CHAPTER TWO
Kate was quite convinced that it would have been easier to tunnel her way to France than to secretly make her way to London. Her father’s rigid supervision made it necessary to call in the assistance of both her devoted maid and Julia, as well as straining every bit of her imagination to ensure that nothing would alert Sir Frazer that anything was amiss.
Still, when Kate had arrived in London, she realized it had been worth every nerve-racking moment. She had no notion that it would prove to be just as exciting as she had always dreamed it would be.
Now, seated upon the bench situated in the tiny garden behind her hotel, she sucked in a deep breath. What could possibly be better? Busy days visiting the various museums and more notable sights, evenings devoted to the theater and intellectual salons.
Kent seemed far away.
Wonderfully, gloriously far away.
In truth, she had experienced more than a few doubts when she packed her bags and climbed into the coach bound for London.
Could her recent humiliation have unsettled her to the point where she was behaving irrationally? Was she risking utter ruin to fulfill a handful of emotional impulses she did not even comprehend?
The answer had come to her the moment she arrived at the modest but tidy hotel.
Mad or not, she felt alive for perhaps the first time in her life.
There were no anxious efforts to please her father. No constant fear her every movement was being observed by her neighbors. No cowering behind the demure manner and retiring deference that was expected of her.
Instead, there was an addictive sense of independence. A sensation she could do anything and everything. And to effectively prove that the old Kate was gone forever, she had deliberately devoted her first days in the city to shopping for a dashing wardrobe that had nothing in common with her aging-spinster image.
A wardrobe that symbolized the daring, joyous woman she intended to become.
“A beautiful day, is it not?”
The husky, deliciously dark male voice brought Kate’s head jerking upward. Her heart ricocheted about her chest as her gaze slowly traveled up the lean body attired in black breeches and a precisely cut green coat. She had a stunned impression of elegant muscles and a broad chest before her gaze at last reached the finely handsome features with a pair of raven black eyes.
Heaven have mercy.
He was every fantasy a maiden could harbor. A dream come to life with the features of an angel and the eyes of a devil. She struggled to recall how to breathe.
A wicked gleam of amusement entered those black eyes, and Kate abruptly realized that she was gaping at him like a landed trout. With a stern effort, she reminded herself that she was the new Kate.
This Kate did not cringe with the fear she was being judged and found wanting. She did not scurry to a distant corner and hope to be overlooked. She did not expect to be regarded with amused disdain.
This Kate could look any gentleman in the eye and not give a bloody damn what he thought.
“Any day that the sun condescends to make an appearance in England is a beautiful day,” she quipped lightly. “Do you not think?”
He gave a smoky laugh. “Somehow it just became more beautiful. May I join you?”
Thoroughly shocked, Kate could think of nothing clever to say. “I . . . if you wish.”
“Oh, I wish.” With graceful ease, the stranger stretched himself onto the bench beside her. Shifting, he settled himself so that he could regard her with open interest. “Allow me to offer my introduction: I am Lord Thorpe. And you?”
Her days in London had prepared her for such a moment. There was not even a hesitation as she readily replied.
“Mrs. Freemont.”
“Mrs.?” His gaze dropped to her bare fingers. “You are wed?”
“A widow.”
“Ah.” His smile deepened. “And recently arrived in London, unless I miss my guess.”
Kate discovered herself regarding him with a hint of unease. Surely she could not be such an awkward country miss that she could be spotted at a hundred paces? Not after all her efforts to appear the sophisticated lady of Town.
“Why do you presume that I would be recently arrived?”
“Because our paths have not yet crossed. I never overlook a beautiful woman.”
Beautiful?
Her?
She briefly wondered if this man might be a bit loony. Or perhaps merely foxed. She had often heard the female servants giggle over the notion that a gentleman would grope and grapple at anything in skirts when he was drinking.
Then she gave an inward shrug. What did it matter?
She was in London.
The sun was shining.
She was wearing a shimmering gown in a bold shade of crimson, with a lovely tailored spencer.
And a gorgeous, delectable rake was regarding her as if she were a tasty morsel rather than something he found stuck to the bottom of his boot.
“I see. Do you make a habit of crossing the paths of beautiful women?”
“But of course.”
“And I presume that you have crossed a great number of paths?” she daringly murmured.
