She had heard her name said a thousand times, by dozens of different people. It had never sounded the way it did rolling off this man’s tongue. She had never reacted the way she did now, her entire body pulsing with tension. Her sex clenching against nothingness.
Perhaps she should have learned to live with Mrs. Huxley because this was…so very wrong. Was she so far fallen that the first handsome man who showed her any kindness made her a wanton?
“I-I—” She struggled to find purchase against the tide of these unwanted feelings.
His pupils dilated slightly and he said, “You were explaining why you couldn’t go to a more respectable place.”
“Yes.” She fought to regain her breath. “Yes. Places like those were crawling with people who might report back to my husband’s family. I realized right away they weren’t safe. So I started to go…lower. I was given a card for the Cat’s Companion and so I went there.”
“Not a very easy place to find a permanent protector,” he said. “It’s a brothel in the truest sense. Men there want a night, nothing more.”
She nodded. “I know. Last night wasn’t my first night there, you see. Still, I hoped that if I pleased one enough…” She trailed off. “I don’t know if you can understand the kind of desperation I was facing. Perhaps it clouded my judgment. Perhaps it still does.”
“I understand a little,” he said. “How many nights did you go there, seeking out a savior?”
“Twice,” she said with a shudder. “As I said, the first was a few days ago, but it…it didn’t go well. He could not complete the…matter and got angry with me for it. He might have harmed me, I think, if he hadn’t passed out drunk before he could. My friend Aurora was horrified. She begged me not to return. I should have listened.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “So you’ve escaped with your life twice.”
“Three times. The reason I ran away and saw the body was because the man I was meant to…to service sounded like an even more brutal one.”
He pushed to his feet, his chair screeching across the floor as he did so. He paced to the window and stood there, broad back to her. She held her breath, for she didn’t know if he had decided she was too much trouble or not.
“Mr. Fitzhugh,” she said softly.
He faced her slowly. “How did you see the body?”
She shut her eyes, the images bombarding her again. She hadn’t realized she was speaking, but she was. And she told him about running, about staggering upon the scene. About seeing that poor woman’s body.
“What did she look like?” he whispered.
“Blonde hair,” she murmured. “I couldn’t see much else from that height and in the shadows.”
That seemed to appease him and he moved back toward the table. “You said it was the Earl of Roddenbury down below. Are you certain?”
She nodded. “Yes. Maggie said his name. And he was a friend of my husband. I’ve seen him many times over the years, though we’ve rarely interacted. It was him, I’m certain of it.”
His lips had pursed, thinning their full line. She drew a long breath.
“You saved me, Mr. Fitzhugh. I don’t just think it, I know it. I owe you more than I could ever repay,” she continued. “But I cannot impose upon your hospitality any longer. I will determine what to do to protect myself…somehow. Just have your man call me a hack and I can be on my way.”
Saying those words was terrifying, but she had to do so. This was not this stranger’s trouble to deal with. She had to manage it herself.
He tilted his head, his gaze unyielding. “You aren’t leaving.”
Chapter 4
The shock that flooded Imogen’s expression was obvious, as was the anger that followed. She lifted her chin, her jawline going harder, and Oscar saw a strength in her, that spunk that had been revealed only briefly last night. She had heart and he had always been attracted to that concept. Not that most men wouldn’t be attracted to this woman.
That thought pulled him back. She might be desirable, that was a fact, but he couldn’t afford to be drawn to her. It wasn’t in the plan, for one thing. For another, what she needed was help, not some stranger panting over her. He had to get himself in line.
“You have no right—” she began.
He held up a hand. “Imogen, these peoplekilledsomeone. And if you’re right about Roddenbury, they arepowerfulpeople. Do you really think they’ll let you skip off into the world where you might tell your tale and perhaps bring their house down around them?”
He saw that sink in. Saw her lose hope. He hated himself for being the one to do that to her, but what choice was there? She had to come to grips with the truth of the matter if he was to have any hope in helping her. Saving her.
He had to save her.
