Just a bit more time. That was all she needed to be free.
“That is all, Miss Wren?” Mr. Sutton asked, his voice sharp, with a commanding edge.
“Yes, Mr. Sutton, sir,” she said, struggling to hold his gaze. “That is all.”
And that is a terrible prevarication.
“You may go, Miss Wren,” he said. “But please do yourself a kindness and stay far away from Lord Gregson and my brother both.”
She nodded. “Of course, Mr. Sutton. You have my word.”
But she also had a feeling part of her word was about to be broken, for Rafe called to her in a way she was not sure she could resist.
Even should he prove her downfall.
CHAPTER 8
Rafe returned to Jasper’s town house at an hour that was deliberately late. The rest of the house was abed, only the servants about.
Just what he wanted.
Nay, what he needed for his own self-preservation. If he were to spy even the slightest glimpse of Persephone, he was not certain he could trust himself. To that end, he had dined and finished conducting all his business prior to his return. On the morrow, he would need to return to The Sinner’s Palace II for another day of coordinating tradesmen and keeping Pen from turning on the waterworks. But after that, he had determined he would switch roles with his brother Hart, who had been running The Sinner’s Palace floor. Hart could stay in the West End and rub elbows with ladies, which would please him mightily.
Meanwhile, Rafe could return to where he belonged and forget all about the mysterious and equally delectable governess who had somehow cast a spell over him he could not shake.
Pleased with himself for avoiding her and settling upon a solution to his current problem of uncontrollable lust for a lady he could not shag, he crossed the threshold into his guest room.
And promptly discovered the source of what ailed him awaiting him, wearing a prim governess’s gown that did nothing to detract from her loveliness.
What in the devil’s arsehole was he to do with this development?
Rafe closed the door at his back and stalked across the fine carpets, irritated with himself for the way his heart hammered faster in his chest and his stupid prick twitched to life. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded.
His question emerged harsher than he had intended, for she flinched. “Forgive me for intruding, but I was hoping for a word with you, in private. This seemed the best way to ensure privacy.”
Privacy. With her.
Lord in heaven, what he could do with this woman, a closed door, and a bed just waiting to be defiled.
Calm yourself, you bleeding reprobate.
“This ain’t the place for it,” he ground out, taking her elbow in a firm grip and intending to haul her from the room.
“Please, Rafe,” she pleaded, putting up some opposition rather than allowing herself to be dragged nicely across the room as he had hoped she might. “I only need a moment of your time. Every minute I spend here risks my position, which I fear has already grown quite tenuous given what I heard from Mr. Sutton today.”
He stopped pulling and frowned at her, trying not to notice the way the bodice of her gown clung to her ample breasts. “Jasper spoke with you today? Christ, don’t tell me it was about what happened in the bleeding library this morning.”
“Actually, it was about what happened with Lord Gregson,” she said, worry in her tone and warm brown gaze.
The mere mentioning of the bastard’s name h
ad him longing to whip the whoreson again.
“What of ’im? Jasper ain’t the sort of chap to take a cove who forced himself on a lady lightly.” Indeed, if he knew his brother, Jasper had likely found the viscount himself and exacted his own retribution. “If he somehow discovered what happened to you when you were in Lord Landsdowne’s employ, I promise he ain’t going to hold it against you.”
She shook her head, and he realized that her hair was demurely hidden beneath an ugly cap. His fingers itched to pluck it off to allow the radiance of her hair to shine in the candlelight. But that would be foolish indeed.
He was already tempted enough.