He gave a soft laugh. “A most dangerous question, my lovely Mrs. Freemont. In truth, there have not been near so many as the gossips would have you believe. What pleasure is there in the more mundane beauty? I possess an appreciation for only the most rare and unique treasures.”
Her heart gave a faint flutter. A rake, indeed.
“Very pretty.”
“As are you.” His gaze warmly stroked her features. “Are you a guest of the hotel?”
“For the moment. Are you staying here as well?”
“Unfortunately, no. I possess a town house in Mayfair.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head to one side. “Is this not a private garden for guests of the hotel only?”
The dark eyes gleamed with amusement. “You are not going to call for the authorities, are you?” he protested. “This is one of the loveliest gardens in all of London.”
“Hmm . . .”
“I throw myself on your mercy.”
She pretended to consider his transgression. “I do not know. It is the rules, after all.”
“I detest rules. Besides, I have the perfect solution.”
Feeling a thrill of excitement that she had never experienced before, Kate gave a small smile.
“And what is that?”
He deliberately leaned forward. “You allow me to remain, and I promise to escort you to all the sights and entertainments that London has to offer.”
She wrinkled her nose. “But I have already visited most of the famous sights and attended the theater.”
“Fah. I do not refer to such tedious diversions,” he chided softly. “You must be in the company of a gentleman who has an intimate knowledge of the city to discover the hidden enjoyments.”
Although determined to be reckless and daring, Kate was not stupid. At least not that stupid.
“A most tempting offer, but surely you do not presume that I would allow an unknown gentleman to escort me about London?”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded with a grin. “The obvious solution is for us to become better acquainted. Then when you ride off in my carriage, it will not be with a stranger.”
Kate gave a reluctant laugh at his persistence. She suddenly realized she had never experienced such sensations. Giddy, frightened, and utterly amazed, all rolled into one.
“You must be vastly attached to this garden.”
The dark eyes stroked over her slender form. “I am becoming more attached by the moment.”
A pleasant tingle feathered over her skin at his lingering gaze. This gentleman was making it very easy to pretend she was the sort of beautiful, charming woman who could attract a handsome man’s attention.
Scouring her brain for some brilliant retort, Kate was suddenly wrenched from her pleasant haze as a dark shadow fell across the bench.
A shiver of premonition raced through her, even as she told herself that she was being ridiculous. There was nothing to fear. It was no doubt a passing servant. Or another guest who was drawn to the beautiful garden just as she had been.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, she lifted her head. For a moment, the bright afternoon sunlight blinded her and all she could make out was a shadowed figure of a man. Then her breath caught in disbelief.
No. It could not be.
Lord Calfield. Here. In London. In her private, wonderful garden.
Just like the deceitful, slimy snake in the Garden of Eden.
A swift, undeniable fury swept through her as her gaze clashed with the startling blue eyes.
Attired in buff breeches and blue coat, he appeared as frightening as a Nordic god. Proud, determined, and fiercely ruthless beneath his smooth charm. Not a rake, but a conqueror who would sweep all from his path with an iron will.
Offering a hard smile, he thrust a hand through the hair that shimmered like golden silk beneath the sunlight.
“Well, my dear Kate, I do hope you are pleased with yourself. You have led me upon quite a merry chase.”
“You,” she breathed in low tones.
He arched an arrogant brow. “Yes. Surely you are not surprised to see me?”
“Surprised” was not the word she would use, Kate seethed. Angry, horrified, and even outright livid would be closer to the emotions boiling through her.
“How did you find me?” she demanded without preamble, although it was a ridiculous question. This gentleman possessed the sort of cunning intelligence that could have tracked her to a cave in the netherworld.
He gave a shrug. “I will admit that it was not an easy task. You covered your tracks unexpectedly well. Thankfully, you were recognized at the Posting Inn and I was able to follow you to London. Of course, I was then forced to search through every lodging house and hotel until I managed to locate you. A tedious task, and one, I must warn you, that has left me in a rather foul mood.”
No doubt, if Kate possessed a lick of sense, she would be terrified of his smoldering impatience. He was large and dangerous and obviously ready to throttle her.
Her good sense, however, had thankfully been left in Kent, and rather than fearing her fiancé, she battled the urge to box his ears.
He was going to ruin everything.
“I must say, my lord, that I am all amazement.” She flashed a defiant smile. “You made it painfully obvious in Kent that you would go to great lengths to avoid my companionship. Even to the point of humiliating me before the entire county. Why ever would you make such a belated effort now?”
