A frown pulled at her lips. “But your men are responsible for what happened to him. Now you think to surround him with the same devils who did him such grievous bodily harm?”
Her shrewdness pleased him, and he could not say why. The inkling that this woman would make an enjoyable opponent could not be banished. Challenges had ever intrigued Dom. Baited him. Lured him.
He inclined his head, studying her. She was so damned beautiful, he ached just to look at her. Far beyond the loveliness of any woman he had ever seen. That such a woman had been ensnared in the Marquess of Sundenbury’s net seemed the greatest shame.
“I am offering him protection, madam.”Damn it to hell, he wished he had her name. “The promise he will not receive another beating. Will you accept it or not?”
“I will accept it,” she said, without hesitation.
Sweet little lamb, all prepared for the slaughter. She had no notion of what she was committing herself to. If he possessed any compunction at all, Dom would feel horribly guilty for what he was about to do.
But he had been born without a soul.
Or if he had ever possessed one, it had been thieved from him as a lad. The rookeries tended to have that effect upon its inhabitants. Dom was no different. The wealthy Mr. Winter may have been his sire, but Dom had never been acknowledged. Nor had he ever been a part of the family. Disappointment was a taste he had learned at a young age.
“You have not even asked what will be required of you,” he said slowly. Smoothly. Silkily.
How trusting she was. Either that, or she had broken the first rule of being a mistress and had fallen in love with her protector. She had reached the point where she was willing to do anything, to give whatever he asked, to save her lover.
An honorable tart.
Fancy that.
She eyed him warily. “I am prepared to do whatever I must.”
How tempting.
Dom grinned. “Return here tomorrow evening.”
He had to make certain of a few things before he proceeded.
“Tomorrow?” Her disappointment and confusion were evident, but her protest died a hasty death beneath the sound of rapping on the door. “But—”
One knock, then two in quick succession. It was Devil’s signal that Dom’s attention was needed elsewhere.Fast.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated.
Chapter 3
Adele had made a ruinous error the day before.
And she was making another one now. She had always been the quiet one while her twin sister Evie talked too much. She was the wallflower while her older sister Hannah was the striking beauty. She was the practical one, the one who did everything right. Her brother Max was the softhearted ne’er-do-well, the charmer who perpetually found himself mired in one scrape after the next. Adele was the one who would never dare to flout propriety.
Until now.
She awaited Mr. Winter’s presence in a surprisingly elegant sitting room—where she had been led by the same silent and sinisterly handsome man who had led her into Mr. Winter’s lair the day before. Creating an excuse to avoid a musicale was one thing. Feigning an illness to avoid the much-anticipated Crompton ball was another. Thank heavens for Evie. Without her twin, Adele would never have been able to manage such subterfuge.
Still, there was no mistaking it—Adele had placed herself in a position most precarious. A lady’s reputation was a silken thread, easily cut. If anyone were to discover what she had done, that she had been sneaking about London with the aid of Evie, hiring hacks, spending time alone with a coarse, baseborn scoundrel who made his coin by flouting the misfortune of others, her reputation would be irreparable.
What did he want from her?
Would he take her virtue?
How could she trust his word that he would aid Max?
The questions assailing her doubled and tripled with each passing minute.
Mayhap he would not arrive and his hulking, silent beast would return and escort her to the door as he had the previous evening, her innocence preserved for another day. Perhaps he would have mercy upon her…
