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She studied him for several heartbeats before she gave him passage and closed the door.
He halted in the middle of the small drawing-room, hands bracing his tapered hips as he fixed his stare on her. "I met Haddington at my club."
“What does this have to do with me?” Arms crossed, she lifted her head to meet his gaze.
“He heard the gossip about last night and isn’t happy about it.”
She breathed a disdainful laugh. “Intrigue seems to be the favourite pastime of idle lords.”
His nostrils flared with impatience. “Stop making light of it. My carriage awaits.”
“Have a nice return home in that case.” The casual reply chipped away much of the hold on his temper.
“He targeted
you before and will surely do it again. Don’t you see?” One large hand raked his chestnut locks.
“But he doesn’t know where I live,” she said confidently.
“Something easily corrected by having you followed.” The prospect sent a chill through him.
“And there’s Bruce too.” She argued.
“I’m not giving you a choice.” His tone brokered no argument. “Either you come on your feet or on mine. Your choice.”
At that, her glare fulminated him as her spine went straighter and her chin tilted up. “Damn you!” She cursed under her breath as she moved towards her bedchamber.
“No need to pack anything,” he started, hiding his relief. “I didn’t send away the clothes you left behind in your dressing room.”
He’d assigned her a bedchamber with a dressing room more as a formality since he’d made it a point to have her with him night or day if they found themselves at Worcester House.
Still fuming, she followed him outside where Bruce talked to the coachman. The servants sat at the front while Drake helped Hester inside.
Upon entering his house, Wakefield informed of a visitor in the study. Drake caught Hester's arm and guided her there lest she decided to leave.
Inside, Mrs Walters, the housekeeper for the house he’d bought for Hester, paced the carpet with a dreadful expression on her round face.
“Oh, Lord Worcester! Thank goodness you arrived.” Her hands clawed together. “You won’t believe what happened.”
“Mrs Walters” Hester greeted the older woman as she neared and took those clasped hands.
“The Duke of Haddington came to your house, Miss Green.” And turned to Drake who’d gone stock still. “With two footmen, my lord.” She squeezed Hester’s fingers to the point of hurting them. “They were looking for you, miss. I said you weren’t at home, but they forced their way in and searched anyway.”
The fury that overtook Drake at the housekeeper’s report was beyond description. “When did they do it, Mrs Walters?” he asked in a too controlled voice.
“About two hours ago, my lord.” Her features went desperate. “I came as soon as they left.”
It must have been while Drake was at the club. Had he known of it he’d have thrashed the lecherous duke the minute he met him earlier. The murderous intent that threatened to blind him seemed almost unsurmountable. His hands fisted by his side, so tight his knuckles became white.
He directed a hard look at Hester. “Are you satisfied now?” He cared not that his growl came with a savage hint.
Hester turned wide eyes darkened with surprise and apprehension to him. “That’s outrageous!
“You’re the weaker end, he’ll prey on you.” His voice low with that fury. And strove to prevent his head from imagining what would have happened to Hester were she in the house.
"Thank you, Mrs Walters." He'd tell Wakefield to pay her extra for her trouble and to send the locksmith to install additional locks.
The housekeeper took her distressed leave. Hester and Drake stood alone in the study with a tense silence stretching between them.
