Earl of Sussex (Wicked Lords of London 0.50)

He shook his head. “I am going to find a woman. One who doesn’t work here. We’ll put her in a uniform for your plan. Your father will figure it out when he can’t actually find the maid he needs to sack, but it will be too late by then.”

“That’s brilliant.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? Likely because she’d been daydreaming about his lips.

“I’ve hatched a few plots in my day.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. We can put our plan into action at the ball tomorrow night.”

Well that was terribly efficient of him. She should be excited; it was her idea to begin with. But now, all she could feel was dread.

Chapter 3

Luke watched the sun rise and marveled at how much better it felt to stay up all night when he hadn’t imbibed alcohol.

He was on the outskirts of London and though he longed to have this business done, he knew he should go to his townhouse and get a few hours’ sleep. Then he could visit the club when it was closer to the noon meal. Several men would be there along with many of the ladies who were employed at the club. They were the kind of woman whose help he needed this evening.

Once he arrived home, his horse was led to the stable and he trudged up the stairs. His staff wasn’t surprised to see him enter at dawn, his schedule was often erratic.

But because he hadn’t been drinking, he noticed their averted eyes, and the way they efficiently avoided interacting with him.

His manservant waited in his room, ready to help him undress. While he guessed this was a regular duty for the man, undressing him at dawn, he didn’t particularly want any company now. Something deep inside him was unsettled. “I’m not in need of your services this morning, Montgomery. Thank you, kindly.”

Surprise was written all over Montgomery’s face as he nodded and turned to leave.

Shame stabbed at Luke’s chest. “Wait,” he called.

“Yes, my lord?” Montgomery turned back to him.

“How often do you help me undress in the wee hours of the morning?” Luke’s insides clenched as he waited for the answer.

“My lord?” Montgomery winced.

“It’s all right, man. Just answer the question.”

“Nearly every morning, sir,” Montgomery slowly and quietly answered.

A sick feeling of dread and shame settled in his stomach. What had he become? “Thank you.”

He finished undressing and lay in his bed. Looking over at the pillow next to him, he wondered what it might be like to have auburn curls trailing over the crisp white linen so that he could reach out and touch them. He pictured dancing blue eyes, sparkling with desire and intelligence, assessing him as creamy arms wrapped around his neck. Closing his own eyes, he let the fantasy wash over him. Her curves would fit perfectly against his side. He’d roll her over and kiss every inch of her glorious flesh. She’d cry his name as she shattered for him and then… Then he would hold her close. All night, she’d be pressed against him. Murmuring in her sleep, he’d hold and comfort her as he breathed in her scent.

He drifted to sleep, dreaming of Tabbie.

He woke with a start two hours later and grimaced at the empty pillow next to him. Giving himself a shake, he wondered what the bloody hell was wrong with him, dreaming of a woman so. It wasn’t the desire that had him concerned. He’d pictured all sorts of women doing an array of sordid acts. Many of them had been played out in real life. It was the second half of his fantasy that shook him to his core. He wanted to bloody hold her close all night long. He never did that with anyone.

Bathing and dressing, he headed for the club, feeling unsettled and jumpy. Dread filled him. This time it wasn’t thoughts of Tabbie but of finding another woman to touch that made him slightly ill. He only wanted to touch one woman and that scared him near to death.

He thought its walls might soothe him, but the usual feeling of calm did not come as he approached the club. He felt no joy in unlocking the door, no pleasure passing through the darkened hall.

Turning into the smoking room, he tossed himself into a recliner. Rubbing his eyes with his fingers, he tried to relax. Why was he so upset about finding a maid to tup? This was a normal occurrence for him. He must be losing his facilities wanting to be snuggled against Tabbie and not touch another female.

A drink arrived at the table on his right. It was his usual, a whiskey neat. Allowing his eyes to travel from the glass to the carrier, he took stock of the woman who had delivered it. Dark hair and luminous eyes stared back at him, a knowing smile rested on her lips. A day ago, he would have found that smile too tempting to resist. But now…it turned him cold. It was practiced, given to any handsome man who’d pay.

He wanted a woman who challenged him, who would give her love and affection to only him. No other. A woman like Tabbie. One who didn’t give her smile knowingly to every handsome fellow who passed. But he pushed these thoughts aside. Tabbie would never be his and he needed to focus on the task at hand.

Ignoring the drink, he looked at the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Mary.” Her smile broadened, her hip taking on a flirty tilt as her hand rested on it. “Who are you then?”

“You can call me Luke.” He gave her a half grin. He needed some modicum of charm. “Mary, I have a proposition for you.”

“How much?” she asked, her eyes growing hungrier. Bloody hell, had they always been so obvious?