He stiffened at her cold rebuff, clearly startled that the timid mouse would dare to do anything but whimper for forgiveness beneath his displeasure.
“You are mistaken, Kate. I did not intentionally avoid your companionship. My delay was unavoidable.”
Ah. So he had come to regret tossing away his lovely fortune. And now he thought he had only to snap his fingers to have her eagerly scurrying to be his unfortunate but necessary burden of wealth.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” He folded his arms over his chest as he peered down the length of his arrogant nose. “I had every intention of fulfilling my duty. As you would have discovered if you had not so foolishly chosen to disappear rather than await my explanation.”
“Oh yes, I am quite certain you have any number of excuses at your fingertips, my lord. Unfortunately, I no longer care to hear them.”
“No longer care to hear them?” His brow furrowed. “What the devil does that mean?”
Her features unconsciously hardened. “The past is behind me. I intend to concentrate only on the present. A present that was quite delightful until you made an appearance.”
A silence descended as he regarded her with those astonishingly beautiful blue eyes. Kate could almost feel him weighing and calculating his response.
She had caught him off guard with her unexpected resistance. And perhaps forced him to alter his angry response to her impertinent flight from Kent. Now he carefully brooded upon how best to put her back beneath his heel.
“It appears that you are not inclined to be reasonable at the moment. Understandable, I suppose. You feel that I have treated you ill and are determined to punish me for my unwitting sins.”
Her gaze narrowed in anger. Blast his arrogance. He thought that she was simply indulging in a fit of pique at being jilted. And that given a few charming apologies, she would readily forgive his betrayal. He had no notion of the depth of her frustration.
“If it pleases you to believe so.”
His lips curved in a dangerous smile. “What would please me is if you would pack your bags and return to Kent.”
Her chin tilted. “No. I intend to remain in London and fully enjoy my visit.”
“Is that so . . . Mrs. Freemont?”
There was no mistaking the deliberate emphasis on her false name. Kate swallowed heavily. Bloody hell. He was warning her that he very firmly held the whip in his hand.
Her hands unconsciously curled into fists in her lap. “What do you want from me, my lord?”
He paused as his gaze deliberately trailed over her slender form. “I believe you know very well what I want. We have unfinished business in Kent.”
Kate discovered the oddest shiver trickle down her spine at his intense survey. Almost as if she found his lingering gaze a source of forbidden excitement. Then, with stern determination, she forced herself to recall the painful humiliation he had delivered mere weeks ago.
“It is too late, Lord Calfield. I have decided that our . . . business is not what I desire after all.”
He leaned even closer. Close enough for her to catch the scent of masculine cologne and warm male skin.
“I could force you to change your mind, you know. All I need do is send a message to Sir Frazer that you are not in Surrey as he so trustingly believes, and you would discover yourself hauled back to Kent in the blink of an eye.”
Her fury threatened to boil over at the smooth threat. How dare he? How dare he toss her aside as if she were a worthless piece of rubbish and then smugly presume he could waltz back into her life as if nothing had occurred?
“You may be capable of forcing me back to Kent, but I assure you that it would only make me more determined than ever to avoid any relationship between us. Nothing could force me to speak with you again.”
Checkmated by her fierce words, Calfield frowned in gathering annoyance. He was clearly torn between his arrogant desire to toss her over his shoulder and force her to his will and a budding suspicion that she might actually dare to defy him.
At last he gained command of his male impulses and turned to balefully study the gentleman sitting close to her side. Calfield’s lean features appeared to harden at the sight of the other’s sleek elegance and aggressive masculinity.
“Are you not going to introduce me to your . . . acquaintance?” he rasped.
“No,” Kate retorted, thoroughly embarrassed at what Lord Thorpe must think of her. “I do not want you here. Not in this garden, not at this hotel, not in London. Go away.”
Calfield turned back with a smile that did not match his suddenly cold eyes. “And here I thought you would be pleased to see a friendly face.”
“Your only thought was to bully me back to Kent. But I will not go. You might as well return to whatever it is that keeps you so occupied that you cannot recall which day it is.”
“Oh no, I will not be leaving, my dear,” he warned, sending a chill down her spine. “I intend to remain in London as long as necessary.”
With a sudden motion, Lord Thorpe rose to his feet. “I hate to break up this . . . intriguing reunion, but I believe I should be returning to my home.” The dark gaze warmly stroked over her flushed features. “Will you be attending the theater tonight?”
