"He said you shouldn't move."
If he wanted to fight her, he could, but at the moment, he enjoyed where he was. With her close, he could smell her floral fragrance. It was clean and vibrant and feminine. He wondered just how much of that scent was simply her skin.
He settled back on her lap and watched David leave the room before turning to Philomena.
She spoke first, her narrowed eyes reminding him of an angry cat. "I can't believe you jumped out of a moving carriage that way and then burst into someone's home only to beat him senseless. While I hate that he stabbed you, I'm starting to think you deserved it."
He grinned, his mouth splitting wide.
Anger made her eyes dark. "Exactly where do you find the humor in this? You could have died. Now, tell me why your life was worth a game of fisticuffs."
"My friends and I have been looking for that particular man for months."
"Your friends? Why? Does he owe you money?" The fingers of one of her hands were once again moving through his hair, but this time with a little more force.
Pleasure rolled through Morgan and rooted itself deep within him. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "In a way. We purchased his loyalty."
"You can't buy loyalty, my lord."
He opened them again and looked at her. "I know." And he dearly wanted her loyalty. It was amazing what a simple touch could awaken. "And it's Morgan. You're forbidden from calling me 'my lord' or 'Lord Durham' or anything like it again. It's Morgan."
"And what will you do if I don't obey, my lord?" she shot back.
Morgan lifted his hand and touched her side right under her arm, a light dance of his fingers.
Philomena laughed and leaned away from his touch in surprise, her expression brighter then he'd ever seen it before. Her smile took his breath away. "Did you just tickle me?"
He chuckled through the bolt of sharp pain it caused. "Yes, and I plan to do it every time you call me anything but by my given name."
She laughed again, and he was sure that if light could have a sound, it would be her laugh. "How wicked of you." She didn't sound as though she disapproved in the least.
He held her gaze. "I wonder where else you might be ticklish."
That caused her cheeks to redden, and she looked away. When her gaze returned to his, it was as somber as she could make it. "You’ve still not told me what happened. Why did you beat that man?"
Loud footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and the sound of fervent cursing made Morgan smile. In seconds, the doorway was filled with a broken and beaten Silas Christoph. He took one look at Morgan through his good eye and visibly sighed with relief.
Morgan grunted. "Yes, I'm still alive." And he was very lucky that he was. Had Morgan died, it would have been a death sentence for Silas.
His footman Ralph stood behind Silas and pushed the man onto the floor. "I caught him a few blocks from here. It was dragging him back without giving us away that was the issue, but I managed it well." The young man smiled, pleased with himself.
Morgan smiled as well. "Very good, Ralph. You'll be commemorated for this, and I'll personally put in that you be given a position that pleases you."
Ralph's smile grew before he bowed. "It's an honor working for you, my lord. I'd like to remain until we finally catch..." His gaze slid to Philomena and his voice wavered. He cleared his throat. "The enemy."
"The enemy?" Philomena looked around at everyone and then down at Morgan. "What does he mean? And what do you mean by giving him commendations?" Her eyes widened. "Are you criminals?"
"I wish," Silas murmured. "They'd be easier to deal with."
Philomena's eyes fell to him. "What's going on, my... Morgan?"
My Morgan. Though she'd not meant it in that context, his mind jumped to remember it.
"I work for the Crown, Philomena."
"And what is it that you do?" Her grip on him tightened, her gaze searching once more.
How would she react to the news? Could she keep a secret?
"He's a spy," Silas said.
Morgan frowned at him.
Ralph lifted a hand and hit Silas right where the jawline met his ear, instantly knocking him unconscious.
Philomena screamed.
Morgan glared at Ralph.
The young spy lifted his hands as Silas' body crumbled to the ground. "My apologies."
Another thump made Morgan turn.
Philomena had passed out.
* * *
9
CHAPTER
NINE
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“Will you be away for the day?” …
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Mena rolled over on her bed and pulled one of her pillows to her chest, adjusting her head as she began to fade back to sleep. The familiar warm scent of her room was soothing but just as quickly began to startle her when she tried to recall how she'd made it to her room. She opened her eyes and glanced around her bedchamber, taking note of how the lowering sun spread its now auburn tint against every painting, the furniture, and even the finely wallpapered blue walls before settling back in her sheets. She gazed down at her body and realized she was in one of her night rails just as a knock sounded on the door.
"Come in."
Her lady's maid, Allie, came into the room, carrying clean clothes and taking them to her wardrobe as though nothing were amiss. "Would you like me to bring you something to eat, my lady?"
"Allie, how did I get here?"
Allie turned around. "A nice woman brought you here. She said you fainted in the park. Mrs. Gale, of course, believes you to have had an ill reaction to the sun." The last comment did not surprise Mena, but the story was not true.
She remembered Morgan laying on her lap. He'd been hurt and so had someone else. Then she remembered the conversation, though none of it made any sense to her. Why would a marquess have a position with the government? A spy? It was unlikely, but questions and curiosity made her rise from the bed. She looked at the clock and discovered it was hours before dinner. She'd not been asleep long.
"Allie, could you inform Mrs. Gale that we're supposed to have dinner with Lord Durham?" Morgan, she was to call him, and after everything that had happened in the house, it was strange to call a bleeding man she'd cradled in her lap by his title.
"Mrs. Gale is better, but her face, the swelling." She shook her head. “She’ll not be able to be seen for days. She only lets a single servant into the room. I’ll go with you.”
Philomena frowned at the news and hoped Mrs. Gale’s face was better by the engagement party. She gave Allie a nod. "Yes, thank you, and I'll wish to depart as soon as possible." She didn't know where the dinner was to be held. Morgan had said it was at a friend's, but she didn't know which friend. She'd have to stop by his London residence to discover the answer.
She dressed quickly and barely recalled to grab her bonnet before leaving the house.
"My lady."