Earl of Gold (Lords of Scandal 7)

She saw the subtle twitch of his mouth before he replied. What did that mean?

“It made good sense.”

That was a reasonable answer. Very incomplete but reasonable, nonetheless. “Well, then he was successful, I suppose. So why would I attend?”

“Because he is a duke and he asked.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care about that. I’m needed here.” It wasn’t strictly true. But she didn’t wish to go. She didn’t belong in that world and besides…she’d already determined not to open the box.

He quirked a brow. “You need to raise funds. And access to a lord of his power would do nothing but benefit your cause.”

Drat. He was right. “Fine. But I can’t accept the—” She fluttered her hand over the box.

He stepped closer. “Why not?”

“Because.” She blew out a breath. “There are rules about such things for a reason. Men expect things when you accept gifts from them.”

He made a growl low and deep in his throat. “What men and what things specifically? This isn’t the first time the topic has been mentioned.”

His irritation caught her off guard. “No one’s done anything,” she replied, her voice soothing. The beast in him was rising again, but she found she didn’t mind at all when it was in her defense. In fact, a bit of warmth spread through her belly.

The truth was, there had been a few men who had made her rather obvious offers but nothing worse than that. While the incidents had been benign enough, they’d taught her caution. Still, it was nice to know, if the situation were ever more serious, there was someone who cared.

His gaze narrowed. “You’re placating me again. Tell me the truth. Has a man hurt you?”

She nearly laughed. “No, my lord, I’m fine. And I truly appreciate your concern. Thank you.”

His shoulders relaxed. Just a bit. “In that case, open the box.”

She nibbled her lip, looking down at the beautiful ribbon. “Please understand that I am fine because I’ve never allowed a man to trap me in obligation. I—”

“The only obligation that comes with that dress is attending dinner.” He reached out a hand and touched the frayed cuff of her dress sleeve. “It is a sad fact that with the elite you must look like you have money in order for them to help you. And sometimes, not even when you have it, will they accept you as one of their own. But I digress. In your case, Miss Walters, if you put on nicer clothes, they will consider you a more successful woman and therefore be more willing to donate to your cause. Wear the dress tonight and use the opportunity to raise more money.” He looked around the house, his eyes taking in the faded wallpaper and the chipped wood. “This was once a fine house but you’re right, it’s time for you to move.”

And with that, he placed a hand under hers and turned her palm up.

Her skin tingled at his touch and a knot formed in her throat. How could he effortlessly evoke such a response? But she didn’t have time to consider further as a heavy bag landed in her open fingers.

She gasped, knowing instantly what it was. “The three thousand pounds?”

“Six thousand, actually.”

He was close. So close she could smell the spicy scent of his cigars and the male musk that tickled her nose and made her insides flutter. And she could see his Adam’s apple, his throat lean and as masculine as the rest of him. Her fingers itched to reach up and touch the skin. Trail her hands along it. “How much?” she asked.

He chuckled low and deep. “I know it still doesn’t buy you a new home but it’s a real start. And…” He touched her arm. “I think you should purchase a carriage.”

She could hardly catch a breath. The light brush of his hand on her was as near an embrace as she’d been in in a long time and she had the distinct urge to lay her forehead on his chest. Draw from his infinite well of strength. How would it feel to be sheltered by such a man?

“I couldn’t possibly.” She stepped back then, breaking the spell. “That requires a horse and a stable. Too much…”

He grimaced. “Fine. Create a budget for hacks. I insist. It’s my only other stipulation for the gift of funds. You won’t be any good to these children dead.”

“So you admit they are children and not urchins?” But she smiled around the words. His concern had somehow lightened some of the burden on her shoulders.

“Well, I’ve only met the one, but I know the word urchin offends you so...” Then he lifted the other box in his arms. The final item he’d been carrying. It was a rough wooden open container with a simple metal handle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Chapter Four

Logan spent the afternoon repairing the fence. Despite the cool weather, the middle of the day grew quite warm and he’d stripped off his jacket and cravat, wearing just an open shirt.