There was a light rap at his door and he looked up, uncertain whether to be relieved by the interruption or irritated by it.
“What is it, Bentley?” he said as his butler opened the door just wide enough to peer in.
“You have a caller, my lord.”
Finn wrinkled his brow. It was after supper—he expected no guests. But perhaps it had to do with Marianne’s engagement. Now that word was spreading, there had been much to do, as well as much to discuss with both well-wishers and the gossips looking for a reason that Ramsbury would marry a wallflower like Marianne.
He pursed his lips at the thought that he would have to defend his sister again. “Who is it?”
“A Miss Esme Crawford, my lord.”
Finn stared at him a moment, trying to digest those words. Trying to come to terms with the fact that a woman he’d made love to, then watched walk away and assumed it would be forever, was now awaiting the answer to whether or not he would receive her.
“Show her here,” he said, and noted how his voice cracked. “And do not worry yourself about anything else tonight.”
Bentley inclined his head slightly and then disappeared out of the room. Finn set his quill aside and stood, smoothing his waistcoat. He’d removed his jacket long ago and rolled up his sleeves as he worked, and now he wondered if he should put himself back together, replace his armor so he wouldn’t be quite so undone when he encountered Esme again.
But there was no time. Bentley reappeared and said, “Miss Crawford, my lord.”
He stepped away and Esme took just one step into the chamber. Finn caught his breath. He’d never seen her without her mask save for the previous night, when he’d discovered her identity. They had both been naked then, vulnerable in a variety of ways.
Today, though, he could truly soak in her beauty. She had a slender face with high cheekbones and fine brows. She had pulled her dark red hair up in a loose coil of sleek ringlets and waves. Her lips were full and he couldn’t help but recall how they had felt pressed to his own or latched around his cock. Her eyes were a dark green and were still rimmed with the faintest remnants of the bruise he had first seen under her mask the night they’d first encountered each other.
“You may close the door, Bentley,” he said softly, without taking his eyes off of her.
The butler did so and they were alone in the room that suddenly felt small and close. She swallowed hard and then there was a coolness that entered her stare. The walls this woman put up to protect herself.
“I’ve never been to your home,” she said softly.
He cocked his head. “No, I suppose not. Though your father was here several times over the years.”
She flinched ever so slightly. “Your relationship with him was entirely separate from mine.”
“Why Crawford?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your father’s family surname was Portsmith.”
She arched one of those finely shaped brows. “I wouldn’t be hiding very well if I were to use his surname, would I? My grandmother’s maiden name on my mother’s side was Crawford. Far enough back not to be immediately recognized. Close enough that I could recall it if someone referred to me thus when I began.”
He nodded. “Clever. But I’d expect nothing less.”
She drew a little breath and pink entered her cheeks. She’d blushed the same way when he made her come.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, and moved around the desk to the sideboard. He felt her watching him as he did so, felt her tracking his every step, and he couldn’t help but be as aroused as he was confused by that.
“No,” she said softly. “I’ll keep my head, I think.”
He glanced back at her. “Very well.” He poured himself a whisky and then faced her, leaning back on the sideboard with what he hoped was perceived as bored indifference. “I’m surprised you’re here, after the way you stormed out of the Donville Masquerade last night and told me not to pry into your life.”
For a moment, there was a flash of emotion she couldn’t wipe away from her eyes. It was fear. Finn saw it and recognized it and it troubled him. But then she lowered her lashes and said, “My lord?—”
“Finn,” he corrected softly.
She drew a shallow breath and forced her gaze back up. “Finn, I hadn’t intended to see you again, if I’m honest.”
He fought not to react even though his chest tightened painfully with that thought. He took a slow sip of his drink and then said, “What changed your mind?”
