He wanted that boy to stay dead.
He was better off for it.
* * *
Slowly,Fleur opened her eyes as consciousness began to return. For a moment, she was disoriented, uncertain where she was, but as memory came flooding back, she wanted to hide beneath the covers of her bed and never show her face again. It was cowardly of her to consider such actions but she would rather disappear forever than face the stern regard of Mr. Porter again.
Drake.
She didn’t allow herself to think of him in such intimate terms, because it was best if there was a divide between them. They could share mutual pleasure without going any further. Not only did she know he would want it that way but it would be safer for her if she did the same. He offered her nothing but heartbreak if her emotions ever became involved. She wasn’t sure she could ever extend the offer of something as simple as friendship. That would mean caring and she doubted the sentiment would be reciprocated.
And yet…
He had taken care of her in a dire time of need, when the pressure had become too much to bear and she’d crumbled beneath the weight of it all. It was temporary insanity, a momentary weakness. It wouldn’t happen again.
Itcouldn’t.
Fleur sat up in bed. She was glad to see that she was still fully dressed in the ivory gown. It had lost some of its luster when she’d first donned it but an attack of hysteria would upset most anyone.
Shoring up her courage, she went downstairs to brave the lion in his den.
He wasn’t in the study.
Curious, she glanced in a few other rooms but Drake was nowhere to be found.
She was starting to head for the downstairs kitchen when she spied a footman walking toward her. Except it wasn’t an ordinary man. This one had dark skin and a patch over part of his face, leaving one perfectly blue eye to glance out at the world. Drake’s cohort was just as lean and muscled as she recalled, and his focus was direct and knowing as well.
“Amos, is it not?” she greeted with an uncertain smile as he paused in front of her.
He flashed a white smile. “You have a good memory, Miss Davies.”
Thinking that he would surely know where Drake had gone, she asked, “Have you seen Mr. Porter? I was hoping to speak with him.”
He sent a thumb in the direction of the dining room. “He was just finishing his lunch.”
She mumbled her thanks and scurried past him. As she walked inside the dining room, she was surprised to find a mahogany table and six chairs taking up the middle of the room. There was little else to recommend the space, but it was an improvement to the empty space before. It was the first thing to catch her attention.
“This is new,” she noted as she trailed a hand along the shiny wood.
“Yes.”
She looked up at the curt reply to find Drake standing by the mantel. She didn’t know if it was possible, or perhaps she was still feeling the effects of the tincture she had drunk, but he looked more intimidating than usual. That intent gaze nearly took her breath. “I saw Amos,” she said, for lack of her brain trying to remember what she had sought him out for.
“He’s here to fill in as a footman.”
This surprised her. “I didn’t realize he adopted so many roles to his personality.”
Some of his tight demeanor softened slightly. “He is doing it as a favor to me.”
“Why?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Did you sleep well?”
It was obvious he had evaded the question. It concerned her but she didn’t want to press the issue and put him in a foul mood. “As good as can be expected.” She took a restorative breath. “About earlier?—”
He waved a dismissive hand and pushed away from the mantel. “There’s no need. It’s forgotten.” He glanced at the table. “Order whatever you want to eat. The cook is under instruction to treat you as she would myself.”
He started for the door.
