What had the lovely goddess ensconced in this Mayfair manse lost?
He found himself wanting to know. Theo was strangely moved by her statement. By the melancholy she exuded. Part of him wanted to linger. To dare.
To touch.
He bowed instead. “I am sorry, my lady.”
And then, he took his leave, continuing on as he knew he must, belonging nowhere and to no one.
* * *
Heart pounding,Pamela watched the mysterious man called Beast disappear into the hall as soundlessly as he had first arrived. He had caught her in a state of dishabille, her feet bereft of slippers and stockings. It was an old habit, eschewing the trappings of full dress unless she left the house. One she should have stopped. It embarrassed her to have been caught thus, so devoid of her customary polish. But it gave her pause in a different way as well. She was gripping her sketching folio so tightly that her knuckles ached. And she was shaken by the unexpected intrusion. Shaken by the violent upheaval of the previous night.
But she was also shaken by the intruder himself.
Who was he?
Was he truly a guard as he had claimed?
What if he was another housebreaker? In the early hours of the morning, a man had slipped inside Hunt House with the intent to pilfer whilst the household had been asleep. Instead, he had met a grim end on the cantilevered stone staircase when her brother, the Duke of Ridgely, had given chase. The man had broken his neck.
A shiver passed down her spine, dread unfurling low in her belly. If this Beast were a miscreant come to prey upon the undeniable wealth Ridgely possessed, surely he would not have politely conducted conversation with her just now. Surely he would not have appeared by the light of day, as bold as any man who belonged within Hunt House’s immense walls.
She frowned. Unless he was posing as a guard so he might better familiarize himself with the house and avoid the unfortunate fate of the last housebreaker? If so, lulling her into a false sense of comfort would certainly behoove the man. Should she have screamed, the whole house would have come down upon them.
Misgiving blossomed, along with something else she didn’t like. Something she hated, in fact. Awareness of this stranger, this Beast, as a man. Pamela made haste to extinguish the candelabra before hurrying from the salon.
As she rushed back to her chamber and donned stockings and slippers, more questions arose. Would not Ridgely have informed her of such an addition as a guard? For the last four years, since her husband’s death had left her once more at the mercy of her family’s charity, Pamela had been overseeing the household at Hunt House. First for her father, and then, after his death and the deaths of her two older brothers Bartholomew and Matthew, for her brother Trevor, now Duke of Ridgely. Their mother preferred the country seat at Ridgely Hall, which was far from the gilded London monstrosity in which their father had often installed his mistresses. Surely someone—the housekeeper Mrs. Bell, the butler Ames, Ridgely himself—might have mentioned the presence of a man named Beast?
By the time Pamela finished dressing and left her chamber, she was determined that she must find Ridgely to confirm her suspicions. She felt sure she would have been told of this. She and her brother were close. They spoke daily. Ridgely was…vexing. But he didn’t keep secrets. Not like this one, a strange man prowling about.
No, the wickedly handsome intruder with the magnificent eyes and commanding air had been lying. There had been a few tense moments between them during which she had found herself beneath his thrall. Struck by his features, which seemed so very different than the gentlemen of her acquaintance. By the mysteries in his husky, slightly accented voice.
But now she had broken free of the spell. She was not a fool, and nor would she allow this Beast fellow to make her one. She reached her brother’s study and knocked at the door. No answer came from within, and a peek inside revealed it empty and cast in late-afternoon shadows. She was striding past the library when suspicious cries from within caught her attention and sent more worry crashing through her. They were feminine cries. Cries which sounded alarmingly like that of Ridgely’s ward, Lady Virtue Walcot.
If that miscreant Beast was within, harming Lady Virtue, Pamela would never forgive herself for tarrying long enough to don stockings and slippers. In a rush, she threw open the door, only to discover the man lying atop a familiar feminine form on the library’s Grecian couch was not Beast at all.
Rather, it was her own brother.
And he was…oh good heavens. A gasp tore from her. There was no reason for Ridgely to be so intimately entwined with his ward save one. Shock and outrage rose to prominence. Pamela crossed the threshold, feeling every bit the mother hen who had just caught a fox about to devour one of her innocent chicks.
“Ridgely, what have youdone?” she demanded.
She had the presence of mind to discreetly close the library door to fend off prying ears and the wandering eyes of servants. Lady Virtue was attempting to find a husband, and any hint of scandal would prove ruinous for her. Ridgely knew this, and yet he had dared to conduct himself in such egregious fashion. Oh, she could box his ears for this.
“Christ, Pamela,” her brother muttered. “What are you doing in here?”
“Looking for you,” she snapped, furious with him for this outrageous display of lechery. “And not a moment too soon, judging from the look of it.”
Ridgely was rumpled and rakish, his cheekbones tinged red. Lady Virtue was flushed, her gown lifted to her waist, and Pamela hastily averted her eyes before she saw something she didn’t want to see.
“Hell,” her brother said, which was most certainly not an explanation or a defense of himself.
But then, how could he defend being atop his innocent ward with her skirts raised and his face buried in her bodice?
“Your language is as deplorable as your ability to control yourself, Ridgely,” she told him, hoping she had interrupted them before every boundary had been crossed.
If Ridgely had gone too far with Virtue, he would have to marry her himself. And Pamela knew her rakish brother had no intention of marrying anyone, let alone his ward.
