He scowled. “That is none of your affair. Bloody hell, man, will Sutton not make time for his own sister?”
“Aye. When ’e finishes with the lady visitor.”
A growl tore from him, and the desire to ram his fist into someone’s nose, which had been simmering beneath the surface of his tensions from the moment he had seen that despicable lord with Caro in his lap, rose to a crescendo. “Do you mean to tell me Sutton is in there bedding a ladybird when his own sister was being abused in the public rooms?”
Caro laid a staying hand on his arm, but the fires of his fury had ignited once more.
The guard shrugged, giving him an insolent grin. “Not my concern what Sutton does in ’is office or who with.”
“We can return later,” Caro offered.
“No,” he countered, still eying the smirking guard. “We won’t. We will wait.”
The guard remained where he was, apparently finding the situation amusing. “As you like.”
“My brother is…” Caro paused as she sought the proper words. “He can become distracted by feminine companionship.”
He was not the only one suffering from such a malady. But he had a feeling his distraction was one hell of a lot more innocent than Jasper Sutton’s.
“He deserves a cuff to the head,” he told her, meaning every word and intending to deliver upon the threat, too. “On your behalf. He is meant to be protecting you, and he is not doing his duty.”
“Someone would have found me,” she said quietly, in the same tone of voice she had used when he had been an invalid, out of his mind with fever, and she had attempted to calm him.
Soothing, dulcet tones. They had lulled him into tranquility before, but he would not be swayed now. This was too damned important.Shewas too important.
“And what if no one had?” he demanded, outraged on her behalf. “What if I had not attempted to hear you sing? What if that bastard had hurt you, Caro? I’ll not stand by and allow this to happen to you again.”
A stern rap sounded from the inside of the door, followed by a series of knocks in an unusual pattern. The guard’s shoulders straightened. “Sutton’s finished ’is business now.”
Business?Is that what he called bedding women whilst his innocent sister was almost being defiled by vain, arrogant lordlings? More outrage surged, doubling the overwhelming quantity already within him.
He was seething with fury. Mayhap instead of a cuff to the ear, he would slam his fist into Sutton’s nose. There was no sound quite like that of a man’s beak breaking. He had broken a nose before. He knew it. And suddenly, a hazy, indistinct memory returned to him. A ginger-haired man, facing him with fists raised. He threw a punch and the man’s nose gushed with blood.
But as quickly and unexpectedly as the memory returned, it dissipated, leaving only nothingness in its wake.
“Is something amiss?” Caro hissed at his side.
His entire body was tense, and it was not entirely from outrage. With a jolt, he returned to the present, looking down at her upturned face. There was so much concern and tenderness in her countenance.
His butterfly.
“A memory returned to me just now,” he told her. “At least, that is what I think it was.”
Often, it was deuced difficult to determine dream from memory, or to know whether or not these tiny splinters that arrived in his mind were recollections of his life or they were the fancies of his addled mind. Fortunately, he felt quite sharp in his knowledge box these days.
Her brow furrowed, her hazel eyes searching his. “What manner of memory?”
Violence. Always violence. What the hell did that mean? And what did that make him?Christ.Who else but a criminal would nearly cock up his toes in an alley behind an East End gaming hell?
Before he could answer her, the door to Jasper Sutton’s office opened, stealing his attention. The guard stepped aside, and a dark-haired woman dressed in an elegant gown swept over the threshold.
There was no mistaking the swelling of her mouth or the redness on her pale skin, which had undoubtedly been caused by Jasper Sutton’s whiskers. His irritation soared once more. The hell of it was, the lady did not look at all as he had expected a ladybird would. Her gown was modest and well-fashioned of fine fabric, with spangles adorning it and silver embroidery. There were jewels at her throat, and kid gloves covered her hands.
Sutton sauntered over the threshold next, his gaze fixed upon the lady who was fleeing his lair. The bastard looked smug, in stark contrast to the lady’s bashfulness.
“Lady Octavia,” he said to her, and she stilled, glancing back.
What the hell was unfolding here? Jasper Sutton had been locked away in his office, kissing alady?
