“A fool is easily caught off guard.” Sebastian didn’t want to ruin his sister’s prospects by reminding everyone they were related. It was best to keep his distance for now. “Mother and Lady Prestwick are adequate chaperones.”
“I didn’t think you trusted anyone besides yourself when it came to your sister’s well-being.”
Sebastian hunched over his plate and avoided eye contact. He didn’t need anyone reminding him that he should be watching over Eve, but she was better off if he kept his distance. “Could I break my fast in peace now? I’ve never known anyone who nags as you do.”
“I was not nagging.” Ellis pushed back from the table, grumbling under his breath. “This was a waste of time.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Sebastian nodded toward the magazine in the earl’s hand and gentled his tone. “Extend my gratitude to Lady Ellis. It was a thoughtful gesture, sending her messenger boy.”
Ellis’s tense posture eased and he cracked a smile. “Sod off, Thorne.”
Sebastian chuckled under his breath as his longtime rival sauntered from the room. For a moment, it seemed like old times. And it felt good.
His fellow gents were still staring, so he glared in return. With nothing more to see, they resumed their activities. He supposed they missed his and Ellis’s antics, and strangely, he was beginning to miss challenging the earl, and besting him.
When Sebastian left the club, he set off for The Temple of the Muses, where he and Lady Prestwick had been meeting almost daily for the past week under the pretense of browsing for books. Even though he looked forward to seeing her, he dreaded delivering disappointing news again. Her mystery woman, Lavinia, was proving to be as elusive as a ghost.
The hopeful glimmer in Lady Prestwick’s eyes dulled each time he had nothing positive to report. So far he had been able to tease her out of the blues, but he still hated causing her distress. He often fought the urge to hold her close and offer comfort. Aside from the public spectacle he would make of them, she didn’t seem amenable to accepting sympathy.
He entered the bookstore and headed for the novels written by Maria Edgeworth. The authoress seemed to be a favorite with Lady Prestwick. Perhaps Eve would enjoy the books as well. He would choose one to take to her along with the magazine.
As expected, Lady Prestwick was tucked into a corner with a book already in hand. He sidled up beside her and pretended to peruse the same shelves. A quick glance at the book cover revealed her selection.
She offered a shy smile. “Good morning, Lord Thorne.”
“Lady Prestwick,” he responded with a tip of his hat, then returned his attention to the bookshelf. “I hope you don’t think me forward, but I couldn’t help noticing your book selection. Is Belinda one of those mawkish gothic novels favored by silly young ladies?”
She slanted an impassive glance in his direction. “Do not pretend scorn for gothic fiction, my lord. I have it on good authority you devoured Glenarvon in one sitting.”
A shocked laugh burst from him and echoed in the high-ceilinged room. Two ladies frowned at them, and Lady Prestwick turned her back on him, pretending to search for another book.
“My apologies,” he whispered as he eased closer to her. “What other secrets has Eve revealed about me?”
“I am sure you would love to know, but I would never consider betraying my friend. But they are shameful indeed, my lord.” She tsked. “Falling from a lady’s window?”
His jaw dropped. “Balderdash!”
She shushed him as the two ladies glared in their direction.
“She lies,” he hissed as he followed her to a different section of the store. “When I get my hands on my sister…”
Lady Prestwick chuckled. “I am teasing. Eve confessed she thought we’d had a liaison the night you came home bruised and beaten. She was quite embarrassed by her assumption. I, on the other hand, was amused by the absurdity of such a situation.”
Absurd? “Why would such a scenario be absurd? There is an attraction between us.”
She stopped abruptly and he bumped against her. An intense current where their bodies met sent his blood gushing through his veins. A furious blush consumed her and she shuffled to create space between them. “This is not proper conversation, my lord.”
She wasn’t denying the attraction, not that he would believe her if she did. The quickening of her breath and high color in her complexion told him everything he needed to know.
Licking her lips, she stole a glance at him from beneath her lashes. “Perhaps you should just tell me what you have learned before we draw any more attention.”
“Not until you answer my question. Why do you find us”—he wagged a finger from her to him—“absurd?”
“Please, lower your voice.”
He smirked. “I will start shouting if you make me ask again.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“All I’ve said is I find you attractive.” He lowered his voice to match hers. “Why do you find it impossible that we would ever—?”
She gasped. Her face glowed red.
“Well, I needn’t continue. I’m certain you know my meaning.”
“You are teasing me, sir,” she whispered harshly. “I couldn’t be any more different from Gabrielle, Lady Ellis.”
Thank God for that. “True, but how does that mean I am teasing you?”
Wariness flared in her eyes. “I don’t know what pleasure you get from this, my lord, but I will say it so we may put this to rest. Your former betrothed is breathtaking. She is exotic and yet fashionable in the way gentlemen prefer.”
Ah, so she thought he preferred Gabrielle’s curves. While there was no denying his former fiancée was a beauty, Lady Prestwick was twice as stunning. She had a delicateness to her beauty that made her seem not of this earth.
As he leaned to speak in her ear, tendrils of her hair tickled his cheek and her breath became uneven. “I prefer you, madam. Perhaps someday you will allow me to prove it.”
