Netherby Halls
What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He had always had so much control.
Why did this happen to him nearly every single time he was in her company? She was ravishing, yes, but this time it was more than his manhood dictating to him, so much more than that.. She had spirit and a sense of balance about her that he found intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
And her scent—never had a woman given off such an alluring scent as she always did, like vanilla and heather, and something else, exotic like that of a rare orchard. Damn but he wanted her so much he couldn’t think.
Wrong—this was all wrong. He was allowing his dick to lead him around, and he knew better. He was a man of cool, steady nerves. He was, he knew, a dominant male, and in his group—more than that. He liked to be in control of every situation. This was not like him.
He pulled himself together and went up the stairs. He used the doorknocker and found the door flung wide open by a young serving-girl, who openly gaped at him. Her mouth dropped as she bobbed a curtsey.
He smiled warmly at her, hoping to set her at ease, and took a card out of his inner pocket. “Would you tell your headmistress that the Marquis of Dartmour would like a moment of her time?”
“I would, aye, that I would,” the girl said, waving him inside. “Would ye be wanting to follow me?”
He grinned. “Indeed, I think that might answer.”
“Aye then,” she said shyly and led the way.
Only a few moments went by before she returned and opened the inner door wide. “Miss Sallstone says she will see you now.”
The marquis took out a coin and flipped it to her. “What is your name?”
She caught the coin, grinned at him brightly, and said, “Molly, sir … er … my lord.”
He laughed. “Thank you, Molly.” He turned and walked into the headmistress’s office and was very aware of Miss Sallstone’s intake of breath and the hand that fluttered flirtatiously as she offered him a chair.
~ Ten ~
TIME PASSED SLOWLY, so slowly for Sassy as she looked at the clock. When she’d gone to the kitchen for a cup of tea and passed the headmistress’s office, she’d heard the marquis laugh out loud. She had cringed and hurried to her room.
Stupidly she had taken to her window to watch and see when he left. Twenty minutes! Twenty minutes had gone by, and he was still with Miss Sallstone. She felt a pinch of jealousy she could not rationally explain to herself. This was absurd.
She measured the window one more time and realized she did not have a pair of scissors. She’d seen a few in the crafts room belowstairs, and she quietly made her way there.
She heard the door open to the headmistress’s anteroom and then the marquis say, “What a great pleasure it has been to get acquainted with you, Miss Sallstone.”
“Now, my lord, did I not tell you to call me Bianca? We are about to become very good … friends,” she said with a flirtatious inflection.
Sassy heard the woman’s tone and felt steam rise between her ears that had no business being there. What was it to her if the man of her dreams—and that was all he was, someone in her dreams, nothing more—dallied with the headmistress? Yet, something deep inside told her otherwise.
She heard his steps as he walked the short distance to the front door and left. She sighed heavily and started for the sewing room when a voice at her back made her turn and smile a welcome.
“Hallo,” the doctor said, his eyes alive and lips curved into a grin. “I came just to see you and must compliment myself on my timing.”
She laughed. “You, I am persuaded, should have been a sleuth, for your timing and your knack for solving mysteries is unprecedented,” she teased and arched a look at him.
He laughed warmly and said, “I am curious about anything regarding you.”
He was teasing, but she suspected a truth behind the words and asked, “You have a question on your tongue—out with it.”
“Perceptive beauty, I do.”
“And …?
“I am presently consumed with the desire to know how you came to be friendly with the Marquis of Dartmour, who was just leaving when I arrived.”
“Snooping is very dangerous,” she warned, almost snorting.
“Is it? I shall take my chances. His reputation precedes him,” the good doctor said meaningfully.