Vividly aware of Calfield’s looming form, Kate gave a reckless smile. What woman with the least amount of sense would not leap at an opportunity to further her acquaintance with this gorgeous gentleman?
“Yes, I believe that I will.”
“Lovely. Until then.”
With a sweeping bow, Lord Thorpe turned to stroll back across the garden, leaving Kate alone with the man now regarding her with a simmering annoyance.
“I suppose he is the reason you are so reluctant to leave London? Have you decided he is a preferable choice to become your husband?” he grated.
Kate jumped to her feet and reached for her parasol. The lout was fortunate she did not swing it upside his head. While Lord Thorpe’s admiring gaze had made her feel desirable, the manner in which Calfield kept inspecting her overly slender form was a potent reminder that she possessed none of the bumps and curves that made gentlemen’s blood boil.
“For your information, I just met Lord Thorpe.” She roughly tugged at her spencer. “Although I do not comprehend why I am explaining anything to you. Who I may or may not marry is no longer your concern.”
His hands landed on his hips, making the muscles beneath the clinging coat ripple with a fluid strength.
“You are still my fiancée.”
“Fiancée? I have never been more to you than a tempting dowry.” She gave a lift of her chin. “But no longer. Now I fear you must seek a new means of acquiring your fortune.”
His brows drew together. “You were eager enough to wed me just a few weeks ago. Your feelings cannot have changed so swiftly.”
“But they have. Everything has changed.”
A sharp, disbelieving silence descended as he gave a slow shake of his head. “This is insanity, Kate,” he burst out in obvious frustration.
“No, this is my life and I intend to enjoy it. Every moment of it. Pack your bags and go home, my lord. There is nothing you can say or do to change my mind.”
She reached down to grab her reticule, and Calfield took a hurried step forward. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the hotel to change my attire,” she informed in him crisp tones. “I am attending the most fascinating lecture on Egyptian mummies this afternoon.”
Not giving him the opportunity to respond, Kate turned on her heel and marched toward the nearby hotel.
To hell with Lord Calfield, she told herself firmly.
If he wished to waste his time chasing after her, then so be it.
There was nothing he could do to force her into marriage. Not as long as she remained adamant in her refusal. Eventually he would tire of his game and leave.
Until then, she would carry on exactly as she had planned.
A hot bath.
An Egyptian lecture.
A brief nap.
And attending the theater with a man who was utterly breathtaking.
Yes, life was good.
* * *
Life was a royal pain in the backside.
Seated in the sinfully luxurious theater lobby, Luce stretched out his long legs and sipped his scotch.
He should have been on the docks.
There were always meetings to attend. Deadlines to meet. A payroll to sign.
A luscious mistress who would be delighted to return him to her bed.
Why the devil should he be chasing after a woman who obviously was not at all what he had thought? A woman who clearly possessed the temperament of a shrew and the tongue of a viper? A woman, moreover, who had made it clear that she considered him a worthless fortune hunter?
If he possessed the least scrap of sense, he would be rejoicing at having avoided an eternity with a woman destined to become a bitter, shrill spinster.
No, a silky voice whispered from the back of his mind. Never a spinster. Not with that firm and shockingly desirable form that had suddenly been revealed in the sheer crimson gown.
An unwelcome heat flooded his lower body as he recalled the sight of her attired as audaciously as any courtesan. For long moments, he had not even recognized his prim and proper fiancée.
Surely, Kate could not possess that delicate body that virtually begged for a man’s touch? Or that heavy curtain of titian hair that had been left loose to shimmer with a seductive promise of hidden fires?
His body had reacted with a purely male instinct to her alluring attire. Not even the realization that it was indeed his fiancée could halt the stirring awareness.
And it had not helped to have that lusty Lord Thorpe panting beside her like a cur in heat.
He had wanted to sling Kate over his shoulder and carry her back to where she belonged. Or better yet, put his fist into the leering scoundrel’s overly pretty face.
It was little wonder he had handled their encounter with the finesse of a fumbling buffoon, he wryly acknowledged. He had been caught off guard, startled by the undoubted transformation of Kate as well as her stubborn determination to court certain ruin.
Well, it would not be allowed to happen again.
He was prepared for anything.
Absolutely anything.
That rather smug thought had just passed through his mind when he lifted his head and Kate stepped into the lobby. With a startled gasp, he promptly choked on his scotch.
