Cade groaned and sat up. The pulsing pain in his left hand reminded him that last night hadn’t gone exactly the way he’d planned. He pushed himself into a sitting position and rested his head against the headboard. He was still in his evening attire. He glanced at his hand. It was wrapped in white linen. Who the hell had wrapped it? It wasn’t something he’d been bloody likely to do. He’d had far worse injuries.
He tested his jaw. Damn. The bastard had really got a good blow in. The bloody pulp he’d left the man in attested to the fact that while his assailant may have landed a hit or two, Cade had won the fight. The only problem was, he’d beaten the man so severely, he’d lost consciousness and couldn’t be questioned. Cade had ransacked his pockets and found nothing more than some snuff, a bit more of the paper the urchin had delivered, and a pocket watch. He’d kicked the bastard one last time for good measure, tossed the pocket watch on his chest, and went to meet the man he’d been originally scheduled to meet at a tavern not far from the theater district.
Cade searched his memory. He’d had a bottle of scotch to numb the pain in his hand and face, may have sung a few bawdy songs, and come home at a very decent hour, at least for him. So how did he get his hand wrapped? He searched his memory further. Absolutely nothing.
The door to his room cracked open and a pair of bright blue eyes framed by black lashes and black bangs blinked at him.
“You’re awake?” the voice said in a decidedly French accent.
“You’ve been waiting?” he replied, equally amused and confused.
The door opened all the way, obviously pushed by the French woman’s foot. She carried in a silver tray. “I told Mary I’d bring this up to you.”
“Ah, Mary.… Wait. Who is Mary?” He tested his jaw again.
“She’s the downstairs maid. Don’t you know her?”
“I do not. And I hate to point it out but I also don’t know you. I hope to God there’s a pot of coffee on that thing.”
She blinked at him and he looked up from inspecting his wrapped hand and really looked at her for the first time. Dear God. Who was this creature? Straight black hair fell past her shoulders. Bright cobalt eyes blinked at him from beneath a heavy fringe of bangs. Her mouth was too wide to be called beautiful, but it was bright pink and ever so alluring. Her cheeks were like apples, her figure slim though enticing, but it was her stare that arrested him. Like some sort of an inquisitive woodland creature that he might scare off if he moved too suddenly. He did not want to scare her off. Not at all.
“You don’t remember?” she asked, looking a bit crestfallen.
It was not the first time a beautiful woman had said such a thing to him in his bedchamber after an evening of drinking. In fact, it wasn’t the twentieth time, truth be told, but he hoped to God he hadn’t done anything he’d be ashamed of this time, not in his brother’s fancy house. “Should I?” he asked tentatively, studying her face.
“You were quite foxed last night.” She moved over to the bed and slid the tray onto his lap. “And there is a pot of coffee here.”
He felt chagrined for having said the thing about the coffee. She wasn’t his servant after all. He glanced down at the contents of the tray. Two slices of dry toast, the pot of coffee, and a small glass of something that looked a bit greenish and that he didn’t recognize.
“My father occasionally drank to excess.”
“You and I have that in common,” Cade drawled. “I don’t remember my father being sober a day in his life.”
“This is what Père liked to eat in the morning,” she continued.
“What is this?” He lifted the green glass.
“Le elixir vert,” she replied with a smile. “At least that’s what my father called it.”
“And what is in it?” Cade asked.
“A mix of herbs and brandy.”
He brought the glass to his nose. “It smells revolting.”
“It will make you feel better.”
He arched a brow. “How do you know I feel poorly?”
She blinked at him. “Because you don’t remember who I am and we met last night.”
Cade winced. “How did I behave? Poorly?”
“Exceedingly poorly.” But her smile belied her words.
“Did I sing?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“I apologize.”
“No need. Your brother and Lady Daphne already did that for you.”
He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Blast. That’s all I need. More of Rafe’s censure.”
“He does not approve of you?”
“Does the white sheep ever approve of the black one?”
A frown marred her brow. “I do not know what you mean. Le mouton noir?”
“It’s an English saying,” he replied, eyeing the green elixir warily.
“What does it mean, this, black sheep?”
He blew air into his cheeks and they puffed out. “It’s used to describe the most disreputable member of the family.”
“And you are le mouton noir?”
“In my family, yes.”
“Lord Rafe is le mouton blanc?”
“Yes. Quite blanc.”
She laughed at that and Cade was enchanted. He lifted the concoction to his lips and tipped it back. It burned a path down his throat. He choked. “What the devil are these herbs? Brandy never tasted so vile, even at this hour of the day.”
“Give it a moment,” she said, pressing her lips together. Cade suspected it was to keep from laughing at his discomfort.
Cade took a swig of coffee to kill the taste of the bitter liquid he’d just consumed. But even he had to admit that moments later the spinning in his head and the churning in his stomach stopped. By God, he did feel better.
“D’accord?” she asked in her adorable French accent. “All right?”
“Yes. I do believe it’s cured me.”
She pulled his injured hand from his lap. A spark unexpectedly shot up his arm. Dear God. When was the last time a mere touch from a young woman did that to him? Before he had a chance to protest, she’d efficiently unwrapped the bandage. “It looks good,” she announced. The movement of her thumb, rubbing in little circles on his palm was making him sweat. He swiped the back of his hand across his brow. It had to be the elixir. God only knew what was in that drink. “No sign of infection,” she finished.
“I suppose I have you to thank for that,” he said as she gingerly wrapped his hand again. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from hers.
“I couldn’t allow you to bleed on these fine bedsheets.”
Cade cleared his throat. “Hmm. I daresay we haven’t even mentioned how inappropriate it is for you to be in my bedchamber. Alas, to my proper brother’s everlasting regret, I refuse to hire a valet.”
Her throaty laughter followed. “I don’t see why it’s inappropriate for me to be here. You’re fully dressed and I wanted to ensure your hand was all right. You English are entirely too proper.”
“I agree, my dear. Thank you for seeing to my hand,” he said, chagrined again. He was never chagrined yet he’d been twice in the span of mere minutes with this woman. Chagrined and sweating. That, along with the oddest feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if something exciting were about to happen. That usually only happened right before he dressed up as someone else and did something dangerous.
“I’ll leave you to your coffee and toast,” she said, turning toward the door, affording Cade the picture of her alluring backside. The flicker of a memory shot through his brain. He narrowed his eyes on her backside.
She got to the door and paused. Her hand rested on the handle, but she didn’t turn around.
“You’re looking at my backside, aren’t you, Mr. Cavendish?”
Cade nearly spat his coffee. In a thousand years he wouldn’t have expected that question from the little slip of a maid, and he certainly wouldn’t have expected her to be reading his bloody mind.
“If I told you that I wasn’t would you believe me?” he asked instead.
“Not a bit.” She pulled open the door, but he could hear the smile in her voice. Oh, he was going to have fun flirting with this one. He was no fan of the French but a beautiful woman was a beautiful woman. Besides, hadn’t the girl just said herself the English were too proper? They could agree on that at least.
“You can’t leave,” he called after her. “You haven’t yet told me your name. All I know is that it’s not Mary.”
“It’s Danielle,” she said, tossing her straight hair over her shoulder and glancing back at him with mischief in her sparkling blue eyes. “I’m Lady Daphne’s new lady’s maid and last night, I accidentally fell onto your lap while helping you remove your boots and you told me I have the most enticing backside you’ve ever seen.”