Maggie sniffled.
“There, there. Don’t turn into a watering pot on me now,” Hypatia muttered.
Smiling through her tears, she said, “Thank you…for accepting me as I am.”
“I always have. ’Tis self-acceptance that eludes us all,” Patty said wisely.
Maggie knew the other was right. “Do you think a future is possible for me and Rhys? He’s a duke, after all, and I’m…”
“You’re the woman who will help him win his future back. He needs you as much as you need him.” Hypatia gave her a searching look. “You do love him, don’t you, dear?”
“I do.” It was a relief to admit it aloud. “So very much.”
“Then don’t wait another minute.” Hypatia picked up her brandy. “Life is far too short and precious to waste.”
Her sister-in-law was right, Maggie realized. She didn’t know what the future held for her and Rhys, but they had tonight. Every moment counted. Her mind flashed to the luxurious wardrobe he’d had made for her, lingering on a particular item.
Lips curving, she knew what she would do.
25
It was nearing two o’clock in the morning when Rhys returned to his suite. He was tired yet satisfied with the outcome of his meeting with Newton down in the hotel’s private lounge. The man-of-business had proved his competence once again. Everything had been arranged to Rhys’s instructions.
The diamond had been sold for a tidy sum. Guards had been retained. Rush orders of new clothes for the women had arrived and been sent to their rooms, along with a lady’s maid.
And a meeting had been set up with Tessa Kent for the morrow.
He winced at the thought of facing the woman he’d once thought to marry. Egad, but that whole business had been a mistake. He felt only relief that he’d escaped that particular disaster as he and Tessa had never suited. Nonetheless, they had not parted on the best of terms, and knowing her cunning and devilish ways, Tessa might make him pay the piper tomorrow.
As much as it galled him, he needed Tessa’s protection if he wished to find the treasure without Garrity and Sweeney breathing down his neck. For the sake of keeping Maggie and Glory safe, he would eat the humble pie Tessa served him. Or take a drubbing from her over-protective new husband.
Ah, well. Whatever would come would come.
Removing his jacket and cravat, Rhys slung them over a chair in the sitting room. His valet would take care of the garments…by God, it was good to be flush in the pocket again. He poured himself a glass of Scotch, savoring its fine burn as he stared out into the velvet-framed view of Mayfair. In this playground of luxury, he was back in his element.
Yet the money from the jewel wouldn’t last forever. The sooner he could start scouring the Seven Dials for the next clue, the better. Which meant he’d better get his rest.
Tossing back the rest of the drink, he headed to the bedchamber. He paused at the adjoining door to Maggie’s suite. Thinking of her on the other side of that barrier sent a swirl of heat through him. But his desire wasn’t just about sex; his feelings for Maggie were different from anything he’d experienced with other women. He craved her company, wanted to be near her, to hold her close even if all they did was sleep.
Given the long journey, she must be exhausted and asleep by now. Moreover, with their child in the mix, he had to carry out their affair with the utmost discretion. What if Glory suddenly awoke fearful in this strange new place and went to search out her mama…only to find him sharing Maggie’s bed?
No, he wouldn’t risk it. He would confer with Maggie tomorrow about the sleeping arrangements and come up with a foolproof plan. It struck him that this could be the most prudish thought that he, an established rake, had ever had.
Bemused, he went onto his chamber.
A bedside lamp had thoughtfully been left burning. His pulse leapt when he saw an even more thoughtful gesture: cinnamon waves spread deliciously across his pillow and a familiar curvy form beneath the silk coverlet. The smooth rise and fall of Maggie’s breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep waiting for him.
He couldn’t help his smug grin.Leave it to my Maggie to take matters into her own hands.
Quietly, he stripped off his garments. He wouldn’t wake her if she was sound asleep; it would be enough just to hold her through the night. With care, he tugged aside the coverlet…
Bloody. Fuck.
A ragged breath left him. Along with all his good intentions.
She stirred, stretching sleepily. Each movement pulled the form-fitting white satin negligee more tautly over her luscious curves. He was treated to a peek-a-boo view of a cherry nipple through a deep vee of lace.
Her lashes fluttered. Her emerald eyes were dreamy. His heart stuttered at the vision she made: an awakened siren warming his bed, keeping the fire burning for him. A fantasy come true.
