That was the true danger. Not her beauty. Not even her proposal. The trust. She was looking at him as though he might save her.
The thought unsettled him far more than desire ever could. For one reckless second, he imagined crossing the distance between them. Imagined pulling her into his arms. Imagined kissing her. The image arrived with alarming clarity.
Christ.
He was thirty years old. Master of one of the largest estates in England. A man feared by half of London. And he was contemplating behaving like an idiot. He could throw her over his shoulder and instead of taking her to Donmere House, take her upstairs to his own bedchamber. The image was soabsurd that it nearly made him smile. Her outrage would be magnificent.
Or perhaps I could simply kiss her.
That thought proved considerably less amusing. His gaze drifted to her mouth again. A mistake. An immediate mistake. Because suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
Dangerous. Extremely dangerous.
He would never allow himself to lose control in such a fashion. And even if he did, it would destroy her reputation. He was many things. Ruthless at business. Cold. Occasionally unpleasant. But not that.
Lady Seraphine lowered her gaze and murmured something under her breath.
Damien frowned and took a step towards her. “What was that?” he asked.
She looked mortified. “Nothing,” she said quickly.
“I am afraid I'm flattered,” he said quietly, forcing the words out before he could reconsider, “but the answer is no.”
The hope vanished from her face instantly. Damien hated the sight.
Before he could change his mind, he turned sharply towards the doorway. “Mr. James,” he called.
The butler appeared almost immediately. Years of service had made the man unnervingly efficient.
“Your Grace?” Mr. James asked.
“Please have the valet escort Lady Seraphine home,” Damien ordered without looking at her.
Damien had not merely refused her.
No, that would have been easier to bear.
He had not even given a proper reason.
The man had listened to my desperate proposal, stared at me with those unnerving green eyes, and then shooed me away like a stray cat that had wandered into his study. I risked my reputation and scandal by going to him in the middle of the night and still left empty-handed.
The thoughts were heavy on her mind as she entered the breakfast room. Her cousin William sat at the table enthusiastically consuming enough food to sustain a regiment. Eggs, ham, toast, kidneys, sausages, every available plate appeared to be within reach.
Seraphine paused in the doorway and, for one glorious moment, considered turning around and retreating upstairs.
What if he knows? What if the servants told Lord Donmere I left last night?
Then his lordship noticed her. “Lady Seraphine!” he exclaimed cheerfully through a mouthful of food, waving a buttered piece of toast in greeting. “Good morning!”
Her smile felt painful as she stepped further into the room.
Well, I suppose he would not be smiling if he knew what I had done last night, so that is good.
“Good morning, my lord,” she replied, inclining her head before taking the seat opposite him.
The Earl immediately reached for another piece of toast and began buttering it with alarming enthusiasm. The sight filled her with an entirely unreasonable irritation. Only a few days prior she had thought him harmless. Kind, even. Now she knew better. He was exactly what she had feared, not openly cruel, not violent, not vicious, merely a man capable of destroying another person's future while remaining cheerful about it.
In some ways, that is worse.
