Raven (Gentlemen of the Order 2)

“Was Mr Draper’s tone aggressive?”

“Well, not aggressive, no. They were disturbed by the dinner gong.”

Finlay snorted. “So moments after Mr Draper blackmailed your father, they sat down together to dine?”

The lord’s cheeks coloured. “Yes, but clearly my father was frightened out of his wits. Why else would he have married a chit half his age?”

Finlay stole a glance at Sophia. Why would any man want to marry such a vivacious woman? One kiss from those pouty pink lips and Finlay’s troubles had disappeared. Being buried deep inside her body would prove equally rewarding. Between her soft thighs, he would find his utopia. But besides Sophia’s physical appeal, her penchant for self-sacrifice, her genuine kindness and loyalty to her sister, made her utterly irresistible.

“Is that why you issue commands and insist she follow your instructions?”

Clearly, the lord enjoyed taunting Sophia in front of his friends. Were it not for her fears over Jessica’s welfare, she might easily belittle this coxcomb to the distinguished members of the ton.

Adair glanced at Sophia as if she were something foul stuck to his shoe. “She used devious tactics to snare a title, and so she can damn well do her duty.”

Strange. As an enquiry agent, Finlay numbed his emotions. It wasn’t always possible. During harrowing cases he often spent a night alone, cradling a bottle of brandy. It wasn’t possible now. The need to protect Sophia bur

ned so fiercely he wanted to bury his fist in Adair’s haughty little mouth, bury the lord alive in a coffin six feet under.

Sophia squared her shoulders. “Well, I’ve had a change of heart. I’m tired of your petty demands. No longer will I play the wicked stepmother so you may be the tyrant. Find another means of gratification.”

Rather than offer an angry retort, the lord flicked a lock of blonde hair from his brow and laughed. “While you carry my father’s name, you will do what I say, madam.” Adair’s self-assured hubris would be his downfall. His arrogance made him forgetful of the danger. “Use of the house in Portman Street and the majority of your allowance is given on the proviso you fulfil your duties. If I say dance, your only question should be a waltz or a reel.”

An unholy rage rang in Finlay’s ears, drowning out the lord’s mocking chuckle. The punch was swift, delivered to Adair’s stomach with maximum force.

Finlay stepped back for fear he might wring the imbecile’s scrawny neck.

Adair dropped to his knees, clutching his abdomen and gasping for breath.

Finlay crouched down beside the devil and said through gritted teeth, “Mind your tongue, else I shall cut it out and serve it to your friends for supper. You think that creature on stage is terrifying. You do not want to meet me in a dark alley.”

The lord coughed and spluttered.

“You were on the road to Cornwall two nights ago.” Finlay straightened, giving Adair ample view of his powerful thighs, thighs capable of outrunning any man. “Why?”

Adair shook his head but made no reply.

Movement and the hum of chatter in the auditorium stole Finlay’s attention. People swarmed to their seats like bees to a hive, ready for the next offering on the playbill. Time was of the essence if he hoped to gain information.

“You’ll tell me what the hell you were doing near Windlesham.”

“You were following me,” Sophia blurted. “Spying. Admit you have an unhealthy obsession. Admit you thrive on causing strife.”

Adair’s chest heaved, but he found the strength to say, “Obsession? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“The staff in Portman Street said you’ve been calling at all hours of the day and night. What is that if not an obsessive need to exert control?”

After throwing Finlay a wary glance, the lord said, “You’ve been missing from home, Sophia. The servants hadn’t a clue where you were, when you would return, or who the devil you were with.”

“And so you decided to play enquiry agent and roam the countryside looking for me.”

The strained notes from the musicians warming their instruments cut through the crowd’s chatter.

“I’ll ask once more.” Finlay’s patience dangled by a thread. “What the hell were you doing on that road?”

The lord’s bottom lip quivered. “S-Since returning from Brighton, I’ve not left t-town.”

He was lying. And the people in the opposite box had taken to whispering and pointing.