His voice trailed off. Rafe stilled and gave him a hard glare. “But what, man? Spill it.”
“I’m not quite sure she understands her purpose in being here. She seems to believe she is to manage the household.”
Rafe shrugged. “She can do that if she wishes.”
Laurence scowled. “I am given to understand that she believes it is to be her only duty.”
Rafe swore harshly. Wortham, the stupid little sod, wouldn’t explain things, would he? It was his lack of guts that characterized his losing at the tables. What did she think last night was about?
“She brought her things, did she not?” he asked, slapping his gloves into Laurence’s waiting palm.
“No, sir, I fear she brought nothing save herself. Lord Wortham made quite the hasty retreat. It left her a bit flummoxed.”
“No matter. I’m sure she knows why she’s here.” And that he would be providing everything she required. He headed for the parlor.
“What time will you be dining, sir?” Laurence asked.
“Give us half an hour.” That should be all the time he needed to set things right with her, to lay out her duties, his expectations.
Opening the doors to the parlor, he strode in, staggered to a stop. She was in profile, standing by the window, gazing out on the rain, looking as forlorn as the weather. She turned slightly at his entry. She was wearing black, a hideous color. It made her look ill. He wanted to see her in blue, a deep blue that would enrich the shade of her eyes. It appeared she was baring very little skin, that her dress buttoned up to her chin, but it was impossible to be certain because she was wearing a cloak.
“I see Laurence didn’t adequately see to your comfort, didn’t bother to take your wrap.”
She brought it more closely about her. “No, he offered, but I’ve been chilled, even with the fire.”
“Scotch should help there.” He went to a table in the corner and poured a generous amount into two glasses, concentrating on his actions because for some damned reason his hands were shaking. It had nothing to do with the notion that he would soon be touching her, stripping her clothes from her body, ordering her to lie on his bed—
Later, that would all come later. He’d been fighting all day not to think about it. Lust. It was all lust, animalistic, barbaric needs that a man possessed, that consumed him. He shoved aside all thoughts of what secrets might be hidden from him beneath her clothing, picked up the glasses, and crossed over to where she waited beside a chair near the fireplace. At least she’d moved away from the window.
He could not mistake the wariness in her eyes as she took the glass he extended toward her. She was right to fear him. He wouldn’t abuse her, he would never willingly hurt her, but he had little doubt that eventually he would cause her pain. Even the women he paid for his pleasures suffered some because he gave them nothing beyond the physical, and women, bless them, seemed to need more than that.
He simply didn’t have it to give. Which was the reason that he’d avoided feminine encounters for a good long while now, because he couldn’t stand the disappointment that always seem to punctuate his leaving. He did not hold, he did not cuddle, he did not allow them to hold him.
Taking a chair by the fire, he indicated the one opposite him. Slowly, gracefully, she sank into it. Both her gloved hands circled the glass. Such small hands. He imagined them circling him. He’d barely know they were there. Perhaps—
He forced away the thoughts because his body was reacting and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. He sipped slowly on his Scotch while she studied the fire. Finally she brought her gaze to bear on him.
“Geoffrey—” she began.
“Geoffrey?”
She gave him a small smile. “Lord Wortham. I’m afraid I’ve not quite accepted that my father is gone. Anyway, he said I was here to manage your household, but quite honestly it appears to be well managed already, so I’m not quite certain what I could contribute.”
“I’m certain you can contribute quite a bit.” He savored another long sip. “What were his exact words?”
Her delicate brow furrowed, she looked back at the fire. “That I was to see to your needs.”
“Myneeds,” he emphasized. “Not those of my residence.”
Her gaze swung back to him, the furrow deeper. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you not have a valet to see to your needs?”
“I have a valet.”
“Then I can’t see that I would have much to do.”
She was too innocent, far too innocent for the likes of him. He should send her back to her brother, but unfortunately for Evelyn, he had decided that he wanted her. He wasn’t quite certain when it struck him so forcefully that he did. Perhaps when he opened the parlor door and saw her waiting there. Waiting for him. When had anyone ever been waiting for him?
“What did you think was the purpose of last night’s ... entertainment?”