He was close enough to hear her swallow. “I—I will take you at your word,” she murmured.
This conversation wasn’t over. Sebastian glanced around the store in search of her escort. “Where is your man?”
“Fergus is waiting outside. He never learned to read and he grows impatient with the bookstore.”
“Meet me on the walkway in a moment.” He took the book from her hands.
“Wait. I wanted to purchase that.”
“Go.” When she blankly stared at him, he made a shooing motion with his hands. “Off with you, madam, before I cause a scene.”
Her lips thinned and he expected he was in for a row, but she turned on her heel and stalked away. Quickly, he selected a book for Eve and retrieved a copy of Le Monde Couture. As the clerk wrapped his and Lady Prestwick’s selections, he had an idea. “Do you have a quill and ink I may use?”
“Yes, milord.” While the clerk retrieved the writing tools, Sebastian unwrapped Lady Prestwick’s book. He used the quill to scribble an inscription on the inside cover and wrapped the book again.
The lady was waiting with her servant just as Sebastian had requested. The Scot merely glanced at him in irritation rather than his usual murderous intent. They were making progress.
Sebastian held up the book. “For you, but please allow me to carry it.”
She pursed her lips, but took his arm when he offered it. He didn’t often walk her home, but it would allow them more time to speak in private. He glanced over his shoulder at her menacing shadow. Well, relative privacy.
Perhaps sensing his reluctance to having an eavesdropper along, Lady Prestwick addressed her servant. “Lord Thorne and I need to speak alone, Fergus. Perhaps you would walk ahead?”
The man nodded. “Aye, milady.” His long strides built distance between them quickly and the crowd swallowed him.
Sebastian’s brows lifted. “Your man is almost agreeable today.”
“Fergus is perfectly agreeable, sir. You, on the
other hand, try my patience. Why did you purchase my book? I have the funds.”
He drew her closer as two men jostled past. “I know you do, but I wanted to buy it for you. I rarely buy gifts for ladies, which is in direct conflict with what you believe about my preferences.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Are you calling me a liar?” He held the books over his heart as if he’d been wounded. “Me? A pillar of Society?”
She chuckled, relaxing on his arm. “I didn’t say a word, so how could I have insulted you?”
“Oh, you have your ways.” He winked and she glanced away. “The attraction is mutual. I have no trouble admitting the truth.”
She sighed. “I answered your question. Could we please change the subject?”
For now. But he was far from finished trying to get her in his bed.
***
In silence, Helena and Lord Thorne passed hawkers shouting out their wares and a woman with a basket of flowers. Carriages and wagons clattered along the boulevard in a rush to get to their destinations, while she and the baron strolled arm in arm. The contact sent tingles racing through her.
Fergus kept a respectable distance ahead of them, close enough to provide protection if needed, but far enough away to allow them to speak freely. Only she didn’t know what she wanted to say.
Discussing her attraction to him was out of the question. If she admitted she was drawn to him, it would be a mistake. That would be the first step in becoming another of his conquests, and even though they had no future together, she didn’t relish the thought of him moving on to another lady once he had bedded her. It was best to keep their association friendly, but not too friendly. Then she could return to Scotland no worse for the experience.
The overcast sky provided little respite from the muggy day, and Helena’s undergarments soon grew damp and clung to her body.
“It smells like rain,” she said.
She should ask about Lavinia, but she already knew the answer. After days of receiving nothing but disappointing news, she had learned to read Lord Thorne’s body language. There had been reluctance in the lines around his eyes and the muscles in his arm twitched when she had mentioned changing the subject. Their last two meetings she had begun to sense he shared in her sadness. Although it was most likely a trick of her imagination, she felt he understood her, and her guard was slipping. It was a dangerous development, but she was enjoying his company too much to fortify the wall she had built around her heart.
As they entered a residential area, the crowd thinned. “Do you have any family besides your mother and sister, Lord Thorne?”
“Mother has distant cousins in Dorset, but we rarely see them.”
She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. She wanted to tell him the truth about her past and Lavinia, but she feared him withdrawing his offer to help. If he knew about her father’s gambling and learned her sister was a whore, he might use her scandalous relations as an excuse to break his promise. Or worse, he could expose her as a fraud. All the friendships she had built and valued—Eve, Olive, the duchess, Lady Norwick—would be destroyed.
His brow furrowed. “Is something troublingyou, madam?”
“Not at all.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded, seemingly content with her answer. “We are nearing my home. I suppose we should dispatch with the unpleasant task of you telling me your search continues to be fruitless.”
“I am sorry to bring you no news yet again, but there are still several places to check. If she isn’t working at one of the West End brothels, I will expand my search. Stay hopeful.” He flashed a dazzling smile. “I promise to visit every one, if I must.”
The thought that he might actually enjoy his part of their bargain made her stiffen. She tried not to imagine him mixing pleasure with business he conducted on her behalf, but flashes of him touching some faceless woman invaded her mind. A different woman each night.
A wave of nausea swept through her as a fine sheen covered her body. Her knees wobbled and she stumbled.
