After Archie bowed and departed, Connor slipped his watch back into his vest pocket. “I was about to admonish him for cutting the evening short, however, ‘tis nigh unto midnight already.”
“That late?” Piper smiled, eyes heavy with fatigue…or at least, that was what Connor chose to think for the sake of his own sanity. No dessert would be more satisfying than another taste of her lips.
“Appears so.
Rising from his chair, Connor moved to hers, holding it while she stood. Her hand in his was hot as a brand. Logic insisted he release it before temptation overtook him, yet instinct held on. He caressed her soft skin with his thumb.
“Will you kiss me goodnight?”
His head began to shake of its own accord before she even finished the question. “I dinnae think that would be the wisest course of action. It’s late and ye appear weary. Shall I call up Albert to see ye home?”
A low sigh escaped her. “No need. I’ll have Hilde ring from the kitchen.”
As if to imply, if Connor weren’t going to see to the task himself, she could find her own way.
He didn’t dare, yet felt like an arse for denying her.
“At least allow me call Archie back.”
“No, that’s quite all right,” she assured him. “I know the way.”
Her words renewed the curiosity that had nagged him for days now. She knew the way. She’d known the footman’s name. Then again, she seemed more than familiar with the staff here. Because she’d been raised in the area as she’d told him before? Because she lived close by? How close?
Hours of talk and he hadn’t learned the answers to the questions that concerned him most. In defense of them both, their lively repartee hadn’t left much of a gap to fill.
And there was time for that.
“I shan’t sleep a wink until I ken yer safely home.”
Until he could lie abed picturing her in hers.
“Oh, off with you,” she teased. “I’m certain you have a treatise on the proper consistency of mud in the pig pen to lull you to sleep quick enough.”
With a low chuckle, he turned her hand and kissed it. “Ye ken me well already.”
“Good night, Connor.”
“Good night, lass.”
Chapter 11
The duke’s threats have become most vile. What he said to me today I cannot bear repeating, even upon this page. I was right to be afraid of him and cannot predict what he will do next.
~ from the diary of Piper Brudenall, January 1893
“Keeping company with the new marchioness’s brother, child?” Hilde clucked her tongue like a mother hen the moment Piper set foot into the kitchen. The cook sat in a rocking chair near the fireplace with her stockinged feet propped before the flames and a tea cup in her hands despite the late hour.
Midnight.
Connor’s company had been so diverting, what she thought nothing more than a few hours protracted to more than six without either of them taking notice.
When the calloused pad of his thumb stroked the back of her hand in slow circles and that warm, sexy swirl returned to his eyes, for a split second, she’d thought he might be inclined to resume their passionate entanglement on his desk right there upon the table.
Instead he’d allowed her to walk away. His eyes followed her as she made her way down the servants’ hall under the soft light of the gas sconces along the wall.
She’d taken each step with mounting reluctance but was happy to find Hilde waiting up for her. She hugged the older woman around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “You’re up late. Do you have any more of that brandy?”
“Tea, my dear. Tea.”
