“The next time you deign to do something so…so asinine, I vow I…I shall take you over my knee.”
“Your knee,” she sputtered. “How dare you—”
But he was done with this argument. And the thought of his hand on her bared bottom couldn’t be borne. He whipped her about facing him and crashed his mouth over hers.
The shock of his actions had her lips parting beneath his, and his tongue invaded her mouth. Her soft, sweet, tart mouth. Sharp and spicy and tangy and delicious. It was the only thing he could think to do outside of strangling her outright. An unwise action with a duchess in house…
A second later her hands clasped at his neck, her tongue mimicking his. Chasing his. Devouringhimas ifshecouldn’t get enough.
His hands moved from her upper arms to her back, pressing her into his chest. God, he’d never wanted a woman more. Neverneededa woman more. He had no fucking sense. He’d lost his mind. But she was so soft and pliable in his hold. He moved his hands over her bum. Held her against an erection that had enveloped his brain and taken over—
He brought his hands up and gripped her upper arms and jerked her away from him with a sound plop.
“What—”
“Not a word,” he growled. “I shall expect the door to Ryleigh’s library unlocked by nine tonight. Do I make myself clear?”
She stared up at him, her eyes as wide as Inez Macy’s had been when he’d coaxed her out of the carriage. But a frown quickly marred Lady’s Stanford’s brow.
“I said Not. A. Word.” He snatched his greatcoat from the hook, threw it around his shoulders—which instantly inundated him with orange blossoms that belonged in spring,notlate fall—and slammed out the door, uncaring of any windows left rattling behind.
“To Manchester Square,” he barked to Amir’s smirking face, and climbed inside the carriage. The devil incarnate—that was what she was. A woman with no common sense had confiscated his own, leaving his cock in charge. Something of which was never a good sign.
~~~
“Good evening, Rose.”
Rose turned her head from the cool night air from the open terrace door of Sebastian’s study and turned back, wondering if Emerson was already within the nearby strand of trees. “Hello, Gabriella.”
“It was a good thing you did today, bringing Miss Macy to Hope House. Those bruises on her chest didn’t just stop there.”
Rose’s stomach jolted. “They didn’t?”
“No. There are marks across her back and legs. She has been treated quite harshly. Wherever did you find her?” Gabriella moved next to her.
“On the street. A man held her by the neck of that threadbare frock she wore. I could see the bruises on her collarbone.” She shuddered. “They were horrid.”
“It took some doing, but we finally convinced her she wouldn’t melt from a bath in the copper tub.” The smile in her sister’s voice had Rose glancing at her. “She did like the lemon-scented water. I vow you might not even recognize her.”
Rose smiled back. “Likely so.”
“Rebecca said you were able to procure the bolts of fabric lining the sewing chamber, and that they were to be donated.”
And that had been a surprise. “Yes.”
“Where on earth did you happen to meet Mr. Whitmore of Whitmore’s Wholesale? His wares are infamous.”
For half a second, Rose panicked. “Oh, did I not say? He was at Shufflebottom’s masquerade.”
Gabriella’s shoulder brushed hers in an unfamiliar tap of camaraderie. “Ah. The masked man who deposited you nearby without awaiting an introduction to our ducal brother.”
“Something like that,” she muttered.
“Any luck on locating the newest Earl of Hallandale?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were determined to find and marry him. Elevate your status to countess.”