Bloody hell.
Although she had at least replaced the scandalous crimson gown in deference to the elegant surroundings, the daring jade gown she now wore was no more successful in covering her slender body. Barely skimming her shoulders, it hugged her slight bosom with a tenacious perfection, the skirts floating down in a river of silk. Beneath the candlelight, her skin glowed with a milky perfection and the sultry glow in her eyes added a potent sensuality that set fire to the very air.
His breath evaporated as she glided across the lush carpeting, her curls framing her pale countenance with a rich, vibrant temptation. A temptation shared by him and every other male in the room, if the stunned expressions were anything to go by, he acknowledged dryly.
So much for being prepared for anything.
Giving a shake of his head, Luce forced himself to his feet.
Very well, she was not the dowd she had pretended to be. In fact, there was absolutely nothing dowdy about her. Beneath those former ugly gowns and hideous caps, she had been a gentleman’s deepest fantasy.
That did not alter the reason he had come to London. If anything, it made it all the more imperative that he whisk her back to Kent before some shallow rake managed to steal the heart that belonged solely to him.
“Good evening, Kate,” he murmured, stepping directly into her path and forcing her to a halt. “What a pleasant surprise.”
A brief flare of annoyance darkened her eyes to an interesting shade of green before she was determinedly offering him a tight smile.
“Hardly a surprise, I should think, my lord. You did after all know quite well that I would be here this evening.”
He regarded her steadily. “I believe that I requested you call me Luce when you accepted my proposal. It is not so difficult a name.”
“But we are no longer engaged, Lord Calfield,” she replied, deliberately using his formal title.
“By your choice, not mine.”
She lifted her brows in a manner perfectly designed to set his teeth on edge. “I believe, sir, that you must have taken an unfortunate blow to the head. Or perhaps your advanced years have affected your memory. I was not the one who deliberately missed my own wedding. Indeed, I stood at the altar for nearly an hour awaiting your arrival. It was a most . . . enlightening experience.”
Luce battled a sharp pang of guilt. Blast it all. He had not meant to hurt her. Perhaps he should have left London earlier. Or insisted that Foster take the ship out, and damn the storm. But . . .
But nothing, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. He had behaved like an arrogant ass by treating his own marriage as if it were no more than an unwanted appointment that could be attended or missed at his convenience. Now, it was obvious he would have to pay for his indifference.
“I am sorry, you know,” he said softly. “It was never my intention to hurt or humiliate you.”
If he had hoped his words would melt her heart, he was to be sadly disappointed.
“It no longer matters. In truth, I should thank you for jilting me.”
Luce did not like the sound of this. Not one little bit.
“Thank me?”
A genuine smile curved her lips. “Yes. Had you not left me at the altar, I would never have found the courage to come to London and truly seek my independence. You offered me something that I never expected to find.”
“And what would that be?”
“Freedom.”
He stilled. Dash it all. He had known he was not going to like her confession. And he most certainly did not.
She was not supposed to want her freedom. She was supposed to want marriage and security and children and social position. All the things he could offer.
Something in his chest squeezed in a most disconcerting manner.
“And . . . what do you intend to do with this freedom?”
A hint of enchanting color touched her cheeks. “That is really my business, is it not?”
“I am merely curious.” He gave a faint shrug. “Do you devote every day to lectures on mummies?”
“Oh no, tomorrow I am invited to a tea to discuss Byron’s latest poem and then a political dinner at Mrs. Roberts’. It should be quite fascinating.”
Luce narrowed his gaze at the undisguised anticipation in her voice. “You really are enjoying yourself, are you not?”
“Yes, I am. Which is why it is pointless for you to remain.”
Luce forced a smile, refusing to be goaded. Although he knew that he could force this woman into marriage by the simple means of calling for Sir Frazer, he was not willing to sink to such a desperate measure. At least not yet. He did not want her coming to him filled with anger and resentment.
He was fully confident that her burning embarrassment at being left at the altar would fade in time. And that she would realize that she was being a fool to turn her back on a marriage that would elevate her to the rank of a countess.
Until then, he intended to play his hand as any true gambler.
Calm, cool, and collected, he reminded himself.
“Now that I am here, I might as well enjoy a few days in London. My previous visits have usually entailed endless days upon the docks. It will be a pleasure to return to society.”
Her lips thinned with annoyance. “You will not change my mind. I have no intention of wedding you.”
