Morgan and Archer: A Novella Read Online Free

hand to tug her against his body. “I’ll leave as soon as I’ve stolen at least a kiss.”
    Bother. A bit of wretched melodrama was the best he could think of, and when he’d followed through on his declaration, he saw Miss James was standing as if she’d sprouted roots, watching every moment of the performance through dancing eyes. While Lady Braithwaite’s tongue imitated an auger, boring against Archer’s lips, Archer pointed directly toward the corridor, and—to the extent a man could while enduring an oral assault—he glowered at the intruder.
    Miss James withdrew, smirk and all, while Lady Braithwaite plastered herself against Archer from north to south and at every point in between. She was a substantial woman and determined on her objective.
    Archer had nearly resigned himself to at least pleasuring the woman, when a bad situation threatened to become worse.
    “Oh, my Lord Braithwaite! I am pathetically relieved to see you!” Morgan James sounded near tears right outside the sitting-room door. “I am completely turned about, the women’s retiring room is nowhere in sight, and my need for it is becoming urgent .”
    Lady Braithwaite retracted herself as if bitten. “He mustn’t find me here. My pin money, my allowance for the modiste, my little habit at the whist tables—”
    She twisted about, eyes huge, while Archer stifled the urge to clap a hand over her mouth.
    “They’re leaving,” he whispered. “He’s escorting the young lady down the hall. Listen to the footsteps.”
    Relief replaced panic in Lady Braithwaite’s gaze, followed by an air of wounded dignity assumed with astounding rapidity. “I must be going, Mr. Portmaine. Steal your kisses from somebody else.”
    With pleasure. “My apologies, Lady Braithwaite. I should not have presumed.” He bowed low, the better to encourage her departure. If she ran true to Archer’s experience, her first stop upon returning to the ballroom would be her husband’s side. She’d fuss and coo and spend at least ten minutes making sure all and sundry observed their marital accord.
    Which gave Archer about fourteen minutes to open the safe, review its contents, and return to the ballroom without being seen.
    Seen again .
    ***
    Morgan checked the clock above the mantel in the card room. Mr. Portmaine had needed approximately sixteen minutes to make his way back to the ballroom. She did not believe those minutes had been necessary to cool a passion on his part for Lady Braithwaite, but that left the question of what, exactly, he’d been about.
    “You, sir, have a knack of appearing somewhere, as if you’ve been lounging in that very spot all evening.” When I know you haven’t.
    “Miss James.” Mr. Portmaine’s smile was cool, his expression giving away nothing. “A pleasure to see you again .” He bowed over her hand correctly, and Morgan did not bother playing the game of keeping his hand in hers. “Might I inquire as to whether you’re engaged for the supper waltz?”
    Oh, damn. “You’re not supposed to be this bold when confronted, Mr. Portmaine.”
    “You’re confronting me? This confrontation is by far more charming than others in recent memory. Will you dance with me, Miss James?”
    What was he trying to say? What was he trying to do ? Couples positioned themselves in the middle of the ballroom, where Morgan would be able to interrogate him for at least the duration of a dance. “It would be my pleasure.”
    He looked not pleased, but relieved, the scoundrel. She placed her gloved fingers over the knuckles of his proffered hand and let him escort her to the dance floor. They observed the protocol for beginning the dance, and then the orchestra swung into a lilting triple meter.
    Because the Braithwaites hadn’t hired a mere quartet or trio, but an orchestra, and because that ensemble boasted a piano and a proficient double bass rather than a mere harpsichord, Morgan could feel the music.
    Or perhaps her pleasure in this