He wanted to bury himself inside of her, claim her for himself once and for all.
Dev had said he’d lie, steal, and kill for his duchess. Suddenly, Justin had similar urges.
But she didn’t believe in me.
He swallowed hard. Why did honor even matter? Or character? He struggled with the terrifying notion that he could not live without her and yet, if he went against his own conscience, could he then live with himself?
He glanced from side to side as they emerged from the forested path. A few members of thetonhad begun to assemble early. It would not do for Rhoda to be recognized by any of them, especially dressed as she was.
Good God, she and her friends had stolen their way into White’s! He didn’t know that any other woman had ever done so.
How had they gone unnoticed? He shook his head as he watched the sway of her hips, not hidden nearly enough by the length of her masculine jacket. Did men only see what they wanted to see? Were they so arrogant as to not believe a woman could slip by their defenses so easily?
Damnable men and damnable women.
With a flick of his hand and a quick whistle, he summoned an approaching hackney. Already the two of them were attracting curious glances. Best to get her hidden away, if only in a vehicle.
He gave the driver her address, along with payment, and then resisted the urge to assist her up the steps. She was dressed as a gentleman, for God’s sake.
When she realized he was not going to join her, she frowned. Her lashes fluttered, and she looked as though she wanted to cry.
She looked how he felt.
“Can you not forgive me, Justin?”
Her words nearly broke him. He wasn’t as bothered by her deception as he was by the fact that she had so little confidence in him.
If she couldn’t trust him… “There is nothing to forgive.” He met her gaze, willing her to understand.
Oh, how he wished he could simply forget everything except this woman.
“Then I don’t understand.”
This was not the place to have such a discussion. He merely shook his head and smiled with regret heavy on his chest. “Try not to be seen when you get home.”
She rolled her eyes.
Of course. She wasn’t a fool. She didn’t need to hear his words in order to know something so simple.
His heart sank as he watched the rundown carriage pull away, Perhaps, she didn’t need him either.
Rhoda had been inconsolable after St. John’s death. She’d been sad. She’d felt abandoned.
She’d not been heartbroken.
Justin White had been the man to introduce her to this particularly painful affliction.
She’d managed to slip back into her mother’s house and into her chamber to change without being noticed. She’d wanted nothing more than to don her night rail, climb beneath the counterpane, and cry herself to sleep.
But she’d promised Sophia she’d visit Prescott House. They would want to know if the plan had worked.
She owed them that much. They’d risked their own reputations to help her.
So instead of feigning illness for the rest of the day, she wiped her eyes and, along with Lucy, made her way resolutely on foot to Prescott House.
Mr. Evans told her she was expected and led her to Sophia’s favorite drawing room.
She had barely stepped inside when she was nearly knocked over by Cecily, who’d bounded across the rooms and grasped hold of Rhoda’s shoulders. “You are safe! We were so very worried. One minute we’re watching Flavion attempt to defend his actions to Lord Carlisle and the next you have disappeared. I had hoped you’d met with success, but I didn’t know. And we certainly couldn’t ask anyone.” Cecily laughed.
