The hairs on the back of Bishop’s neck rose. “That’s not wise.”
“I have to agree,” Lady Annabelle said. “You didn’t see the scores of people calling on me just to fish around as to whether I knew your whereabouts. There should be people watching your house as well.”
“That’s a bit dramatic,” Alyssia argued.
Lady Annabelle shook her head. “Gossip columnists would take root in wind and rain. Ask me, I know one.”
Damn it.
He couldn’t take the disappointed look on her face. “If you wish to go, then let us sneak in. You have a servant you trust?”
Alyssia nodded, then grinned, and his world settled again.
“Our servants are discreet,” she murmured.
“Very well,” Bishop murmured. “Then we shall attend the masquerade ball.”
He didn’t miss the spark in her eyes when he said it, the excitement. It struck him dead center. Alyssia, his wife, his princess, his Liss—she didn’t just want safety, she wanted life again. And he’d be damned if the world, his uncle, Rafferty, or even himself took that from her.
Alyssia’s grin widened. Annabelle clapped softly. Knox only sighed, as if already regretting his offer. But Bishop’s attention was on his wife. She might wear a mask at the ball, but he swore to God no one would mistake who she belonged beside.
Chapter Eleven
Alyssia stuffed twovalises full of belongings until they were almost bursting at the seams. They’d sent word to her maid, Ginny, and the girl had met them at the servants’ entrance. No fuss and no problem. She had, however, forced Giles to don her cloak to cover his head, and she’d taken his top hat. It must have looked absurd, the cloak was far too short for him, but no one had so much as blinked.
She cast a glance at the man, who was curiously inspecting her room, one of his fingers dragging over her writing desk. He’d removed her cloak, laying it on the bed beside his hat.
“Never been in a girl’s room before?” she asked, amused.
He smiled at her. “Never been inyours.”
Ah, lawd. There went her pulse again.
“I’ve never been in your yours either.”
His finger poked at her quill. “I doubt anything is as I left it.”
Alyssia instantly regretted her comment. “We don’t have to return once you cast your uncle out, you know. We could stay here.”
“In the same house as your father?”
She set the second valise beside the bed and crossed her arms. “Isthere a problem with my father?”
He faced her and mimicked her stance. “There is nothing wrong with your father but the wordfatheritself.”
Amusement curled in her belly. “Don’t tell me you are scared?”
“I’m not scared,” he said, stepping closer, voice dropping to that low, hoarse drawl that always threatened her poise. “However, two men in one house?”
“Have you forgotten about my little brother?”
“I should say,” he murmured, eyes glinting, “twodukesin one house.”
“Ah,” she said, lips twitching, “so this is a dominance thing? Two dukes cannot live in the same house? Well, you seem intent on asserting it wherever you go.”
“Dominance?” His lips curved higher. “Is that we’re calling it now? Not charm?”
“You call it charm. I call it provocation.”
