In Bed with a Rogue (12 page)

The lady was waiting with her servant just as Sebastian had requested. The Scot merely glanced at him in irritation rather than his usual murderous intent. They were making progress.

Sebastian held up the book. “For you, but please allow me to carry it.”

She pursed her lips, but took his arm when he offered it. He didn’t often walk her home, but it would allow them more time to speak in private. He glanced over his shoulder at her menacing shadow.
Well, relative privacy
.

Perhaps sensing his reluctance to having an eavesdropper along, Lady Prestwick addressed her servant. “Lord Thorne and I need to speak alone, Fergus. Perhaps you would walk ahead?”

The man nodded. “Aye, milady.” His long strides built distance between them quickly and the crowd swallowed him.

Sebastian’s brows lifted. “Your man is almost agreeable today.”

“Fergus is perfectly agreeable, sir. You, on the other hand, try my patience. Why did you purchase my book? I have the funds.”

He drew her closer as two men jostled past. “I know you do, but I wanted to buy it for you. I rarely buy gifts for ladies, which is in direct conflict with what you believe about my preferences.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He held the books over his heart as if he’d been wounded. “Me? A pillar of Society?”

She chuckled, relaxing on his arm. “I didn’t say a word, so how could I have insulted you?”

“Oh, you have your ways.” He winked and she glanced away. “The attraction is mutual.
I
have no trouble admitting the truth.”

She sighed. “I answered your question. Could we please change the subject?”

For
now
. But he was far from finished trying to get her in his bed.

***

In silence, Helena and Lord Thorne passed hawkers shouting out their wares and a woman with a basket of flowers. Carriages and wagons clattered along the boulevard in a rush to get to their destinations, while she and the baron strolled arm in arm. The contact sent tingles racing through her.

Fergus kept a respectable distance ahead of them, close enough to provide protection if needed, but far enough away to allow them to speak freely. Only she didn’t know what she wanted to say.

Discussing her attraction to him was out of the question. If she admitted she was drawn to him, it would be a mistake. That would be the first step in becoming another of his conquests, and even though they had no future together, she didn’t relish the thought of him moving on to another lady once he had bedded her. It was best to keep their association friendly, but not
too
friendly. Then she could return to Scotland no worse for the experience.

The overcast sky provided little respite from the muggy day, and Helena’s undergarments soon grew damp and clung to her body.

“It smells like rain,” she said.

She should ask about Lavinia, but she already knew the answer. After days of receiving nothing but disappointing news, she had learned to read Lord Thorne’s body language. There had been reluctance in the lines around his eyes and the muscles in his arm twitched when she had mentioned changing the subject. Their last two meetings she had begun to sense he shared in her sadness. Although it was most likely a trick of her imagination, she felt he understood her, and her guard was slipping. It was a dangerous development, but she was enjoying his company too much to fortify the wall she had built around her heart.

As they entered a residential area, the crowd thinned. “Do you have any family besides your mother and sister, Lord Thorne?”

“Mother has distant cousins in Dorset, but we rarely see them.”

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. She wanted to tell him the truth about her past and Lavinia, but she feared him withdrawing his offer to help. If he knew about her father’s gambling and learned her sister was a whore, he might use her scandalous relations as an excuse to break his promise. Or worse, he could expose her as a fraud. All the friendships she had built and valued—Eve, Olive, the duchess, Lady Norwick—would be destroyed.

His brow furrowed. “Is something troublingyou, madam?”

“Not at all.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded, seemingly content with her answer. “We are nearing my home. I suppose we should dispatch with the unpleasant task of you telling me your search continues to be fruitless.”

“I am sorry to bring you no news yet again, but there are still several places to check. If she isn’t working at one of the West End brothels, I will expand my search. Stay hopeful.” He flashed a dazzling smile. “I promise to visit every one, if I must.”

