Not a stranger. Not after what they’d shared. Not after the way her hands had clutched at him. He imagined how she might respond to attentions beyond a kiss, to intimate touches that followed a path from her neck down to her toes.
“Rook?” King’s harsh tone had him jerking his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Apologies. I was thinking... about something else.” Someone else. Another time. Another place. Where he would much rather be.
“It’s not like you to drift off. You’re normally quite focused.”
He’d certainly been when it came to that kiss. For those few minutes, all else had floated away: troubles, worries, the past, and a legacy he was striving to escape. All that had mattered was her and being with her.
“Is it your father?” Knight asked.
It should be. All of his thoughts should be on his sire... and his mother. How to make the upcoming transition into widowhood easier for her. Although he suspected she’d adapt rather effortlessly. It wasn’t as though she’d been the center of the Earl of Elverton’s life, nor he the center of hers. “It’s any number of things. What were you saying?”
“I received word from Sam Garrison that he has arrived in London and would like to meet with us in person to discuss our interest in possibly investing in his munitions factory. Apparently, he brought his husband-hunting sister with him.”
As soon as King uttered the words, Rook felt three pairs of eyes land on him like a physical punch. With an eyebrow arched, he glanced around at his fellow Chessmen, a moniker they’d acquired while at Oxford, because of their ruthless strategy when it came to investing. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You’re the only one amongst us not yet married,” Knight said.
“How precisely does that signify?”
“Rumors are that he has several parties interested in investing in his enterprise. Your flirting with the sister might give us an edge when it comes to partnering with this Garrison fellow, should we decide in favor of his business.”
“Flirting. That seems rather underhanded to me.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gone to great lengths to achieve what we wanted,” Bishop reminded him.
“But we’ve never used an innocent to do it.” Or taken advantage of an untried heart. He knew how vulnerable that sort of heart could be. In his youth, his had certainly been open to battering and bruising. But now it was like a fortress of stone. Nothing could get past its defenses. “Besides, I doubt we need the leverage.”
He glanced around the library of the Twin Dragons, a club open to men and women where all sorts of deals sometimes transpired. “The money we can provide will no doubt be sufficient. If we decide the investment will pay off. Garrison has been so astoundingly secretive about what he’s offering that I’m finding it difficult to assess the value of giving him our coins. Or to trust him, truth be told.”
“I quite agree,” King said. “However, I thought togive him the opportunity to present his case in person. Dinner tomorrow night, my residence. Wives included, of course, to ensure Miss Garrison doesn’t feel out of place.”
Which would ensure that Rook did, since it would obviously be expected that he would give the woman some attention. Perhaps he should beg off and go to the Elysium. But he had no reason to believe the Lady of Sighs would return tomorrow. In all likelihood, he’d never see her again.
The following evening, as his carriage rumbled through the streets on its way to King’s, Rook knew he’d made a mistake in stopping by his parents’ residence first. His father was withering away, unable to communicate except by blinking. Rook suspected his sire’s mind remained agile but imprisoned, like his frail body. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a just punishment for a man who had murdered his first wife and attempted to kill his second. And now there were those who spoke in whispers wondering if he’d also been responsible for the death of his older brother—in order to inherit the titles that rightfully would have gone to the elder.
Rook was grateful he and his father had never been close. Still, his deterioration was difficult to witness.
However, his mother sat by the bed, serenely reading aloudMy Secret Desires. That the book had been written by Knight’s wife and detailed their love affair from years before didn’t seem to bother the countess, but Rook had never been able to bring himself to read of his friend’s exploits. Certainly, he had no one whowas going to write of his affairs. The few lovers he’d had were known for their discretion. He showered them with enough coins and baubles to ensure they remained so.
But after spending time being reminded of the sort of man who’d sired him, he wasn’t in the mood to attend a dinner, to be among friends, or to discuss business. He wanted—needed—a heady distraction. A kiss that melted his bones. Delicate hands with long, slender fingers plowing through his hair before curling over his shoulders in an attempt to hold onto him forever.
He wanted to be held forever.
With a curse at the unfamiliar yearning, he glanced out the window. Fearing he’d be as insatiable as his father, he’d learned to tamp down his desires and never allow them full rein over him.
But ever since that night at the Elysium, since the Lady of Sighs, he’d been unable to think of much else except for the glorious manner in which her mouth had moved over his. The way in which she’d welcomed him.
For someone who had claimed to have never been kissed, she was certainly a fast learner. A natural. A siren. A vixen. He wanted to taste her again. But that was unlikely to happen. She could be on a ship back to America. Would he ever find anyone her equal? Anyone who might possibly have the power to break through the barriers he’d erected and stir such unyielding passion within him?
His carriage pulled into the drive that circled in front of King’s residence. Judging by the number of vehicles queued up, he was the last to arrive. Hiscoachman brought the team of horses to a halt. A footman opened the door and Rook stepped out. It was a lovely summer’s evening and the thought of spending it with friends, in spite of his earlier reservations, perked him up considerably. Even if a bit of business was involved. He welcomed the distraction from his morose musings.
He bounded up the steps, not surprised when the door immediately opened, and King’s butler allowed him entrance with a brisk nod. “M’lord.”
“Keating.”
“They’re waiting for you in the grand drawing room. If you’ll be so kind as to follow me.”
