King bit his apple again.
“Did your pa really name youKing?” Georgie asked.
King slid his gaze away from Miss Baker. “No. That’s a shortened version of my title.” Possibly his former title at this moment. “I am”—was?—“the Marquess of Kingston. I have other titles, but as that is the highest ranking one, my friends called me Kingston, and then just King.”
“Like we call VioletVi.”
“Exactly.”
“Your Christian name is Markiss?” Georgie asked.
“No, that’s part of my title. My Christian name is the same as yours. My full name is George Oxley, Marquess of Kingston.”
Georgie dropped the apple core he was gnawing on. “Your name is George too?”
“It is.”
“Vi, did you hear that? We have the same name!”
“I heard,” she said. Smiling, she ruffled her little brother’s hair. She was so pretty when she smiled. King wished she’d do it more often. Maybe he liked the look of her smiling even more than angry. That meant it was better if she didn’t smile. He’d rather think of her as a termagant than a pretty young woman, especially when she got that hazy look in her eyes and her mouth softened. King could imagine, in quite a bit of detail, kissing those lips.
“I’ll go downstairs to bed now,” he said abruptly. It was probably no later than eight o’clock, but what else did he have to do? Anything was better than standing here and fantasizing about kissing Violet Baker. She’d probably bite his lips if he tried. King thought he might not mind that—
“The water,” he said, turning his back on them and moving behind the screen. Once shielded, he took a moment to breathe and tell his cock to behave, then he lifted the bucket and carried it out of the flat, down the stairs, and into the tavern’s back room.
It felt colder than it had earlier. Perhaps because it was now empty. The stove upstairs hadn’t been lit, but with four people, it was warmer. Dare he say it—almost cozy?
But he wouldn’t think about Miss Baker and her cozy flat. He’d wash and lie down and sleep. God knew he was exhausted enough to sleep for a week.
A tallow candle sat on a table well away from the casks of ale, and he used the tinder box to light the wick, giving himenough light to survey the room. Miss Baker had suggested he sleep in the space under the counter. The stove was at one end of that space, and if he’d had coal, he might have been reasonably warm. The wall on the other side was stacked high with casks, the row of them only broken by the stairwell leading to the flat. At the far end of the room were shelves of glasses and mugs, and beside them a door leading to the yard behind the tavern, which was really just a square of dirt between the tavern and another building.
Well, he had slept in worse places. Of course, he’d usually been drunk and only half-conscious, but he supposed he would survive this. He looked about the room again. He had little choice but to survive it.
Weary to his bones, King removed his boots and stockings then stripped off his coat, neckcloth, waistcoat, and shirt. He’d dropped all on the ground but remembered he didn’t have a valet, and stooped to pick them up and fold them neatly. He placed the clothes on the floor to use as a pillow. Look at him! Surviving already.
Bare-chested, he looked about for a basin to pour water from the bucket into but found nothing of use. He didn’t have a cloth or soap either. He’d acquire those tomorrow, he told himself, and dipped a hand in the cool water. He splashed the water over his face and shivered when the icy droplets landed on his bare shoulders. He’d acquire coal tomorrow as well. What he wouldn’t give for a steaming bath right now.
Using his wet hands, he scrubbed his face, feeling the stubble of the day’s growth of beard. He supposed he needed a razor, and shaving soap too, or he’d soon look unrecognizable. On the other hand, perhaps that was preferable. He slid his fingers through his hair, slicking it back, then dipped them into the water again and repeated the gesture. He was feeling better already.
He repeated this several times, shivering when the water splashed on his back or shoulders, until finally he had to grit his jaw and splash his chest. Holy hell that was cold. He scrubbed and dipped again. He was cold and covered in gooseflesh now, but the worst was yet to come. He reached for the fall of his breeches. He’d do this quickly and put on clean clothes. But just as he slid the material over his hips, he heard a gasp from behind him.
King glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Joshua or Georgie, but his brows rose when his eyes met Miss Baker’s wide blue ones. She’d obviously been in the act of walking down the steep stairs, one hand on the wall for balance and the other holding a basin. But now she stood, statue-still and slack-jawed, staring at him. King felt a tingle skitter up his back at the look in her eyes. He knew that look, and knew what it meant as well. She might treat him with cold disdain in public, but privately, she desired him as much as he did her. Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as she realized she was staring at him and he back at her.
“I—” She held out the basin and stepped down, almost losing her footing.
King moved quickly to grasp her arm to steady her. Her skin was warm beneath his cold hand, and surprisingly soft.
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze dipping to his waist, where he held his breeches just high enough to protect her modesty. She thrust the basin at him. “I thought you might need this.”
King released her arm and took the basin, which contained a strip of linen and a sliver of soap. “That’s surprisingly thoughtful of you,” he said.
Her blue eyes went flinty, and he was sorry he’d spoken. The look of arousal in them was gone in a snap. “Goodnight, my lord.”
He didn’t want her to go. He wanted to see that look of desire in her eyes again. “You needn’t rush off,” he said. “You can stay and watch.” He raised a brow in invitation.
Her mouth parted then closed.
“You’re a grown woman. It must get cold and lonely in that bed of yours. Don’t you ever want company?” Twelve hours ago, King had barely known this woman existed, but now he wanted nothing more than to be the man in her bed.
