“We were alone. The walls have ears here.”
“I believe the walls of my room are far thinner than Menheim’s walls.”
“That isn’t what I’m saying—”
“I know what you are saying,” she interrupted. “I just don’t agree with it. I will not be treated like a pariah.” Like her mother had been and every other woman she’d known who had accepted carte blanche . . . as if there was something unsavory about them—and not the men who paid for their services.
Oh no, Sarah would never accept those terms.
However, before either could speak, a man’s voice called out from the direction of the front hall with great goodwill, “Don’t bother announcing me, Henry. You know Baynton and I don’t stand on ceremony. Do we, Your Grace?”
Sarah did not recognize the voice, but the duke did. He stepped in front of her to greet this new visitor—the man she had kneed the night before. “We do when I don’t wish to be disturbed, Rovington.”
Rovington?
He hadn’t noticed her yet. His attention was on the duke. She endeavored to make herself as small as she could behind the back of her chair, hoping to escape being seen.
“I’ll have you know I am closing in on my quarry,” Lord Rovington bragged as if the duke hadn’t spoken.
“Quarry?” the duke said.
“Yes, the Siren. I have her in my sights—!”
His voice came to an abrupt halt as his gaze fell upon Sarah.
He recognized her immediately.
She stood, facing her enemy.
Lord Rovington grinned as if Sarah was a beefsteak and he had a knife and fork in his hands. “This is her. You found her for me. You are the best of friends, Baynton.”
He would have moved toward Sarah with an eagerness that was off-putting, except the duke blocked his path. “Wait, Rov. She’s not for you.”
“Of course she is for me,” he countered, indulgently, his beady gaze on Sarah. “I’ve spent a fortune already this day hunting for her. She’s mine.”
“No, she’s mine. She is under my protection.”
Rovington whirled on him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying she is my woman.”
Sarah did not know what to make of all of this. In another time and place, she would have been offended by Baynton’s proprietorial air. She’d always been her own woman, thank you very much.
But she was no fool.
What sort of man hunts down a woman with the intent of bedding her to win wagers? Not one she wished to know.
Lord Rovington cocked his head to one side. Perhaps another man would bow to Baynton’s claim. He was not of that mind. “You can’t have her. Not yet. I’ll give her to you when I’m done.”
The duke shook his head as if he didn’t believe what he’d heard. “She is not a horse to be passed around, Rov.”
“She’s an actress.”
That statement sent Sarah’s temper soaring. She started forward, ready to give the arrogant Rovington the sharp side of her tongue, but the duke held out a hand, warning her to be still. “She’s mine,” he repeated calmly.
His lordship shook his head. “I am not offering offense to you, Your Grace. We have known each other for a very long time. I count you among my closest friends and I’m certain you would say the same?”
“Aye, Rov, I value your friendship.”