“Lady Prestwick!” He caught her under the arms to keep her from falling. Fergus swung around, saw her slumping in Lord Thorne’s embrace, andcame running.
“What happened, lass?”
“She collapsed,” Lord Thorne said. “It’s too warm. I should have ordered a hack.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She tried to stand, but her head spun and she swayed.
Fergus’s concerned face loomed close. “We are almost home. Can you make it a little farther?”
“Yes,” she choked out, mortified by her weakness. She tried to pull away from the baron. “I can walk.”
Lord Thorne frowned. “If stubbornness came bottled, I would accuse you of overindulging.”
“Aye, she is as headstrong as the day is long.” Fergus smirked as he accepted the books the baron held out.
Helena frowned at them for joining forces against her. “I am not—”
Lord Thorne scooped her into his arms and she squealed. The town house was only a three-minute jaunt at best. She could walk. Maybe.
She gawked as Fergus fell into step with the baron. He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “His lairdship means you no harm, lass.”
She bristled at his betrayal and Lord Thorne’s high-handed ways. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of deciding if she had the strength to walk. When they reached her address, Fergus hurried ahead and held the door open. Lord Thorne carried her inside.
“You can put me down, sir.”
He headed for the drawing room without pause, deposited her on the couch, and knelt beside her. “Do you want to remove your bonnet?” He reached for the tie at her chin.
“I can do it,” she snapped.
His hand dropped to his knee and when she looked up into his anxious eyes, it was like spotting a ray of light breaking through a stormy sky. Lord Thorne wasn’t her husband and he wasn’t ordering her about. He appeared genuinely concerned.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly.
Her head bowed with remorse. “Forgive me. I didn’t—” She swallowed her apology. How could she explain she had misunderstood his intentions when even Fergus had realized they were good?
He bobbed his head until he was in her line of sight. His grin melted her heart. “There is nothing to forgive, Lady Prestwick. I overstepped my bounds.”
“No, you were being a gentleman.”
She reached for a ribbon’s end and slowly pulled. The bow released and she slipped off her bonnet. Removing it did make her feel better. She tugged off her gloves too and handed everything to Lord Thorne. It was a symbolic surrender, at least partly. He likely didn’t interpret her actions that way, but it required great effort for her to trust a man to take care of her after her husband’s suffocating type of caring.
He placed her bonnet and gloves on the table then removed his own hat and gloves. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Please.”
Pushing to his feet, he smiled at her once more, then left her alone. She barely had time to miss him before he was back. “Fergus will bring a glassof lemonade.”
“And one for you, too?”
He fingered the fichu clinging to her. “May I?”
She nodded and he unwound the damp lace from her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, making her light-headed again. “Thank you.”
His ring caught the light, a white star appearing in the dark jewel. She reached out to skim her fingers over the stone. “It is beautiful.”
“It was my father’s.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.
She wanted to ask him about his father—the report of the former Lord Thorne knocking his wife to the ground during a ball or the claim he’d shouted obscenities during a meeting of the House of Lords and threatened a fellow peer—but she didn’t dare.
Sebastian frowned. “Are you well enough to attend the musicale with Eve? I could step in if you are under the weather. Did you eat anything this morning?”
&nb
sp; “Not as much as I should have. That is likely the trouble.” Heat singed her cheeks. She would die if he learned the real reason for her near-swoon, although the heat likely played some role. “I’m well, really. I will see your sister this evening as planned.”
“Send a messenger if you change your mind.”
She wouldn’t. Eve was counting on her to play chaperone, especially with Lady Thorne’s rheumatoid acting up the last few days.
Lord Thorne raised her hand to his lips. They were warm and soft against her bare skin. She wanted to feel them on her lips. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned slightly toward him.
A sharp knock broke the spell and Lord Thorne released her hand with an exasperated sigh. He stood and turned toward the door where Fergus was just inside the threshold. His eyes narrowed at the baron. He had only one glass of lemonade.
“You aren’t staying, my lord?” she asked.
He smiled. “I have much demanding my attention this afternoon, madam. Perhaps another day.”
She managed to eke out a farewell and experienced a pierce of disappointment when he was gone.
Twelve
Sebastian adjusted his cravat in the foyer looking glass and tipped his head to inspect his jaw for wayward whiskers. As usual, his valet had done an impeccable job with Sebastian’s shave, but one could never be too fastidious. People were judged on appearances, and he took pains to set himself apart from the disheveled mess his father had become in his last years.
Nodding with approval, he fleetingly wondered what Helena would think of his new waistcoat.
Lady Prestwick.
He really must remember to address her appropriately, even though her name created the loveliest sound. “Helena,” he said softly. The name rolled off his tongue.
A rustle on the stairs snapped him out of his reverie and he spun around. Heat inched up his neck as he spotted his sister. If she’d heard him murmuring Helena’s name, she gave no indication.
Eve reached the landing, flung her arms to her sides, and twirled. Her daffodil skirts flared, revealing her new slippers. “How do I look?”
She looked amazing, as usual. “Ladies don’t ask for compliments, poppet.”
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