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All of the names she knew, some better than others. Impoverished her family might be, but their breeding was matchless, their co
She picked apart a roll and reviewed the list. Leo had selected the highest-ranking members of Society, men of ancient lineage. A
But what was it? What linked the names on the list?
A
What Leo had said to her today had been spoken in trust. She could not repay that trust with suspicion. Already she knew her acceptance pleased him. Her mouth and body still resonated with the heat of his kiss.
God, if that kiss was any gauge of what she ought to expect when they finally consummated their marriage ... no wonder she battled fear. For the effects of Leo’s desire could leave her a smoldering ruin. And she might gratefully welcome the conflagration.
Cheeks burning, heat pooling low in her belly, A
She spent the remainder of the morning in correspondence. As she sat at an escritoire in the opulently furnished drawing room, no noise in the chamber but for the scratching of her pen across the foolscap and the pop of the fire, A
She turned in her seat, expecting to see either Meg or one of the servants. No one. The chamber had one occupant: her.
Instinctively, she looked toward the mounted sconces, but the candles were unlit. There was nothing to extinguish.
Chiding herself, A
Now she could afford as much foolscap as she desired, and in her letters she would not have to cross her lines anymore as a means of using less paper.
A
Lord Newstead seemed the best candidate with which to begin. Lady Newstead was close in age to A
The sky was mottled, gray clouds streaking the cold blue sky, and an air of hushed waiting hung over the street.
“Mr. Bailey has taken the carriage.” The footman waiting in attendance by the door seemed apologetic, as if having only one carriage seemed a breach of decorum. A
It seemed a dreadful expense, when a sedan chair would suit the same purpose, but she had to remind herself that expense little mattered anymore. She glanced down the street. “I do not see any hackneys.” In truth, almost no one was out, apart from a sweep with his brushes.
“Two streets over, there’s loads of traffic. I’ll just run over. Back in a moment, madam.”
“You may have an admirer, Meg,” A
The maid sniffed. “As if a lady’s maid would ever hold truck with a footman. It takes more than a fine pair of calves to turn my head.” Yet Meg cast lingering glances in the direction which the footman had disappeared.
An icy wind spun down the street. A
“This weather is changeable.” Meg gazed critically toward the sky. “Shall I fetch a shawl for you, madam?”
At A
“Mrs. Bailey.”
A
Not five feet from her stood a tall, brown-haired man, his clothing fine but verging on threadbare. His brilliant blue eyes shone with intelligence, and though he never took his gaze from her, he seemed acutely aware of his surroundings, as if sensing enemies all around. At his side was a young woman of exotic origin, her skin dusky, her eyes as black as her hair. Like the man, the exotic girl had an air of wariness about her. They had the guarded ma
Though A
Her voice came out little more than a croak. “Lord Whitney.”
Chapter 6
The street had been empty, yet Lord Whitney and his companion had just noiselessly appeared. “My ... my husband is not at home.”
“It’s you we want to speak with,” said the young woman. Large golden hoops hung from her ears, necklaces draped around her neck, and rings adorned her fingers. A
“Time is in short supply.” Lord Whitney stepped closer, and A
“Time for what?”
“To warn you.”
Unease crawled up A
“Leo is the one you should be afraid of.”
A
“He has been nothing but kind to me,” A
Lord Whitney and the Gypsy exchanged speaking glances. “She doesn’t know,” said the Gypsy.
“Know what?” A
“Leo has—” Lord Whitney broke off when the front door opened.
A
Glancing back at Lord Whitney and his companion, A
“Did you see them?” A
“I heard you speaking with someone, but when I came out, you were alone.” The maid’s forehead wrinkled in concern as she draped the shawl around A
A
Perhaps I’m the one with fever.