Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

Losing control was new for Antoinette.

“Miss Dupre?”

Sir James Trevalen was a slight, middle-aged man with a face darkened by living under a sun in far hotter climes. His quizzical gray eyes fixed on hers, and his smile was so kind that Antoinette felt the sudden urge to trust him. It was because she was alone and friendless, she knew that, but the need to spill everything to him was almost irresistible.

She did resist it.

Appearances, as she had discovered to her cost, could be deceptive, and the world outside her previously insular world was often a dangerous place.

“Sir James. Thank you so much for seeing me. I’m sorry to interrupt your—”

He waved away her apology. “I always have time for those who require my help and advice. I take it that is why you are here? You have a problem you wish to lay before me?”

“I do. But I’m not sure how to tell my story without shocking you, Sir James.”

His eyebrows rose and his smile vanished. “You must feel free to unburden yourself within these walls; I am not in the habit of repeating confidences. And I assure you I am not easily shocked.”

“Thank you, Sir James.”

“Please, do sit down, Miss Dupre, and tell me all about it.”

Antoinette perched on the edge of the chair and realized her knees were shaking, but her voice was firm and steady as she told her story. “I arrived at Lord Appleby’s house, Wexmoor Manor, two nights ago. The reasons for my visit are immaterial…” She went on, briefly detailing the journey, until she came to the holdup. Of this she made a great deal while telling him nothing of her understanding of the reasons that it happened. By the time she finished she had turned the highwayman into a ravening monster, half man and half beast.

Sir James, who was watching her intently throughout her story, now spoke quietly. “What you tell me is shocking indeed. I am sorry to hear you have been so mistreated, and I will do my very best to discover the perpetrator of this crime.”

There was a genuineness about Sir James that gave her a sense of confidence he would carry out his promise. “If you do find him…what will happen to him?” she said reluctantly.

“He will be arrested and brought before me. I have no doubt he will be jailed for his crime, perhaps even hanged. What you have told me is very serious, Miss Dupre. Such a man cannot be allowed to run amok in my district attacking defenseless women.”

Hanged! Antoinette had known it might be so, but for some reason, hearing the word spoken aloud made it all the more real. She remembered the firm touch of his lips on hers, the intent look in his eyes when he trapped her in the coach, as if she was so much more than he’d imagined. And then the way he’d comforted her and wiped away her tears, his big hands so gentle.

“I wasn’t completely defenseless,” she heard herself say. “That is, I—I fought him and drove him off.” She stumbled on. “And it isn’t as if I have never been kissed before! Well, not like that perhaps…” Her thoughts slid back to the touch of his mouth, and suddenly she didn’t know if she could do this. It was one thing to drive her enemy away, to give herself time to escape, but to send a man to his death…No, it was too much of a burden on her conscience.

Abruptly Antoinette stood up, Sir James following more slowly. He looked thoughtful, his gaze fixed on her face, as if he found her an interesting study.

“Miss Dupre, I can see the memory has upset you,” he said. “Perhaps you wish to partake of some refreshment before you go?”

“No, thank you, Sir James. I should get back.” If she stayed she might end up telling him the whole story was a lie, even the bits that were true. As it was she blurted out, “The servants at Wexmoor Manor think it was all a harmless prank and I am taking it far too seriously.”

“Ah.” Sir James tapped his cheek. “Perhaps they know who it is, Miss Dupre, and wish to protect him. Have you thought of that?”

“I’ve thought of nothing else.”

“I’d advise you to leave this matter in my hands, Miss Dupre. I will get to the bottom of it. For now you must put it from your mind and enjoy your visit to our part of Devon. Will you promise to do that?”

He was very gallant; Antoinette found his manner comforting. “I will, sir. It is only…whatever this man has done, I would not like to think that I will be the cause of his death.”

Sir James nodded seriously. “I see you are a compassionate woman, Miss Dupre, but you have done all you can. I am taking charge, and I will see that whatever must be done will be done. Believe me, I am a fair man. Do not trouble yourself any further, please.”

Antoinette agreed that she would try, but still she left wondering if she’d behaved too rashly. Rashness was an unfamiliar trait in Antoinette’s character; usually she was a woman who considered her every action coolly and calmly and at length. But the highwayman had rattled her; he had shaken her from her cozy world, and she’d yet to find safe ground.

As she stepped outside a familiar voice called, “Miss!” Antoinette looked up in surprise. It was Wonicot, mounted on a horse and holding hers, and looking very unco

mfortable indeed. “You shouldn’t be out on your own, Miss Dupre,” he said by way of explanation.

“Are you my bodyguard, Wonicot?” she inquired, as they set off for Wexmoor Manor. She should be cross with him for spying on her, but he so obviously didn’t want to be there that she didn’t have the heart.

“Just obeying orders,” he muttered.