grace’s body, a mix of surprise and… pleasure.

She played along, letting out a breathy moan that wasn’t entirely feigned. Her fingers tangled in Ford’s hair as she arched against him. She raised her leg, hooking it behind his knee. If they were to play lovers, it needed to look convincing.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Porter barked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ford asked without taking his mouth off her body, trailing his lips down her skin to the tops of her breasts, sweeping his tongue along the edge of her bodice.

Another moan left her chest unbidden.

“This part of the house is off limits,” Porter asserted.

“Right.” Ford never raised his head. “Give us a moment.”

Porter continued on his way, obviously too preoccupied with the other thoughts to care enough about the wayward lovers. “You better be out of here when I leave my study,” he said, moving closer and closer to his study with every step.

“That’s the plan,” Grace whispered.