His friend shrugged. “I have no need for diversion any longer, now that my wife keeps me otherwise distracted. Besides, I was scarcely there before, whilst I was attempting to court Miss Vandenberg.”
True, but Decker had still rather had enough of this blasted conversation. He did have a manuscript to read—that much had not been a lie. To say nothing of countless other tasks awaiting him. Being a man with diverse business interests meant he was also often a man with too little time.
“Damn it, I told you to spare me the gory details, not expound upon them,” he grumbled at his friend. “That will be my cue to flee, before you start waxing poetic over the color of Lady Sinclair’s hair or the shape of her eyebrows.”
“Shedoeshave beautiful eyebrows.” Sin grinned, unrepentant. “And the color of her hair is—”
“Enough,” Decker bit out on a strangled laugh. “Thank you for the company, but I must leave you to your sonnets and lovesick whatnots.”
“Not very sporting of you, old chap,” his friend complained. “Lady Sinclair is occupied with a meeting of the Lady’s Suffrage Society in the library, and I expect her to be similarly engaged for at least the next hour or so. Who will keep me entertained until I can once more have her all to myself?”
“Get a dog,” Decker suggested nicely.
Secretly, he was no better than a hound himself, his proverbial ears perking at the mentioning of the Lady’s Suffrage Society. There was a certain member who was not far from his mind. Whose list was burning in his pocket.
Lady Jo was here.
Beneath the same roof.
All he had to do was find her.
“Lady Sinclair has requested the addition of a household cat,” Sin was saying, stroking his jaw. “Mayhap we should find a feline. I rather fancy the idea of a soft little beast curled up on my lap.”
“You see?” Decker raised a brow. “Thoroughly domesticated and utterly ruined. I despair of you, my friend. But as much as I would like to linger and give you the opportunity to provide me with further proof of the fact you’ve lost your bloody mind, I truly must go.”
Sin’s expression had turned maudlin. “A cat could be just the thing. You are brilliant, Decker.”
“I suggested a dog,” he muttered, bemused.
What the devil had happened to his friend?
Love was a horrid thing.
Best to stay his course—wickedness.
Now, Decker just had to find his quarry.
For the firsttime, the weekly meeting of the Lady’s Suffrage Society had convened at the townhome of the Earl and Countess of Sinclair. The gathering was being held in the library, and Jo was listening to Lady Helena Davenport discussing suggestions for hosting a charity bazaar to encourage new society members to join.
And that was when she sawhimstanding at the threshold of the open library door.
Mr. Elijah Decker.
Their gazes connected.
He beckoned her. She glanced wildly about to see if anyone else had noticed him. Everyone’s attention was directed toward Lady Helena, however. Her gaze flicked back to him. He was still there.
He motioned again.
She shook her head, mouthed a frantic denial.No.
He flashed her the grin that made heat pool between her thighs. His lips moved in a soundless response.Yes.
For a frantic moment, she remained where she was, frozen. Wondering if she ought to go, just so that he would cease hovering at the threshold, trying to lure her nearer to danger, or if she ought to stay put and ignore him. He crooked a finger.
She swallowed. Looked away. But Lady Helena’s dulcet voice was not sufficient distraction. She could not concentrate upon a single word Lady Helena uttered. When she glanced toward the door once more, he was gone. She could not deny the swift rush of disappointment lancing her.
Had he truly left? Was he so certain she would do his bidding that he was awaiting her now? Moreover, what did hewant?