The thought that he might actually enjoy his part of their bargain made her stiffen. She tried not to imagine him mixing pleasure with business he conducted on her behalf, but flashes of him touching some faceless woman invaded her mind
. A different woman each night.

A wave of nausea swept through her as a fine sheen covered her body. Her knees wobbled and she stumbled.

“Lady Prestwick!” He caught her under the arms to keep her from falling. Fergus swung around, saw her slumping in Lord Thorne’s embrace, andcame running.

“What happened, lass?”

“She collapsed,” Lord Thorne said. “It’s too warm. I should have ordered a hack.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She tried to stand, but her head spun and she swayed.

Fergus’s concerned face loomed close. “We are almost home. Can you make it a little farther?”

“Yes,” she choked out, mortified by her weakness. She tried to pull away from the baron. “I can walk.”

Lord Thorne frowned. “If stubbornness came bottled, I would accuse you of overindulging.”

“Aye, she is as headstrong as the day is long.” Fergus smirked as he accepted the books the baron held out.

Helena frowned at them for joining forces against her. “I am not—”

Lord Thorne scooped her into his arms and she squealed. The town house was only a three-minute jaunt at best. She could walk.
Maybe
.

She gawked as Fergus fell into step with the baron. He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “His lairdship means you no harm, lass.”

She bristled at his betrayal and Lord Thorne’s high-handed ways. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of deciding if she had the strength to walk. When they reached her address, Fergus hurried ahead and held the door open. Lord Thorne carried her inside.

“You can put me down, sir.”

He headed for the drawing room without pause, deposited her on the couch, and knelt beside her. “Do you want to remove your bonnet?” He reached for the tie at her chin.

“I can do it,” she snapped.

His hand dropped to his knee and when she looked up into his anxious eyes, it was like spotting a ray of light breaking through a stormy sky. Lord Thorne wasn’t her husband and he wasn’t ordering her about. He appeared genuinely concerned.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly.

Her head bowed with remorse. “Forgive me. I didn’t—” She swallowed her apology. How could she explain she had misunderstood his intentions when even Fergus had realized they were good?

He bobbed his head until he was in her line of sight. His grin melted her heart. “There is nothing to forgive, Lady Prestwick. I overstepped my bounds.”

“No, you were being a gentleman.”

She reached for a ribbon’s end and slowly pulled. The bow released and she slipped off her bonnet. Removing it did make her feel better. She tugged off her gloves too and handed everything to Lord Thorne. It was a symbolic surrender, at least partly. He likely didn’t interpret her actions that way, but it required great effort for her to trust a man to take care of her after her husband’s suffocating type of caring.

He placed her bonnet and gloves on the table then removed his own hat and gloves. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Please.”

Pushing to his feet, he smiled at her once more, then left her alone. She barely had time to miss him before he was back. “Fergus will bring a glassof lemonade.”

“And one for you, too?”

He fingered the fichu clinging to her. “May I?”

She nodded and he unwound the damp lace from her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, making her light-headed again. “Thank you.”

His ring caught the light, a white star appearing in the dark jewel. She reached out to skim her fingers over the stone. “It is beautiful.”

“It was my father’s.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

She wanted to ask him about his father—the report of the former Lord Thorne knocking his wife to the ground during a ball or the claim he’d shouted obscenities during a meeting of the House of Lords and threatened a fellow peer—but she didn’t dare.

Sebastian frowned. “Are you well enough to attend the musicale with Eve? I could step in if you are under the weather. Did you eat anything this morning?”

“Not as much as I should have. That is likely the trouble.” Heat singed her cheeks. She would die if he learned the real reason for her near-swoon, although the heat likely played some role. “I’m well, really. I will see your sister this evening as planned.”

“Send a messenger if you change your mind.”

She wouldn’t. Eve was counting on her to play chaperone, especially with Lady Thorne’s rheumatoid acting up the last few days.

Lord Thorne raised her hand to his lips. They were warm and soft against her bare skin. She wanted to feel them on her lips. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned slightly toward him.

