The man who filled the doorway was nothing like she had imagined. Tall, impossibly so, with shoulders that seemed to block out the corridor behind him. Brown hair swept back from a face that might have been carved from granite, all sharp angles and shadowed planes. A close-trimmed beard framed lips pressed into a firm line.
But it was his eyes that arrested her. Blue as a winter sky, and just as cold. They swept the room with the precision of a general surveying a battlefield before landing on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
The Duke of Calborough.
He was magnificent. And terrifying.
“What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 2
“What are you doing here?” Aaron stood in the doorway of the private suite, his hand still on the brass handle.
The woman before him clearly didn’t belong in this room of White’s, where gentlemen conducted business best left unexamined by polite society.
She was certainly beautiful. Copper hair caught the lamplight like burnished flame, and her green eyes held intelligence that her nervous fidgeting couldn’t disguise. Yet everything about her screamed innocence, from the modest cut of her evening dress to the way she clutched her reticule as if it might protect her from whatever came next.
“Perhaps we should have a drink to pass the time together.” Her accent was polished, her tone even, though her voice trembled on the last word.
Aaron stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, noting how she tracked his movement like a deer watching a wolf.
Interesting.
He’d received the cryptic message an hour ago, promising information about an investment opportunity that required discretion. Instead, he found this.
“By all means.” He gestured to the sideboard, where crystal decanters gleamed. “I confess, I am curious to hear about the business mentioned in the note I was given.”
She moved toward the whisky with a determination that might have been convincing if her hands hadn’t shaken as she poured. The amber liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim. She downed hers in one desperate swallow, then coughed, her eyes watering.
Aaron left his glass untouched as he took off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door. “You’re not accustomed to whisky.”
“I frequently enjoy it.” The lie was so transparent he almost smiled.
“Of course you do. Just as you frequently meet strange men in private rooms, I suppose.”
Color flooded her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Your Grace.”
So, she knew who he was. That answered one question while raising a dozen others.
Aaron moved closer, studying her with the same attention he’d give a dubious contract. Quality clothes that were carefully mended. Refined features that spoke of good breeding. And a bearing that came from years of proper education.
A lady.
But what was a lady doing here, playing at seduction with all the skill of a child attempting to quote Shakespeare?
“I’m implying,” he said slowly, “that someone has put you up to this. The question is who, and why.”
She lifted her chin with admirable courage. “No one has put me up to anything. I’m here because I choose to be.”
“Really?” Aaron circled her slowly, noting how she turned to keep him in sight. “And what is it you’re choosing, exactly?”
“Your company.” She attempted what was probably meant to be a sultry smile. It came across as a grimace. “Surely a man of your … experience … understands what I’m offering.”
Aaron stopped directly in front of her, close enough to see the pulse hammering at her throat.
“What I understand is that you’re terrified,” he told her. “Your hands are shaking, your breathing is shallow, and you keep glancing at the door as if calculating whether you could reach it before I could stop you.”
Her composure cracked slightly. “You have a very active imagination, Your Grace.”