“So be it.”
“Lord Calfield . . .”
“It is Luce. And you have my word of honor that I will not attempt to bully you back to Kent,” he interrupted, raising his hand in a solemn promise.
Kate regarded him with patent disbelief. “I do not trust you.”
Luce could not prevent a rueful laugh. “That, I suppose, is our fundamental problem, is it not, my dear?”
Her expression remained decidedly wary. “You will not tell my father I am here?”
“No.”
“And you will keep my true identity a secret?”
“If that is your desire.”
“And no interfering in my life,” she continued in warning tones.
“No interfering.”
“If I wish to attend a boxing match, or visit a gambling hell, or wear daring gowns, you will not halt me.”
Luce felt his heart come to a perfect halt as all sorts of delicious sensations whizzed through his body.
“Why would I desire to halt you?” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the tempting expanse of white skin. “Although I would prefer that you reserve such gowns for my pleasure alone.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, making him uncomfortably aware that little more than sheer will kept the dress in place.
“We will never be alone.”
“Oh, we will be alone. Soon. And then I intend to tell you exactly how such a gown affects me,” he said before he could halt the words.
“Luce.”
“What?” Lifting his gaze, he met her stern frown with awry smile. “Sorry, I was rather distracted.”
A delicate color stained her cheeks. “I do not think a gentleman who deliberately left me at the altar should be regarding me in such a manner.”
Was she daft?
He would have to be in his grave not to regard her in such a manner.
Only with an effort did he halt the urge to reach out and discover if that pale skin was as silky smooth as it promised.
“I did not deliberately leave you at the altar,” he reminded her. “And soon enough you will be willing to listen to sense. Until then, I am just another gentleman dazzled by your beauty and anxious to win your regard.”
She appeared momentarily taken aback by his insinuating words, then she abruptly stiffened, as if she were struck by a sudden thought.
“Oh, I see.”
He lifted a golden brow. “What?”
“You cannot bully me into returning, so now you hope to seduce me back to Kent.”
A far more pleasing prospect, he inwardly acknowledged. The question was whether or not she would allow herself to be seduced.
“Am I succeeding?”
“No.”
He gave a low laugh, stepping close enough to catch the aroma of her very feminine perfume. He inhaled deeply, realizing that the scent was uniquely Kate’s. It had pervaded her home and at times clung to his coat long after he visited her. He knew he could close his eyes and sense when she was near. Odd that he had been so aware of such an intimate thing. Certainly, he would not recognize the scent of his mistress, or even his own mother.
“Then I shall simply have to increase my efforts,” he promised in low tones.
Something flashed in her eyes as she took an awkward step backward. “Do not waste your time.”
“It is my time to waste.”
She regarded him warily, then with obvious relief, she spotted someone over his shoulder.
“Oh, Lord Thorpe has arrived.”
Luce stiffened, turning to study the too handsome man in the too expensive gray coat and white pantaloons before returning his gaze to the woman at his side. He did not like her sudden smile of anticipation.
It made him want to hit something.
“What do you know of this Lord Thorpe?” he demanded abruptly.
She gave a faint frown at his preemptory tone. “Nothing beyond the fact that he possesses a town house in Mayfair.”
“Do you really believe it is wise to indulge in a flirtation with a complete stranger?”
“What could possibly happen in a public theater?”
Luce gave a click of his tongue. Really, Kate might have suddenly discovered she was a woman, but she clearly did not possess any more sense than a giddy schoolgirl.
“There are any number of alcoves and closets a gentleman can force a woman into—”
“No,” she rudely interrupted, stabbing a finger directly in his face. “No interference.”
“Kate . . .”
“You promised.”
Luce’s teeth snapped together with an audible click.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
He was trapped by his own ridiculous pledge.
“Fine.” His features hardened in a dangerous manner. “But I will be keeping my eye on him. He is clearly a practiced rake. Indeed, his debauchery is obvious to anyone who would take the effort to study him closely.”
She threw her hands up in disbelief. “You, my lord, are impossible.”
Luce felt his jaw twitch with annoyance as she swept across the lobby to join Thorpe. It did not help matters that her brilliant smile as he leaned downward to whisper something in her ear could have lit the stage.
Luce may have promised not to interfere, but that did not mean he could not keep her under strict surveillance. From this moment on, she was not going to move a step without him firmly upon her heels.