All this work… for nothing.
The poor girl is about to faint.
Did she know where she was?
The moment he had seen her being dragged away, Edward had known he had to get to her, or she would not survive the night, certainly not where the footman was taking her. She could nothave looked more of an outsider—even while in costume—if she tried.
Edward, as cynical, jaundiced, and disillusioned as he was, felt amused that this little Miss thought she could swayRoderick Hammondto give up his roaming ways to marry a woman—one of many he had ruined—and domesticate himself.
Holding her firm, he had to moderate his grip; she was so petite that she looked like a porcelain doll, and wrapped in all that white, more a cherubic one.
The satin mask molded to her delicate bone structure, her lips were rosy and plump, and while it was too dim for him to see the color of her eyes—the light came from behind her, not over him—he could tell they were some shade of blue.
They are fringed by the longest lashes I have ever seen.
Over her shoulder, he noticed two footmen and the club manager were on the floor searching—presumably—for this girl. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d backed her into a nook, and with one arm still locked around her waist, his free hand tilted her head so that it appeared as though they were kissing.
“Play along,” he whispered.
There was a grim warning in his tone, and Edward hoped she would get it—quickly, that she was being hunted and that sheneeded to be playing this part if she wished to get out of here unscathed.
He concealed her body as much as he could, knowing that after the men passed by, he had a limited time to get her out of the club and back to her home.
Her breath was coming hard and fast in his cheek now. Curious, his eyes narrowed on hers. “Why are you afraid?”
“This…” she swallowed “…is the closest I have been to a man.”
“I would wager you have never been kissed either,” he breathed, eyes gliding over her face, and when her cheeks pinked, something stirred in his chest—interest.
It had been a long time since he had felt such a visceral urge, but damn did it come at the worst moment. He cupped her soft cheek, his thumb coasting over the bridge of her nose. A tremor ran through her at the feel of his thumb so close to her lips. “Si…Sir!”
“It has been a long time since I’ve had the urge to kiss a woman,” he murmured darkly. “Especially one as untrained as you… but alas, it is not meant to be.”
His senses were turned toward the men passing by and when they did, he pulled her cowl over. “We need to leave here. Now. Keep your head down and do not make eye-contact with anyone.”
With his hand protectively on her head, he walked with her down the stairs and through the mingling masses gambling ancient fortunes away, skirting eagle-eyed footmen and ignoring lords who smirked at him, thinking, clearly, that he was going home with another conquest.
“We are almost there,” he uttered eventually, “Do you have a hackney home?”
“…No.”
Clearly, she had not thought this plan through in its entirety. Naïve little mouse.
“I’ll find you one,” he said as they passed through the brilliant circular marble foyer. He didn’t look over his shoulder to the two stories arching over them, much less the basement where the apex of depravity—gaming, drink, and whores—was in true effect.
She came here to find Rutledge but found me. What will she think knowing I partly own this club? Surely, she’ll think I am just as wicked as he.
The night sky blazed with stars as he drew her close, unwilling to let her go so soon as he guided her down the lane to the waiting hackneys. Halfway there, she paused to suck in a breath.
With her hand pressed on her breast, he cocked his head and peered at her before reaching to touch her mask. Instantly, she pulled away, “No, do not touch that; the mask stays on.”
His fingers brushed the lace longingly. “You know who I am… but what is your name?”
She seemed to think for a moment. Perhaps deciding upon whether to conjure up a lie. But then her gaze settled on his again, and she whispered, “Alice… Alice Winslow.”
“Well, my dearAlice Winslow, the Duke of Valhaven at your service. Though I’d prefer if you called me by my name,Edward.”
They headed for the line of hackney’s, and upon finding a driver who did not look a shady character, Edward called out, “You there, are you for hire?”
