Page 68 of How to Best a Marquess

“No? What about when the baron comes looking for his wife?”

“I already told you. I will deny all knowledge of his wife’s disappearance.”

“He found the mask. He’ll know you lied. You took his wife.”

“We will be more careful in the future.”

“There will be no future incidents.”

She scowled at him. “You are not my husband. You have no say.”

“You will cease.” It was an order, not a request.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“Because I am concerned for you. And in this, I know what is best for you.” The muscle by his eye had not ceased its infernal ticking. He was still furious.

Her own anger bubbled inside her chest. She glared at him, fuming. “Just as you knew what was best for me years ago?”

“This is not the same,” he countered.

“Oh? How is it different?”

The carriage came to a halt in the mews outside the Raven Club. Rather than wait for his answer, Ellie reached for the handle. She wouldn’t wait for the driver to hop down and lower the step. She planned to jump out of the conveyance as if it were on fire.

Hugh’s hand clamped down upon hers like a vise. “Not so fast. We have unfinished business between us.” He tapped on the box and ground out instructions to the driver. “23 Berkeley Square.”

Her stomach plummeted. “That is not my home.”

“You’re right. It’s mine.”

“You can’t be serious! I cannot be seen alone with you in your home!”

“You should have thought of that before your recklessness.”

Minutes later, the carriage halted outside a massive pile of stone. With Hugh’s presence in the confines of the carriage, she knew she had little choice. But she needn’t make it easy for him.

He exited first, then nearly dragged her out. She planned to make a mad rush for the street, but he anticipated her intent and swept her across his shoulder like a pirate with his booty.

She expelled a burst of air from her lungs and slapped his back with her palms. “Oh! Let me down!”

“Gladly. Once we are inside.”

“You plan to keep me here until dawn?” Ellie asked.

“Yes,” Hugh said.

“For God’s sake, why?”

She was standing in his library. His proper butler had raised an eyebrow when Hugh had walked inside the marble vestibule with her slung across his shoulder. Her cheeks had flamed red, but the servant hadn’t said a word about her humiliating appearance. The butler’s only response had been a drily delivered, “Good evening, my lord.”

Thank goodness it had been dark out and no one appeared on the street. If she had been recognized…

No amount of explanation would have saved her then. She rubbed her cold arms and scanned the room.

Dozens of books were shelved in tall, cherry bookshelves. A lush Oriental carpet covered the floor, and chairs were situated before a marble hearth. On any other occasion, the books would have captured her interest. She’d love to run her fingers along the leather spines and sit in one of the oversized leather chairs, sip his fine brandy, and read far into the night.

Instead, she faced a tall, broad-shouldered, angry marquess.