A sharp knock broke the spell and Lord Thorne released her hand with an exasperated sigh. He stood and turned toward the door where Fergus was just inside the threshold. His eyes narrowed at the baron. He had only one glass of lemonade.

“You aren’t staying, my lord?” she asked.

He smiled. “I have much demanding my attention this afternoon, madam. Perhaps another day.”

She managed to eke out a farewell and experienced a pierce of disappointment when he was gone.

Twelve

Sebastian adjusted his cravat in the foyer looking glass and tipped his head to inspect his jaw for wayward whiskers. As usual, his valet had done an impeccable job with Sebastian’s shave, but one could never be too fastidious. People were judged on appearances, and he took pains to set himself apart from the disheveled mess his father had become in his last years.

Nodding with approval, he fleetingly wondered what Helena would think of his new waistcoat.

Lady
Prestwick.

He really must remember to address her appropriately, even though her name created the loveliest sound. “Helena,” he said softly. The name rolled off his tongue.

A rustle on the stairs snapped him out of his reverie and he spun around. Heat inched up his neck as he spotted his sister. If she’d heard him murmuring Helena’s name, she gave no indication.

Eve reached the landing, flung her arms to her sides, and twirled. Her daffodil skirts flared, revealing her new slippers. “How do I look?”

She looked amazing, as usual. “Ladies don’t ask for compliments, poppet.”

“If gentlemen offered them freely, a lady wouldn’t have to resort to asking,” she said with a lift to her chin. “Besides, I want to know if I am dressed appropriately for Lady Norwick’s salon.”

“How am I to know? I’ve never attended the ladies’ circles.”

Even if he had, he wouldn’t know what to expect from Lady Norwick. The countess was known for her outlandish gatherings.

Eve huffed and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders before marching toward the door. “You are no help at all, Sebastian.”

“You look lovely,” he called after her. “Is that better?”

“Only marginally. Next time employ a touchof sincerity.”

He chuckled as he followed her to the carriage. His sister’s surly mood didn’t last beyond the next corner. “Helena and I have been having a wonderful time getting to know one another. I do wish you would stay and become better acquainted with her.”

“It’s a
ladies’
circle.”

She arranged her skirts and smiled. “You like ladies. Very much, from what I gather.”

“The company you keep, Evie.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “I will stay long enough to give my regards, then I will hie off to the gentlemen’s club until it is time to collect you.”

Perhaps he could pull Helena aside to arrange a meeting for later to update her on his search. There was still no sign the girl had ever come to the West End. He was beginning to suspect her man Fergus had been duped, but Sebastian didn’t want to alert her to his suspicions. There were other places to search yet, and he wouldn’t abandon the task until he found the girl, or at least had a good accounting of her fate.

The drive to Norwick Place was quicker than he’d anticipated. He alighted from the carriage and offered a hand to his sister. After the evening shower, the air had cooled and a refreshing breeze stirred a curl at Eve’s cheek. He could walk to Brooks’s, then return for her later.

“What do you say to a stroll after the gathering?” he asked his sister.

“That sounds lovely.”

He sent his driver home, then joined her at Lord and Lady Norwick’s door. As he reached for the knocker, the door flung open and Lady Norwick’s sunny smile greeted them.

“Miss Thorne, you are here at last. And you’ve brought your brother. Splendid.” She looked Sebastian up and down with an assessing sweep of her chocolate brown eyes. “Yes, you will do perfectly.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Will do for what exactly?”

“This way, Lord Thorne.” The countess latched on to his arm and urged him inside with Eve hanging tight to his other arm. He felt like a man being led to gaol. His head swung around in search of the butler to appeal for help, but the foyer was empty.

“Do you answer your own door?”

Lady Norwick ignored his questions and issued a steady stream of chatter as they wound through the town house. “How fortuitous that you brought Lord Thorne along. Jasper had promised to stay, but I think the whole trance scenario frightened him in the end.”

“Trance? What is going on?”