And now she understood.
Understood that which she had presumed to be detachment was, in fact, fear.
Fear for her.
When Casper Brook, the Duke of Rothwell, felt too strong an emotion, he ruthlessly suppressed it until ascertaining all was safe and well. He would have made a fine warrior of old with his brutal adeptness at curbing emotion till the battle was done and the enemy vanquished.
Only now did his face soften to concern, so handsome and virile without jacket or neckcloth, throat bared.
Her eyes smarted as he captured her wrist and scowled at the redness.
“Is this Filgrave your husband?” he asked quietly.
“Eugh! Why would you think that?”
Casper quirked a brow at her disgust. “A woman running from a violent spouse is not an unreasonable assumption.”
She supposed not. “Filgrave is a…a moneylender.”
A scrunch to his forehead, brow lowering. “How much do you owe?”
“With interest or without?”
“With.”
“I’ve not totted up to this very hour but as of yesterday, fifteen pounds, three shillings and sixpence.”
Casper growled, reared and put hands to his hips. “Is that all? A paltry sum.”
Evelyn growled, reared and…punched him in the chest. “I have fretted, scrimped, endured sleepless nights, eaten nothing but potatoes, and bitten my fingernails to the quick for thatpaltry sum. I’ve felt terrified and helpless as Filgrave threatened my sister and I with depravity and ruin. Furious and fearful when he told me to steal your stupid diamonds. And you say it is apaltrysum,” she screeched in crescendo – rather hideously, it had to be said.
“Steal my dia…” He breathed deep. “I will not debate the disparity of economics tonight, but why the bloody hell did you not tell me?” With a grunt of discontent, he prowled towards the desk. “I could have paid it in an instant.”
“I will not take your money,” she declared, stalking after him.
His hand rose to his waistcoat, yanked out a small pouch, loosened the string and threw the contents across the desk. All Evelyn could do was gawk as five or so dulled stones scattered – stars veiled in cloud.
“Mystupiddiamonds, I believe.” He came to stand before her. “Uncut and flawless. With the smallest one of those I could have paid off your moneylender and still had enough for a five-course meal at Claridge’s…with champagne and change.”
“You conceited bacon-brained cabbage head!” she yelled, fury rising like a theatre curtain. “And be ever more in debt to the Oh-So-Benevolent Duke of Rothwell. Bowing and scraping. Owing you everything, including the gloves you had sent to me, the food we eat, the fine wine we drink, borrowing from Peter to pay Paul.”
“I think you’ll find the phrase is robbing–”
“Don’t be so sodding pedantic,” she bawled.
“Now, now.” He raised hands. “Your Covent Garden days are showing.”
She bashed his chest and he took a step back. “It’s bad enough being in debt to a Rookery tyrant…” She bashed again and he took another. “…but to the Duke of Diamonds, a man not exactly known for his compassion.” Another bash, another step back till his legs hit the side of the desk. “How was I supposed to know how wonderful you were, you beef-witted arse!”
Her attempt at a further bash was thwarted as he grabbed her arm and then the sodding devil brought her wrist to his lips and kissed it.
How dare he seek to abate her fury!
Casper cocked his head, eyes thoughtful. “But you were going to tell me everything this morning, were you not?”
“Yes. I…I could not lie anymore.”
“And out of selfishness, I prevented you.”
