He frowned, and then realized that if she had been taller with raven-black hair, golden-brown eyes, and an obstinate nature, he wouldn’t have been weary at all.
“Violet, your husband—” he started, using the easiest excuse available.
“My husband is busy drinking with his sporting friends. He hasn’t been interested in my bed or me for the past year or more. Ever since our second son was born.” She held out her arms. “I’m lonely, Beck, and I’ve never stopped thinking of you.”
But he’d stopped thinking of her. In fact, even the resentment, the sense of betrayal he’d nursed for years was gone. Instead, he was glad she had rejected him. He didn’t want a wife who crept around to other men’s beds.
Now the question was how to convince her to leave, because at any moment, the group in the billiards room could break up. A husband full of brandy and whatever else never made sound decisions.
A soft noise out in the hall caught his attention. A folded sheet of paper started to slide beneath his door. He stepped on it with his boot, and the person on the other side pressed the note forward as if determined to deliver it. Beck knew before he opened the door who was there—Gwendolyn.
She still wore her dinner clothes, but her hair was down in one long braid over her shoulder. She looked up in surprise as if she had not expected to be caught on her clandestine mission.
And he’d never been so happy to see her. Granted, she wouldn’t have been his optimum choice. He would have preferred a maid or even Lady Orpington—but he was in a touchy situation. Violet apparently expected him to fall into her arms. He was in no danger from her attempt to seduce him. The ship on that matter had sailed long ago when she’d rejected him.
However, a scorned woman who knew his true identity could upset all his plans. He needed to be careful... and Gwendolyn was the only diversion available to him.
Beck reached for her arm and pulled her into the room.
Chapter Twelve
The more Gwendolyn had thought about Lady Rabron’s possessiveness toward Mr. Steele, the more she found the woman’s words unsettling. Would she truly expose him as an imposter if he didn’t cater to her desires? Was that love? Gwendolyn thought not.
So she had written a note. The message was simple.
Lady Rabron may betray you. Be careful.
This was not a message Gwendolyn could give over to Molly to be delivered. What if it ended up in the wrong hands?
What if Molly mentioned to Tweedie or Dara that she had been passing notes to a Mr. Curran? In the late hours of the night? That would inspire a host of lectures Gwendolyn didn’t wish to hear. She would be expected to explain herself.
No, she could only trust herself.
And so, she’d waited until most of the guests had sought out their rooms and the hallway wasquiet. For a coin, the porter had told her which room was Mr. Curran’s.
Her plan was simple. She had let Molly prepare her for bed. Once the maid had left, Gwendolyn put on her dress and snuck out of her room. She would slip the note under his door and then run back to her room and no one would be the wiser.
She hadn’t anticipated the door opening and Mr. Steele pulling her inside.
His room was dark save for the moonlight. He shut the door behind her, and they werealone.
Gwendolyn’s stomach curled with the enormity of what was happening. She was alone with Mr. Steelein his bedroom. In the dark.
And he smelled of fresh night air, the smoke of burning wood, and that hint of spiciness that she associated with him. He gripped her arm as if he was happy to see her, as if he’d never let go.
She readied to explain about the conversation with Lady Rabron and her needing to warn him—but she was alone with Mr. Steele... in hisbedroom...in thedark.
Rules could be bent in the dark, or broken completely. Reputations were ruined in the dark, even happily given up.
And wasn’t this what she truly wanted? To be alone,with him. She looked up at him. The lines of his face, the strong jaw, the straight nose, the firm mouth, were highlighted by the silver in the moonlight. He was the most perfect man she’d ever seen, and they were—
Her peripheral vision detected movement.
It took a second for her to register that he wasnotalone, even as a woman gasped her outrage.
Gwendolyn recognized the source. Lady Rabron.
No wonder he’d dragged her into his room, and his grip holding her was tight. He needed help. Just as the moonlight had fallen romantically upon Mr. Steele, it now unromantically outlined Lady Rabron’s figure in the cotton lawn of her nightdress. It shone off her blond hair that curled past her shoulders. She was a woman ready for bed.
