Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath Page B

strolling through Buckingham Palace.
    He wore a beige wool jacket, cream-colored waistcoat, and a dark green cravat that brought out the green hue of his eyes, causing them to become his most striking feature. He often dressed plainly in order not to be noticed. Today wasn’t one of those occasions.
    Olivia was studying Swindler as though trying to decide if he was the lesser of the two evils presently occupying the library. Because he knew Swindler would demonstrate impeccable manners, Jack brought himself to his feet, suddenly not in the mood to be found lacking. “Duchess, allow me the honor of introducing James Swindler, from Scotland Yard.”
    â€œInspector.”
    â€œSwindler,” Jack said, “allow me to introduce the Duchess of Lovingdon. Recent widow.” And royal pain in my backside.
    Swindler bowed, no doubt impressing the widow with his courtly graces. It was surprising that a man as tall and broad wasn’t clumsy. He had an inch or two on Jack in height as well as in the width of his shoulders. “Your Grace,” he greeted her formally, irritating Jack in the process, for reasons he failed to understand. What did he care if the widow was charmed?
    Swindler turned his razor-sharp green gaze to Jack. “Your missive said it was urgent.”
    â€œYou sent for him?” the duchess asked.
    Jack took a great deal of satisfaction in her shocked expression. “Sorry, Duchess. You’ll be disappointed to learn he’s not going to cart me away. And now that the formalities are over with, Swindler, do you want whiskey or gin?” He walked to the table where he’d had his lovely bottles of indulgences set up. No ticking.
    â€œIt’s not even noon yet, Jack,” Swindler said.
    â€œFor a man who doesn’t live his life by a timepiece, there is never an inappropriate time for indulging,” Jack said, pouring whiskey into a glass for himself.
    â€œUnlike you, I do sleep,” Swindler said. “I’ll pass.”
    â€œSuit yourself.” He strode back to his desk. “You can leave us now, Duchess.”
    He was halfway into his chair when she said, “As I oversee your household, I believe it imperative that I remain.”
    Her words stilled him, left him hovering over the chair. Not because they stunned him, but because she looked so incredibly pleased with herself, as though she thought she’d achieved some measure of victory over him. As much as it pained him to admit it, he rather liked it when she appeared pleased—not that he had any plans to work toward keeping her in that particular state. He dropped into his chair and took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Am I to assume you chose managing my household over—”
    â€œYes, quite,” she responded quickly before giving her attention to Swindler. It grated that she dismissed Jack so readily, and it occurred to him she wanted to stay because Swindler interested her. He wondered how she’d feel about marrying a commoner.
    â€œPerhaps you’d care for some tea, Inspector,” she said.
    â€œThat’d be lovely, thank you.”
    She glided elegantly to the far door, and Jack realized he’d not given nearly enough time to studying her backside. She had a narrow back. He wondered how much of the flare of her hips he could attribute to petticoats. Why didn’t women wear clothing that gave a truer sense of their form?
    â€œTea,” Jack muttered irritably, knowing Olivia ws too far away to hear. “When did you start drinking tea?”
    â€œIt’s a distraction when I have to question ladies who’d rather not be questioned.”
    â€œI wouldn’t think you’d want to be distracted.”
    â€œNot me. Them. They get comfortable serving their tea and tell me things they might not otherwise.”
    His tactic made a great deal of sense. Little wonder that even with Scotland Yard’s less than sterling reputation,