Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress (The Husband Hunters Club 5)

Her mouth was warm and soft, and her hair was in his hands, loose and silky between his fingers. He knew he had to stop. He knew things were getting out of control. But it was so long since he’d felt anything as wonderful as this that he was reluctant to put an end to it.

“Rufus,” she whispered.

Her cheek was resting against his, and then, still with her arms about his neck, she leaned back so that she could see his face. She was pink, her mouth swollen and her eyes alight. Her hair was in a mess, and instinctively he tried to tidy it, only making it worse.

Averil laughed and stepped away at last. She began to take out her pins and with a few deft twists returned herself to a reasonable state of tidiness. He wondered if she realized how dangerous their situation was. She was an innocent but she wasn’t a fool. He’d made the mistake of thinking her a naïve girl just out of school before, and she’d soon put him straight. No woman who spent time in the Home for Distressed Women could be entirely ignorant of the ways of the world.

“Averil,” he began.

She put a finger to her lips, and then he heard the footsteps approaching outside. Averil hurried to the cabinet in the corner, as if she was searching for some particular letter in the pigeonholes there, but the footsteps continued on without stopping.

“Will you come to Southbrook Castle?” he asked, watching her.

“Yes,” she said, turning to give him a glance from under her long dark lashes. “I think I would like that. Of course”—and she smiled a wicked smile he’d never seen before—“you know that Eustace will insist on bringing Hercules?”

Rufus groaned. “He’ll have to ride on the roof then.”

She giggled, and then suddenly sobered. “I have a request. Can we visit my old nanny? She lives in a small village just north of London. She’s written to me again and says she has something that belonged to my mother. She wants to give it to me, and . . . well, if I talk to her face-to-face, she might know something more. It could help us to find Rose.”

“I think we can manage that,” he said, watching her as she went to the door and opened it. He wondered if he dared straighten up yet; his body was still hard with desire. She had done that to him with one kiss.

Averil glanced out of the door and then turned back with a nod. “Let’s go and tell Gareth,” she said. After a moment he followed.

Averil was in the Home’s kitchen. She had been making lists of food needed for the following week, as well as other matters that she intended to deal with before she left for Southbrook Castle. Gareth had listened while she told him about the planned trip, but he’d declined to accompany them. Gareth wasn’t altogether pleased that she was going off with Lord Southbrook, but he was far more interested in acquiring the new building than he had previously been. His Home was in a mess, and if Averil could help him to keep the charity running he would be grateful.

She’d been telling the cook about the house in Lincolnshire, while Violet helped with rolling out pastry for a pie. When the cook went to stir the soup on the stove, Violet murmured that she wanted a word.

“Privately,” the girl added, with a glance toward the gossipy cook.

They found a quiet corner in the storage room next door.

“What is it, Violet?”

She was hoping the girl might have decided to tell her what she knew about Jackson, because Averil was certain she knew something.

“I heard you talking about going to see this new place for the women. I heard Cook say she’d like to come and take a look at the kitchen, but she couldn’t possibly leave the Home. I was thinking, Lady Averil . . . can I come with you instead? You know I’m a good cook. I know what is needed. I could inspect the kitchen.”

Her pale blue eyes were very earnest, but lurking behind them Averil could see the fear she’d noticed before. Violet was afraid. She wanted to get away from London. She saw this as her opportunity.

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Averil began slowly.

“Please.” Violet took her hand, her fingers pressing painfully into Averil’s. “I need to go with you, miss. I’m not safe here on my own,” she whispered, and then looked even more frightened.

Averil hesitated. Her natural reaction was to agree, to take Violet with her and care for her, to keep her from harm. “Will you tell me what is the matter?” she asked gently. “I don’t think I can agree, Violet, unless you tell me what is wrong.”

Violet swallowed. Averil could almost see the cogs in her brain spinning fast, like a cornered animal seeking a way out. And then she lifted her chin and gave Averil that direct stare that meant she was about to tell a lie. Violet, Averil found herself thinking, would make a wonderful actress.

“There’s a man. I’m frightened of him. The way he looks at me. I don’t want to be here alone with him, Lady Averil, and that’s the truth.”

Averil knew her face showed her shock. Was Violet speaking about Jackson?

Violet was waiting. “You really can’t leave me here,” she said, when it seemed Averil was lost for words.

“Who is this man?” Averil asked, her voice as calm as she could manage. “You must tell me, Violet. I will make certain he does not harm you.”

Violet shook her head wildly. “No, I don’t want to tell you. I can’t tell you. I want to go with you, miss. Please take me.”

The girl was obviously frantic.