“My lord?”
“Seems too quiet. Where are the ladies? Any unusual occurrences?”
“Somewhat, my lord. They’re in the garden. ’Tis a house full of women and children, so all occurrences are considered unusual. I request specificity, if you please.”
Thorne raised a brow. “Of course, Oswald. Show Lord Brockway to my study when he arrives. I wish to speak with Lady Kimpton—” He turned for the stairs.
Lorelei appeared at the top like an ethereal angel sent straight from the heavens.
“Oh, there you are, Thorne.”
Oswald slipped from the entryway through a side door.
“Have you seen Miss Elvins?” Thorne said.
“I just came from her chambers. She’s very pale. I thought perhaps I should send for Dr. Pogue. She insists it’s nothing, of course.” She huffed out her irritation. “In any event, I need to speak with you regarding a private matter.”
He met her at the foot of the stairs and swept her into his arms. “I am at your service, my love. Shall we go somewhere and lock the door?” He breathed against her neck, then smiled as her skin heated his lips.
“Please, my lord.” Her breathy whisper pricked his skin with desire.
Grinning, he dropped his arms from her and stepped away. “Of course, my lady. The drawing room?”
Her eyes lowered to her palms as she brushed them over her yellow day dress. Cheeks pink, she led the way. She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. “Has there been any word on Lady Maudsley? Irene is most concerned. And I—”
Thorne set his hips against the back of the settee, folded his arms across his chest, and crossed his ankles. “You?”
“I promised her I would let her know any information I learned. That I would not lie to her.” Lorelei gave him an exasperated look, then paced to the windows.
“She is safe. That’s all I know.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “What do you mean that’s all you know? You’ve obviously learned something.”
“I spoke with Brock this morning, and that is what he told me. You may ask him yourself. He is due any moment.”
The knocker sounded in the foyer.
Thorne smiled and held out his arm. “His timing is incredible, isn’t it?”
She set her hand on his arm and lifted her chin. Thorne led her to the door. At the arch, he pulled her back and put his lips on hers, running his tongue over her lush bottom lip. She tasted sweeter than the most luscious plum on earth. Her fingers dug into his arm, and he yanked her against his chest. He had a burning desire to toss her over his shoulder and dart up the stairs. He brought his fingers to her face and lifted his lips from hers.
Short, panted breaths touched his chin. He set his forehead against hers. “Brock awaits, dammit.”
She smoothed a trembling hand over her perfect hair, nodded, and stepped into the entry hall.
“Lady Kimpton.” Brock bowed. “Kimpton.”
Thorne spotted the rolled canvas in his hand and guided them to his study.
“Lord Brockway. This is a fine afternoon,” Lorelei said. “How is my friend, Lady Maudsley?”
The edge in her voice could cut glass. “Yes, Lord Brockway. How is Lady Maudsley?” Thorne echoed. His friend’s features rivaled that of a marbled antiquity housed at the British Museum. “My wife is concerned.”
Brock expelled a slow stream of air. “She’s—” He stalked to one of the leather wingbacks facing Thorne’s desk, his eyes fastened ahead. After a moment he looked at Lorelei. The pain in his eyes was bleak. “She’s safe from—”
“Others?” Lorelei prompted softly.
“Yes, others,” he agreed.
