The earl could not believe his good fortune.
He strode impatiently up the walk and knocked on the door. A moment later it opened, Jane saying “Robert?”
And their gazes locked.
His held triumph, hers recognition, then shock, then fear. She tried to slam the door in his face, but he was too fast. He rammed his shoulder into it, then effortlessly barreled through. Jane cried out in despair, his force knocking her back against the wall. He straightened, his heart pounding as if he’d run a race. Her blue eyes were wide and riveted on his. “What do you want!”
With an outward display of calm, he closed the door. He turned back slowly. His ears were ringing, his breath short. He looked at her.
God, she was beautiful.
“What do you want!” she cried again.
“I don’t know.”
She stood frozen against the wall, like a hare cornered before the hounds.
His gaze slipped from her white face. She had changed, filled out, become lush with maturity. Her bosom was fuller, straining against her low-cut gown and spilling over it. Her waist seemed tinier, perhaps in contrast. Her hips were rounder, softer. Before she had been coltish. She was still slender, but so perfectly curved his groin began raging.
He hated his lust.
He hated her for what she did to him.
“Maybe,” he said, sneering, “I want what Lindley wants.”
She stiffened. Her chin came up, her eyes blazed. “Get out!”
He smiled, a dangerous, mean smile, and stalked past her into the parlor. His gaze swept it. He heard her coming up behind him. He moved away, down the corridor, opening the door to a back room, which obviously belonged to the maid.
“What are you doing?” Jane demanded. “You can’t just come into my home as if you own it!”
He shot her a look. “But I do.” He moved past her, to inspect the small dining room and kitchen.
She followed, furious. “What do you mean, you do! I pay the rent, this is my house, and if you don’t leave I’ll call the Peelers on you!”
He paused once again in the foyer, leaning against the wall negligently, arms crossed. “Do you pay the rent, Jane? Or did Gordon set you up here?”
She flushed. “It’s none of your damn business!”
“The kitten has grown claws,” he said.
“This kitten would like to spit in your face!”
“Gordon set you up here,” the earl said calmly. “I pay him a monthly allowance—for your rent and keep.”
She stared, shocked.
He lost his negligent stance, standing, looming over her. “What? No thank yous? Oh, how could I forget? A woman who skulks away in the dark of night without a good-bye would not be the type to say thank you. The one thing,” he said viciously, “that I know is my duty. Did you forget, Jane, who your guardian is?”
“You have been giving Robert money?”
“Since the day you left.”
She turned away, distraught. “How much? How much do I owe you?” “Nothing.”
She whirled. “How much, damn you! How much do I owe you!”
He was shocked because she was crying. “Two thousand pounds at the end of this year.”
