Again, the question that had driven her here tonight returned.
Why would such a man give a toss about being accepted into thehaut ton?
He seemed too intelligent for society nonsense.
She needed to let this go. She understood that. Deverill’s business was none of hers.
And in this very moment, technically, she was committing a crime.
She needed to leave—now.
She’d only returned to the drawing room and was making a straight line for the door when the handle jiggled.
Within the space between one second and the next, her mind performed a quick calculation.
That door was on the brink of swinging open and admitting Deverill into his lair.
Blimey.
It wasn’t conscious thought that had her feet scrambling across the room, making for the silk screen in a near dive, but instinct. She curled into a tight crouch and attempted to control her breath and calm her racing heart. As for her perspiring palms, there was no help for them.
It hadn’t even been half an hour. But she reckoned it was the man’s prerogative to come and go as he pleased in his own hotel suite.
The door clicked shut, and a metallicclanksailed through the air. That would’ve been the room key discarded into a bowl.
Heavy footsteps—malefootsteps—strode deeper into the room.
Breath held to the point of bursting her lungs, Beatrix shifted so she could peer through the long crack between screen panels.
Deverill.
As he hadn’t immediately begun searching the rooms for her, she could only thank her lucky stars that the concierge hadn’t informed him of the lady awaiting him in his suite.
The solid length and width of his back was to her as liquid hit crystal. He was pouring himself a whiskey.
She could use one of those herself.
To celebrate her escape from this room.
If that ever occurred.
He set the crystal tumbler on the dining table, and she harbored the hope that he would go to his bedroom. Instead, he removed his gloves, revealing an ostentatious ruby ring on his left pinky. She hadn’t ever seen him without gloves, so she wouldn’t have known about this ring. It wouldn’t be inscribed with a signet, because he wasn’t a lord. The rich quality of gold and size of the ruby, however, proclaimed his right to be anywhere he pleased. Then he shrugged off his evening coat and draped it over the back of a chair.
If only he would leave the room…
He reached up and tugged at his cravat, loosening, then discarding it. His shirt fell open into a narrow V, revealing a dark smattering of chest hair.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone too dry.
He took one shirtsleeve and began rolling, fold by fold, revealing a forearm sinewy with muscle and a dark dusting of hair.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face. She’d gone hot—too hot. Such heat couldn’t be beneficial to one’s health.
When he began rolling up the other sleeve, she considered the possibility she might combust on the spot.
A lighttap-tap-tapsounded at the door.
He opened the door with a playful flourish, and Lady Standish dramatically swept inside.
